Page 78 of One Little Mistake

I want to say something might’ve happened to him, but Vivienne cuts me off sharply.

“Oh, forget that idiot. Has he ever checked in on you? On the baby? Asked if you needed anything? He lied to you. I know it hurts. It’s brutal—admitting the person you loved could do that to you. But you need to face the truth and kill that naivety before it kills you.”

She says it like someone who’s lived through it. She’s not looking at me and I follow her gaze, expecting to find Logan but no, he’s on the phone. Vivienne is watching his twin brother.

“Is there something I don’t know?”

I get this strange feeling that something happened between those three in the past.

“Just listen to your heart,” Vivienne softens. “If right now it wants to be with Max, then be with him. Live in the moment. Don’t overthink it. A month ago, you were on the brink of life and death, and today, thank God, you’re standing here in front of me. You’ve been given a chance to change everything, so take it.”

“I’ll try.”

“Ready?” Vivienne and I fall silent as Max appears beside us, holding my son. She gives me that look that says, “Told you. He’s already getting used to your kid.”

“Yeah, let’s go. Thank you, Vivienne. Everything was delicious. And congrats again.”

We say our goodbyes and step out. The moment the door closes behind us, it’s suddenly so quiet, it rings in my ears.

“Maybe you two should stay at my place?” Max suggests out of nowhere, glancing toward his apartment.

“No, we’re going home,” I hurry to decline, my fingertips brushing my lips that are still tingling from his kiss. “But… if you want, you can come in for tea. Or coffee,” I add quickly, remembering how he practically runs on the stuff.

“Wouldn’t say no,” he grins slyly, and we take turns stepping into the elevator.

While I fuss in the kitchen making coffee, Max sits back on a chair, relaxed, watching me. Sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone, eyes locked on me. I have no clue how to act around him. Sure, we’ve kissed twice now, but we haven’t talked about it at all.

I slide a cup toward him and sit down across the table.

“Have you started the renovation yet?” I reach for a safe topic because the tension between us is getting on my nerves.

“No. Every time I think about it, I just want to give up on life,” he chuckles, shooting me a sly look. “What’s your plan for next week?”

“Well, I rented a space for the flower shop. I’ll be moving in, getting it all set up. A few more days and I’ll be back on my feet completely.”

“If you need help, call me. I’m free most of the time, so you can count on me.”

“Thanks,” I exhale and take a sip of tea.

We keep talking about nothing in particular for a while, and I’m just starting to feel disappointed, thinking maybe Max regrets the kiss, when he stands up to rinse his cup. As he walks past me, he suddenly stops and runs his hand through my hair.

“This hairstyle suits you,” he murmurs hoarsely, then leans down and kisses the top of my head. Soft. Easy. My breath catches at the tenderness of it. I don’t want him to pull away.

“Your faucet’s leaking. I’ll drop by tomorrow around noon and fix it, okay?”

“Yeah…” I whisper, caught off guard, and then Max suddenly seems in a rush to leave—without saying anything about what just happened between us, without acknowledging the desire we couldn’t contain.

“Sweet dreams,” he smiles, hands in his pockets, and walks out of my apartment, leaving behind his cologne… and total chaos in my heart.

I toss and turn all night, unable to sleep, just counting down the hours until tomorrow.

***

Max shows up around one in the afternoon.

He’s got tools in hand, wearing a T-shirt that hugs his body just right, showing off those maddeningly defined muscles. I catch myself staring and completely miss the fact that he’s asking me something.

“Can I come in?” he repeats louder.

---