The Better Man (Chicago Sisters) (4 page)

“Trevor was such a good boy when he was Simon’s age. That’s what proper parenting accomplishes. When you’re in charge—more importantly, when you’re present—boys respond. Of course, a boy needs a father. I always said that.” Paul’s voice began to crack. Whatever he was drinking was only making him weepy. “It’s so unfair. Poor Simon had the best role model a child could ask for. And now...now he has no one.”

Kendall shaded in the fire she had drawn coming from a dragon’s mouth. Talking to Paul used to make her cry. Now she only felt exhausted. She knew what her father-in-law wanted to hear.

“Trevor was an amazing father and husband,” Kendall said. It was the truth.

Mostly.

“He was, wasn’t he? He really was.” He said before blowing his nose loudly. “And a hero, too.”

Kendall crumpled up the sheet of paper into a ball and tossed it into the garbage. “Maybe Simon and I can drive out to Lake Forest this weekend. Are you going to be home Sunday night?” She was going to regret this later.

Trevor’s father was a partner at one of the bigger investment banking firms in the city. When she first met them, Kendall thought the Montgomerys had more money than anyone she’d ever known. Trevor’s mother had had a closet full of designer clothes and another one just for her shoes and purses. Besides the mansion in Lake Forest, they had a summer house in Michigan and a winter home in Naples. There were also several rental properties, including the house she and Simon currently lived in. There was no way Kendall could afford to live in Lincoln Park otherwise. As much as she hated needing Paul’s help, she loved being close to her family.

Kendall heard him capping the crystal decanter in the background. “I fly out west Sunday afternoon. You could come for lunch on Saturday. If the weather’s nice, Simon could ride the horse.”

“We’ll see. I’ll call you later this week, all right?”

“Sounds good. Tell Simon I called. And that I love him, okay?”

The familiar guilt poked Kendall in the gut. She should have tried to get Simon on the phone. He wouldn’t have said a word, but at least Paul could have spoken to him. “I will.”

She hung up and climbed the stairs to Simon’s bedroom like she was hiking up Mount Everest. Slow and steady, trying to ignore the pain in her chest. She hated when he wouldn’t talk in front of other people, but when he refused to speak to her, it was torture. She feared they’d soon be eaten up by the silence.

She knocked softly on his door, giving him a chance to let her in. He didn’t answer. Her hand gripped the doorknob as her forehead rested against the wood. “Simon.”

No answer.

She twisted the knob and pushed the door open. From the other side of Simon’s twin bed, she could see the top of his head, his cowlick stuck up like it wanted to make sure she didn’t miss him sitting there.

Kendall walked around the bed and joined him on the floor. He had all of his Hot Wheels lined up in front of him. Cars were his passion, something he shared with his father. He had over a hundred little cars in his collection and used to play with them every day. Anything could be turned into a roadway or racetrack. Nowadays, the cars were stored in boxes under his bed. Simon only brought them out when he was missing Trevor the most.

“Remember when Daddy came home with that bright yellow Mustang?” Kendall picked up a toy car that looked much like it. Simon had a photo of it taped to the mirror above his dresser. “I thought he was crazy. Until I saw your face. Your eyes got so big, I thought they were going to pop out like they do in the cartoons.”

She smiled at the memory. She hadn’t only thought Trevor was crazy, she had been so angry. He’d spent way too much money on a car they didn’t need, but he promised her it was no big deal and the expression on their son’s face made her want to believe him. Trevor had a way of making her forget her head. With him, her heart made all the decisions.

Simon took the car out of her hands and turned it around and around in his.

“Your dad loved you so much,” Kendall said. “He would have done anything for you. If he could come back from heaven, I don’t doubt for a second he’d do it.”

“But you can’t come back from heaven,” Simon whispered.

Kendall put an arm around him and pulled him against her. The words pushed their way through the emotion. “No, you can’t.”

Simon tossed the car aside and wrapped both arms around his mom. He buried his face into her chest. “Don’t ever go to heaven, Mommy.”

In that moment, Kendall knew exactly how it felt when Trevor set off that roadside bomb—destroyed.

* * *

S
IMON
REFUSED
TO
go to school the rest of the week and Kendall didn’t have any fight left. She had to bring him to her office twice, and her mom stayed with him the other days. She cancelled her plans to take him to Lake Forest, claiming he was under the weather. Paul wasn’t too happy about it, but Kendall wasn’t up for the million questions and couldn’t deal with the disappointment she’d certainly see on Paul’s face when Simon couldn’t talk to his grandfather.

Monday meant going to Sato’s to meet with the contractors. She couldn’t have a tagalong, and Kendall’s mom had a doctor’s appointment. Simon needed to go to school. They had talked about it several times on Sunday. He knew the expectations.

Kendall woke him up on time and left him to get dressed in the clothes they had laid out the night before. She turned on the stove and heated up the water for oatmeal while she waited for him. Sleepy-eyed, Simon shuffled into the kitchen looking none too happy about going anywhere.

“What two things are you worried about today?” she asked as she set a glass of orange juice in front of him, ignoring the frown.

He shrugged.

She waited him out, making his lunch instead of talking for him. He finished his juice and watched her cut the crusts off his peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

“Seeing Dad and it not being Dad,” he said softly.

Kendall held her breath for a second then spun around. “We aren’t going to see Dad.” She quickly corrected herself. “I mean, it’s highly unlikely we’ll see that man again. If we do, maybe we’ll walk up to him and introduce ourselves. That way, it won’t be weird anymore.”

She prayed they wouldn’t see the man now that she’d promised to speak to him. She could only imagine how embarrassing it would be to approach a stranger on the street.

Hi, my name is Kendall and this is my son, Simon. We just wanted to say hello because you look exactly like my dead husband and my son thought you were him and now hasn’t gone to school for four days. Beautiful morning we’re having, huh?

Nope, not awkward at all.

The teakettle whistled. She poured some water into the oatmeal and set the bowl in front of Simon, handing him the spoon. “What two things are you looking forward to today?”

Simon took the spoon but set it down. With his elbow on the table, he rested his head on his hand. “My tummy hurts. I want to go to work with you.”

It was disappointing but not unexpected. Stomachaches were a sure sign of the yucks. “We talked about this yesterday. Mommy has to go to the restaurant today, and you can’t come with. School is your job. You need to go to your job and Mommy needs to go to hers.”

“It hurts too bad. I can’t go,” he protested, shoving the oatmeal away.

Kendall stirred his oatmeal and pushed the bowl back in front of him. “Eat. It will make your stomach feel better. It hurts because it’s empty.” He frowned but picked up the spoon and took a bite. “What two things are you looking forward to today?” she asked as he ate.

He finished the whole bowl before answering. “Coming home and seeing Aunt Lucy.”

Kendall’s sister was picking him up from school today. Lucy swore she was never getting married or having children, so she reasoned that spoiling Simon was her God-given right.

“I’m sure Aunt Lucy is looking forward to seeing you, too. She told me on the phone that she’s bringing something very special for any boy named Simon who makes it through the whole school day.”

Simon’s mouth twisted then fell back into a frown. “My tummy still hurts.”

Kendall sat down next to him. “Mine, too. I’ve got the yucks about this new job. It’s going to be a lot of work.”

“You have the yucks?”

She nodded and put a hand on her stomach. “Everybody gets the yucks sometimes. But we still have to go to work. I’ll tell your yucks to beat it if you tell mine, okay?”

Simon almost smiled. “Okay. Beat it, yucks!” he said to her stomach.

Kendall jumped in her seat. “Whoa! I felt them run away. Good work, mister. My turn.” She held on to his waist and whispered, “Beat it, yucks.”

“Mom. They can’t hear you when you talk so soft.”

“They can’t?”

He shook his head. Kendall put on a determined face and bent closer to his belly. “Beat it, yucks!” she said firmly. She glanced up into those big, blue eyes. “How was that?”

Simon looked down at his stomach. “I’m not sure.”

Kendall sat back and surveyed the room like she might spot the yucks running away. “Let’s try this,” she said, before tickling his sides. “Beat it, yucks!”

Simon giggled and squirmed. It was the best sound she’d heard in a week. “Stop, Mom. They’re gone. Stop!”

Kendall obliged and stood up. She held out a hand. “Let’s get out of here before they come back, huh?”

With only a moment’s hesitation, Simon took his mom’s hand.

* * *

K
ENDALL
REALLY
DID
feel the yucks coming on as she got out of the cab in front of Sato’s. The restaurant was located in a great spot not far from the Mag Mile and just a couple of blocks from Ontario. She couldn’t remember what used to occupy this space, but she was going to make sure no one forgot Sato’s.

Owen was waiting outside for her. With coffee, because he was the best partner anyone could ask for. “He made it to school?” he asked, handing her the Starbucks cup.

“He made it. Let’s hope he makes it all day.” She sipped the warm, caffeinated goodness and thanked him.

“Let’s get to work.” Owen held the door open for her. “Oh, K...” He gestured with his head for her to come back outside. Her brow furrowed, and Owen glanced around nervously. “I meant to mention this to you earlier but with all the stuff with Simon, I didn’t want to freak you out.”

The yucks danced in her gut. “What?”

“Don’t panic,” he said, giving her arm a squeeze. “I forgot to tell you something about Mr. Jordan, the restaurant manager.”

Kendall relaxed immediately. She was sure Owen was going to confess being in love or lust or whatever he felt. She hoped this wasn’t about wanting to set her up again because she had no time for men.

“When he finally showed up for the meeting last week...this is going to sound strange...but he sort of looks like...”

Kendall stopped listening because behind Owen, Trevor was stepping out of a cab. Even though her brain told her it couldn’t be Trevor because Trevor was dead, she watched as this Trevor ran a hand through hair that was much too long. Her Trevor always wore his hair short—military short. This Trevor patted his pockets then shook his head like he should have known there was nothing there.

It wasn’t until he looked up and right at Kendall that she noticed the world around her had gone fuzzy, not just the sights but the sounds, too. It was like she was underwater. Owen seemed so far away. Did he see Trevor, too, or was she the only one? Owen’s voice as well as the street noise was muffled. The only thing that wasn’t blurry was this Trevor, who was smiling as he glided over to her.

He was beautiful, dressed in dark gray slacks and a light purple button-down. Her Trevor never would have worn purple. Ever. But it looked so good on him. The sleeves were rolled up like he was ready to do some work. His arms were as tan as the first time he came back from Afghanistan.

She wanted to touch him. Hold him. Cry on his shoulder. Beg him to be real. Then let him have it for leaving her, for not choosing her and Simon. She would have done all of that if her arms and legs weren’t numb. There was a tremendous burning in her chest, but the rest of her was frozen.

Trevor’s eyes never left her and his grin widened as he got closer. He was right in front of her, and she wasn’t sure how she was still standing, or breathing for that matter. “You must be the K in KO Designs,” he said in a voice that wasn’t at all like her Trevor’s. It was deeper, rougher.

Before she could say anything or hold his hand like she wanted, the world went from fuzzy straight to black.

CHAPTER FOUR

“S
IT
HER
DOWN
over here,” Owen said, clearing some junk off a dusty chair. The poor guy was almost as pale as the woman in Max’s arms.

“Does she have low blood sugar or some kind of medical condition I should know about?” Max asked. He wasn’t sure how she was going to hold herself up when she was unconscious, so he held on to her.

“Not that I know of.” Her business partner was flustered. “You should put her down. She’ll pass out again if she wakes up and you’re holding her.”

Max’s eyebrows pinched together. There was no way he was blaming him for this. Who passed out at the sight of someone?
Although
... His mother had always teased him about being a knockout. Kendall Montgomery was indeed out cold, and all he had done was smile and attempt to introduce himself. Maybe he had KO’d the K in KO Designs with his devilish good looks. He fought a smile. It was funny, even though it wasn’t.

Her eyes began to flutter open and, though it was absurd to think he had anything to do with her passing out, Max wanted to set her down before she came to. She looked up at him as he set her on the chair.

“Oh, God, did I die?” She was horror-stricken. Her eyes were wide and wild. “I can’t die. What about Simon!” Her hand covered her mouth.

“No, no, no, K. You’re fine. You’re alive,” Owen said, pushing Max aside and helping her sit up straight. “Mr.
Jordan,
here, brought you inside.”

“Mr. Jordan?”

The beautiful but somewhat strange designer rubbed her forehead and stared at Max. She was pretty enough to be forgiven for spilling her coffee all over his shoes. This time.

“Please, call me Max,” he said to both of them. This Mr. Jordan stuff made him feel uncomfortable. The only Mr. Jordan that Max ever knew was his grandfather, and his mother’s father was nothing but a mean, old man. He scanned the room. “Let me find you some water.”

The restaurant was a big, torn-apart space with nothing to offer but broken furniture and an empty bar. He decided to duck outside and spotted a Dunkin’ Donuts on the corner, down the street.

He bought Kendall water and a glazed doughnut, just in case low blood sugar really was the culprit. When he returned to the future home of Sato’s, the two designers were hugging. This was not how he expected day one to start. He waited for them to break apart before he handed over the food and drink.

The biggest, softest brown eyes stared up at him. This woman was the knockout. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a ponytail that fell halfway down her back. The navy V-neck shirt she wore accentuated the length of her neck, and her skin was the color of the cream he put in his coffee.

“I figured everyone likes glazed doughnuts. I’m a Boston cream fan myself, but some people don’t like stuff inside their doughnuts. I love vanilla pudding but hate jelly. I mean, if I want jelly, I’m going to put it on toast, not in my doughnut.”

Both designers stared and blinked, blinked and stared. They were beginning to make him self-conscious. He hadn’t had a pimple since the twelfth grade, but all their gaping had him wondering if he didn’t have a giant red bump on his nose.

“You should probably eat something,” he said, filling the awkward silence. “I bet you skipped breakfast this morning. Am I right?”

Kendall glanced at Owen, then nodded her head. “Yeah. I was in such a rush, I totally forgot to grab something. Thank you...
Max
.” She said his name like she was testing the way it sounded. As if he might correct her and tell her it was something else.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a wink. “Eat up so we can get to work.”

Kendall pulled out the doughnut and took a bite, humming in appreciation. She ate and she drank. She smiled and she blushed. She was even prettier with a little color in her cheeks. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand instead of the napkin he had stuffed in the small paper bag, and she never stopped staring.

* * *

M
AX
WAS
HOPEFUL
things would be less awkward as the day progressed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was under a microscope. During the morning meeting with the contractor, he caught her studying his shoes. When he was pointing out some issues in the blueprints, she seemed completely distracted by his hands. Not to mention the five minutes she spent fixated on his chin. Max had to go the bathroom to make sure there wasn’t something there.

Getting a woman’s attention was nothing new. One of Max’s favorite things about his job was working the room, sparing no one from his charm. He was used to women watching him, flirting with crooked smiles and batted eyelashes. Those looks fueled his ego nicely.

This was not that.

Kendall was currently talking on the phone, but she was also watching Max tour the room with one of the subcontractors. The crease between her eyebrows was the dead giveaway that she wasn’t flirting. She was judging. Why was she judging him? All day he felt like he wasn’t meeting some standard.

As soon as she got off her phone, he intended to find out what her problem was. He finished with Joe the subcontractor and strode over to Kendall, who, even though she was looking right at him, didn’t seem to notice he was headed her way.

“I bought you breakfast and still I feel like you’re holding the whole fainting spell against me.”

She startled when he spoke. “What?”

“Is there a problem I should know about?”

She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes as she peered at his. “Brown,” she said, barely loud enough for him to hear. She was officially odd.

“What?”

“What?” She pulled her head back and folded her arms across her chest.

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” he said, trying his best not to seem confrontational. “I’d be flattered if I thought you were simply appreciating my awesomeness, but I don’t think that’s it.”

Kendall’s gaze fell to the floor. “Sorry. You remind me of...someone.” She shook her head and made eye contact again. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Apology accepted. It’s actually good to know there’s somebody out there who looks like me. Especially the next time I get picked out of a lineup for robbing a bank. I mean, the last time, they wouldn’t take my word for it when I said it must have been my evil twin,” he joked, but she didn’t laugh. In fact, she may have thought he was being serious. “I’m kidding.”

She exhaled like she’d been holding her breath the whole time he was talking. “Okay, well, I’m heading out to make sure our flooring gets delivered on time.”

“Well, until tomorrow, then,” Max said, stepping out of her way. “Don’t forget to eat something for breakfast.”

Confusion clouded her face for a moment before the light came on. She smiled and laughed at herself. It was the kind of smile that gave her lines that bracketed her mouth. She had full lips and lots of white teeth that had to have spent some time in braces when she was younger. “I will definitely eat something so you don’t have to pick me up off the floor, Mr. Jordan.”

“Max,” he corrected.

“Right.” Her smile faded for some reason. “Max.”

* * *

M
AX
HAD
THIRTY
minutes to get from the Loop to the corner of North Avenue and Milwaukee Avenue. Joe, the helpful subcontractor, told him to jump on the Blue Line because a cab would cost him a bundle and take too long this time of day. Max was used to getting around in the safety of his own car. Everyone in L.A. had a car, hence the massive traffic problems. Chicago had its issues, but many of the people behind the wheel were making money doing so or commuting from the suburbs. True Chicagoans, Max had been told, walked, got around on bikes, or unlike everyone he knew back in L.A., they used public transportation.

The CTA station was crowded and smelled like a dirty bathroom. A man in a stained shirt and muddied khakis wove his way through the waiting commuters. He held out a paper cup that contained maybe a buck in change if he was lucky. “Spare somethin’?”

Max dug in his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. He pushed it into the cup. “Get a good meal tonight,” he said.

The man’s face broke into a grin of appreciation. “God bless.”

Max tipped his head and smiled back as the man moved on.

The woman next to him snorted. “He’s just gonna buy some booze with that money, you know.” Dressed in a navy suit and flashy running shoes, she held on tightly to her humongous designer purse with one hand while the other scrolled through something on her phone. Neither the diamonds in her ears nor the rings on her fingers looked like they came from a Cracker Jack box. She could have easily spared a dime.

“Maybe. Maybe not. You never know someone’s story until you ask them to tell it,” Max said as the train pulled up.

“Pfft.” The woman rolled her eyes and made her way toward the train.

She was probably right. It was very likely the guy would use the money for some vice rather than food. Still, there was also a possibility he’d buy dinner with it. That was enough for Max. Things happened. Sometimes life threw people a curve ball they weren’t expecting and all they needed was a hand up. Max had no problem offering help to others, though he had trouble asking for or accepting it himself.

When Max was twenty-two, he found out his mother was panhandling after she had lost her job working as a blackjack dealer in a Las Vegas casino. He was thankful for the people who offered her help. Who knew what else she would have been willing to do to keep from starving. But he hated that she’d hidden her desperation from him, opting to beg strangers for help instead.

He had taken her in after that, even though he was living in the tiniest apartment in all of California. She stayed for about two months, then she met some guy who persuaded her to follow him to Denver to start a church. Thus began her “religious” period.

Max’s mom made him look at everyone a little differently. Her weaknesses taught him to trust no one to take care of him but himself. Her quirky strengths reminded him that people were interesting creatures, capable of both good and bad, depending on the day. To keep his faith in her, he had to have some in everyone else. Everyone except his father. His father lacked any redeeming qualities, he was sure of it. Anyone who would walk away from a pregnant woman and lay no claim to his son didn’t deserve forgiveness or understanding.

Max wasn’t going to be that kind of man. He was going to be a better man than his father. That was what he told himself as he rode the Blue Line to meet his lawyer. He had to believe that if he had any shot at winning joint custody of Aidan.

Wayne Faraday’s office was three blocks from the CTA station. Max managed to walk there and still be on time. The temperature had begun to drop as the sun set. Chicago weather in early fall was unpredictable. Sometimes it felt like summer wasn’t ready to go, and the next day it was rainy and forty degrees. Max dreaded his first Midwestern winter.

Wayne’s administrative assistant was a young guy with blond hair and black hipster glasses who always wore a bow tie and skinny pants. Max imagined he spent his free time in offbeat coffee shops where people drank lattes, ate organic muffins and competed in poetry slams. “Mr. Jordan. Right on time. Mr. Faraday will be with you in just a minute. He got a call right before you walked in.”

“No problem,” Max said, taking a seat—the only seat—in the reception area. The law firm of Faraday and Associates was small. In fact, the name was a bit deceiving. There actually weren’t any associates. Wayne worked alone, but he had a passion for fathers’ rights, which made him the man for this job. Max needed someone who knew what he was doing and was willing to take him on as a client, given the fact that Max’s case wasn’t particularly strong. At least not yet.

Picking up a copy of
Men’s Fitness
magazine, Max tried to occupy his thoughts with something other than his crazy day. He still struggled to shake the strange feelings Kendall Montgomery had stirred in him. It had been a relief when she’d explained he simply reminded her of someone else. Hopefully that meant the constant staring would come to an end. Of course, it was the
way
she looked at him that was unnerving. Even when she smiled, there was this sadness about her. Like it made her sad to see him. That was an unpleasant thought.

Maybe he reminded her of some horrible ex-boyfriend or a bully from high school. Whoever it was, it distracted her all day and distractions led to mistakes. Max couldn’t afford any mistakes on this job. Sato’s needed to open on schedule. The restaurant and Max’s success depended on it.

“Max.” Wayne Faraday strode out of his office and extended a hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Come on back.” They shook hands and Wayne turned to his assistant. “Feel free to take off, Jake. I’ll lock up when I’m done with Mr. Jordan.”

Jake nodded and wished them both a good night. Wayne ushered Max into his office, which was just big enough to hold a desk, one file cabinet, a bookcase filled with dozens of law texts, and two small office chairs. Max stepped over a pile of manila folders and sat down in one of the chairs. Wayne bent over to pick up the files, but set them down when he realized there was no room on his desk for anything else.

“Sorry. I think I need to hire one of those companies that help people maximize their small spaces,” Wayne said, taking his seat on the other side of the desk. He didn’t look like the kind of lawyer who’d be crammed into a tiny, disorganized space. In contrast to his office, Wayne was completely put together. He wore a designer suit and a TAG Heuer watch. The diploma that hung on the wall was from the University of Chicago and the picture that sat on his desk was of him and a happy bride and groom at a wedding in Paris.

Max had no idea what a guy like Wayne was doing in this dinky office instead of some corner office in a shiny building overlooking Lake Michigan, but he knew the lawyer’s track record with these kinds of custody cases, and that was all that mattered.