A/N: Thank you so much for reading and staying patient everyone! Special thanks to arty60 and E. Krutnic for reviewing, I greatly appreciate it! Looking forward to what you think of this chapter!

Chapter Five

Fran, Max, and the Sheffield kids were making their way down 5th Avenue to the Guggenheim Museum. They just finished touring The Met and already the kids were growing tired.

"Fran, my feet hurt," Grace whined as she held on to Fran's hand.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." Fran looked down at Grace. "Do you think you can make it through one more museum? Then we'll take a breather at the park."

Grace shook her head and stopped walking. Brighton, Maggie, and Max were ahead of them, chatting away about their time at The Met.

Then, sensing no movement from behind him, Maxwell turned around to see a frustrated and tired Grace. "What if I carry you for a while, sweetheart?"

"Please, Daddy?" Grace begged her father.

Maxwell walked over and picked Grace up in his arms, not used to how big she was now, but still seemed to hold her to him with little effort. Together they continued down the sidewalk looking like a typical family out for a day of fun.

Fran smiled, marveling in her time with this man and his kids. In the week since her fight with John it was hard to find something that lifted her spirits, and the Sheffields were just the cure she needed. This morning was even more tense than the one after their argument. Knowing who she was spending her day with, John didn't even kiss her goodbye when he left for work. Her heart almost broke in two but Fran reminded herself that today was all about the kids and having fun. Eventually, John would come around, she was sure of it.

Though Fran wasn't much of an art enthusiast, Max was a wonderful tour guide. He had led her and the kids around The Met, sharing his opinions and relaying facts one might find drab and boring but that she found utterly fascinating. Boy, she could listen to him talk all day.

When they entered the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, Fran and the kids marveled at the interior architectural layout - a pristine, white spiral rotunda - designed by the famous Frank Lloyd Wright. Max had visited the museum several times so he knew his way around pretty well.

The five of them worked their way through the museum, floor by floor. Halfway through their tour, Grace was sound asleep in her father's arms. Even though she was six years old, Max didn't mind carrying her around. He seldom spent this amount of time with his children as a family and, relishing in the newfound closeness, vowed to never again neglect them or push them away.

Fran was standing to his left as Max admired one of the paintings he so favored. Brighton and Maggie were beside Fran, shifting on their feet every minute, looking bored and restless. He could tell they were growing tired as well but he didn't want the day to end. It felt as though they'd just begun, and besides - he looked at his watch - it wasn't even noon yet.

"Maybe I should take these two for a bathroom break?" Fran suggested, gesturing towards Maggie and Brighton while running her fingers through Gracie's hair. "They look like they're about to burst with all their stored up energy."

Max turned to face Fran. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll make sure to stay on the same floor so we don't lose each other."

Fran nodded then rounded up Maggie and Brighton and headed off to find the restrooms.

Maxwell continued to stare at the same painting. He didn't know why but he just found it amazing to be so entranced by a piece of artwork. He was lost in thought when an elderly man's voice caught his attention.

"You have a lovely family," the man said.

Maxwell turned to face a man of about seventy, a good six inches shorter than himself, with thinning white hair and glasses, and immaculately dressed in a suit and tie. He shifted a heavy Gracie in his arms and extended his hand. "Thank you. I'm Maxwell Sheffield."

"Donald Porter, but you can just call me Don," he said, returning Max's handshake.

"Pleasure to meet you, Don."

"I just love this painting. It's so abstract but contemporary at the same time."

Max nodded in approval. "Exactly. It's one of my favorites as well."

"Do you and your wife come here often?" Don asked.

Maxwell kept himself composed at the man's mistaken assumption. "Oh, um, we're not married. She's just a really close friend." Max smiled, hoping the man bought his acting skills. Ever since they'd known each other it was becoming more difficult for Max to keep Fran at arms length - as just a friend. But right now, in front of a total stranger, he wanted nothing more than to think of Fran as his wife. When the older gentleman gave him a curious look, Max clarified, "My wife passed away a few years ago. Fran has been helping me through it. The children and I enjoy her company very much."

"I can tell," he said. "I've never seen a family look so happy before. The both of you - you and your friend - look very natural together."

Max shifted Gracie in his arms again, being careful not to disturb her, while at the same time trying to restore the circulation in his arms. He and Fran looked natural together? He'd never heard someone say that before. Maybe it was an American thing? Anyway, his insides were doing somersaults. He and Fran looked like a natural couple? He couldn't help the wide smile that spread across his lips. "Thank you, Don. That's very kind of you to say."

"Don't mention it," he said, patting Max lightly on the shoulder in a gesture a father might give to his son. "I'll leave you and your family," he winked, "to it. Enjoy the rest of your tour." And with a smile the elderly gentleman politely moved down the gallery, leaving Max stunned and reflective.

When Fran returned with Brighton and Maggie, Max suggested they head out and stop at the park. The kids seemed like they had enough art for one day, and he and Fran could always come back some other time and tour the whole building - just the two of them.

Central Park wasn't too far of a walk from the museum, and they certainly got their exercise from walking around all morning. They found a quiet spot in the grass and Max was reluctant to sit down. He was dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans and a black button down shirt - dressy enough for a museum but also comfortable for an afternoon in the park - and Fran rather enjoyed the view of his backside as he moved to sit down.

Their break was short lived as Brighton - a ten year old boy with too much energy - initiated a game of tag with Gracie. Maggie declined since she noticed a boy from her school walk by with his friend. Fran nudged Maggie in the side. "Go over and say hi," she whispered.

Maggie blushed. "Fran, I can't. Dad will never allow it. Anyway, he'd never talk to me. I'm in his English class and he barely notices me."

Fran smoothed Maggie's hair, pushing her bangs to the side. "Well how is he supposed to notice if you don't put yourself out there. Sweetie, trust me, when it comes to boys, all you need to do is smile and introduce yourself. Don't be shy, you're a beautiful young woman, and if he doesn't find you appealing, then there's always his friend." Fran smiled and brushed her knuckles across Maggie's cheek. Maggie nodded and with Fran's advice, stood up and tentatively walked over to where the two boys were talking.

Maxwell watched his daughter with a furrowed brow. Since Maggie's development into adolescence, Max was always disapproving and nervous of his daughter's appeal to boys her age. Without a maternal influence he had no idea how to deal with a teenage daughter, and the thought of her dating only added to his list of faults as a father. But Fran seemed to know exactly how to handle Maggie and for that he was grateful.

"Max?" he heard Fran say next to him. She tapped him on the shoulder to get his full attention. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Sure, anything."

Fran looked down at her hands as she played with the grass. "Well-I just think . . . " She shook her head, feeling flustered, and started over. "John and I had a big fight last week. And I think that we should limit our time together until things smooth out." She paused and waited for him to respond.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. I hope I wasn't the one to-"

"Oh no!" she interrupted. "It's not you. Well, I mean it is you . . ."

Maxwell smiled at her flustered state. She was so cute, he thought. Cute? Since when does Maxwell Sheffield describe a woman as cute? Anyway, concentrate, she was saying . . . "Listen, Fran, whatever you're going to say, I'm sorry about what happened between you and John. It isn't serious is it?"

"No. It was just a little spat," she assured him. "Nothing we can't work out. I just think it would be best if we take a break from each other for a while. John found out about you and the kids from the message you left last week and he wasn't too happy about it. I was going to tell him but . . ."

Max looked over in the direction of the children and nodded his head in understanding. "I understand, Fran. He's the man you're going to marry and he should be the one you spend most of your time with." He turned and smiled at her, causing the corners of his green eyes to crinkle. "I'm glad we've had this time to get to know each other. The children and I have really enjoyed our time with you. In fact, it's the happiest I've ever seen them since their mother was alive. Thank you. For being a terrific friend." He reached out and squeezed her hand affectionately.

Fran blinked back her sudden tears. His kind words struck a chord in her heart and she couldn't help the raw emotion she felt whenever she was around him. He was already becoming one of her best friends and she knew she couldn't stay away from him forever.

"You've been so kind and generous, Max," she said, reaching out and pushing some of his thick black hair behind his ear. She loved how silky it felt between her fingers. And that growing patch of grey right in the front of his fringe gave him a distinguished and inviting look. "Allowing me to spend time with your kids and getting to know them. I've learned so much from you in such a short time, and I'll always be thankful for that." Fran wiped at her tear-filled eyes. "Oy vey, it feels like we're saying goodbye instead of talking."

Maxwell sat up and, leaning on one hand, he reached over with the other and swiped away the rest of her tears. "It's not goodbye. We can still spend time together. If you want I'll let you decide when you want to get together, but I have a request."

"What kind of request?"

"Dinner." He watched her face shift from sad to surprised in two seconds. He knew she wasn't expecting such an invitation so he quickly assured her, "Not as a date. I'd like to have you and John over for dinner. That way he can meet the children. Maybe it will patch things up between you two? I just want us all to get along."

Fran smiled at him. He was so amazing, she thought. Dinner. At his house. She was ready to accept the invitation but wondered how John would feel. But maybe Max was right. If John met the children maybe he'd understand why they meant so much to her. Yes, she thought, it just might work.

"I think that's a fabulous idea!" Fran exclaimed.

"Wonderful! How about tomorrow night?"

"Sounds good. I'll let John know tonight. I'm sure he'll accept."

Inside, Max was ecstatic. He couldn't wait to have dinner with Fran but felt a surge of jealousy at the thought of John joining them. Oh why couldn't he have met this woman years ago? he wondered. They were growing closer as friends do, but deep down Max knew his heart was opening up to her. He just feared that his romantic feelings for her - if that's indeed what he felt for her - would ruin the wonderful friendship they had now. Everything was developing so fast Max could hardly stop and analyze his actions, let alone his emotions.

"How about some ice cream?" Fran suggested, effectively breaking his reverie. "It's such a beautiful day."

"I know the children won't object."

Fran smiled and they stood up to gather the children and find a street vendor. After everyone was satisfied with their frozen treat, the kids dispersed again, leaving Fran and Max alone once more.

"Oh, you got some . . ." Fran pointed out a drop of chocolate ice cream on the corner of Max's mouth. Without thinking, Fran reached out and wiped the smear away with her thumb.

Max stiffened at her touch, not used to someone wiping food away from his face. He watched her lick the drop of chocolate from her finger and it was almost his undoing. He'd never witnessed something so seductive in his life. With the afternoon sun highlighting her beautiful face and her perfectly sculpted lips parted, it was a sight to behold.

Max looked around, making sure no one he knew was watching them, and took hold of her free hand, entwining their fingers. He inched closer to her, keeping his gaze locked on her deep brown eyes. Fran remained still, almost anticipating his next move. They stayed that way - lost in each other's eyes until Max couldn't take it anymore. "Fran . . ." he said softly, then leaned down to kiss her, but Fran moved her face to the side, letting his mouth graze her cheek instead of her lips.

When he opened his eyes, Fran was looking back at him with a pained look. He reached up to caress her cheek but she stepped out of his embrace.

"Max, please," she said, putting some distance between them. "We can't do this. I'm with someone else."

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering just who that 'someone' was. "I know. I'm sorry."

"This is exactly why we have to put some distance between us."

Max grasped her hand again and it took all of Fran's willpower not to violently pull away. "Yes, but I love spending time with you, Fran. The children adore you."

Fran stepped up close to him, determined to settle this, and placed a firm hand on his cheek. "And I do adore them. But spending time with their father makes it more complicated. I'm getting married, Max, in four months. I-I can't lose John. I love him."

Maxwell tried to control his emotions. He was angry and hurt and he didn't know what to do. The best thing that's happened to him in years was letting him go. And the worst part is that they weren't even a couple. "But you'll still come to dinner tomorrow? Please?"

"I-I don't know."

Max brushed his thumb across the knuckles of her hand that he was still holding. He softened his expression and said, "I'll be on my best behavior. I Promise."

Fran let her hand fall from his cheek to rest on his shoulder. Maybe she was a little too harsh with him. One evening at his house for dinner wouldn't hurt, would it? "Ok. But I'll hold you to your word to be on your best behavior."

Max let out a sigh of relief. He was being given another chance to prove his friendship and he was determined not to screw it up. Throughout all of this he wondered what the children were so occupied with. It was probably the ice cream, he thought. No kid can resist it. He looked down at Fran. She was smiling again and for a moment everything seemed to be alright. He was already looking forward to tomorrow night.