14. Amie
fourteen
Amie
T he night after Cam flew home, my phone buzzes with a FaceTime call just as I retrieve a well-worn book from under my bed. I swipe the screen to answer.
“Hey, am I late? Shit, I’m late, I’m so sorry, I tried—”
“You’re not late,” I tell him with a smile. Cam rubs a hand down his face and I see his whole body relax on the tiny screen. “I just put her to bed, we’re about to read a story.”
I pick up my tablet from my bedside table and carry it with me into Maisy’s bedroom. Maisy is waiting for me, her blanket tucked under her chin and her curls splayed out over her pillow. Her yellow pilot bear—imaginatively named Daddy Bear—and Roger are tucked in on either side of her. I flip open my tablet case and switch the video call to a bigger screen, setting it on Maisy’s belly. She yanks her arms from the confines of the blanket to hold onto the device.
“Daddy!” She grins into the screen.
“Hey, Maisy Girl,” Cam says with a tired smile. I notice for the first time that he’s in a hotel room, but he’s still wearing his uniform, as though he just landed somewhere and didn’t waste a second before calling. His phone is propped against something and I can see the faint orange glow of a sunset reflecting off his face like he’s sat in front of the window. “Are you taking care of Mommy for me?”
Maisy giggles and nods, and I step back, out of view of the camera. I feel like I’m intruding as Maisy tells Cam about her day and he in turn tells Maisy about his flight. They’re talking softly, thousands of miles apart but connected by blood, love, and a slightly pixellated video screen.
“I thought I might read you a bedtime story,” I hear Cam say. “Is that okay?”
Maisy looks up at me and I nod. I step back into the frame and sink down to the edge of Maisy’s mattress, resting my arms on it as I kneel on the plush rug. Cam looks at me expectantly and I realise he hadn’t seen me nod, so I repeat the motion, smiling weakly. In a matter of weeks, Camden fucking Whitehouse has turned my carefully balanced world upside down and inside out. My emotions are all over the place, and just the sight of those full, pink lips—even on a lagging FaceTime call—makes me want to do indecent things to them.
Cam’s smile widens and he reaches out of frame to pick up a book. He holds it up in front of the camera and Maisy squeaks with excitement, bouncing in place in her bed. There’s a plane on the cover with zoo animals poking their heads out of the windows. I smile, breathing a small laugh through my nose, and I watch Maisy’s expression as Cam reads the book from cover to cover, complete with animal voices. By the time he’s finished, Maisy is yawning and her eyes are drooping closed.
“Goodnight, Maisy Girl,” he whispers through the screen. “Have big dreams, sweetheart. ”
His smile lingers as I leave the tablet on Maisy’s belly for a moment as I kiss her goodnight. By the time I pick it up and tiptoe out of the room, she’s fast asleep and snoring lightly.
“Thank you for letting me read,” he says, and I suddenly realise the call is still live as I carry the tablet downstairs. I stand it on the kitchen counter as I flip the kettle on and busy myself preparing a mug of peppermint tea.
“I think she likes your stories more than mine,” I laugh lightly. “You might have worked yourself into a hole there, Cam.”
“Hey, if I get to read her a bedtime story every night when I call, that’s fine by me,” he laughs, too, and stretches his arms out above his head. “God, it’s been a day. How’s yours been?”
“Uneventful,” I say with a quiet sigh. “We went to the park and then Mae mostly had to entertain herself while I did boring shit like clean the house and wash a few loads of laundry. There were a lot of dinosaur families flying from Maisy Airport.”
He chuckles, rich and deep, even through my tablet’s tinny speakers. I carry my tea and tablet to the living room, where the fairy lights are still lit, and settle in the corner of the sofa. I tuck my feet beneath me and toss a blanket over my legs.
“Hey, when did you get the fourth stripe?” I ask. I’ve been dying to know since Santiago, but I’ve never found the right time to ask.
“Oh, uh, must be a year and a half, nearly two years ago now,” he says, a distant look in his eyes as he rubs a hand over his head and face.
“Congratulations,” I offer. “I know it’s a little late, but…”
“No, thank you. I appreciate it,” he says. “Will you play a game with me? ”
My heart slams against my ribcage. A game? Where the hell did that come from? I have no idea what kind of call Cam thinks this is, or what he wants to play, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re just co-parents—friends—sharing our day after saying goodnight to our daughter. It’s not a ‘playing a game’ kind of video call. My mouth is dry, despite the tea I’ve been sipping, and there’s a throbbing between my legs as I remember the things we did in Singapore. Maybe playing a game wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe…
“W—what kind of game?” I ask.
“Not that kind of game,” he winks into the lens. The wink sends a jolt of electricity through my whole body, boiling my blood and sending it all rushing between my thighs. “I just meant twenty questions.” He completes his thought and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Y—yeah,” I stammer. What is wrong with you, Amie? “I guess we can do that.”
“There’s so much we don’t know—so much we missed. We, uh—we didn’t exactly talk much in Singapore,” he chuckles. “And I was kinda outta my head in London with meeting Maisy…”
“Sure,” I say. “You wanna go first?”
“When’s your birthday?”
That one is easy.
“February tenth,” I answer. “Quid pro quo, Captain. You ask it, you answer it.”
“June twenty-third,” he chuckles again. A summer baby. Fuck me , the deep rumble of his laugh has that throbbing intensifying. I remember the way he chuckled when he—
“It’s your turn, honey,” he says, and the way his voice drips like actual honey… I clench my thighs and try to come up with another question.
“What’s your biggest fear?”
Maybe thinking of scary things will settle my inner horndog.
“Needles,” he says without hesitation. Huh. “What’s yours?”
“Losing Maisy,” I say honestly. Before Maisy, I didn’t know fear. I sailed through life happily avoiding the hard stuff; I was a daughter to a healthy mother, my best friends were the best girls you could ever meet, my job was easy in spite of the hard work—but since that little girl barrelled into my life like a tiny tornado, the fear is oppressive and all-consuming; it suffocates my every waking moment. I feel it every day.
My life is split in two now: Before Maisy and After Maisy. Before Maisy—back in the days when I was just Amie —is dull; all muffled sounds and monochrome but with a sense of liberty I never realised until After Maisy. After Maisy brought the advent of surround sound and Technicolor, and with it, the sudden paralysis of the ties and fears that bind.
She is the single greatest thing I’ve ever done—easily the very best thing about me—and I’d lay down my life in a heartbeat for that little girl. I’ve lived three years content in knowing without a doubt that I’d step in front of a bullet for her. For three years, it’s been me and Maisy, Maisy and me—the two of us against the world. The fear of losing her, of one day having no one to take a bullet for? That’s what scares me more than anything else.
Before I know it, more than an hour has passed by. I’ve learned that Cam hates chocolate, he listens to sad-boy country music, and that his best friend from high school is in the army and currently stationed in Germany, where he lives with his German wife, Caroline—which Cam pronounces as Caro-lee-nuh . His favourite colour is the blue of the midnight sky. He was learning to fly before he was old enough to learn to drive. It’s the only thing he ever wanted to do. He’s still in his uniform and we’re both yawning through the screen, but we’ve had the easiest conversation I’ve had with anyone but Katy for a long time.
“Crap, I gotta go,” he says, stretching again. “I gotta shower and get some food before I sleep. Same time tomorrow?”
“Yeah, we’ll be here,” I say with a soft smile. He ends the call and I sit for another minute, smiling at the blank screen, before turning the lights off, dumping my empty mug in the sink, and heading up to bed.