Page 13 of The Best Bad Decision

I know she’s right. But the pain on Cam’s face cut me to the core. It burned deep into my soul and I might never forget it. The sadness ofmissing out, the hurt of not being told. I’m the one who caused that pain, and the haunted look in his eyes will never leave me as long as I live. A few hours with him in Santiago only proved that I still want him—but I can’t. He’s in this for Maisy, not for me. How could he want me after I caused so much hurt? I could’ve prevented this. I could’ve changed all of this if I hadn’t run.

If only I hadn’t run.

Trying to prepare for the arrival of someone who is, ostensibly, a complete stranger, is a challenge. Sometimes, I trick myself into believing he’s not a stranger at all. He’s never felt like a stranger to me. One night, I knew him intimately, every inch of his skin, every breath, every heartbeat. But that was one night, almost four years ago, and for every day before and since, he’s been a stranger.

We exchanged numbers in Santiago, but the only time I’ve used his is to send him some new pictures of Maisy. I just don’t know what to say. I want to say so much, but I daren’t. I won’t. We agreed he wouldn’t meet Maisy over the phone—that we’d save that moment for when he’s here in person. So our text conversations have been brief, largely revolving around sharing a few work stories and sending photos of Maisy.

The day before he’s due to fly out here, I text him from the soup aisle of the supermarket as I pluck a tin from the shelf and drop it into my basket.

Amie

What food do you eat? Allergies? Should I get anything specific?

Cam

I’ll eat anything. Don’t worry about me. Jumping on a plane now. See you tomorrow.

Well, I guess that’s that.

Maisy’s favourite crackers make it into my basket, along with some more soup, pizza fingers, KitKats, and plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables. At the last minute, I add some chicken nuggets and the ingredients for taco night, and then check out, heading home to fill the fridge. The house needs a deep clean before Cam arrives, and that might just be what I need to take my mind off his perfect fucking face.

It takes me a good six hours to clean from top to bottom, and by the time I’m done, my mum has brought Maisy home from the park and they’re colouring pictures of dinosaurs at the kitchen table whilst a tray of pizza fingers cooks in the oven.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Mum runs a hand over Maisy’s curls as she concentrates on her picture, gently pressing a yellow crayon to a dinosaur eye on the page.

“Not really.” I pull a face. I’m not even close to being ready. There are a million reasons why I need to do this, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about it.

“It’ll be okay,” Mum promises. The oven alarm buzzes and she jumps up, stuffing her hands into my oversized pink oven mitts to retrieve the hot tray. She plates the pizza and cuts it into finger-sized pieces, then pours a cup of strawberry-infused water from a jug in the fridge.

“Pizza fingers!” Maisy cheers as Mum slides the plastic plate and cup in front of her. “Thank you Gramma!”

Mum kisses Maisy’s head before leading me to the hallway. We can still see Maisy, but her little ears can’t overhear.

“Don’t let him do anything you’re not comfortable with, honey,” she begins. “I know he meant a lot to you that night, but you don’t know him. Just be careful with that heart of yours.”

“I will, Mum,” I promise.

“I’ve picked up another shift at the hospital tomorrow so I’ll be working, but text me if you need me. I love you.” She shrugs on her coat and wraps me in a hug. “Love you, Maisy Moo, see you soon!”

And then it’s just me and Maisy again. The way it’s always been. The way it might never be again.

The following morning—the big day,as my friends have dubbed it—Katy shows up early with a tray of coffee and my favourite breakfast bagel from Bagel Hero, the brunch bistro that sits almost exactly halfway between our houses. It’s been our favourite meeting point for years. It’s become tradition to pick up coffee and bagels for one another before we meet, and this morning especially, I’m grateful. I need the distraction, if nothing else.

“My saviour,” I gush, laughing as I swipe a coffee cup and my breakfast, wrapped in a paper bag. “Mae has been a wild thing this morning.”

“What, my little Maisy-Pop?” Katy laughs, then hollers into the house as she follows me to the kitchen. “Maisy-Pop!”

Tiny feet stomp like thunder as my little girl launches herself down the stairs at warp speed, t-shirt inside out and curls wild around her head like a tangled halo. She flies at my best friend and collides with Katy’s knees, screeching with glee as Katy feigns a backwards stumbleand drops down hard into a dining chair, one hand dramatically covering her chest. Maisy roars with laughter.

“There’s my Maisy-Pop,” she exclaims, pulling Mae into her lap and peppering her grinning face with kisses. My heart swells as I watch them. Katy has been my best friend since we met at eleven years old, fresh recruits to the cross-country running club after school on Thursdays. But it’s not just Katy. All three of my best friends love my daughter like their own, and willingly drop everything to spend time with their three-year-old goddaughter at a moment’s notice. The privilege isn’t lost on me for a second. Katy looks up at me, arms wrapped around Maisy’s middle as Mae tucks into the bowl of Cheerios I place on the table.

“What time does he land?” she asks. I tear into the paper and unwrap my bagel, inhaling the delicious sausage and egg aroma before taking a bite. I chew and swallow quickly before I answer.

“Not until ten—I have some time.”

Katy covers Maisy’s ears with her hands.

“You gonna sit on his face?” I scowl at her.

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