Page 86 of One Little Mistake
“Did you do this?” Max nods at the puddles forming beneath our feet.
“No, he didn’t,” I say quickly.
“Alright. Erin, start packing. You can’t stay here with the baby. You’re coming to my place.”
“What?” My eyes widen at the sudden announcement—even if, technically, it makes sense. We do have a child together.
“What do you mean, what?” he shoots back. “You really thought I’d leave the two of you here? We also need to figure out this repair situation. Do the upstairs tenants cover it or is it coming out of pocket?” He gestures toward the ceiling.
“I haven’t talked to anyone yet.”
“Good. I’ll handle it. That your bag?” He nods toward the duffel on the bed.
“Yeah, just the basics.”
“Grab whatever else you might need. Let’s not have you running back and forth. I’ll carry everything down.”
I sneak a glance at Max-from-217—yeah, that’s what I call him in my head. He’s standing there, watching the other Max’s every move, saying nothing. Then finally, he speaks.
“Don’t forget what we talked about, Erin,” he says with a dry chuckle, his tone colder than I expected. His eyes pierce right through me, and a chill runs down my spine. He looks… disappointed. But why? What did I do wrong? Because I didn’t refuse to leave with Max? Where else was I supposed to go? I can’t exactly show up at his door with a baby and a suitcase.
Tim’s father is back, and he’s supposed to help now. I shouldn’t be dumping everything on someone who owes us nothing. That’s what I keep telling myself—even when the door closes behind Max-from-217, and my chest tightens in guilt. Even then, I repeat: I’m doing the right thing.
“I’ll call a cleaning service. They’ll take care of the mess,” Max says.
“Great, you handle it,” I snap, my nerves fraying. “All I need now is for the front window of my shop to shatter for this to be a full-blown disaster.”
I’m losing it. I just got settled into this apartment, started to feel like my life was coming together—and it’s all falling apart again.
What drives me crazy the most is that instead of soaking up the joy of motherhood, focusing fully on my baby, I’m constantly stuck in survival mode. Worrying about money, scrambling for solutions, watching every dime. I can’t even afford the time to fully recover my own health.
All I wanted was a few months of peace and quiet. Just a little time to breathe. But life keeps throwing bricks at me, one after the other, like it’s trying to crush me into the ground. That’s why I let Max take control. Let him do what he should’ve been doing from the beginning—taking care of us.
I hand over two suitcases, push the stroller ahead, and leave the apartment behind. I tell myself I trust him—that he’ll actually call the cleaning company. But as the elevator passes the floor with apartment 217, my chest tightens again. Bitterness rises in the back of my throat, sharp and lingering.
CHAPTER 32
Erin
Max heads out to deal with my rental situation, and I quickly scan the apartment, feed my son, and realize—I can’t stay here. Thankfully, I’ve got a few flower orders to fulfill today, so I strap Tim into the stroller and hurry to the elevator.
The air outside is crisp and clean, with just the right amount of sun. A perfect day to take a family trip somewhere. Perhaps walk in the park, a riverside stroll, or even a spontaneous picnic out of town.
I tilt my head up, searching for the windows of the apartment where I lived for the past six months. Maybe it would’ve been better if neither man had ever come into my life. I’m so tired of the emotional back-and-forth, the fear of being let down again. I just want to say to hell with it all—pack a bag and go to the countryside, or better yet, visit my mom. I hadn’t seen her since Christmas. I remember surprising her with a flight and a suitcase full of gifts.
Just thinking of her makes my chest ache. She’s worked overseas for so many years that I barely remember anything different. But one thing I know for sure: I don’t want my kids growing up without me the way I did without her.
I delay going back upstairs as long as I can. I stroll through the courtyard, wander aimlessly in the baby section of a store, picking out clothes and toys for Tim. But when I finish the second thermos of formula, I’m out of excuses.
The walk helped clear my head. I realized that when it comes to Maxwell… at this point, I want nothing more than friendship. The time we spent apart changed something in me. The love I thought I held onto all this time—it’s faded, leaving only memories. Or maybe it wasn’t love at all? Maybe it was the fearof being alone. The pregnancy. The way a guy like him actually noticed someone like me.
As soon as I step into the apartment, the smell of cigarette smoke hits my nose. I wince.
“Maxwell, could you not smoke in here? There’s a baby.” I only call him by his full name when I’m mad at him.
“Sorry, babe. I’ll air it out.” He jumps off the couch and cracks open a window. That “babe” makes my skin crawl.
I study the man I once loved, the one I suffered for, the father of my child—and all I feel now is emptiness. Bitter, with a strange aftertaste of disappointment and burnt oatmeal.
