Page 20 of One Little Mistake
“Good. I’m serious, Max—I spent a whole week working up the courage to come over. You have no idea how much this whole situation has been eating me up inside.”
“It’s fine. Let it go,” I say wearily, rubbing my eyes.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then I should get going before Logan realizes I’m gone. You know how he is.” Vivienne rolls her eyes, and just the mention of her husband puts a soft smile on her face.
She hesitates. Her hand is on the door handle, but she doesn’t leave. She glances back at me with a furrowed brow, like something’s still bothering her. Finally, she blurts it out,
“Listen, I’ve been trying to call Erin. Her phone’s been off for a week. Do you know how she’s doing?”
I let out a heavy sigh.
“Erin… she’s… The baby’s fine, healthy. But the birth didn’t go well. She’s in the ICU.”
“What? Oh my God.” Her eyes go wide with panic. She hugs herself and bites her lip. “How is that even possible? What are the doctors saying? Have you been to see her?”
“Yeah, today. No clear prognosis yet. They’re taking care of the baby. They think I’m the father and tried to dump the kid on me.” I roll my eyes and give a dry, nervous laugh.
I keep my gaze fixed on Vivienne, hoping she’ll say something like, “You did the right thing, Max.” Something to ease my conscience. But what I get is completely different.
“We have to take the baby,” she says firmly, marching past me into the kitchen. She sits on a tall stool, staring into space.
“What do you mean we have to take the baby?” I follow her in, stopping across from her.
“If they think you’re the dad, they’ll hand him over to you without a second thought.” She locks eyes with me—those bright blue eyes full of unwavering determination. “You’ve got everything here for a baby already: crib, stroller, diapers—Erin bought all of it. I’ll help. My daughter’s older now, way easier to handle. We can do this.”
“No,” I say flatly.
“Max, imagine if it were your kid and you weren’t there.”
“If a hospital handed my kid over to some random guy, I’d sue them into the ground.”
“This is different. Erin’s a good person. We became friends, and she really does love… her boyfriend.” Vivienne hesitates, then adds, “What if you… met her at a club, spent the night together, and just forgot? Maybe the baby really is yours.”
“Not a chance,” I snap, harsher than I mean to. But I’m sick of people trying to dump this baby on me. “From what Erin said, the father took off the moment he found out she was pregnant. I told you that already.”
“We have to help her.”
“I’ve helped her more than enough. Hell, she lived in my apartment for five months. I’d say that’s plenty.”
“Max.” Vivienne shoots me a look like I just drowned her kitten.
“No. Don’t even ask.” I shake my head. “I’ll find her relatives, or that runaway baby daddy—but we’re not taking the kid. What if Erin... dies?” I ask, my voice hoarse. Because yeah, that’s a very real possibility.
Her eyes go wide at the thought.
“Then I’ll have to raise him,” I mutter, chilled to the bone by the idea. “What else am I supposed to do—drop him off at a foster home myself?”
“Okay,” she says after a pause. “Give me her doctor’s contact info. I’ll talk to them myself. And try to find her parents—he can’t stay in the hospital forever. Just thinking about him all alone in there makes me want to cry. I even saw his ultrasound photo, Max. Erin couldn’t decide on a name. We picked out baby clothes together. I have to see him, make sure he’s okay.”
“He’s fine,” I reply. “He's fine, I saw him today. Red and wrinkly, didn't cry, slept like a rock”
Vivienne only leaves after I promise—again and again—that I’ll start searching for Erin’s family first thing tomorrow.
I shut the door behind her and realize I’ve gotten myself into another mess. The kind that’s sticky and weird and only gets deeper the more you try to claw your way out.
