Page 35 of One Little Mistake

Erin

The silence lasts only a few minutes before someone knocks on the door again—this time with urgency. I yank it open, fully expecting to see Max again. Hasn’t he humiliated me enough?

“Forget something?” I snap, but my voice dies in my throat.

It’s not that Max.

“Oh—sorry,” I mumble, taken aback. “I thought it was someone else.”

The edge in my tone instantly softens, and my breath catches when I see Taylor. He looks exhausted, like he hasn’t slept all night. There’s something grounding about his presence. Familiar. Solid. My anxiety vanishes, replaced by awkwardness and a flutter of nerves.

“Everything okay?” he asks, because I’ve gone still and quiet, just staring at him.

“Yeah, yeah… come in.”

“You heading somewhere?” he asks casually, gesturing with his chin toward the bags piled behind me.

“To my grandma’s. I just… need a reset. I miss home. Figured fresh air and a bit of nature would be good for Tim, too.”

“Your ex driving you there?” He says the word with clear distaste.

“What?”

“Max. Is he taking you?”

“Oh. No. We, uh… It’s over. That’s done.” I shrug and look away, my cheeks burning.

“Good,” Taylor mutters, scanning the water stains on the ceiling. “Didn’t like him. Glad that’s been sorted out quickly.”

He pauses. “I’ll drive you.”

“To where?” I blink at him, confused.

“To your grandma’s.”

“You don’t have to. Really. I already feel like I’m constantly bothering you. You’ve done so much for us already—way more than you needed to. I haven’t even paid you back for the repairs in the shop.”

“Don’t argue. You’re not driving that far alone,” he says firmly, brushing off everything I’ve said. “Are these all the bags, or is there more?”

“The stroller and the baby tub.”

“Got it. I’ll load them in the car. Let me know when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” I whisper, stunned once again by the way Taylor just handles things—without fuss, without asking for anything in return. Just quiet strength that leaves me with no room to protest.

Even though I won’t admit it out loud, the idea of sitting next to Taylor in a car for a few hours, delaying goodbyes, stealing glances at him—I can’t say no to that. So I pick up the pace, gather the last of our things, take Tim in my arms, and head down to the underground parking garage.

I settle into the back seat with Tim, even though I desperately want to sit up front—closer to him.

Taylor drives with calm confidence, steady hands on the wheel, not in a rush.

I watch the back of his head, occasionally catching what feels like his gaze in the rearview mirror. Or maybe he’s just watching the road?

“You said you wanted to talk,” I finally break the silence. “Before… you know, my ex showed up.”

“We’ll get to that,” he says after a pause, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. His knuckles turn white. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” he asks through clenched teeth, trying to keep his anger in check.

“I can handle myself. Don’t worry,” I say softly.

“Good. So, what’s the situation now?”

“He’s on his own. Timur and I live separately from him,” I say quietly.

Silence again. I turn to the window, watching the familiar road blur past. Back in college, I used to visit my grandma every other weekend.

This route is burned into my memory—every bend, tree, even the cracks in the pavement.

A wave of nostalgia washes over me. Things used to be so simple.

I wish I could rewind time and relive those carefree years.

I’m nervous about going home. My grandma still doesn’t know that Max and I broke up, and I’ll have to explain somehow. She’s old-school—strict and proper. It took her long enough to accept that I got pregnant out of wedlock.

When the dented white sign marking the entrance to our little town flashes by, the flood of memories nearly overwhelms me.

Childhood moments. Teen days. Everything comes rushing back.

I smile despite myself. The streets, the trees in bloom, people I recognize through the car window—it’s like I’ve stepped into a parallel world, one untouched by the chaos of the city.

Taylor pulls up to my grandmother’s house like he’s lived here his whole life. I don’t even get a chance to ask how he knew the address—because my throat tightens the second I see her burst out the front door, panic and love all over her face.

I jump out of the car in a hurry and rush toward her.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” Grandma scolds gently, wrapping me in a hug. “I would’ve gotten the house ready! My goodness, sweetheart, just look at you! You’ve become such a beauty.”

“I missed you so much, Grandma.” My heart aches with tenderness, and even Ollie’s bark makes me smile. “Come on, I want to introduce you to someone.”

I open the back door. Tim is sleeping soundly, so I carefully lift him out of his car seat.

“Thanks,” I murmur to Max, who’s still sitting behind the wheel.

“Well, would you look at this strong little guy,” Grandma coos, leaning over Tim. “I finally lived to see the day. Now I can die in peace.”

“Grandma, don’t say that,” I laugh softly.

While the two of us talk, Max gets out of the car and starts pulling bags out of the trunk.

“Good afternoon,” he says politely, with a small nod. Grandma smiles back at him, and my mood takes a sudden dive—because she knows who he is. But what has he told her? “How’s your health?” he adds.

“Good enough to dance at your wedding,” she replies with a sly grin.

My cheeks burn. I feel awkward, but Max seems completely unfazed. He calmly pulls the stroller out of the car and carries it toward the house. Grandma and I follow him through the yard, away from the prying eyes of the neighbors.

“Put everything in that room,” I say, pointing him toward the living room. My own room is too tiny—there’s no way Tim and I would fit in there comfortably. “Thanks again.”

We pause in the doorway, eyes locked. His pupils are dilated. I glance at his lips and instinctively lick my own—dry, craving his touch.

“So… are you staying long?” Grandma suddenly appears next to us. We quickly step away from each other like guilty teenagers, heading to opposite corners of the room.

“I’m planning to stay about a month,” I reply, avoiding Max’s gaze as I begin folding Tim’s clothes into the wardrobe. The tension between us is thick enough to cling to the walls.

“Oh, what a joy! You’re always gone so fast, always rushing back to work.

But here, the air’s clean, and we’ve got real farm-fresh food—not that processed stuff from your city stores!

” she chirps. “Oh! We need to bring the crib down from the attic. I knew we’d need it one day!

Your mom kept saying, ‘Just toss it already’.

Max, would you give us a hand with that? ”

“Of course.”

“Grandma, Max was actually about to leave. He’s in a hurry.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, looking at us in confusion.

“Not until I’ve put the crib together,” Max says with a smirk. “Where can I find it?” he asks Grandma, and the two of them head toward the attic stairs while I drop down on the couch and exhale. I glance around the room, still in disbelief that I’m finally home. It really is peaceful here.

I assume Max will take off as soon as he finishes assembling the crib—my old crib, by the way. But he doesn’t seem in a rush. Right after, he heads out into the yard, grabs an axe and starts chopping firewood.

I hide behind the curtain, secretly watching him. As always, Max does things his own way, completely ignoring my not-so-subtle hints or protests.

“Did something happen between you two? Did you fight?” Grandma asks.

“No. Why do you think that?”

“Well, you’re acting strange. Not how a husband and wife would act.”

“Grandma,” I turn to face her and take a deep breath, “he’s not my Max. We broke up. This is my neighbor. He knows I live alone with a baby and has been helping me out.”

I decide it’s time to say it out loud. Well, most of it. One lie down. Just Mom left to tell.

“You broke up?” she gasps, sitting down heavily on the chair. “Just like that? Are all the women in this family cursed or what?”

“Please don’t worry. Everything’s fine,” I say, kneeling beside her. Grandma has always been so protective of me, and I know the idea that I’m now a single mother probably hit her harder than it hit me. “Sometimes people come together. Sometimes they fall apart. It’s not the end of the world.”

She stays quiet for a moment. Then hits me with a curveball.

“But this Max—he likes you. I can tell. No man spends that much time helping a woman with a baby unless he cares. I saw how he looks at you.”

“Grandma, don’t start,” I laugh nervously. Great. I was worried about how she’d react to my failed relationship, and now she’s already picking out my next husband.

“No, you don’t start,” she retorts, wagging her finger. “Don’t let a good man slip away. He even came by after you gave birth. He was worried. Men like that are rare, sweetheart. You’ll regret it if you let him go.”

“Believe me, I know,” I sigh and move to the stove, giving the meat in the skillet a stir. But my heart pounds like crazy—because she’s right. Max didn’t have to help us. He didn’t have to drive us here or stick around… or chop wood in the yard.

“And do you like him?” Grandma asks, diving straight in.

“I think… yeah,” I whisper, breathless at the realization. Because falling for someone again—after everything—is terrifying.

“Smells amazing. Wouldn’t say no to lunch,” a voice suddenly says behind me, making me jump.

I jump at the sound of his voice, my eyes widening in alarm.

How long has he been standing there?

What did he hear?

My whole body stiffens. My face flushes with heat.

I’m too afraid to turn around and meet his gaze.

I don’t even notice that I’ve started aggressively stirring the meat in the pan—anything to keep my hands busy.

Anything to hide how flustered I am. I need him to leave soon.

Because I don’t like how he makes me feel.

And I definitely don’t want him knowing I like him.

“It’s almost ready,” Grandma says cheerfully behind me. “Come on, Max, take a seat. Erin will set the table. She’s such a wonderful hostess! I’ll go check on the baby and see if he’s awake.”

Thanks for that, Grandma. Really.

Now it’s just the two of us.

I move automatically, pulling plates from the cabinet and setting them on the table without a word. I still can’t look at him. My hands are shaking. I try to hide it as I scoop food onto the plates.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice calm. “You seem tense.”

“I’m fine.” I force a smile. “So, uh… when are you heading back?”

“What, trying to get rid of me already?”

“No, I just—I mean, it’s going to get dark soon. I’ll worry if you drive in this weather,” I lie through my teeth and finally, finally meet his eyes.

He’s clearly amused. His eyes sparkle. A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. He’s watching me—closely, intently.

He sits back in his chair, legs casually crossed, arms folded over his chest.

Yep. He definitely heard everything.

“There’s still a few days’ worth of firewood to chop,” he says. “Once I’m done with that, I’ll head out.”

“Max, what is all this?” I hiss, leaning closer, confused and a little angry. “What are you doing?”

“You mean you still don’t get it?”

I want to ask what exactly he means, but just then, Grandma walks back in, and I clamp my mouth shut.

Lunch is awkward, to say the least. Grandma and Max do most of the talking, while I sit there feeling like a guest in my own home. Apparently, the shrubs behind the house need clearing—and of course Max volunteers.

I picture our backyard and do some quick math: best-case scenario, he’ll be stuck here for another week.

And then—boom.

Out of nowhere, a storm hits. Just moments ago it was bright and sunny, and now we’re facing thunder, lightning, and sheets of rain slamming against the windows. So much for him leaving tonight. Driving in weather like this would be insane.

It’s like they’re all in on it—Grandma, Max, even the weather.

Not that I’m upset about it. Not really.

I just don’t know how to act around him. What to say.

I’ve never had this problem before, but something about Max makes me feel like a teenager again. Awkward. Tongue-tied. Ridiculously self-conscious.

And I hate that. I hate that I care. I hate that I’m nervous.

I hate that I kind of don’t want him to leave.

By the time night falls and the thunderstorm still reigns outside, I give Max my old bedroom. I lay out fresh sheets and hand him a clean towel.

“There’s nothing for you to change into, sorry,” I say with a nervous smile as we stand alone in the bathroom. “We haven’t had a man in this house for over twenty years, so… no extra clothes, either.”

“Give me a raincoat or an umbrella,” he says. “I’ll run out to the car. I think I’ve got some gym stuff in there—sweats or something. I’ll change into that.”

“Sure.” I take a step forward, but Max suddenly blocks my path.

He’s close. Too close.

His warm breath hits my skin. His scent—cologne mixed with something purely masculine—wraps around me like a net. He leans in, brushes his nose along my neck. And just like that, the world disappears. Silence crushes the room. There’s only him. Only us.

I suck in a breath, sharp and shallow. Goosebumps ripple across my entire body.

And then—he abruptly pulls back. If his hands weren’t gripping my waist, I swear I would’ve collapsed right onto the tile.

What the hell was that?

“Go get me that umbrella,” he says hoarsely, his voice low and rough, his eyes dark and locked on mine—like nothing just happened.

I practically bolt out of the bathroom, silently swearing to never, ever be alone with him in a confined space again.