Page 36 of One Little Mistake

Erin

I lie in the dark, listening to the rain drumming against the window.

My heart is still fluttering after what happened in the bathroom.

For a moment, I thought Max was going to kiss me—to erase the distance between us, to show me that he felt the same pull I did when we were near each other—but he stopped.

And then he shut himself in his room, wishing everyone goodnight like nothing happened.

Sleep won’t come. It’s nearly impossible to drift off knowing that the man is right there—just beyond the wall.

So close, yet so far. I press my palm to the wall, drag it across the surface, close my eyes, and imagine him here.

With me. Like before, when I lived at his place and we shared a bed.

Back then, it didn’t feel like a big deal.

But now, I would give anything to feel his warm breath on my neck again, his heavy arm draped over my waist, that scent of his that makes my skin flush and my pulse race.

I roll onto my back and let out a long breath.

That’s when I hear it—the creak of my bedroom door opening.

At first, I think it’s my grandmother checking in, but the steps are too deliberate.

Calm. Confident. Like a predator moving through the night.

I freeze, eyes scanning the darkness, trying to make out his silhouette.

But I don’t really need to see him. I can picture every sharp feature of Max’s face from memory.

I forget how to breathe.

What is he doing here? Why did he come?

My whole body trembles with anticipation. My throat is dry, my chest tight, my heart pounding like it’s trying to break free from my ribs. The mattress dips under his weight.

He sits beside me for a long moment. Then he leans down and brushes his fingertips across my cheek.

“Are you awake?” he breathes, so softly the words disappear into the night.

“Yes,” I whisper, voice shaking. My eyes lock onto the shadow of his face, my head spinning from how close he is.

I wait.

At first, I think he’s going to get up and leave, and the idea crushes me. But then—his lips are on mine. Out of nowhere. No warning.

I tense. Just for a second. Then I move.

I kiss him back like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment. My arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. The weight of his body over mine feels like coming home. I burn under his touch, filled with a kind of energy that makes me forget everything except him.

“Just say the word, and I’ll stop,” Max whispers hoarsely, pulling back slightly.

“No… I don’t want you to stop. Please,” I breathe out.

That’s all he needs.

He crashes into me with a force I wasn’t prepared for.

The dam breaks. I melt beneath him, losing all sense of self, lost in the whirlwind of what’s happening between us.

It feels insane. Like something out of a dream.

Max is careful—so careful—and I know it’s taking everything in him to hold back.

Inhale, exhale, moan—his hands, his mouth, my burning skin.

He kisses me, swallowing my gasps, and I don’t even notice when our clothes disappear and we’re tangled beneath the sheets.

I’m shaking all over. Down to the tips of my fingers. I’m scared. It’s been so long. A whole year. And the birth… I worry I won’t be good enough, that I’ll mess something up—but Max eases every fear with his touch, his patience, his care. He grounds me and helps me let go. Of everything.

“I can’t control myself around you,” he murmurs between kisses. “You’re so beautiful… it’s unreal.”

His words hit me right in the chest. Am I really beautiful?

“Tell me you want this, too. That you want me.”

“Yes,” I exhale, already burning for him.

I don’t want to think about anything else.

Not now. Not when this—this thing I’ve dreamed about for weeks—is finally happening.

I fall into him, completely. No regrets.

Just a rising tide of pleasure carrying me far from anything real.

I whisper his name, rake my nails across his skin, nip at his neck, and silently pray that come morning, this won’t vanish like some cruel dream.

He’s like a starved animal—and I don’t mind being his prey. Everything about this feels right. So right I don’t even think about stopping. We were made for each other. Cut from the same cloth. I just wish we’d found each other sooner.

“I really hope we didn’t wake Grandma,” I mumble, half-laughing as I try to catch my breath, still reeling from what just happened.

“She mentioned her hearing’s not so great,” Max grins, lying on his side and pulling me close, threading his fingers gently through my hair. “Did I hurt you? Are you okay? I’m sorry if I was too rough.”

He kisses my shoulder, and the lump that forms in my throat almost chokes me. God, please. Let this be real. Let this last.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. “Really.”

I want to ask, what now? But I’m scared. Scared that Max will say it was just a one-night thing. That what happened between us was nothing more than chemistry.

“I’ll stay with you guys here for a week or two, if that’s okay?” he says.

“Why are you even asking? You’re going to do whatever you want anyway. Since when has my ‘n’' ever stopped you?”

“You don’t want me to stay?” His voice tightens slightly as he props himself up on his elbow.

“It was a joke, Max.”

“Well, your sense of humor’s... weird.”

“Says the guy who once named a cactus after me,” I laugh.

My hand finds his in the dark, our fingers intertwine, and we fall into a comfortable silence. There’s barely enough room for the two of us on this narrow couch, but I wouldn’t trade it for a king-size bed. Because Max is here. With me. That’s what matters.

His breathing is steady, his arms are wrapped tightly around me—like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

I don’t want morning to come. I don’t want this night to end.

I fight sleep with everything I have, but eventually, it wins. And when I open my eyes, it’s already light out.

I reach across the mattress—and touch nothing.

Max is gone.

I sit up quickly.

Where is he? Did he leave? Did he just.vanish?

Panic grips me. My mind races with worst-case scenarios. I scramble out of bed and glance over at Tim’s crib. Empty.

Breathe, Erin. Breathe. You just overslept. He didn’t leave you.

Still, my heart won’t calm down.

I pull on my robe and rush out of the room barefoot, desperate to find them. I stop in front of the window—and that’s when the tears hit me. Hard.

But they’re not tears of heartbreak. They’re tears of something else entirely. Joy, maybe. Or overwhelming tenderness.

Max is sitting on the bench outside, cradling Tim in his arms, bottle-feeding him with practiced ease. He’s softly telling him something—words I can’t hear, but I feel their warmth. Ollie, our dog, circles them excitedly, tail wagging, nudging for attention too.

Tim looks so tiny in his arms. Fragile. Precious.

I never thought something so simple could hit me this deep.

“See?” my grandma says, appearing beside me. “Didn’t I tell you? That’s not just kindness, sweetheart. He loves you. And that child.”

I nod slowly, tears still spilling down my cheeks.

“I really hope so,” I whisper.

“He’s been with the baby since early morning,” Grandma says with a smile. “Told me not to wake you. Good man, that one. Just what you need.”

“Yeah...” I murmur, still completely captivated by Max, unable to tear my eyes away from him.

“Go on, join him. I baked some pastries and made soup—we’ll say you cooked it. Oh, and I opened a jar of jam—let’s say you made that too.”

“Grandma!” I shake my head, trying not to laugh.

“What? You’re a great little homemaker!”

“You might as well bring out that scarf I knitted like seven years ago and tell him I made it yesterday.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea! I think it’s still in the closet. I’ll go look for it.”

“I was joking, Grandma,” I laugh after her as she shuffles off—and yet, despite the chaos in my chest, I finally make up my mind to step outside. To face him. To meet Max’s eyes for the first time since last night.