Page 53 of One Little Mistake

About two blocks from home, the inevitable happens. The SUV gets stuck.

No matter how much I hit the gas, how much I rock the damn thing back and forth—the tires just spin uselessly in a massive drift.

“Perfect,” I mutter through gritted teeth and slam my palms against the steering wheel.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep a lid on my frustration. Fine. I’ll wait a bit, see if the blizzard dies down. If not, I’ll walk it. Two kilometers, give or take? I can manage that. Anything to get back to Erin and the baby.

I try to keep my mind busy, to stop it from drifting where it wants to go—back to Cynthia, our marriage, and all the what-ifs.

The truth is, I gave her too much. Spoiled her. Never said no. Let her believe she owned me, that I’d never leave.

She didn’t realize… I liked making her happy. I liked the sparkle in her eyes when I did something right. I liked thinking I had someone to fight for, to build a future with.

But it was all an illusion. The biggest disappointment of my life.

I listen to music, scroll aimlessly through my phone, but by around three in the morning, I finally crack and decide to step outside.

Good thing I dressed warmly.

I grab my gloves off the back seat, zip my jacket all the way up, pull on a beanie, kill the engine, and shove the door open. A blast of snow whips into the car immediately.

I step out and shudder under the brutal wind—it smacks me square in the face, and my boots sink deep into the snow.

For a few seconds, I hesitate, questioning my life choices. Should I even try to get home tonight?

But stubbornness wins. I mutter a few choice words under my breath, square my shoulders, and start trudging forward, praying my phone doesn’t die before I can navigate through the maze of side streets.

It only takes a few minutes for the freezing wind to start stinging my face like needles. Every step feels heavier, like I’m wading through quicksand.

God, what a mess I got myself into. I keep grumbling to myself, cursing every bad decision that led me here. Snow keeps slapping me right in the eyes, making it almost impossible to see.

The only small mercy? About fifteen minutes in, I take a left turn, and now the wind is finally at my back instead of pummeling me head-on. Walking gets a little easier—but the cold still cuts to the bone.

And then, just when I start to think maybe I’ll make it, my phone battery dies with a pathetic little beep.

I groan loudly, standing there in the middle of the snowstorm.

Perfect. Just perfect.

CHAPTER 20

Erin

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that Max was married.

At first, I thought the woman was his fiancée and panicked, thinking I might cause trouble for him, but after overhearing a few sharp exchanges—totally by accident—I pieced together enough to realize their divorce was anything but peaceful.

And that Cynthia definitely didn’t just “happen” to show up here in the middle of a snowstorm.

Honestly, she didn’t strike me as likable at all. I was shocked Max ever chose someone like her.

He’s calm, decisive, direct, reliable—or at least, that’s the man I’ve gotten to know. She, on the other hand, is pushy, spoiled, and arrogant.

They don’t match at all. Well, unless you’re talking about appearances.

From the outside, they look good together: stylish, petite, elegant—exactly the type you’d imagine standing next to a man like Taylor.

I won’t lie: Max is very attractive. Built, powerful, with that quiet magnetism you can practically feel across the room. And for reasons I can’t even explain, I find myself desperate to see what he looks like under that thick black beard.

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