Page 10 of One Little Mistake

At first, we just texted about everything and nothing—shared stories about past relationships and heartbreaks.

He was a great conversationalist: quick-witted, sarcastic, funny. He kept me on my toes, never letting me get bored.

After a month of chatting almost every day, when I already couldn’t imagine starting a morning without his “Good morning, sugar” or going to bed without “Sweet dreams, beautiful,” my phone rang.

It was the first time I heard Max’s voice.

Young, slightly husky, low, velvety—and absolutely hypnotic. It was the kind of voice you just wanted to keep listening to.

I was afraid to say the wrong thing. Afraid my voice would sound dry, irritated, or squeaky. Afraid he wouldn’t call again or text me after that conversation.

But to my relief, it only brought us closer.

Sleepless nights with my phone in hand, messages that grew more and more personal, photos that made me blush… and then came the agonizing wait for our first meeting—it all drove me crazy.

Almost four months apart, and the man I’d never even seen in real life had become my everything.

Someone whose invisible presence in my life made me feel happy—and gave me energy that lasted for hours.

CHAPTER 5

Erin

The day Max got back from his rotation at sea turned out to be a huge disappointment.

Just imagine—making plans together, dreaming about vacations, movie premieres, counting down the days until he was finally back… and then, on the day, all I got was a short message:

“I’m back. Heading home with a friend. Don’t miss me too much.”

I slid down the wall and sank to the floor, unable to hold back the bitter tears.

I had really thought he’d come straight to me.

I had picked out my best dress, done my hair and makeup. I’d closed my little flower shop early, just after lunch and spent the whole day glued to my phone, nervous, excited. And he… didn’t even offer to grab a quick coffee.

My heart ached from the unfairness of it, but I had tried to hold it together and not let my mind spiral.

We ended up meeting three days later.

Totally unexpected.

I had been trimming thorns off a bunch of roses, arranging them into a heart shape, cursing all men and my own hopeless romanticism—when my phone rang.

It was Max, saying he’d pick me up in half an hour.

And, of course, just my luck—I was having the worst day.

No makeup, wearing a stretched-out sweater and worn jeans, because I had woken up feeling like crap and had just thrown on whatever was closest.

I had to act fast.

Thankfully, my flower shop was inside a shopping mall.

I ran into a boutique, grabbed a beige blouse and black skinny jeans, then sprinted to the shoe store next door and picked out a pair of stilettos in under five minutes. After that, I’d raced to the cosmetics kiosk on the other side of the mall.

Max had shown up the moment I added the final touch—some tinted lip balm—and exhaled in relief, pleased with how I’d pulled it off.

The few minutes I waited at the entrance had felt like forever. At one point, I had seriously considered running away.

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