The Better Man (Chicago Sisters)

by Amy Vastine

  “I told you when I first met you that you looked like him.”

  “Look like him?” Max’s voice was loud enough that Kendall was glad they were on the porch. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “What did you want me to say? Hi, you’re a dead ringer for my dead husband. Nice to meet you?”

  Max wandered onto the front lawn and began to pace back and forth. “Is that why he talks to me? He talks to me because he thinks I’m his dad?”

  “No!” Kendall said in a rush. “He doesn’t think you’re his dad. He knows you aren’t his dad. His dad is in heaven. He understands that.” She pressed her hand against her forehead. She had no idea how to rationalize this. “He talked to you because you look like him, yes, but he knows you’re not him. He likes you. He likes Max Jordan, the guy who works at the restaurant his mom is remodeling.”

  Max linked his fingers behind his head as he continued to pace and put all the pieces together. “That’s why you fainted the day we met. That’s why both of your sisters gawked at me like I had three heads.”

  “There’s a strong resemblance.”

  “I look exactly like him!” Max threw up his hands.

  “At first glance, you look very much like him. But there are differences. I notice them more and more each time I’m around you.”

  Her words did not help stop him from freaking out. “This is weird. I mean, really weird.”

  “I know.” There was nothing more she could say. She’d been coping with this for a couple of weeks and she was still reeling. He needed some time to process everything.

  “You swear to me he doesn’t think I’m his dad.”

  “He knows you are not his dad, I swear on my life,” she said adamantly.

  She could see his frantic need to believe her as he searched her face for an ounce of doubt. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was that Simon understood Max was not Trevor. The little boy probably understood and accepted that better than she did.

  “I have to go,” he said, pointing to the street. “I’m going.” And he did.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE WALK HOME wasn’t long enough to help Max clear his head, so he kept walking until nothing was familiar. He wished the fresh air would help him sort out his feelings.

  Confused. Freaked out. Curious. That was how he felt. What to do with that, he wasn’t sure.

  Kendall had told him he looked like her husband. She wasn’t lying when she said she’d been up-front with him, but he had assumed it was a general likeness, not something out of the movie The Parent Trap.

  People said everyone had a twin out there somewhere. Max never imagined he’d ever find that person. Or meet the guy’s family. Or like his family so much. And he definitely couldn’t have imagined the man would be dead.

  Spending the day with Kendall and Simon had been fun. He hadn’t just said it to her to be polite. They made him feel happy, and though Kendall’s feelings were a mystery, he knew he made Simon feel the same. Now it all seemed tainted. Were they only enjoying being around him because he reminded them of Trevor? When they smiled at him, were they really thinking about the man they lost?

  He wasn’t about to try and replace someone like a creepy clone. He had a hard enough time living up to everyone’s expectations as it was. He’d never be able to compete with a marine killed protecting the world from terrorists. That was more pressure than he could stand.

  When he got back home, he looked up Trevor Montgomery on Google and read his obituary. The photo that accompanied the article made Max’s head spin. If it wasn’t for the short hair, he’d swear someone had put his picture in the paper. Trevor was born the same year as Max, but three months later. He had no siblings. His mother was deceased, but his father was still alive.

  Max picked up his phone and dialed his mother. She answered on the second ring.

  “Maxie!”

  He didn’t bother with the normal niceties. “Swear to me you didn’t steal me out of some hospital in Chicago, change my birth date and tell me I had a deadbeat dad to cover your tracks.”

  “What?” she said with a laugh.

  “Swear I’m your son.”

  “Of course you’re my son! I have the C-section scar to prove it.” She could have stopped there, but she didn’t. “Did you know that nowadays the scars are so small, women can wear bikinis after one? That is amazing because my scar goes straight up and down my stomach. You weren’t that big, but they cut me open like they were pulling out the Jolly Green Giant.”

  “Mom...” Max pretended to bang his head against the kitchen counter.

  “What? You were barely six pounds. They didn’t need to cut such a big opening. You know that’s why I didn’t have more kids. Can you imagine what my stomach would look like if they went in there more than once?”

  “Okay, okay, I’m your son. I believe you. Any chance you had twins and sold one on the black market to pay the rent?” This theory made more sense. When he was little, there had been times he’d worried she was going to put him up as collateral.

  “Maxwell James Jordan, what is going on with you? Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  “I don’t know.” He moved to the couch and flopped down. “I’m having a weird day.”

  “What does that have to do with me giving birth to you?”

  “Nothing.” He was overreacting to this whole thing. It was a coincidence. A bizarre coincidence. “I just needed to be sure I’m blaming the right person for all my issues.”

  “What issues? You have my good skin, my amazing sense of humor, my excellent fashion sense. And you know you got your great hair thanks to me. They say baldness is inherited from the mother’s side of the family.”

  “Really?” For all her quirks, she did know how to make him smile when he needed it most. “Aidan’s in trouble, then, because Katie’s dad is balder than Mr. Clean.”

  “How is my grandson?”

  “He’s good.” Max rubbed his full head of hair. “I think there’s a chance he might even like me someday.”

  “Someday? You’re his father. He loves you.” This was the most laughable thing she’d said in the entire conversation.

  “Being someone’s father doesn’t automatically win you your child’s affection. Trust me, no one knows that better than yours truly.”

  “Don’t say that,” she scolded.

  Why she didn’t have any resentment toward the man who’d left her alone and pregnant, he’d never understand. She never had a bad word to say about him. Truthfully, she never had any words to say about him. When Max had been old enough to question why he didn’t have a mom and a dad, her only explanation was that sometimes love scares people, and that because his dad loved them, he had to leave.

  That didn’t make a lot of sense to a kid, and even less to the adult he’d become. His dad was a coward, and that wasn’t the same as being scared. There was also no way he loved Max. He’d never met him. Never been part of his life. Certainly didn’t care. How could she possibly think his father loved him?

  “Mom, let’s be real. He’s nobody to me.” All Max had was a first name and a picture of the guy from before he was born. “Even if I have to suffer through supervised visits the rest of his life, at least Aidan will grow up knowing I want to be his dad.”

  “Just because he wasn’t there, doesn’t mean your dad didn’t want to be.”

  Max couldn’t do this anymore. Listening to his mom defend his dad was worse than worrying about what to do about Kendall and Simon. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

  “I’ll never regret loving him, Max. Without him, there’d be no you. Without you, nothing would be right in my world.”

  He smiled again in spite of himself. She always did that. Maybe she was a better mom than he ever gave her credit for being.r />
  * * *

  MAX TRIED TO keep his distance from Kendall on Monday. She made it easy on him, working on her mural all day. Owen was there in the afternoon to deal with the installation of the new sushi bar. It was a stunning design, but Max was still convinced it would cause congestion in that area and make it more difficult for the waitstaff to get to and from the kitchen.

  The stone Kendall had chosen for the countertop was gorgeous, a mix of black, gray and cream. The lighting above and around it was going to be chic and sophisticated. The placement of the bar was Max’s main issue. They weren’t taking into account the amount of traffic that would be flowing around that space.

  Max stood with his arms crossed and sleeves rolled up, as the construction crew began installing the bases. He’d ditched his suit coat after lunch along with his tie. He’d hired his last employee this morning and would conduct the rest of his business on the phone today.

  He glanced around the restaurant, trying to make the best of a bad situation. Maybe if they changed the number of tables in this room, they could make it work. There had to be something they could do differently if the bar had to go in here.

  “It’s going to look fantastic,” Owen said, coming up from behind and startling him.

  “It’s going to look amazing, but it’s still in the wrong spot.”

  “Trust Kendall.”

  That was a loaded request. He shifted his gaze from the bar to Owen to get a read on him. Had Kendall told him about what happened on Saturday?

  “She tends to forget about certain details,” Max said.

  Owen frowned and tilted his head to the side. He had most definitely been told. “She’s excessively focused on the details. Six-year-old details, to be exact.”

  Max didn’t need a lecture on putting your kid first. Kendall had every right to do what she thought was best for her son. “Simon is a great kid. And I feel bad he lost his dad.” Max let out a frustrated sigh “But I don’t like being brought into a situation and not told all the facts.”

  “That’s fair,” Owen conceded. “And that being said, you should know that Simon hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Kendall and her mother since his father died almost a year ago...until he met you.”

  A year without speaking to anyone but his mother and grandmother? That was simply unbelievable. “He talks to Lucy and Emma. I’ve heard him.”

  Owen shook his head. “Not until you. He would whisper to Kendall and she would relay the message. It’s called selective mutism.”

  “Selective what?”

  “It’s an anxiety disorder. He can talk normally, like you’ve heard, but in most situations—at school, for example—he can’t say anything.”

  Max had never heard of such a thing. He could tell Simon was shy, although not with him. But a mute? And what did that have to do with not telling Max he looked like Simon’s father?

  Owen gave him a pat on the back and answered his unspoken question. “A year of watching your son suffer in silence can make you question whether or not to tell someone, who makes his life easier, something that might make that person run for the hills.”

  Kendall dealt with much more than Max could have imagined. Compassion for her struggles quickly replaced the resentment he’d been feeling. He still wished she had told him, but now he understood why she hadn’t.

  Owen went to talk to the foreman, leaving Max to contemplate the next step he should take with Kendall and her son. It was still weird. Kendall had to be comparing him to her husband, and he was never going to live up to that. He wasn’t even going to try. The kid was a different story, though. Kendall said he knew Max wasn’t his dad, but Simon was searching for a father figure. If Max was somehow helping Simon by giving him a moment of his time, how could he justify walking away?

  There was also a selfish part of Max that knew by helping Simon, he might earn himself another character witness in his custody battle. Kendall’s story would pull at the heartstrings of even the most hardened judges. Like Kendall, Max was willing to do just about anything for his son.

  He wished he could go back in time. If he had put Aidan first when he was born, Max could have saved himself all this trouble now. He could have kept Aidan out of the middle and prevented the confusion the little boy surely felt. Aidan didn’t deserve this mess, but there was no going back, only forward. Once Max proved himself to Katie, their son would have a new kind of stability.

  * * *

  MAX FOUND HIMSELF checking his watch more than usual. After what he considered a successful visit last week, hope burned in his chest. All he wanted was for Aidan to be happy to see him tonight. If Katie saw that he could be a good father, maybe she would back off and make it easier for him to be part of his son’s life. A good mother should want that for her child.

  The bases for the sushi bar were installed and the crew was working on the cabinets along the wall. Max had spent a large portion of the afternoon on the phone, and his cell was in desperate need of a charge. He’d left his charger in his office, which was located off the kitchen and was now fully functional.

  As he crossed the main dining area, he considered offering Kendall an olive branch. Making peace with her would ease his mind some. She was washing her paintbrushes in the sink behind the drink bar. He wondered how the mural was coming along. Before he had the chance to approach her, the front doors opened. Mr. Sato glided in flanked by Jin and Chef Yamaguchi. Their unexpected visit created an unpleasant knot in his stomach.

  “Mr. Sato, what a surprise,” Max said.

  Jin did the talking, as usual. Perhaps his father had the same anxiety disorder as Simon. “We came to plan the menu. Chef got into town this afternoon, and we didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to get started. Opening day will be here before we know it.”

  Chef probably had the menu already planned. Max would simply see to it that he had the supplies he needed. The conversation should be short and sweet. He might not get out of here in an hour, but if he skipped his usual stop at home to change, he could make it to the visit with plenty of time to spare.

  Kendall came over, wiping her hands on a towel. She had a streak of white paint in her hair and paintbrushes sticking out of her back pocket. This laid-back look reminded him of the fun they’d had painting Simon’s car. When it wasn’t so impossibly hard to get along with her, it was incredibly easy.

  Max wasn’t Kendall’s only admirer. Jin’s face softened when she was near. The tightness in his jaw relaxed and he smiled at her like she was the sun, the only thing capable of melting his usually icy exterior. The poor kid didn’t have a chance with Kendall. Max might have felt a little sorry for him if he wasn’t so annoying.

  Jin introduced Kendall to Chef Yamaguchi, and she offered them a quick tour. Her smile was wide and her hands were in almost constant motion as she spoke. Her excitement in showing Mr. Sato the progress was contagious.

  Her mural, though unfinished, was awe-inspiring. The layers and depth she created on a flat wall were unbelievable. The west room’s sushi bar was saved for last. Mr. Sato moved around the room and took it in from all angles. Kendall described the way the counter would look and how the lighting would enhance the ambiance, seemingly unfazed by his silence. It drove Max nuts.

  Jin was busy complimenting Kendall on a job well done when Mr. Sato spoke. “Too big,” he said to everyone’s surprise.

  “Too what, sir?” Kendall asked.

  Max, however, had heard him loud and clear. Too big! Too big! Too big! he wanted to shout. He’d said it from the very start, but no one had listened.

  “Too big.”

  Kendall had to force her shoulders back. “I think it’s hard to imagine it since it’s unfinished, but—”

  Mr. Sato cut her off. “Too big. Mr. Jordan, stand over there.” He pointed to the doorway that led to the kitchen. “Jin, stand by the
bar. Hisato, over there.” He sent the chef to the spot where they had all entered the room. “Kendall, walk to the kitchen. Hisato, go to Jin. Max, come back into the room.”

  Everyone followed his directions and with all of them practically in the same space, Max and Kendall ended up chest to chest. He could see her shame the moment she felt it. It made gloating impossible.

  “Too big for that side. Make it smaller or move it.” With that, Sato exited the room, leaving the rest of them to untangle themselves. Jin chased after his father, claiming he had warned Kendall that the placement of the sushi bar was an issue.

  Max hung back with Kendall, who pulled a paintbrush out of her pocket and slashed it through the air like a fencer with her foil.

  “It’ll work out,” he said to reassure. “Shorten it a little or maybe flip the room, put it over on that side.”

  “Go ahead,” she said, spinning to face him. “Say it. Tell me you told me so.”

  “I’ve worked in restaurants since I was sixteen. I had to learn how people move in each space or I ended up with food on the floor. And my shoes.”

  She pursed her lips to keep from smiling. “I’ll figure it out. But first, I have to go cancel some deliveries.” Her paintbrush went back into her pocket and she slipped out of the room.

  Max found the other men sitting at one of the tables in the main dining area. He grabbed his laptop and joined them to work out the details of the menu. The discussion ran much longer than he imagined. The minutes seemed to tick off more like seconds. He was going to be late. He needed to call Laura and let her know, but there was no lull in the conversation for him to excuse himself.

  Jin had big ideas, and they weren’t in line with Chef’s vision. This led to further debate and more discussion about the competition, their menus and how to be original. Max’s leg bounced restlessly under the table. Finally, Mr. Sato leaned over and whispered something that quieted Jin as well. It was agreed that Chef’s menu ideas were best.