Page 26 of One Little Mistake

“We live across the hall, Max. I have a good relationship with your parents. What am I supposed to do? Hide in my apartment and come up with stupid excuses not to see them?” she hisses, like a cornered cat.

“Maybe you should just move.”

“Not everyone has the kind of money you do, Max,” she says, her voice dripping with bitterness like I’m hoarding fortunes while everyone else is scraping by on instant oatmeal.

“Then find yourself someone who does,” I say with a smirk, mocking her.

I flinch when she places her palm flat against my chest.

“Listen,” she says more softly now, the anger draining from her face, leaving only sadness. “I’m really sorry for everything that happened. I was stupid. Naive. You were my first and only real love, and I guess…”—She looks away, biting her lip, — “I made a terrible mistake, Max. I wish I could go back and fix it. I miss you.”

Her hand moves up, brushing my neck, my jaw, and she presses against me.

I swallow hard, cursing myself for how my body still reacts to her scent, her touch.

Cynthia feels like a favorite childhood toy—one you’ve long outgrown but can’t bring yourself to throw away because of all the memories attached to it.

I can’t tear my eyes away from her face. She’s become a stunning woman; even more beautiful than the twenty-year-old girl I once lost my head over.

It’s crazy to think she’s still single.

“Don’t,” I rasp, grabbing her slender wrist and pulling her hand away.

We stand there, breathing heavily, facing each other.

Tears well up in her eyes, and I know I need to get her out of here before she pulls one of her little tricks and knocks me off balance again.

“I hope this is the last time we see each other,” I say, voice low and final. “I wish you happiness.”

I open the door and motion for her to leave.

Cynthia exhales sharply, wrinkles her perfectly shaped nose, and sweeps past me, leaving behind that familiar trail of Chanel perfume that clings to the air, dragging up long-buried memories of a life that once felt happy.

CHAPTER 11

Max

Thanks to Cynthia, our family dinner ends up feeling a bit... strained.

Mom brings her up every ten minutes like clockwork—praising her, gushing about her new job title, how smart and ambitious she is—and keeps glancing at me, clearly waiting for some kind of reaction.

I finally snap a little sharper than I should, asking her to drop the subject. The less I know about my ex-wife’s life, the less I think about her—and the better I feel.

Thankfully, Dad steps in and steers the conversation in another direction, and the rest of the evening flows peacefully, even warmly. Like old times. Just... without Cynthia.

At the door, as I’m putting on my coat to leave, Mom suddenly decides it’s time to speak her mind.

“Max,” she says gently, “you’ve been alone for so long, never in a serious relationship, never remarried... I honestly thought it was because you still loved Cynthia. But if that’s not the case, then what’s really going on? Are your father and I ever going to have grandkids?”

“Mom, come on,” I say with a sigh. “That’s Elena’s job. Go bug her for grandkids. I’m not ready yet. And for the record, there is someone. A woman. So you really don’t need to worry about that.”

Not a total lie. Almost.

“Really?” Her eyes light up with curiosity. “Then why haven’t you said anything? We should have a family dinner!”

“Too soon, Mom. But once things are serious, I’ll be the first to let you know.”

I kiss her cheek, say my goodbyes, and head out of their apartment building.

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