Page 65 of One Little Mistake

“Thanks. I’ll go now,” I mutter, rising to my feet, hoping to make a quiet escape before the awkwardness swallows me whole.

“Erin.” His voice stops me in the doorway. I turn around and meet his serious gaze. “There’s a hotel a few blocks away. You could stay there until the studio’s ready. But honestly, I think you should stay here.” He pauses. “You’re still recovering. What if something happens? What if you don’t feel well and no one’s around to help? Just… think about it.”

“Okay,” I whisper, before slipping into the bedroom. My heart’s pounding like crazy. Why the hell am I so nervous?

I lie down on the bed and press my palm to my chest, taking a few deep breaths, turning over everything that’s happened to me lately—carefully avoiding Max’s tempting offer. Because the apartment doesn’t come alone. It comes with a caring man. One who is grumpy as hell and, at times, seems completely unwelcoming.

The next day, Max and I avoid talking about me moving out. I start gathering my things from around the apartment, trying to stuff everything into the same two suitcases I arrived with six months ago, but it’s pointless. I’ve accumulated way too much stuff. Max watches silently, offering no commentary. He eats, sleeps, plays video games, occasionally asks me something meaningless. In the evening, we end up in the bedroom again, on opposite sides of the bed, watching another movie.

About halfway through, I realize Max is fast asleep—so is Tim in my arms. I gently lay the baby in his crib, tuck the blanket around him, and then I just stand there in the middle of the room, staring at the sleeping man. He’s wearing a t-shirt that clings to his body, outlining every muscle. One arm is thrown over his head, the other rests by his side.

I don’t dare wake him. I switch off the TV, slip under the blanket, and lie there for a long time, staring up at the dark ceiling. I listen to Max’s slow, heavy breathing. At some point, he mumbles something incoherent in his sleep, then rolls onto his side and throws his arm over me.

I freeze. I don’t even dare to breathe. My whole body trembles from the closeness. From his scent. From the weight of his arm across my chest.

It’s been so long since I was close to anyone. I kept waiting for my Max, dreaming of him, longing to be in his strong arms. And now, after the bitter truth, all I want is comfort. Support.Something real. Masculine. And from just this accidental contact—his body against mine—I feel like I might explode.

A storm of emotion sweeps through me, crashing right into my soul, and with my eyes closed, I let myself pretend. Just for a minute. That the man sleeping next to me is mine. That he’s the one I love. The one I’ve been waiting for. The one I ache for.

Just for a minute. No one said I couldn’t dream.

But my perfect little fantasy shatters the moment Max’s phone rings. He flinches, quickly pulls away from me, grabs the phone, silences it, then sleepily checks the screen—and still answers.

“Yeah?” he mumbles hoarsely, barely audible. Then he turns his head in my direction, and I quickly shut my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I’m not even sure he can see me clearly in the dim light. But I listen—closely. As if this call might change everything.

“Natalie, not tonight. And not tomorrow either.”

From the quiet of the apartment, I catch a woman’s voice on the other end. I can’t make out the words, just the tone. She sounds annoyed. Upset.

“I said I’ll call you. I’m busy. No, I’m not lying. Seriously. Okay, talk soon.”

So, Vee was wrong. There is someone in his life. And for some reason, that thought stings.

A tight knot forms in my throat, my mood darkens, and I have the sudden urge to get up and leave. Head straight for the couch, maybe. And yet… I feel ridiculous. Why do I even care if there’s a woman in his life?

The room sinks back into silence. Max exhales sharply, then gets up and walks out.

And just like that, the loneliness crashes in.

Overwhelmed, I let out a quiet sob, feeling a single tear roll down my cheek. Self-pity is the worst kind of emotion—but itwins tonight. Eventually, sleep takes over. A deep, heavy kind of sleep that carries me through the night.

So deep that I don’t even hear Max come back. I only realize he’s there when I wake up to the sound of Tim crying.

CHAPTER 24

Erin

The suitcases are still standing in the corner of the room. Max said the roads haven’t been cleared, so he’s not driving me anywhere with the baby, and there’s no way he’ll let me take a cab. Still, the very next morning, he reminded me about the doctor’s visit. When he saw me wearing a light turtleneck, he made me change into a thicker sweater—even though I’d be wearing a warm coat, and it was just a few steps from the front door to the car.

I glance at myself in the mirror and suddenly realize I’ve been walking around this apartment like a pale ghost these past few days. I never used to let myself go like this. A woman next to a man should always look her best. I find my makeup bag, apply a bit of color, run a brush through my long, thick hair, fluffing the roots for volume.

A little lip gloss makes my lips look fuller, and a swipe of black liner brings out my eyes. I take out my jewelry box, choose a pair of gold earrings, and fasten them with practiced ease.

I give myself a critical once-over in the mirror. It’s strange seeing myself without the round cheeks and belly. Still far from perfect, but it’s a start. I take a deep breath and step out of the room.

Max is already by the door, holding Tim’s carrier. His brow arches in surprise the moment he sees me. His eyes trail down and then back up again—he’d only asked me to put on a warmer sweater, but in ten minutes, I’d transformed like I was heading to a date.

I act like I don’t notice. Pull a coat from the closet—the one that didn’t even come close to buttoning just weeks ago—and my hands tremble as I fasten the buttons under Max’s silent stare.

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