Page 83 of One Little Mistake

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold up, man,” my ex growls, stepping forward. “That’s my fiancée. And my son. So if anyone here’s nobody, it’s you. Thanks for the help with the stroller, but we’ll take it from here.”

They’re standing face to face now. The tension between them thickens like a storm cloud, and I swear—give them one more minute, and they will be at each other's throats.

“Both of you—shut up!” I snap. “No one’s going anywhere until we figure out what the hell, Max, made you send me to the wrong apartment?! And where the hell have you been all this time?”

“Let’s go home. I’m not having this conversation in front of strangers. First of all. And second—where did you disappear to? Your flower shop’s closed, all your social media accounts are gone. I couldn’t even find your friends to ask if you were okay. I went to the police, imagined a million horrible things, and turns out—you managed to get yourself a man while I was gone.”

“Watch your mouth,” Max—my Max—takes a step closer, voice low and threatening.

“I disappeared?” I explode. Months of pain, confusion, and sleepless nights come rushing back, rising like a tidal wave inside me. “You sent me to a stranger’s apartment! You messaged once a month! Never asked about the baby, never asked how I was doing—and now you’re blaming me because the one person who was there for me actually gave a damn?”

“What the hell are you talking about—‘wrong apartment’? Are you out of your mind? I gave you my keys. I got back from my deployment, went to my place—and you were gone! No note. No message. Nothing.”

“You gave me the wrong address!” I shout, my voice so loud it jolts Tim awake in my arms.

“I’m telling you one more time—I gave you the keys to my apartment. What the hell are you talking about? And I couldn’t call you because three months ago my phone went overboard! I didn’t get a new one until a month later, and none of the numbers were saved. Not even yours. There was no way to recover the SIM card.”

“No…” I whisper. “You’re lying…”

“Why the hell would I lie to you, Erin?” His voice softens, but his eyes plead. “What happened, really?”

And just like that, my entire world wavers on a fault line between what I thought I knew… and what might have been the truth all along.

“Here, you texted me this.” I pull my phone out of my purse with trembling hands, my voice catching in my throat as I swipe through the messages. My fingers finally land on the one. “Harbor Street 7, apt. 217.”

“Three-seventeen,” Max, my Max, corrects gently, a quiet weight in his voice now.

“Two-seventeen,” I insist, holding the phone screen toward him.

I watch as his expression changes. The anger drains from his face, replaced by confusion. Then guilt. He furrows his brows and looks at me, as if seeing me clearly for the first time.

“Shit... baby, I’m so sorry,” Maxwell murmurs. “My finger must’ve slipped. I didn’t even notice I sent the wrong number. Why didn’t you text me when you realized it was the wrong place?”

“It’s... it’s a long story,” I whisper, suddenly feeling so foolish. God, how did I end up in this mess? It feels like a cruel joke, like some absurd dream. And the worst part is, I don’t even know how to feel about seeing Tim’s father again. Am I relieved? Angry? Scared?

“I need... I need some time alone. I’m going to my place. We’ll talk later.”

“Which one of us are you talking to?” comes Taylor’s cold voice from behind.

“Both,” I say quietly.

“No way, sunshine,” Maxwell cuts in with a hopeful smile, stepping forward. “I finally found you. I’m seeing my son for the first time. I’m not letting you walk away now.”

He wraps an arm around me and presses a kiss to my forehead. It should’ve felt comforting, familiar even. But all I feel is suffocated. Cornered. And guilty—because Taylor is still there, watching. And I can't meet his eyes.

Five minutes ago, I was content. Happy, even. Now I’m standing at a crossroads again, and every direction feels wrong.

I’m too stunned to protest when Maxwell gently guides me into the elevator. He wheels the stroller in beside us, presses the button for 28.

The last thing I see is Max’s cold stare as the elevator doors slide shut in front of me. And in those eyes, I think I catch it—bitterness, pain, anger, and disappointment.

CHAPTER 31

Erin

I’m still in a daze. I don’t believe a single word he says, but somehow, I follow him on pure emotion. I need to make sure—did I really mix up the apartments? Does he really live here? Is he telling the truth? Though I’m not sure that’ll make things any easier. If anything, it only complicates everything. It was so much simpler to believe he was a jerk than to admit I might’ve been wrong and have to start trusting him again.

My temples are pounding, my chest tight with anxiety. I watch Max walking down the hallway with confident strides, and I tremble. How long has it been since we last saw each other? He feels like a stranger now. I don’t even know how to act around him. Tim must sense the shift in me too—he squirms and starts crying. I pull him tighter into my arms, whisper something softly just to soothe us both, trying to make sense of this madness.

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