16. Amie
sixteen
Amie
A nother night, another phone call. Maisy’s nightly chats with Cam have become the highlight of her day; she spends her time gathering stories to tell him and she giggles delightedly when she hears my phone ring. I let her choose a special ringtone for him, so we’d know who’s calling, and she chose her favourite song from The Little Mermaid. Now, whenever Cam calls, she makes me wait while she dances and wiggles along to Under The Sea before I’m allowed to answer the call.
“Goodnight, Maisy Girl,” Cam murmurs through the phone. “Have big dreams, sweetheart.”
Maisy’s lower lip wobbles, and her bright green eyes fill with tears. She looks from my phone to me and back again. I squeeze her tiny body closer to me, dipping my head to press repeated kisses into her hair.
“Time to sleep now, angel girl,” I whisper into her curls. “We’ll talk to Daddy again tomorrow.”
“Mama,” she whimpers. Her arms clench around her Daddy Bear, making his head and legs jerk awkwardly. “Daddy hug.”
“Soon, baby girl,” I promise. I swallow hard, my throat thick with emotion. I knew this was coming—the emotional impact of knowing Cam, of loving him, and having him be so far away. I knew I’d be in for plenty of tears, and probably some tantrums too. But the sadness in her eyes is enough to steal my breath. “Sleep now, okay?”
Maisy nods, turning her face into Roger’s flank and twisting her tiny body beneath the sheets. I glance at the screen to see Cam watching helplessly, his own eyes glassy with emotion. Within minutes, Maisy’s breathing evens out and I carefully stand from her low bed, stretching as I flick off the light and leave the room.
“You, uh—you got any plans for the rest of the evening?” His voice is hoarse, eyes sad, still shaken from Maisy’s tears. I swallow down my own emotions as I flick on the kitchen light and boil some water for another cup of tea.
“You mean, other than this? Talking to you?” I offer a dry laugh with a raised eyebrow. My favourite yellow mug in hand, I return to the sofa, just like the previous night, and throw the same blanket over my legs. This time, my tea is a rooibos and honey blend, and its scent calms my frayed nerves as it rises in the steam and washes over my face. I blow gently across the surface of the hot liquid before taking a sip.
“Yeah, why not,” Cam offers. “The night is young. Live a little.”
“Okay, sure… maybe I’ll go out, meet a generous billionaire and convince him to fall wildly in love with me.” I roll my eyes with a grin. Cam’s eyes darken and his jaw twitches almost imperceptibly. His expression turns to stone for a split second before he schools it into something more impassive.
“I don’t think he’d take much convincing, pretty girl.”
“Oh, so my plan is a good one?” I retort cheekily. I’m goading him now. I want to believe that he doesn’t like the idea of me shacking up with a billionaire because he’d rather it were him, but he doesn’t see me that way. To him, I’m just Amie, a one-night-fling from four years ago. I’m Maisy’s mum. I’m his friend. I think.
He hasn’t called me pretty girl since Singapore, and when he did it then, I almost combusted on the spot. I practically dropped my panties and gave it all up to him right there and then, with one deep rumble of his voice and that perfect, boyish grin that still makes me weak in the knees. I feel the same rush of warmth in my belly, and my mind flickers to the vibrator in my bedside drawer. The one that’s seen more use than ever over the last month. The one I’m desperate to spend some time with, reliving the last time he called me pretty girl .
Cam clears his throat quietly and brings me back to the present To real life, not the imaginary one where I can let myself want him. Because I know he doesn’t feel the same. I know that if I shack up with anyone—if I ever date again—his concern is for Maisy. Not for me.
“No,” he murmurs. “Try again.”
“Maybe I’ll just watch a movie, then,” I sigh, stretching my legs out and rotating my ankles beneath the blanket.
“Better,” he says. “What are we watching?”
“We?”
“Sure, why not? Have you eaten yet?”
“Nope, not yet,” I admit. "I was just gonna pour myself some cereal or something.”
“Cereal for dinner, huh?”
“Perks of being an adult.”
Cam laughs, then says, “my room service lunch should be here any moment.” As luck would have it, I hear a dull thump, and his eyes flare just slightly. "Or right now. Be right back.” He hops off the bed, and I hear the quiet rumble of his voice as he thanks the delivery person, before he returns to my screen with a tray of food in his arms.
“Grab your cereal. Let’s find something on Netflix, we can do dinner and a movie together.”
I swallow hard. “Dinner and a movie. Sure. A little friend-date—what's a few thousand miles between friends?”
It's Cam's turn to swallow hard, and I watch his Adam's apple bob and his shoulders rise and fall as he takes a slow, deep breath before digging into his food. I just friend-zoned him pretty hard. It's not exactly the zone I want him to be in, but it's probably for the best.
“Come on. Get your cereal. We’ll buddy-watch, or whatever the kids call it.”
“God, you’re so fucking old,” I laugh as I unfold myself from the sofa and head for the kitchen. A minute later, bowl of cheerios in hand, I return to my seat and reach for the remote. I navigate to the streaming service and scroll through the latest additions. I pause on each one to read the one-line synopsis before moving on. “It’s all pretty shit, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much,” he hums. “What’s your favourite movie?”
“Mine? The Great Gatsby. Easy. I used to watch it in German with subtitles when I was studying. Spanish, too, but just for fun. I watched a lot of my favourites that way.” I shake my head a little, suddenly lost in the tangent of memories. “What’s yours?”
“Airplane.” He ducks his head with a smile. Predictable. But endearing. A sweet second-chance love story. My heart skips a little.
“God, I haven’t seen that for years,” I muse. “Wanna watch that? Is it even on here? ”
“It is, and yeah, let’s sit and watch planes while we take time off from being on planes.”
“Like you don’t sit and watch runway live streams on YouTube.”
“Hey!” He protests. “It’s research .”
“It’s nerd .”
I queue up the movie as he laughs, and he counts us in to press play together. I see the reflection of the image from the screen flicker across his face as his eyes flit from the TV to his phone and back again. He’s still gorgeous, even in unflattering blue light. The nostalgic smile on his face warms me, and I find myself watching him more than the movie.
I watch until my eyes grow heavy, scratching like sandpaper, and I’m barely humming a response to Cam’s periodic commentary. And at some point, I fall asleep, because I wake up with the lights still on, the TV on standby, a crick in my neck, and a text.
Cam
Thanks for watching the movie with me. Sweet dreams, Amie
“You wanna take another ride on his disco stick.” Ruth sees through my bravado, as always, with an astonishing lack of tact. It’s the day after our movie marathon, and the first day in over a week where the sun is shining and it’s not raining, and Maisy insisted we invite Katy, Roo and Paloma to the park with us. Luckily, as it’s a weekend, Ruth is free from her corporate ties, and both Katy and Paloma had some time to spare in the afternoon. To Maisy’s delight, they all met us at the park.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Roo.” I roll my eyes. “I can’t. He’s in this for Maisy, anyway, not for me. He’s basically said as much.”
“Has he? Or is that what you told him?”
I sigh. “We—I mean, he—we’re—he’s almost forty and as far as I know, he’s never married. We’re in such different places. We’re just not compatible.” And if I don’t let him get too close, I can’t have my heart broken when he inevitably walks away. I keep one eye on Maisy as she climbs to the top of the jungle gym, hot on the heels of another little girl we see at the playground regularly. The other girl is a little older than Maisy, but she’s here often with her grandparents, and they play together a lot.
“Maybe he just hadn’t met you yet,” Paloma suggests. “Star-crossed, y’know? Like Rom and Jules.” Ruth rolls her eyes.
“He met me four years ago, Lo,” I say dryly. “And Romeo and Juliet is most definitely not a love story to aspire to.”
“Maybe he’s just not the marrying kind. Maybe he’d rather fuck and run. Different girl every night.” Ruth shrugs. “Slutty little pilot doing slutty little pilot things.”
“Roo!” Paloma jabs Ruth in the ribs with her elbow and Ruth yelps, sliding right to the edge of the bench, out of reach of Paloma’s long, bony limbs.
“I’m just saying,” she continues. “Playing devil’s advocate here. You’re right, Amie. He’s nearly forty and still single. There’s gotta be a reason. And it’s clearly not his dick, if you were telling the truth that night. ”
“Maybe there isn’t a reason,” Katy supplies. She’s been quiet the whole time, sat on my other side. “Maybe he just hadn’t found someone he wanted to settle down with. Amie, you know what his life is like, always on the move. Dating is hard enough without distance and time zones.”
She’s not entirely wrong. It is hard—distance, time zones, constant movement and travel—it puts a strain on every relationship, not just the romantic ones. Sometimes, after a long flight, I barely manage to text my mum before I succumb to the jet lag.
“I’m sorry, Amie,” Ruth says. We’ve all been quiet for a moment, contemplating Katy’s words. “Just ignore me. They finally transferred Jay to a hospital here and he won’t let me see him. It’s turned me into a right grumpy bitch.”
I reach past Paloma to grab Ruth’s knee, squeezing it comfortingly. Here I am, worrying about whether or not I’m gonna get dicked by a man I’m not even dating, when Ruth’s brother almost died a few months ago. Great work, Amie. Ruth grabs my hand and squeezes it in return, smiling sadly at me. I inhale and hold my breath before exhaling slowly.
My heart wants Katy to be right. But my brain won’t let me believe anything other than Ruth.