Page 19 of The Best Bad Decision

“Mais—”

“Maisy, it’s bedtime,” Amie demands firmly. “Let’s get out of the bath now, please.”

More tears follow a long squeal of displeasure, and I use a towel to dry my damp skin as Amie fights our daughter over pyjamas. Eventually, I read a bedtime story to a little girl much less receptive than the previous night, and when she’s finally asleep, I excuse myself to the bathroom with a fresh T-shirt.

How did I fuck this up so badly?

All I want is to make Maisy happy. I want her to be loved, and I want to be the one to do it. I want Amie to be happy, andfuck,I’d sell my soul to the devil to be the one to make her happy, too. But she looked at me with a mixture of disdain and disappointment when she came home, and my throat clogs with an emotion I’m not sure I recognise.

“Ice cream,” she states simply when I find her in the kitchen. She’s sitting at the kitchen table and our bowls have been washed, dried and returned to the cupboard. I glance into the living room to see Maisy’stoys tidied away already. “She’s not allowed ice cream during the week. And I really wish you’d spoken to me before giving her a bath.”

“Amie, I’m sorry,” I start, holding out my hands in surrender. “I—”

“She’s going to play us off each other,” she interrupts me. “I’d like to think she wouldn’t, but she will. She might only be three years old but she’s smarter than both of us. She’s stubborn as hell and she’ll play us for fools if we let her.”

“I didn’t know about the ice cream,” I whisper.

“She’s been such a brat today,” she says with a long sigh. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

I take a seat opposite her. Her eyes are downcast, head in her hands as she tangles her fingers in her curls.

“Don’t apologise for her, Amie,” I say firmly. “Like you said—she’s three. She’s a kid. She’s gonna have tantrums and misbehave. And she’s my daughter. I’m her dad, I want to be here—even when she’s bratty, even when she’s acting out and drowning me in her bath water.”

My chuckle comes out sounding pained, and Amie sighs, a long release of tension and breath.

“I think we need to set some ground rules,” Amie suggests, finally looking up at me. Her eyes have thawed, warming with embers teasing the end of a long night. “If you’re gonna do this—ifwe’redoing this, we need to set boundaries. And you need to respect them. We both do. You tried to talk her down earlier and I jumped in, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry… It’s just—it’s been me and Maisy her whole life. I need to get used to this. I need to respectyourboundaries, too.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper. She drops a hand from her hair and I take it immediately, gripping her fingers in mine and squeezing once.

“Most of the time she’s great, but… well, you saw her today. However cute she is when she pouts, however much you want to give her the world, you have to be firm with her. You can’t give in to every demand.”

“Okay,” I repeat. “Be firm.”

“Bedtime is seven-thirty, no exceptions.”

“Can I call her? At bedtime?”

“I think she’d like that,” Amie says slowly. “She’d like to see you.”

“I’ll FaceTime,” I decide. “At bedtime. I’ll read her a story, if she wants.”

“She’d like that,” Amie repeats. “You call me. That way, I know you’re not flying.”

“I’ll call,” I promise. “Every night.”

“If I’m working too, I’ll text you. We can conference call with Mum or Katy or whoever has her.”

“Okay,” I agree. “I’m gonna learn how to do this, Amie.” I make another promise. “I’m gonna be her dad. I’m gonna be here—for both of you.”

She squeezes my fingers, and it feels like the storm is over. Like dawn has finally broken.

“Come to Phoenix for Thanksgiving,” I request. “I want you to meet my family. I want them to meet you and Maisy.”

“When is it?” Amie asks anxiously. She’s already swiping across her phone, and I catch sight of a calendar grid on the screen.

“Last Thursday of November,” I say. Her furrowed brow melts into a smile.

“I’m off all week,” she tells me. “We’ll be there.”

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