Page 49 of One Little Mistake

At first, I don’t get what’s wrong. Then I see it—and a slow smirk spreads across my face.

Erin’s clothes. Still hanging there.

At least one good thing came out of this mess.

“You’re not alone,” Cynthia says, her voice a little shaky, her eyes darting around the living room with new focus. Her gaze lands on a makeup bag, a pair of women’s shoes, a purse.

“You’re not in a relationship with anyone, are you?” she stammers.

“Been spying on me, huh?” I cross my arms over my chest, watching her face twist through a whole damn range of emotions.

“Your… your mom told me,” she mutters, clearly flustered. “I didn’t want to come, but she convinced me. Said you were alone.”

Yeah, sure. Mom strikes again.

“Cynthia, I’m a grown man. I don’t report every step I take to my mother,” I say dryly. “Now, do me a favor: lower yourvoice and help me find you a ride. Because right now, there isn’t a single free cab in three different services, and like hell you’re staying here tonight. You might just have to spend the night in your car.”

I chuckle and start dialing again.

“Who is she?” Cynthia demands, her voice dripping with jealousy—and I catch the first flicker of rage lighting up in her eyes.

“What does it matter?” I snap, brushing her off.

“Max,” she whispers seductively, stepping closer, “I know no woman could ever truly replace me.”

Her voice is low, thick with longing, and when I glance down at her, her eyes are shimmering with unshed tears. Her hands land softly on my shoulders, her touch light but purposeful. She knows exactly what she’s doing—how a few tears could always break down my walls, how easily she used to get her way.

Maybe on another day, I would’ve taken advantage of the moment. Maybe I’d have let myself remember what it felt like to have her soft skin under my fingers, to breathe in the scent of her hair, to taste her lips—and then toss her out in the morning with a few cutting words.

But today, I’m not alone in this apartment.

Maybe fate’s finally throwing me a bone, keeping me from making another mistake I’ll regret.

“Cynthia, you know it’s over,” I say tiredly, wrapping my hands around her slender wrists and gently pulling her away from me. “And, for the record, it wasn’t my choice. I wasn’t the one who walked away.”

She refuses to let go. She presses herself against me and murmurs in a hoarse voice,

“You’ve only gotten more handsome with time. I always loved your strong body, those long fingers, the veins in your hands, theway you smelled… that woodsy cologne. We all make mistakes, Max. But we also get the chance to fix them.”

“You know,” I say coldly, taking a step back, “I appreciate the flattery. But your apology’s a little too late.”

Cynthia doesn’t belong here. Not in this apartment. Not in my new life. She looks completely out of place, like a piece from a different puzzle, and all I want is to get rid of her as fast as possible.

She opens her mouth to say something, but right then, a baby’s cry cuts through the apartment. Cynthia’s face falls, the flirtatious spark in her eyes snuffed out. She stares at me in confusion—and then, without so much as a glance our way, Erin walks past us down the hallway, putting the final nail in the coffin of my supposedly single life.

Her long, fiery hair cascades over her shoulders and back, the silky pajamas clinging to a body that hardly shows any sign of just having given birth.

Does she even realize how stunning she looks?

Too stunning. Even with her pale face and visible exhaustion.

That’s when it hits me—Erin must’ve heard everything Cynthia and I just said. I completely forgot she was here.

“Max, what the hell is going on?” Cynthia snaps, her voice rising. “You have a baby here?” She cranes her neck, scanning the apartment.

“Yeah, and so what?” I say coolly. “Babies aren’t aliens. It’s not that weird.”

“You got involved with some girl who has a kid?”

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