Page 68 of One Little Mistake

“I’m a florist,” I reply. “I have a little shop. I also do floral designs for weddings and events.”

“Charming,” she says. Though I can’t tell if it’s a compliment or just something polite to say.

A few moments of awkward silence pass. I focus on Tim, rocking him gently, pretending not to be bothered by the woman’s presence.

“You like my son,” she says suddenly—not a question. A statement.

“I’m sorry?” I look up, startled, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“I see the way you two look at each other. I see how you look at Max. What I don’t understand is why he’s lying to me. Yes, he’s private, but he’s always trusted me. I’ve never judged his choices. It’s his life.”

“With all due respect, it’s not what you think,” I say, offering a nervous smile. “There’s nothing going on between us.”

“A bottle brush, house slippers, tableware that wasn’t here before, flowers on the windowsill—” she gestures toward the blooming orchids. A full fridge. You’re clearly not just the neighbor from the sixth floor. If you’re even the neighbor at all.” Her eyebrow lifts sharply. Her tone is sharp. I feel myself flushing with shame.

“How long have you been staying here?” she presses.

“I… I’m not in a relationship with your son, I promise,” I say quietly. “Max just helped me out. I do live in this building. My place is under renovation, so I’ve been spending most of my time here with my son. That’s all.”

“But you do like my Max,” she states matter-of-factly.

Just then, the kettle whistles, saving me from having to answer. I exhale in relief as she turns her back to me, busily stirring sugar into a teacup.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she says over her shoulder, her tone tight but polite. “I have nothing against your… arrangement. I just always hoped he’d get back together with his ex-wife. They were such a beautiful couple. So in love. I still believe it’s not too late.”

She’s trying to get under my skin—I realize that much. But why? Max is a grown man. He’s hardly the type to be manipulated by his mother.

“I know he’s divorced,” I say carefully, “but I think Max might already be seeing someone else. Though I can’t say how serious it is…”

I’m not sure why I bring it up—maybe I’m fishing. Hoping she’ll mention the mysterious Natalie, the woman who called in the middle of the night.

Mrs. Taylor turns around abruptly. There’s a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. She looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. But when I don’t, the spark fades. Her smile falters.Suddenly, she looks tired. She sits down beside me at the kitchen table.

“No need to lie. I’m not some wicked witch,” she says with a crooked smile. “You’ve met Elena, haven’t you? She hasn’t visited Max since he came back.”

I blink, unsure where she’s going with this.

“You look just like she described,” she adds. “I was really hoping the baby was Max’s. But if that were the case, wouldn’t he have told his father and me the good news by now? I suppose Elena said something just to get under Cynthia’s skin. Those two never got along after the divorce. And Max—well, he’s always been private. Maybe he didn’t want to shock us with sudden changes.”

I stay quiet. God, this is a mess. Max is definitely not going to be happy that, in just ten minutes, his mom and I managed to escalate things to the point where she now thinks we’re a couple.

“You know,” I sigh, rolling my eyes, “lately, everyone assumes I’m dating Max and that he’s Tim’s father. And now here you are, joining the club.”

She doesn’t seem angry with me—more like… disappointed. Though I’m not sure what exactly has let her down: that Max hasn’t reunited with the oh-so-perfect ex-wife? That my baby isn’t his? Or that he might actually be involved with a woman who already has a child from someone else?

“Then why would he help you, Erin, if there’s nothing between you two?”

Mrs. Taylor tilts her head, her tone probing.

“You probably know your son better than I do,” I answer, trying to keep my voice calm. “Yes, he seems gruff and distant, and I’m sure he could drill a hole in a wall just with that look of his… but deep down, he’s incredibly kind and caring. I’m endlessly grateful for what he’s done. If not for Max, I might not have even gotten to see my son…”

I glance down at my sleeping baby, my chest tightening with that familiar ache of tenderness. We’ve been through so much already… and who knows what hopes and heartbreaks still lie ahead?

“I think whoever ends up becoming his wife will be very lucky to have a man like that by her side.”

“Well, let’s just hope my future wife appreciates those qualities,” comes a voice from behind me, deep and warm.

I jump in my seat.

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