“I bet Max would have filled a hole in the family that always existed,” Michelle finished. She blotted the corners of her eyes. “Well. Maybe I never was cut out for motherhood.”
“You were great at it,” I said firmly. “You still are. I’m lucky to have you.”
Tears began to fill her eyes again.
“As much as it breaks my heart that your father didn’t step up for the boy, I’m not going to let that be his legacy. Just because there won’t be anything for Max in the will, it doesn’t mean I won’t support him financially and emotionally. And his mother, too. As far as I’m concerned, they’re part of the family.”
We hugged and then went to find Stefan, who told us that Anja had gone home to be with Max. Michelle mentioned that she would like to meet him—if and when Anja was ready.
“I think she’d be open to that,” Stefan said. “It’s been just the two of them for so long, and to be honest, Max has welcomed all the new faces lately with open arms.”
The three of us went back to our condo, and Stefan helped me set Michelle up comfortably in our guest room. On the drive over, she’d already started making calls to my father’s staff, breaking the news and telling them to start preparing a statement.
I made a tray of tea and toast for Michelle and left it with her in the guest room, where she was still dealing with the logistics of everything. It wasn’t until I was in bed, makeup off, pajamas on, Stefan in the bathroom taking a shower, that the reality of the day finally sunk in.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I grappled with the drowning flood of my conflicting feelings. My dad was gone, and I hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. We’d long had a complicated relationship, and it had only become more difficult and strained in the past months. I’d been mad at him for a while. He’d proven he was a not-so-good man, and he’d done a lot wrong over the course of his marriage and his life. He was as flawed as any human could be.
But even though he was a tyrant of a father, hewasmy father. He’d given me everything—even though it sometimes came with strings—and I loved him despite his flaws.
What was harder was trying to forgive his connection with my father-in-law and KZ Modeling’s illegal business practices. To forgive how he had treated Michelle and Anja and probably countless other women, and how he had denied Max. Maybe I’d never be able forgive those things.
Still, the tears flowed hot and fast when I thought about the fact that he’d never have a chance to make things right, to reconcile things with Anja or meet his son. He and I would never have a chance to mend our relationship.
I heard the shower shut off and I dried my tears, grateful that Stefan would soon step into the room and slide into bed with me. I knew that he would hold me close when I cried, and that he would bring comfort to me when I needed him the most. I’d never been more thankful for his presence and his strength.
Tori
Chapter 24
With a sigh, I kicked off my black shoes and sank onto my bed. I’d been standing in them for hours all day and my feet and back ached. Everything ached, from the arches of my feet to the insides of my cheeks, which I had taken to biting when I wanted to hold in my tears.
The funeral had ended several hours ago in Springfield. Michelle had offered to let us stay at the house another night since the drive back to Chicago would take so many hours, but all I wanted was to be home so I could sleep in my own bed again. Stefan and I had been away too long already—helping Michelle with the funeral arrangements, reaching out to friends and family and colleagues, making sure that things would be perfect and go off without a hitch.
It was hard to remember everything that had happened in the past week. The morning after my father died, his staff (under Michelle’s supervision) had put out a press release informing the public that Senator Mitch Lindsey from Illinois had suffered a fatal heart attack. Since the news of his first heart attack had been kept fairly under wraps, the news came as a shock to many people. Especially his constituents, who had always bought into my father’s image as a man of quiet, but resilient strength.
The truth about his final moments at his condo during the confrontation with me and Anja and Stefan—and the knowledge of Max’s existence, as well as his history of involvement with KZM and its sex workers—was going to stay in the family. My father’s name would remain untarnished. There was no point in dragging it through the mud now. His darkest secrets would never see the light of day.
Michelle had been incredible throughout the entire process, from fielding interviews to releasing carefully-worded statements to planning the funeral in his hometown of Springfield. She was the very picture of poise and confidence. I had to admit there was something satisfying about watching her, a woman who had remained on the sidelines for most of my father’s career, stepping out and standing in the spotlight. And doing a damn good job of it.
She’d managed everything from the memorial’s flowers to the venue to hosting the catered reception for VIPs at the house afterward. The entire affair was a huge deal, since my father was a US senator. Even the President made a brief appearance, embracing Michelle and me and offering us the kindest condolences. My stepmother had succeeded in orchestrating the perfect event to pull off the delicate balance of grief and deference to other people’s need to be seen attending. There had also been press everywhere, and when I closed my eyes I could still see the flashbulbs from the hundreds of photos that had been taken.
Before the funeral this morning, she’d pulled me aside for one of her trademark pep talks.
“This isn’t about us,” she had reminded me. “It’s about honoring his memory and offering the public closure. So as hard as it’s going to be, we’ve got to keep our chins up.”
“I will,” I’d said.
But the only closure there seemed to be that day was to my father’s service. Everything else, everything to do with his personal life, still felt unresolved.
Then she’d handed me a huge pair of Dior sunglasses.
“Just in case. And I’ll have about five hundred tissues in my purse, so don’t hesitate to reach in there if you need one. But you can only let a few tears slip out in front of the cameras. The rest you hold in. Can’t be making any of the VIPs feel uncomfortable, can we?”
“Sure,” I said, but I caught her impatiently swiping away a few tears of her own.
Still, I figured I’d be okay following Michelle’s lead in decorum. The uncontrollable sobbing only hit me at night. The days were easier for some reason.
I sat on the bed, watching her put her makeup on. A touch of foundation, a hint of blush. We’d both opted for simple black dresses, almost identical sheaths with long sleeves and boat necks. They were demure but form-fitting. Michelle had said we should look like we were appropriately in mourning, but also not like we were too devastated to pull ourselves together.
