Page 25 of The Best Bad Decision

There’s a war in his eyes, emotion changing the shade from emerald to forest.

“I just wish I’d been here too.”

“I wish you could’ve been here. But you’re here now,” I say. “That’s what matters. That’s what’s important.”

“I’m here now,” he agrees. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

fourteen

Amie

The night after Camflew home, my phone buzzes with a FaceTime call just as I retrieve a well-worn book from under my bed. I swipe the screen to answer.

“Hey, am I late? Shit, I’m late, I’m so sorry, I tried—”

“You’re not late,” I tell him with a smile. Cam rubs a hand down his face and I see his whole body relax on the tiny screen. “I just put her to bed, we’re about to read a story.”

I pick up my tablet from my bedside table and carry it with me into Maisy’s bedroom. Maisy is waiting for me, her blanket tucked under her chin and her curls splayed out over her pillow. Her yellow pilot bear—imaginatively named Daddy Bear—and Roger are tucked in on either side of her. I flip open my tablet case and switch the video call to a bigger screen, setting it on Maisy’s belly. She yanks her arms from the confines of the blanket to hold onto the device.

“Daddy!” She grins into the screen.

“Hey, Maisy Girl,” Cam says with a tired smile. I notice for the first time that he’s in a hotel room, but he’s still wearing his uniform, as though he just landed somewhere and didn’t waste a second before calling. His phone is propped against something and I can see the faintorange glow of a sunset reflecting off his face like he’s sat in front of the window. “Are you taking care of Mommy for me?”

Maisy giggles and nods, and I step back, out of view of the camera. I feel like I’m intruding as Maisy tells Cam about her day and he in turn tells Maisy about his flight. They’re talking softly, thousands of miles apart but connected by blood, love, and a slightly pixellated video screen.

“I thought I might read you a bedtime story,” I hear Cam say. “Is that okay?”

Maisy looks up at me and I nod. I step back into the frame and sink down to the edge of Maisy’s mattress, resting my arms on it as I kneel on the plush rug. Cam looks at me expectantly and I realise he hadn’t seen me nod, so I repeat the motion, smiling weakly. In a matter of weeks, Camden fucking Whitehouse has turned my carefully balanced world upside down and inside out. My emotions are all over the place, and just the sight of those full, pink lips—even on a lagging FaceTime call—makes me want to do indecent things to them.

Cam’s smile widens and he reaches out of frame to pick up a book. He holds it up in front of the camera and Maisy squeaks with excitement, bouncing in place in her bed. There’s a plane on the cover with zoo animals poking their heads out of the windows. I smile, breathing a small laugh through my nose, and I watch Maisy’s expression as Cam reads the book from cover to cover, complete with animal voices. By the time he’s finished, Maisy is yawning and her eyes are drooping closed.

“Goodnight, Maisy Girl,” he whispers through the screen. “Have big dreams, sweetheart.”

His smile lingers as I leave the tablet on Maisy’s belly for a moment as I kiss her goodnight. By the time I pick it up and tiptoe out of the room, she’s fast asleep and snoring lightly.

“Thank you for letting me read,” he says, and I suddenly realise the call is still live as I carry the tablet downstairs. I stand it on the kitchen counter as I flip the kettle on and busy myself preparing a mug of peppermint tea.

“I think she likes your stories more than mine,” I laugh lightly. “You might have worked yourself into a hole there, Cam.”

“Hey, if I get to read her a bedtime story every night when I call, that’s fine by me,” he laughs, too, and stretches his arms out above his head. “God, it’s been a day. How’s yours been?”

“Uneventful,” I say with a quiet sigh. “We went to the park and then Mae mostly had to entertain herself while I did boring shit like clean the house and wash a few loads of laundry. There were a lot of dinosaur families flying from Maisy Airport.”

He chuckles, rich and deep, even through my tablet’s tinny speakers. I carry my tea and tablet to the living room, where the fairy lights are still lit, and settle in the corner of the sofa. I tuck my feet beneath me and toss a blanket over my legs.

“Hey, when did you get the fourth stripe?” I ask. I’ve been dying to know since Santiago, but I’ve never found the right time to ask.

“Oh, uh, must be a year and a half, nearly two years ago now,” he says, a distant look in his eyes as he rubs a hand over his head and face.

“Congratulations,” I offer. “I know it’s a little late, but…”

“No, thank you. I appreciate it,” he says. “Will you play a game with me?”

My heart slams against my ribcage. A game? Where the hell did that come from? I have no idea what kind of call Cam thinks this is, or what he wants to play, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re just co-parents—friends—sharing our day after saying goodnight to our daughter. It’s not a ‘playing a game’ kind of video call. My mouth is dry, despite the tea I’ve been sipping, and there’s a throbbing between my legs as I remember the things we did in Singapore. Maybeplaying a gamewouldn’t be so bad. Maybe…

“W—what kind of game?” I ask.

“Not that kind of game,” he winks into the lens. The wink sends a jolt of electricity through my whole body, boiling my blood and sending it all rushing between my thighs. “I just meant twenty questions.” He completes his thought and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

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