Page 63 of One Little Mistake

“I’ll survive one night,” I grunt, and step out without looking back.

The couch is as awful as I remembered. Actually, scratch that—calling it a couch is generous. It’s a piece of junk, not meant for sleeping on. I toss and turn, trying to find a position that doesn’t feel like torture, then finally give up and move to the floor.

Silence blankets the apartment. Too thick. Too heavy. I switch on the TV, volume down to a whisper. Better. I close my eyes, just starting to drift when—

A loud, high-pitched wail cuts through the air like a siren.

Great. And here I was thinking newborns weren’t that hard. Eat, sleep, chill in their crib.

Yeah, right. Spoke too soon.

I check the time and give it ten minutes. If the kid’s still howling, I’ll go see what’s up. But luckily, he quiets down, and I finally fall asleep again.

Only to be woken up by voices from the kitchen.

I rub my eyes and glance out the window. The storm’s passed, but the streets are still buried and not a snowplow in sight. My back’s killing me; Muscles stiff like I slept on concrete—which I kind of did.

I shuffle toward the kitchen, following the sound of soft chatter—and smile when I see Erin and Vivienne sitting at the table, both with babies in their arms, chatting and laughing over lunch.

I take in the scene. Viviennes’s petite, like a real-life Thumbelina. Erin, taller, still manages to look delicate somehow. And today, she looks… better. Fresher. There’s a quiet light in her eyes. A soft smile. A dimple. She’s leaning back in her chair, cradling the baby with one arm and lazily poking at her salad with the other.

“Morning,” I say to make my presence known. Two sets of eyes turn my way.

“More like lunchtime, sleepyhead,” Vivienne teases. “So, how’s the whole ‘pretend family man’ thing going? Ready to settle down and start a real one? This feels like the perfect warm-up round to me.”

“I’d have married you ages ago, Vivienne,” I smirk, flipping on the coffee machine, “but you won’t go anywhere without Logan. Guess I’ll have to keep looking. I’ll be sure to let you know when I find ‘the one’.”

“And why bother looking,” she counters with a sly grin, “when you’ve already got such an adorable girl and a baby in your apartment?”

I freeze with a cup of hot coffee in my hand, not even noticing how it burns my skin. Erin blushes, shooting an accusing look at the ever-pleased Vivienne. The latter gives me a sly wink in return.

I pretend I didn’t hear her, because what she just said is complete nonsense. I barely know Erin and the kid isn’t mine.

“I’ve arranged for us to see the studio today. The previous tenants haven’t moved out yet, so we can stop by around three.” I clear my throat and glance at Erin. “You feeling up to a short walk around the building?”

“Yes. That’s great news, thank you.” She nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and casts another disapproving look at Vivienne, clearly uncomfortable.

“Then I’ll leave you girls to gossip,” I add, and head back to the bedroom for some more sleep. I fall onto the bed and inhale deeply, catching the faint scent left behind on the sheets. I think about Natalie, how I always changed the bedding after she left, and realize I have no desire to strip the sheets after Erin.

Suddenly, I remember I never explained the situation to my mother. Good thing the snowstorm hit, otherwise, she probablywould’ve been pounding on my door at six in the morning. Well, guess I’ll just say it was a bad joke. A little scheme to make Cynthia jealous and get her off my back.

Sounds believable enough.

CHAPTER 23

Erin

“Max is a great guy. You should take a closer look at him. No girlfriend, owns his own apartment, kind and dependable. He’s long overdue for a wife. And forget about your ex, or you’ll miss your chance to build a real life. Your baby needs a father, Erin, and you need a husband.”

Vivienne’s words echo in my mind and refuse to leave. Not the part about me taking a closer look at Max—I don’t even let myself entertain that thought. We’re practically strangers, walking separate paths. But Vivienne’s right about one thing: I do need a man. A solid one. The kind of man you can lean on, who will stand like a wall behind you. But are there even any good ones left?

I follow Max toward the elevator. Tim is sleeping soundly in the baby carrier, which Max insisted on carrying himself. Today I feel more rested, almost energetic, and for once I’m not thinking about my ex. Maybe it’s the nerves. I’m genuinely anxious about the apartment. I really don’t want to leave this building. Clean air, a park nearby—everything a child needs.

We enter the elevator and ride down to the sixth floor. I glance sideways at Max. As always, he’s silent, brooding. I wish I could see his real smile. The genuine one. I bet it’s beautiful. Is he like this only with me, or is he always this closed off? With Vivienne, he jokes around and seems relaxed. But with me… it’s different. Maybe that’s how it should be, though, right?

“One-twelve. Here we are,” he says, stopping in front of a dark door and pressing the buzzer.

I clasp my hands nervously, glance down to check on Tim—still asleep—and try to calm the flutter in my stomach. A young guy opens the door and invites us in. I step over thethreshold and scan the small apartment. Sure, it’s tiny compared to Max’s place, but for me and the baby? It’s enough. The rent is reasonable. The windows face the park, and while Max asks a dozen practical questions, as if I’m a clueless child who doesn’t understand this stuff, I find myself gazing at the snow-covered trees. In spring, the view will be stunning.

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