Page 23 of One Little Mistake

Erin

“Max is a great guy. You should take a closer look at him. No girlfriend, owns his own apartment, kind and dependable. He’s long overdue for a wife. And forget about your ex, or you’ll miss your chance to build a real life. Your baby needs a father, Erin, and you need a husband.”

Vivienne’s words echo in my mind and refuse to leave.

Not the part about me taking a closer look at Max—I don’t even let myself entertain that thought.

We’re practically strangers, walking separate paths.

But Vivienne’s right about one thing: I do need a man.

A solid one. The kind of man you can lean on, who will stand like a wall behind you. But are there even any good ones left?

I follow Max toward the elevator. Tim is sleeping soundly in the baby carrier, which Max insisted on carrying himself.

Today I feel more rested, almost energetic, and for once I’m not thinking about my ex.

Maybe it’s the nerves. I’m genuinely anxious about the apartment.

I really don’t want to leave this building.

Clean air, a park nearby—everything a child needs.

We enter the elevator and ride down to the sixth floor.

I glance sideways at Max. As always, he’s silent, brooding.

I wish I could see his real smile. The genuine one.

I bet it’s beautiful. Is he like this only with me, or is he always this closed off?

With Vivienne, he jokes around and seems relaxed.

But with me… it’s different. Maybe that’s how it should be, though, right?

“One-twelve. Here we are,” he says, stopping in front of a dark door and pressing the buzzer.

I clasp my hands nervously, glance down to check on Tim—still asleep—and try to calm the flutter in my stomach.

A young guy opens the door and invites us in.

I step over the threshold and scan the small apartment.

Sure, it’s tiny compared to Max’s place, but for me and the baby?

It’s enough. The rent is reasonable. The windows face the park, and while Max asks a dozen practical questions, as if I’m a clueless child who doesn’t understand this stuff, I find myself gazing at the snow-covered trees. In spring, the view will be stunning.

“If everything looks good, you can call Den. I’ll be out in two weeks. All the furniture stays,” the tenant’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

I glance at Max questioningly.

“Two weeks?” I ask, disappointed. “I thought it would be available in the next few days.”

“Wish I could,” the guy shrugs, “but I need a little more time.”

“Thanks. We’ll talk it over and let the landlord know,” Max replies, his fingers tightening around the baby carrier.

I press my lips together in disappointment and silently follow Max out of the apartment.

“Did you like the place?” he asks once the door closes behind us.

“Yeah. I’ll put down the deposit today and sign the lease. Now I just need to figure out where to stay for the next two weeks—preferably close by.”

We stop, facing each other in the hallway. Max looks at me like he’s staring straight through me, absentmindedly twisting his keys in his hand.

“You can stay here… if it comes to that,” he sighs, as if the words physically hurt to say.

“Oh no, thanks, but I’ve imposed on you enough already,” I reply quickly. “I’ll look for a short-term rental today. And I really hope my car’s still where I left it. With my luck, it’s probably been stolen while I was in the hospital,” I add with an eye roll.

“If you mean the gray Hyundai,” Max smirks, “it’s safe and sound. Taking up my spot in the underground garage.”

“Oh—I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I got used to it,” he waves off. “No big deal. But speaking of cars… damn. I completely forgot I abandoned mine in a snowdrift in the middle of the road. Guess I should go dig it out,” he mutters, clearly annoyed, throwing on a coat before heading out and leaving me alone in the apartment.

I want to accept his offer. This place feels like home. The familiar walls, the cozy routine, no packing, no rushing, no stress. But no matter how tempting it sounds, there’s one problem: a moody, broad-shouldered man who clearly isn’t thrilled about sharing his space with me and my baby.

Max is gone for four hours. Four. I actually start to worry.

It’s dark outside, and he’s not answering his phone.

I try to tell myself I shouldn’t care. He’s just the guy who accidentally ended up involved in my mess.

But I do care. My mind starts spinning with worst-case scenarios: What if something happened?

I wash the dishes. Cook dinner with whatever’s left in the fridge. I do anything I can to keep busy. Then I find myself hovering over Tim, watching him sleep, listening to his soft little breaths. I could stand there forever, just looking at him.

Max still isn’t back by seven, and my heart won’t settle. Maybe it’s because he’s been kind to me. Because he helped.

By eight, I start to feel weak. I realize I haven’t taken my meds. I sink into the armchair by the window, switch off the light, and let my eyes follow the snowy glow of the city. Every now and then, a car passes below, and I track each one, hoping.

When I hear the key turn in the lock, I flinch—and then, forgetting all about the dizziness and the pain, I practically run to the hallway. I must look insane: hair a mess, eyes wide with relief. But I don’t care. He’s here. He’s safe.

Max sets two large grocery bags on the floor and gives me a puzzled look.

“You okay?” he asks, frowning.

“Yeah, of course,” I say quickly, catching my reflection in the mirror and smoothing my unruly hair. “You were just… gone for a while.”

“Took forever to find where I actually left the car. Then I had to dig it out. And I stopped by the store on the way back…” He shrugs off his coat and shoes, runs a hand through his messy hair, picks up the bags, and heads for the kitchen. I follow, quiet as a mouse.

“Smells good,” he notes, nodding toward the stove.

“Beef stew,” I mumble, flustered.

“Perfect. I’m starving.” He pulls out baby food from one of the bags. “I got the same brand of formula for Tim as last time. My phone died, so I couldn’t call to ask what else you needed.”

“Thank you.” I blink in surprise, genuinely touched by his thoughtfulness. God, why couldn’t my man be like this?

While I stare into space, getting lost in a daydream of some imaginary happy family, Max puts the groceries away with quiet efficiency. I can’t help but notice how tidy everything is. I’ve been gone for weeks, and the place still looks spotless—like no one even lived here.

“You’ve got a doctor’s appointment in two days,” he says, sitting down at the table. “They should have the roads cleared by tomorrow, so we’ll be fine getting there. Mmm—this is good,” he adds after a bite, actually smiling.

“Thanks. I’ll go now,” I mutter, rising to my feet, hoping to make a quiet escape before the awkwardness swallows me whole.

“Erin.” His voice stops me in the doorway.

I turn around and meet his serious gaze.

“There’s a hotel a few blocks away. You could stay there until the studio’s ready.

But honestly, I think you should stay here.

” He pauses. “You’re still recovering. What if something happens?

What if you don’t feel well and no one’s around to help? Just… think about it.”

“Okay,” I whisper, before slipping into the bedroom. My heart’s pounding like crazy. Why the hell am I so nervous?

I lie down on the bed and press my palm to my chest, taking a few deep breaths, turning over everything that’s happened to me lately—carefully avoiding Max’s tempting offer.

Because the apartment doesn’t come alone.

It comes with a caring man. One who is grumpy as hell and, at times, seems completely unwelcoming.

The next day, Max and I avoid talking about me moving out.

I start gathering my things from around the apartment, trying to stuff everything into the same two suitcases I arrived with six months ago, but it’s pointless.

I’ve accumulated way too much stuff. Max watches silently, offering no commentary.

He eats, sleeps, plays video games, occasionally asks me something meaningless.

In the evening, we end up in the bedroom again, on opposite sides of the bed, watching another movie.

About halfway through, I realize Max is fast asleep—so is Tim in my arms. I gently lay the baby in his crib, tuck the blanket around him, and then I just stand there in the middle of the room, staring at the sleeping man.

He’s wearing a t-shirt that clings to his body, outlining every muscle.

One arm is thrown over his head, the other rests by his side.

I don’t dare wake him. I switch off the TV, slip under the blanket, and lie there for a long time, staring up at the dark ceiling. I listen to Max’s slow, heavy breathing. At some point, he mumbles something incoherent in his sleep, then rolls onto his side and throws his arm over me.

I freeze. I don’t even dare to breathe. My whole body trembles from the closeness. From his scent. From the weight of his arm across my chest.

It’s been so long since I was close to anyone.

I kept waiting for my Max, dreaming of him, longing to be in his strong arms. And now, after the bitter truth, all I want is comfort.

Support. Something real. Masculine. And from just this accidental contact—his body against mine—I feel like I might explode.

A storm of emotion sweeps through me, crashing right into my soul, and with my eyes closed, I let myself pretend. Just for a minute. That the man sleeping next to me is mine. That he’s the one I love. The one I’ve been waiting for. The one I ache for.

Just for a minute. No one said I couldn’t dream.

But my perfect little fantasy shatters the moment Max’s phone rings. He flinches, quickly pulls away from me, grabs the phone, silences it, then sleepily checks the screen—and still answers.

“Yeah?” he mumbles hoarsely, barely audible. Then he turns his head in my direction, and I quickly shut my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I’m not even sure he can see me clearly in the dim light. But I listen—closely. As if this call might change everything.

“Natalie, not tonight. And not tomorrow either.”

From the quiet of the apartment, I catch a woman’s voice on the other end. I can’t make out the words, just the tone. She sounds annoyed. Upset.

“I said I’ll call you. I’m busy. No, I’m not lying. Seriously. Okay, talk soon.”

So, Vee was wrong. There is someone in his life. And for some reason, that thought stings.

A tight knot forms in my throat, my mood darkens, and I have the sudden urge to get up and leave. Head straight for the couch, maybe. And yet… I feel ridiculous. Why do I even care if there’s a woman in his life?

The room sinks back into silence. Max exhales sharply, then gets up and walks out.

And just like that, the loneliness crashes in.

Overwhelmed, I let out a quiet sob, feeling a single tear roll down my cheek. Self-pity is the worst kind of emotion—but it wins tonight. Eventually, sleep takes over. A deep, heavy kind of sleep that carries me through the night.

So deep that I don’t even hear Max come back. I only realize he’s there when I wake up to the sound of Tim crying.