Page 98 of One Little Mistake

“See you in three months,” he adds, chuckling softly.

“Not funny.”

“It’s the best I’ve got. Promise me you’ll listen to me?”

“I promise,” I say, after a pause.

“Good. Then sleep tight. I’ll text you, and if you’re still up, we’ll talk a bit more later.”

“Okay. I won’t sleep. Call me.”

We say goodbye. For a few minutes, I pace around the house, unable to pull my thoughts together. I knew this moment would come eventually, but I didn’t think it would be this soon.

I halt in the middle of the room. I can’t just let it end like this. I need to say goodbye properly. Hug him. Kiss him. Look into those incredible eyes and tell him I’ll wait. That I love him.

I bolt out the door and rush to my neighbor’s. Tucker—my old classmate, once my best friend. And more importantly, he has a car.

“Can you take me to the city? Please, it’s urgent. I’ll pay whatever you want,” I blurt out, breathless.

“Right now?” He blinks at me, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

“Yes. It’s really important. Please,” I beg, and I squeal when he nods.

I run back home, dress my sleeping son, throw a few things into a bag, and climb into Tucker’s car. Max is going to kill me—no question—but he’ll cool off. I can’t just let him leave like this.

I’m practically buzzing with impatience the whole ride back. The road feels endless, but when the city lights appear on the horizon, I finally exhale and smile.

I pay Tucker, thank him a hundred times, and rush inside. My chest is tight with anticipation—excited and terrified all at once. Just one day apart, and I already missed him so much. What will I do when he’s gone for three months?

The elevator takes forever. When the doors finally slide open, I hurry toward apartment 217—the one that once changed everything. But I stop just short.

His door is open.

My heart thuds. I step forward slowly, cautiously, and peek inside.

Then I see it. And it feels like the floor gives way beneath me.

I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle the sob. My chest seizes. Tears spill instantly.

There he is. Max. Standing in the middle of the room. Holding another woman.

I recognize her instantly. His ex-wife. Here. At one in the morning. At his place.

And suddenly, everything makes sense. Why he told me to stay at Grandma’s tonight. Why he kept saying today wasn’t a good day. Why he was acting off.

She’s clinging to him, her fingers digging into his shoulder. He’s gently rubbing her back like he’s comforting her.

I stumble backward. One step. Then another. And another. Like I’m trying to outrun the pain tearing me in half.

I can’t look at it. It feels like my heart is being torn apart, piece by piece.

No. No. No. This isn’t happening. This isn’t my Max. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t—just hand me over like that.

I need to go back and demand answers, but I’m so scared, I can’t even move. I rush back into the elevator, clutching my sleeping son to my chest with one arm while wiping away hot, salty tears with the sleeve of the other. I ride down to the sixth floor, unlock the door to the rental apartment, and gently settle Tim into his crib. Then I lock myself in the bathroom and cry. Loud, aching sobs that stretch deep into the night. I cry until there’s nothing left. Until morning comes. Until pain gives way to numbness.

CHAPTER 36

Max

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