Page 54 of One Little Mistake

Maybe if I didn’t have a child now…

Maybe if my heart weren’t still quietly mourning someone else…

Maybe if we had met under different circumstances…

I would have jumped at the chance to get to know him, to go on a few dates, to try to charm him somehow. Men like Max are rare. Gold.

Outside, the snow is still falling, making the whole room glow almost unnaturally bright.

Sleep won’t come. I know, deep down, that I’m probably stuck here another day. There’s no way the roads will be cleared enough by morning to make it back into the city.

I glance at the time. The minutes are dragging unbearably slow.

My eyes shift to the window, and for some reason, a wave of anxiety for Max washes over me.

Driving in weather like this is dangerous—was it really worth the risk? Or was there something else? Maybe he’s been gone this long because of the snowstorm. Or maybe he decided to stop by his ex’s place “for a coffee”.

For reasons I don’t even want to name, the second possibility bothers me way more than it should.

I roll onto my back and listen carefully to the sounds of the apartment.

I wish I had bought that little sofa for the nursery—then I could’ve stayed the night with my baby. But the truth is, I never planned on needing it. I thought, at least for the first year, he would be sleeping right here with us, in our bedroom.

And yet… here we are.

Max.

His name won’t leave my head.

I still can’t believe he would do this to me. To us.

He’s the father of this child. Could someone really just walk away from their own son like that?

I know there’s something about this story that doesn’t add up. I feel it in my bones. But part of me is terrified to dig for the truth. Terrified of confirming that the man I trusted was never who I thought he was.

I don’t have his parents’ phone number, but I remember a few of his friends from social media.

I make a snap decision, pull up his profile, find Colin, and before I can talk myself out of it, I send a message:

“Hey. Do you know if Max is okay? Have you talked to him?”

I hold my breath, staring at the screen for what feels like forever. But it’s two in the morning—normal people are sleeping. Not me. Despite the exhaustion dragging at my body, sleep refuses to come.

Something is gnawing at me.

I check on Tim a few times—he’s sleeping soundly, thank God.

I’m just stepping out of the nursery when I hear the sound of the front door opening.

Heavy footsteps.

I freeze, my heart hammering wildly in my chest—and then comes a rush of relief so strong it makes my knees weak.

I scurry back to the bedroom like a guilty little mouse, dive under the covers, and listen. Max passes by the bedroom, heads to the bathroom, and slams the door behind him.

The water starts running.

The only thing separating us now is a single, paper-thin wall. And somehow, that realization makes my heart pound even harder.

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