Page 59 of The Best Bad Decision

“Don’t be telling me it’s because of your dad, because I got a text from Carla yesterday and it sounds like Alan is healthier than you and I put together.”

“Why is my mom texting you?” I scrunch my face in confusion. It’s not Gray’s birthday, or Lina’s, or either of their boys’.

“Because even Mama Whitehouse can’t resist Graham Gavin. Back to you,Camden.” He puts extra emphasis on my full name. “Whatbullshit excuse are you gonna give me this time for your lifelong phobia of commitment?”

I groan and drag myself into a sitting position, settling back against the pillows. “This job—lifestyle—I’m never home. It hardly lends itself tosettling down.”

“And mine does?” Gray asks with a raised eyebrow. “I’m at the mercy of Uncle Sam here, man. But if Lina’s taught me one thing in the last seventeen years, it’s that you can’t wait until the perfect time. There’s never a perfect time. I could get sent to fuck knows where and shot at tomorrow. Look what just happened, man. I know it’s too soon, but you gotta hear it. Your plane could go down. Amie’s plane could go down. There’s no perfect time, Cam, there’s just the time you have.”

“Fuck, why you gotta be so profound?” I drag a hand down my face. I haven’t shaved for four days, and my face itches, although I’m not so sure it’s just from hair growth.

“One of us has to be the smart one, and it sure as shit ain’t you.” Gray chuckles at his insult, then immediately sobers. “What’s really going on, man?”

“We broke up.” I shift my eyes to the tiny screen to see Gray’s reaction. His jaw ticks, and his lips twitch just the tiniest bit.

“’Broke up’ implies you were together to begin with.”

“We weren’t…nottogether. I mean, we weren’t. But now we’re… really not.”

"Can't break up if you're not together." He raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll spare you the sordid details.”

“Please,” he sighs and clears his throat before launching into one of his should-be-patented pep talks. "What did you do this time?"

"What makes you so convincedIdidsomething?"

"Cam, my guy, I've known you since we were six years old."

"Fuck you, Gavin."

“You wish, Whitehouse. Look. For what it’s worth, she’s good for you. If you want her, fight for her. You’ve got a fucking kid with her, man. Together or not, you’re bound to her for the rest of your life. Fight, or let her go. Either way, you gotta get out of your own fucking way.” He turns his head away from the phone. “Jacob,stop running. Man, I gotta go. Good luck when Maisy turns six, I’m pretty sure that’s when they become actual spawns of Satan.”

He hangs up, and my ears ring loudly in the silence of the room.

Cam

fuck amie I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you

should I still come to New York?

Are you still coming to Phoenix for Christmas? Mom and Dad would love to see you and Maisy.

I toss my phone to the other side of the bed before I can overthink my messages any more. Standing and stretching, I brush my teeth and swap my pyjama pants for swim trunks before grabbing a fluffy towel and padding out of the bedroom, barefoot.

I stayed at my parents’ house last night. I told my mom it was because I missed her cooking and the pool outside, but really, it’s because I couldn’t bare being alone. I couldn’t trust myself.

It’s not that I think I’m a danger to myself. I just don’t trust that I won’t do something dumb, like buy myself a plane ticket and hop on over to London to plead my case. I’m not above begging. Not for Amie.

I cross the pool with long, steady strokes. The pain of Amie’s words was dizzying, and to think of them even now, a full twenty-four hours later, is enough to throw my rhythm. I hit the side of the pool a full second before I expect to, and I grunt as I collide painfully with the tiles.

I twist in the water, shaking out my arms and rotating my aching shoulder, before pushing off again and swimming back in the other direction. I continue swimming mindless lengths for over an hour before Mom starts watching me suspiciously from the kitchen window.

I stop on my way back to reassure her that yes, I’m fine, I just missed having a pool to myself, and yes, I’d love a sandwich for lunch, before I return to the guest room with my towel slung low on my hips and beads of water trailing down my chest. I pick up my phone and hold my breath when I see Amie’s name on the screen.

Amie

Come to NY. There are two beds.

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