Page 34 of One Little Mistake

“Yeah, go ahead. Run back to your neighbor. The one drooling over you. Just do yourself a favor this time and make sure he’s actually dating you and not just killing time on vacation.

You’re such a naive little girl, Erin. Easy to confuse things, huh?

He proposes and suddenly you’re already picking out wedding dresses. ”

I pretend not to hear, but inside, it burns. I really thought he was better than this. Once. We were good together once—before reality ruined it. What the hell happened to him?

I scoop Tim into my arms, refusing to even glance in Max’s direction. I grab my purse and walk out—still in my pajamas and slippers.

The tears press at my throat, but I force them down. I didn’t know words could hurt this much. And now I’m not so sure my son even needs a father like him.

I step into the elevator, my hand hovering above the number “6” but not pressing it. I hesitate. Somewhere else in this building, it’s warm. Safe. A place where I can be weak for once. Where I can feel comfort and calm. I swallow the lump in my throat and finally press the button for my floor.

The elevator descends painfully slow. My temples throb. I feel drained. Broken.

That’s when I make a decision.

I’m leaving.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll pack everything and go. Just for a month. My grandmother’s house is in the next town over, and there’s a decent pediatrician there too. Tim and I will be fine.

At least we’ll be far away from all this.

Close to someone who truly loves me.

As the elevator doors slide open, I catch myself subconsciously expecting to see Taylor standing near my apartment.

But that’s wishful thinking. It’s the middle of the night—normal people are already fast asleep.

And after I walked out on him to go back to my ex, there’s no way he’d show up to check on me and Tim.

I pause outside my apartment door. The thin pajama fabric offers no protection from the chill in the hallway, but honestly? The cold helps. It clears my head. I’m glad I cried everything out earlier—before Max revealed who he really was. Because if I hadn’t, tonight would’ve broken me.

I dig out my keys, step inside, and flick the lights on. The warped floorboards and ugly water stains on the walls and ceiling make me wince.

I change the sheets, pull Tim’s crib closer to the bed, and just stand there watching him sleep.

His tiny face—so peaceful, so familiar—grounds me.

Brings me calm. Brings me clarity. These men…

they’re not worth my tears. The only man who matters is lying right here in front of me. And we’ve got a whole life ahead of us.

I fall asleep at dawn. Wake up to feed Tim. Then I lie there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling. I’ve made up my mind. We’re leaving.

I get up, freshen up, and start gathering what we’ll need for the next few weeks. Clothes, diapers, bottles—everything I can think of. I’m nearly done packing when a knock at the door makes me pause.

I don’t want to see anyone. But whoever it is—they’re not going away. The doorbell rings again. Loud pounding follows. Shouting. My stomach twists. I rush to hush it all down before Tim wakes up terrified.

I know who it is.

“Go away. I don’t want to see you,” I say through the door, voice firm and cold. I’m proud of how strong I sound.

“Erin, open the door. We need to talk,” Max calls out.

“We already talked, Max. Last night. We said everything that needed to be said. There’s nothing more.”

“Baby, I drank too much. I didn’t mean half of what I said…”

“I’m glad you drank too much. That way, I finally got to hear how you really feel.”

A long pause. Then a breathy, defeated “Erin…” on the other side. He’s quiet now, but inside me, anger is boiling over. The nerve of him—showing up here after everything.

“It was a bad night, okay? But seriously, we do need to talk. We have a son. That’s not going to change.”

“I really appreciate that you occasionally remember you have a son,” I say coldly, forehead pressed against the door. My breath hitches. God, I’m so tired of all this.

Suddenly, I hear the lock turn—and jump back in panic. What the hell? Max steps into the apartment, looking rumpled, his eyes red and tired, guilt written all over his face. I glance down and spot the spare keys in his hand. Right. I forgot I gave them to him yesterday.

“What do you want?” I sigh, exhausted, trying to hold back the fury rising inside me. But Max always was persistent—once he had something in mind, there was no getting rid of him.

He shuts the door behind him and takes a step toward me. I stop him with a raised hand.

“You’ve got exactly three minutes,” I warn, forcing my voice to sound firm.

“Look, Erin… I’m sorry for what I said. I just… I was overwhelmed, okay?”

“By what exactly?” I ask flatly.

“By the fact that I have a kid.”

“Well, that tends to happen when you don’t use protection. Maybe keep that in mind next time.”

“Come on, don’t be a bitch—it doesn’t suit you.”

“And don’t play the victim. Just get to the point. Two minutes left.”

“Okay, look. I’m being honest because I don’t want us to be enemies. And I don’t want you thinking I’m some kind of asshole.”

I snort. Too late for that, isn’t it?

“You’re a great girl. Beautiful. Smart. But I’m not ready for marriage or kids.

I’m thirty, Erin. I figured I had at least five more years before settling down.

And then, boom—this. You spring a kid on me.

I’m not saying I’ll bail—I’ll support you financially, I’ll take Tim on weekends, go to his soccer games and all that. But that’s it. That’s all I can offer.”

I stay silent, jaw clenched.

“I mean, seriously—I just wanted to spend a chill vacation with a pretty girl. I didn’t sign up for diapers and midnight feedings. My apartment still reeks of baby poop and you were there, what—half a day?”

“That’s it?” I manage to ask, expression unreadable.

Inside, though, I’m reeling. Just a vacation fling. That’s all I was to him. Maybe that’s just how sailors are—fun, spontaneous, allergic to commitment. Convenient, really.

“I don’t need your support. But I won’t keep you from seeing your son. You’ve got my number. Use it if you actually give a damn.”

“Erin, come on, don’t be so dramatic,” he sighs and leans against the wall, rubbing his face.

“I’m not being dramatic. I’m being honest. Just tell me one thing. When exactly did you get back from sea, Max? And be honest this time.”

He looks away. Fidgets. Which basically confirms what I already suspected.

“Well?” I press.

“Three weeks ago,” he mumbles.

“Did you even look for me? For us?” I ask, my voice rising. “Did you care? Or did you walk into an empty apartment and think, ‘Great, problem solved’?”

“Of course I cared!” he snaps, the fake calm cracking instantly.

His glare sharpens. “Stop acting like I’m some monster.

I came back ready to talk things through, to figure out what to do.

I freaked out when I saw all your stuff was gone.

At first I thought maybe you just moved out—but then I found out your flower shop’s been closed for months. That’s when I got seriously worried.”

“Your time’s up,” I say coldly. “Thanks for finally showing your true colors. I would’ve stayed in denial a little longer if you hadn’t.”

“What true colors, Erin?” he throws back. “Did I ever say I loved you? That this was serious?”

“But... you introduced me to your parents,” I whisper, suddenly ashamed.

“They showed up without warning. What was I supposed to do—shove you out the window?”

I go quiet. I feel stupid. So unbelievably stupid. And more than that—I don’t believe in love anymore. I just… don’t. Whatever it is people write about in books or sing in songs, I’m done pretending it’s real.

“Thanks for stopping by,” I say, forcing a flat tone. “You’ve got my number. I’ll be spending some time out of town. And now, if you’ll excuse me—I need to finish packing.”

I hold the door open for him but avoid his eyes. My cheeks burn as I remember telling him I loved him. And the stupid messages. God.

“Take care, Max. Good luck.”

I don’t wait for a reply. I close the door with trembling hands, lock it, exhale, and rest my forehead against the wood. My eyes squeeze shut.

We were never an us.

Never.