Page 21 of The Best Bad Decision

“No,” I admit. I close my eyes against the surge of memories. “I just panicked.”

“He’s not your father, honey,” Mum says. She shrugs away from me, turning to face me. She takes my face in her hands and directs it to watch Cam, crouched in front of Maisy, gently tucking a wayward curl behind her ear before kissing her forehead and lifting her to the monkey bars. “Look at him. That man adores her.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I think that’s what scares me the most.”

I dip my elbow into the bathwater.

“Why elbow?” Cam asks over my shoulder. Behind me, I can hear Maisy hopping impatiently from foot to foot. I can hear the long belt from her dressing gown slapping lightly against the tile as she dances around. I turn the tap to add a little more cold water before snapping my head around to meet Cam’s curious gaze.

“Hmm?”

“Why do you test it with your elbow? Specifically?”

“Because it’s more sensitive,” I explain. I dip my elbow again before turning off the water. “Our hands are desensitised to temperature. They experience extremes of it constantly. Elbows aren’t. It’s a much more accurate check.”

Cam nods. “That makes sense. I used my elbow last night. Just like I saw you do it. I figured there must be a reason for it.”

I smile tightly at him, blinking back the sheen of tears that threaten to cover my eyes. I let Cam take over bathtime duty, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet while he indulges Maisy’s imagination with some dinosaur swimming races. Once she’s in her pyjamas, and chantingstory, story, story,Cam tucks her beneath the sheets with Roger and her new pilot bear while I hunt for her requested book.

“Goodnight, Maisy Girl. Have big dreams, sweetheart.” Cam kisses the top of Maisy’s head and she hums quietly, already almost entirely lost to sleep. He follows me out of her bedroom and I flick off the light, leaving the door slightly ajar before descending the stairs and beelining for the kitchen.

My tongue feels thick in my mouth, a lump I can’t quite swallow around. My heart races against my ribcage. My mum’s words echo in my ears. I know I have to be honest, but I’ve never felt so vulnerable in my life. I’ve never felt so exposed. I’ve shared so much of myself in the last two or three days, I might as well be walking around naked.

Cam grabs a bottle of water while I busy myself making a cup of chamomile tea in my favourite mug, before pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses from the cupboard. I place it all on the kitchen table between us and Cam raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to need this,” I tell him. I sit opposite him and take a few deep breaths.It’s now or never.How many times have I said that to myself this week?

“I panicked last night.” To his credit, Cam says nothing. He just reaches a hand across the small table, taking mine in both of his and squeezing once. That single squeeze, thatyou’ve got this. Our ‘thing’. Between the squeeze of his hand and the solemn green gaze, free from judgement, I take another breath and continue.

“I’ve been a single parent for three years. You know that. It’s hard for me—it’s hard to give up that control. To let someone else be her parent. I know my mum helps, and Katy and Ruth and Paloma. But they’re not her parents. But you are.”

I can’t look at him. I stare at our joined hands on the tabletop as my stomach twists and churns.

“We do this your way, Amie,” he murmurs. “All of it. If you need me to step back—”

“No,” I interrupt. “It’s not that. It’s… fuck. Okay.” I twist the cap off the wine and pour a healthy amount into one of the wine glasses. Cam pours a much smaller amount into his own glass as I drink half of mine in one long gulp.

“When I was six, my father came back. Out of nowhere. He—he wasn’t around. Left Mum alone when she was pregnant with me. But she gave him a chance to be my dad when I was six.”

Cam sucks in a breath between his teeth. I watch his jaw harden and his eyes darken, like he’s imagining all the awful things I might be about to say. Like he’s imagining Maisy in my place. In spite of the barrage of emotions wailing on me, my heart swells just a little at the way he’staken so easily and immediately to fatherhood. At the way my little girl is so loved beyond measure.

“She left me with him to run some errands. Not for long. An hour or two, maybe. I don’t really remember much of the day…”

“Did he hurt you?” Cam’s jaw clenches.

“Not—not the way you’re thinking.”

He exhales shakily.

“He put me in the bath. He… he didn’t check the water. It was too deep. It was too hot. And then he left me.”

“Amie…”

“Let me get this out, Cam. Please.” He squeezes my hand again. “Mum came home to find him passed out on the couch. Cigarette between his fingers, burning through the couch cushions and about to go up in flames. Still holding an almost-empty bottle of vodka in the other hand. She found me in the bath, shivering. The water had gone cold, but—well, the damage was done. That’s why—the marks on my legs. My back and my stomach. It could’ve been so much worse, but… it still burned me. I’ve never told anyone before. Not even Katy.”

“What happened to him?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Mum woke him up and threw him out. I never saw him again.”

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