Page 66 of The Best Bad Decision

“I don’t know,” I whisper. Katy’s expression softens. Paloma puts down the taco she’s been holding aloft since Roo announced my sexcapades and shuffles around the corner of the sofa towards me.

“What do you want?” She looks me in the eye.

“I want—” I gulp. I reach for my drink, then set it down again. “I want him.”

Katy puts a hand on my shoulder and Paloma leans in, resting her head on my other side. Ruth kneels in front of me, one hand on my knee.

“The way he looked at you yesterday, I’d say you’ve already got him,” Roo says quietly.

“I’ll drink to that.” Katy raises her margarita and drains the glass. “He looked at you like the sun shone out of your arse, even back in October when he first came over and met Maisy.”

I huff out a laugh, smiling even as I sniffle back tears.

“I think I’ve always loved him,” I admit to the safety of my best friends. “I’ve thought about him every single day for almost four years and I think I’ve just loved him forever.”

No one knows what to say, but they push our plates of half-eaten food aside and pile on top of me, hugging me tight until my tears subside.

“Enough of this,” I say, fighting my way through a tangle of my best friends’ limbs. “I want to finish that taco and then I’m gonna need another margarita.”

Paloma laughs first, then Ruth, then Katy, and then we’re all queueing at the microwave to reheat our food while we replenish our drinks.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” I say, after we’ve finished eating. I reach for my bag. “I have some souvenirs for you!”

Ever since I started flying, I’ve brought back souvenirs for all three girls from every trip to a new place. Katy has a fridge magnet, Paloma gets a shot glass and Ruth gets pens from all over the world. Katy and Paloma already had their collections underway before I began tocontribute, but, not knowing what to get for Ruth—who works in a legal office for a massive global company—I picked up a pen from Los Angeles one day. And so begun the tradition.

I pull a small pouch from my bag and dole out the new gifts from Calgary, Bangalore and Durban, three of the airline’s newest destinations. The girls pass them around, oohing and aahing over them.

After another few hours of talking about absolutely everything, I finally stand and stretch my arms above my head.

“I need to get home, ladies,” I say with a yawn. “There’s a man waiting for me in my bed, after all.”

Roo jumps up and leads me to the cupboard where my coat and shoes have been stashed, while Paloma and Katy whistle and catcall from the sofa.

“Go get him, sweet thing,” she whispers as she hugs me tightly at the door.

Back at home, I heft Maisy’s carry-on bag into my arms and into my bedroom, setting it down in the corner. Then I open the zip and stand with my hands on my hips, surveying the scene. I should’ve known better than to let Maisy pack the bag herself, regardless of my intention to go through it before leaving for Phoenix. Cam sidles up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing the side of my neck and I sigh, tipping my head to ease his access.

“Mmmm,” I hum. “That’s nice.”

He sucks and then kisses at my throat one more time, then points at the bag on the ground in front of us.

“What’s this?”

“Maisy wanted to show you all her new favourite things,” I explain. “So she packed them in here to bring out for Christmas. Except, sinceyou’re here, she can show you now and we can pack more sensible items.” I squat down to the bag and pull out a yellow rain boot with dinosaur spikes down the back of the ankle. Its mate is nowhere to be found.

Cam laughs and shakes his head.

“That girl,” he says, a tender look in his eyes as he looks toward the wall that separates her bedroom from mine, the little girl in question asleep on the other side of it. “She really is somethin’ else.”

I empty the bag and leave everything in a pile, before re-packing it with the sweater, colouring books, crayons and planes Maisy and I had agreed on. We had to compromise on how many planes would go in the bag, but we eventually came to an agreement, and I’d collected them before spending the evening with Ruth and the girls.

I add a few extra items: some spare underwear and socks, a travel blanket that folds into a pillow, and Maisy’s games tablet and headphones, then zip it closed. The rest of her clothes will share my suitcase, and Cam has brought a bag with plenty of empty space for her Christmas presents, which he packed up whilst I was out.

“I was thinking,” he says, pulling me into his arms again and kissing my hair as he walks us back towards my bed. I hum in response, my entire body alive and alight with his touch.

“I was looking for an Airbnb but I wanted to talk to you first,” he continues. He kisses my hair again and I pull back, too distracted by his lips to focus on his words. “It’s a little way out of the city, but it’s the only one available this close to Christmas.”

“Why?” I ask. “You have a perfectly good apartment.”

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