Page 9 of The Best Bad Decision

“Oh, Cam,” she whispers. “Look at her, she’s beautiful. She looks…”

“Just like me, yeah,” I say bashfully. “Her name is Maisy. She just turned three.”

“And her mom?” Dad speaks for the first time. His eyes are still focused intently on Mom’s phone screen just below the camera lens, and I imagine he’s studying Maisy’s face the same way I’ve done for hours already.

“We—I mean, she—her name is Amie and we met on one of my layovers,” I explain. “She’s a flight attendant. We used protection but… I guess it didn’t work.”

Mom winces.

“We never exchanged numbers and I never saw her again. Until I got here, obviously.”

“She’s the one from that night,” Mom says quietly. “Your Singapore girl.” I nod.

“Was she ever gonna tell you?” Dad asks coolly. He’s eerily calm, in complete contrast to Mom who is trying to stave off hysteria, struggling to process the news I’ve just dropped like an atom bomb. Wordlessly, Dad puts a hand on her shoulder and she leans into him for support.

“She didn’t have my number, Dad.” I defend Amie’s actions—or lack thereof. He seems mad, and that’s the last thing I wanted to come of this conversation. My parents and I have always been close; they’ve always been there for me, and now more than ever, I need their support. “She didn’t even know my last name. She never wanted to keep Maisy from me. We never planned for this to happen.”

“But it has, son,” he says quietly. “So what are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna meet my daughter,” I say, without hesitation. “I’m gonna be her dad.”

Dad gives me a satisfied nod, and I think that’s the answer he wanted to hear.

“She really does look like you, son,” he says, peering at Mom’s screen with a hint of a smile. “I think we have a photo somewhere of you covered in ice cream, too.” His eyes flash up and he winks into the camera, and I know we’re okay. I surprised him with the news—just like Amie surprised me—but I know without a shadow of a doubt that as soon as he meets his granddaughter, she’ll have him wrapped around one of those tiny little fingers.

With the bombshell out of the way, we move on to lighter subjects.

“So, how’s Santiago?” Mom asks, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of a tissue. “Where are you flying to next, honey?”

I laugh, the tension finally broken.

“Santiago’s good, as always; up to Miami next and then back to San Francisco.” I run through my schedule in my mind as I explain it to my parents. “Then I’ll be home for a few days before I have a four-day run back and forth. Coast to coast.”

“When are you meeting Maisy?” Dad asks. Mom elbows him lightly.

“Two weeks,” I answer. “Amie’s got a couple weeks off of work so I’m gonna fly to London and meet her.”

“London, huh?” Dad asks, a sly twinkle in his eye. “You always did have a thing for a British accent.”

“I was five and I loved Mary Poppins, sue me,” I retort with a laugh. “Julie Andrews was a babe.”

We chat for a little while longer before we hang up, after I promise to visit for dinner on one of the days I’m home between flights. We speakevery few days, but it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve really hung out with my parents and I miss them. I shoot off a quick text to my best friend, Graham, with the news.

He texts back almost immediately.

Gray

WTF

Cam

Almost word for word my reaction

Gray

You gonna get involved?

Cam

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