Page 39 of One Little Mistake

The man hugs the bundle a little closer to his chest and takes a step toward my bed.

“Your Tim. Or at least I hope it’s him,” he mutters, leaning down to hand me the bundle.

I take it with trembling hands. I barely notice when his cold fingers brush against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through me. Because my baby is here. Wrapped tightly in a warm blanket, the corner pulled up to cover his tiny face.

“How did you manage that?” I lift my gaze to him, feeling my vision blur with tears.

“Snuck him out when no one was looking,” he says with a crooked smirk.

“What?”

I yelp louder than I should have, then lower my voice to a hiss.

“What do you mean, you snuck him out?”

“Half the staff couldn’t make it in because of the snowstorm. Only two nurses were left covering the whole floor, so I justslipped into the nursery and grabbed the kid.” He shrugs, completely unfazed.

“Hopefully I didn’t mix him up with someone else—they all kinda look the same.”

My eyes widen. He can’t be serious.

I glance down at the bundle in my arms, then back at him.

“You... you actually kidnapped a baby?” I whisper in disbelief.

“You wanted to see your son, didn’t you?” he says, voice low and steady.

A pause stretches between us. The little bundle in my arms squirms and lets out a soft grunt, and I instinctively pull him closer, rocking gently.

“Relax. I’m kidding,” he finally says, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“I’ll go talk to your doctor. You two... have some bonding time. But he’s gotta be back in about thirty minutes.”

He tugs off his scarf, exhales sharply, and shoots me a strange look before turning toward the door, unzipping his jacket as he walks away.

“Why?”

The question bursts out before I can stop it.

“Why what?” He pauses at the door, glancing back at me. He knows exactly what I’m asking—but he makes me say it out loud.

“Why are you helping me? I’m nobody to you.”

He smirks. “Got a little bored on vacation,” he says, then slips out.

I don’t know whether to believe him or not. He’s impossible to read—sometimes gruff and angry, sometimes oddly patient.

I swallow the lump in my throat and run my fingers along the corner of the baby blanket, still too nervous to look at my son’s face.

This moment feels overwhelming. Huge.

I take a deep breath. Then another. Slowly, I pull the blanket back... and the breath catches painfully in my chest.

Tiny nose. Long lashes. A few wispy strands of light hair peek out beneath a cap;

A sleeping angel. For a moment, I forget how to breathe.

“Hi, little one,” I whisper through my tears, rocking him gently. “Mommy missed you so much.”

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