Page 41 of One Little Mistake

Erin

Our first “official” date broke every rule in the book. First of all, we’ve already been living together for a month. Second, we’ve been married for a week. Third, we have a baby. And fourth—we’ve kissed (and done a whole lot more) plenty of times before.

We had a small wedding with close family only, then celebrated at a cozy restaurant.

Grandma cried, Mom smiled, Max’s parents stayed neutral, and Elena seemed happier than all of us combined.

Tim’s biological father apparently lost all interest in us—and honestly, thank God.

The last thing I want is to revisit that chapter.

Besides, my husband has a jealous streak a mile wide, and I’d rather not test his patience.

Max is driving us somewhere outside the city, despite his leg still bothering him. He says it’s a surprise. He still limps and gets self-conscious about it, but I love him just the same—even with that scruffy beard he refuses to shave.

He’s worried he won’t be able to go back to sea because of the injury, and I wouldn’t let him, anyway.

Thankfully, we have a place to live, some savings, and my flower shop.

I even suggested we open a few more locations across town, really grow the business, but he’s still thinking it over.

Says he wants something more “manly” like a garage.

Our first “date” ends up being in a secluded forest cabin with panoramic windows and a lake out front. We talk. We laugh. We eat. We kiss. A lot. And once Tim finally falls asleep—we move on to dessert.

“You know,” I whisper between kisses, tugging his shirt off, “I was thinking maybe it’s time we made another baby?”

He freezes. Pulls back. Stares into my eyes. It jolts me.

“What’s wrong?”

“We already have Tim,” he says hesitantly. “Why do we need another?”

“You… don’t want to have more kids with me?”

Our romantic moment crumbles. If it weren’t for the ring on my finger, I’d think I was just a one-night stand.

“No, sweetheart, no. I want kids with you—so badly. At least two more. But…”

“But?”

“I don’t think I could survive losing you,” he says with a heavy sigh.

“I still haven’t recovered from your first delivery—and back then, you were just the stranger who’d taken over my apartment.

When that nurse came running out of the delivery room yelling ‘cardiac arrest’…

Erin, I lost it. No more pregnancies. Not until we know it’s safe.

Please. We’re not in a rush, right? Tim’s still little.

And having two babies in diapers would be insane. ”

“I’m fine, Max. I just can’t have a natural birth again. Next time, I’ll be checked into the hospital a month early, just in case.”

“No. Let’s wait. Five years, at least.”

“You just killed the mood,” I pout, giving him a playful punch in the chest.

“Wanna bet I can bring it back?” he smirks, pushing me onto the bed.

We’re both painfully stubborn. Those first few months of living together were blissful, but let’s be honest—real life gets messy.

Still, no matter how bad our fights get, we never stay mad for more than two hours.

Sooner or later, one of us has to touch the other, kiss the other, and the rest just melts away.

My husband is quiet, smart, kind—the best man in the world.

And I truly hope he doesn’t kill me when he finds out I’ve been pregnant for five weeks already.

I’m terrified of giving birth again—maybe even more than he is—but I’ll never admit that.

I have to be strong. For all of us. Because I’m a mother, and a wife who loves fiercely.

Because Max is my heart, and I am his. And our hearts beat in sync with one another. If mine stops—his will too.

***

Max

I always imagined my ideal woman would be sweet, shy, petite, and definitely a brunette. How Erin ended up being the one is still a mystery. I don’t know what exactly made her get under my skin the way she did—but without her, life doesn’t make sense.

Actually… I do know.

My wife is beautiful, tall, insanely stubborn, too independent for her own good—and so incredible that I still can’t believe she’s mine.

Except in moments like this. Moments when she decides to do things her way.

Like this pregnancy.

She said she was on the pill. I believed her. And now here I am, nervously pacing the narrow hallway, my mind replaying everything that led to this moment. Cold sweat clings to my back, and I try not to think about the worst.

I’ve been through captivity. Taken a bullet.

But a C-section?

Never.

I’m in a sterile gown, sitting outside the operating room—for the third time. First time, I bolted when I heard the word “incision”. Second time, I caught a glimpse of blood on the instruments. Third time, no reason—just pure panic.

“Get it together,” I whisper to myself.

I glance at the clock.

Twelve minutes.

It feels like an eternity.

This waiting—this not knowing—is killing me.

A nurse walks by, and something in me snaps.

“I changed my mind,” I blurt out. “I want to be in there with her.”

She sighs, clearly exhausted, but opens the door anyway and nods me in.

I nod back, guilty and desperate, and slip back into the room.

I sit behind the curtain near Erin’s head and grab her hand, squeezing tight.

And then—one minute later—I hear it.

The first cry of our daughter.

I smile like an idiot. Can’t help it. But I keep one eye on the monitor that tracks Erin’s heartbeat.

Lately, I’ve been having nightmares about it stopping—about losing her.

If I lose her…

That would be it. I wouldn’t survive it.

I stand up, take a step closer to see our baby girl for the first time. Is she mine? She looks nothing like me. Tiny, pink, scrunched-up face… and a shock of red hair.

They clean her up quickly and lay her against Erin’s bare chest—skin to skin—so she can feel her mama’s warmth.

“All her mom,” I whisper, my throat tight.

Well. Now I’ve got two redheads. And I have no doubt that someday, they’re both going to drive me and Tim completely insane.

The End

To my husband, who spends most of his time at sea, but for us, distance has never mattered. Our love has always known how to find its way home.