Page 76 of The Best Bad Decision

“I love my parents, Amie, you know that. And I’ll miss ‘em like crazy whether I’m in BostonorLondon. But I’ll be missing you and Maisy more if I stay here. She’s my daughter, Amie, and you’re—you’re my whole heart. I’d move to the fucking moon if it meant being with you.”

Her eyes soften, and I take the opportunity as it’s handed to me. I lean in and take her lips with mine, kissing softly, teasing the seam of her mouth with my tongue until she opens for me.

She’s the sweetest damn thing I’ve ever tasted. I could get drunk off Amie Caine’s mouth. The throb in my pants wants me to devour her but I kiss her slow, taking my time to explore every inch like it’s my very first time meeting her lips. She sighs and I swallow the sound, one hand on her ribs and the other tangling in her hair, pressing her mouth closer to mine.

We break apart, breathing heavily and desperate for air.

“I’ll move, Amie,” I say. “I want to. If you want me to. If you’ll have me. This is a forever kind of thing for me.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “I want.”

I kiss her again.

thirty-nine

Amie

The night before NewYear’s Eve—the night before Maisy and I fly home to London—Maisy begs for a sleepover with Granny and Grandpa, and they readily accept. It gives me and Cam a night to ourselves. We haven’t had a real “date” night since the night we met in Singapore.

In London, and here at Thanksgiving, we weren’t together, and Maisy was always with us anyway. Even in New York, the one night we had was lost to desperate lust, an urgent need to reacquaint ourselves with one another, inside and out. But tonight, Cam is taking me out, and for the first time in a long time, I’m taking my time to get ready.

My curls are in their natural state: loose spirals hanging just beyond the curves of my shoulders, pinned back from my face with a beaded hair slide I found at an artisan market in Mexico City. The beads are emerald green to match the slip dress laying on the bed, waiting to be worn when my makeup is done.

I lean close to the mirror, carefully lining my eyes with a dark brown pencil and smudging it for a smoky effect. It’s light and natural, with just enough depth to add a little darkness.Perfect.I keep my lips neutral with a soft, rosy pink balm, and dust my cheekbones with a littlechampagne shimmer. Then, I step into the dress, slip my feet into a pair of wood-heeled sandals, and cross the room to the sofa, where Cam waits.

He’s wearing a charcoal grey shirt with black chinos, sleeves rolled to his elbows and the collar unbuttoned. He looks delicious, and for a moment I’m tempted to forego the date and stay in, using our evening alone to make as much noise as we want.

But then he looks up at me.

His green eyes burn with something—lust—as they rove my body from head to toe, and when they settle on my face, they soften.Love.

“You look beautiful,” he says, and takes my hand. We've been driving for forty minutes before I realise I have no idea where we're headed or what he has planned for us.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he says, glancing quickly at me before turning his eyes back to the road.

“I hope it’s close because I have to pee,” I tell him, shifting in my seat. “And I’d rather not squat over a cactus.”

He snorts inelegantly, turning his head just slightly, the moonlight highlighting his strong profile through the car windows. He’s beautiful. He was handsome when we first met—gorgeous, even—but the years have been kind. I can’t take my eyes off him.

“We’re nearly there,” he says, tapping a finger against the steering wheel. “And don’t worry, they have restrooms.”

We slow at the entrance to a field and I frown as Cam rolls down his window. A teen in a neon jacket waves an arm and Cam steers the car through the gate, over a cattle grid and onto a field. It’s full of cars and hay bales, with street food stands at the back and an enormous projector screen at the front.

“Is this…”

“It’s not a true drive-in, but it’s the closest I could get. The open-air theatre has been running for a few years now over the summer and the holidays. I know you said it was on your bucket list…”

I lean over the console between us and kiss him hard, one hand on either side of his face.

“It’s perfect,” I tell him. “Truly. Thank you. But I really do have to pee.”

He laughs, and waves an arm out of his still-open window.

“Right over there, between Todd’s Tacos and the burger van.”

I hop out of the car, careful not to step in any soft patches in my heels, and pick my way through the crowd to the restrooms, which turn out to be far cleaner and more salubrious than I had imagined. It takes me a few minutes longer to return as I pick up a couple of cups of hot chocolate on my way, and then miscount the rows of cars before I finally catch sight of Cam, towering above the vehicle rooflines.

---