Before dawn, with Ford sound asleep, I slip back into my dress from the night before, my heels in hand, and open the door to the hall ever so slightly. Looking over my shoulder, I take a final look at Ford, holding tightly to the memory of the night. While it’s certainly the most reckless thing I’ve ever done, it was needed more than I had realized.

Irresponsible too, but we used protection and he was so sweet with me... so I won’t beat myself up about that.

But it will never, ever happen again.

Praying to God no one sees me doing the walk of shame at my place of employment, I tiptoe home. If Mr. Roller saw me leaving a guest’s room at four in the morning I would literally die of embarrassment.

I’ve lived in The Mid-Manhattan Hotel most of my life, and I know every squeaky floorboard, I know which windows get jammed mid-July, and I know which corridor is the quickest route to my basement apartment. Thankfully, I’m able to get to the back stairwell without anyone seeing me.

I unlock my door and set down my shoes and purse as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake Mathias or Tahlia. The last thing I need is my sixteen-year-old sister giving me the fifth degree before the sun is up.

I texted her at midnight, telling her I would be really late but I hope she crashed before she realized just how late.

Still, she’s gonna want details, considering how happy she was to dress me for the gala in her newest design.

I peek into my brother’s bedroom. I stand in the open doorway, not crazy enough to step inside--knowing if I did I’d surely wake him. Entering his closet-converted-to-a-bedroom is walking across a landmine made by a ten-year-old. Legos, comic books, and dirty clothes litter the floor. Thankfully, he’s out cold.

A quick peek in Tahlia’s room tells me she’s had no problem falling asleep without me here. For belonging to a family that is perpetually broke, she has mastered the art of creatively dressing herself. That girl’s room is like an episode of Project Runway.

Returning to the living room, I pull down my Murphy bed and crawl in, burying myself under a blanket. Then, after setting the alarm on my phone for six-thirty, I try to close my eyes and get a couple hours of sleep.

Of course, that’s not happening.

Not after my sex-a-thon with a stranger.

Is he a stranger though? I think about the gala, about the way his hand felt wrapped around mine, the way he fed me Chinese food in Central Park, the way he undressed me as if I were a fragile gift he didn’t want to break.

Then, later, the way he filled me with himself, our hearts beating hard, our bodies moving in rhythm to a beat of our own making.

Ford is no stranger... but he is also just a man passing through town.

I try to stop my mind from wandering to the what-ifs and the maybes. Truth is, ever since my mom died, I’ve had no space for that sort of consideration. Work. Bills. Keeping our heads above water. Those are the things that matter right now. I’m my siblings’ guardian, and they are my priority.

I squeeze my eyes shut, thinking about Ford’s broad shoulders, his rugged beard. He is everything the men in this city are not. Untamed in a way I’m not used to. The men I meet in Manhattan are Peter Pans, never wanting to grow up.

But Ford? He’s a man who knew exactly what he wanted. He didn’t mess around, or play games, or forget to reply to a text. He’s not a man who swipes right--hell, I never saw him pull out a cell phone once the entire night. That’s a first--I’ve never met a man in the city who didn’t check his phone mid-conversation.

Eventually, I fall asleep... and my dreams must be sweet because when the alarm wakes me I have a smile plastered on my face. Which is a big deal since I’m not exactly a morning person.

I shower quickly--washing off the night before--then throw on leggings and a tank top. I try to avoid dressing in my uniform for as long as possible.

Heading to the kitchen, I call out for Mathias to wake up. There’s school today, and I’m getting his lunch ready while he rolls out of bed. “Just ten more minutes,” he begs from his room.

“Sorry, bro, I’ve gotta get to work.”

Caffeine is my singular goal. Smile or not, I operate on coffee. The aroma of the brewed pot wakes my sister, and soon enough Tahlia is peering over her steaming mug begging for details on the gala.

I’d been scared that she’d press me on details about what I did post-party, but then I remember she doesn’t see me like that; like the kind of woman who goes off and sleeps with strangers. It probably hasn’t crossed her mind. Right now, she’s focused on how her dress went over with the party guests.

“It was perfect. I wasn’t under or overdressed. And my date thought I was smoking hot.” I wiggle my eyebrows as I refill her coffee, loving that wearing her dress has given her a reason to smile. She’s usually so moody and most days I understand. This year has been hell. Our mom’s sudden death, me leaving college to move home and take care of things… none of it is ideal. But seeing her grin makes me grateful I said yes to Ford last night.

“Well, you better change,” she says. “Because if you see your date today in the lobby, he’s not gonna think that look is bringing sexy back.”

I tug at the hem of my top, scrunching up my face as I stir half-and-half into my coffee, my clothing the last thing on my mind. My mind has returned to Ford... him running his hands over my bare skin, his lips pressed against my mouth, his--

Tahlia brings me back to reality. “And your date, was he cool?”

I try to conceal my emotions and be the responsible adult that I am, giving no hint that I slept with the man I just met.

“He was great,” I say, meaning it. I move papers around the countertop, bills mostly, noting the file folder with half-finished applications. I really need to try and finish those up on my lunch break today. “He even showed me the place he’ll be installing his sculpture.”

“That’s awesome. I heard people are going to live-stream his progress.”

I grimace. “Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

Tahlia just shrugs. “It’s better than people live-streaming totally creepy things.”

Just then Mathias wanders into the kitchen, asking what’s creepy.

“Nothing,” I tell him, handing him a piece of toast with peanut butter. I take a closer look and see that he’s holding the sixth Harry Potter book. “Are you almost done with it?”

“I finished last night. It was so good,” Mathias sighs. “And so sad. And so good. Did I say that? You were right, Mia, watching the movie first would have ruined it.” Mathias grabs his toast and shoves it in his mouth, shaking his head in amazement. “I mean, what a double-crosser.”

“Snape?” Tahlia asks, looking up from her phone. “O-M-G, I literally sobbed over Dumbledore. Remember, Mia? I told Mom I couldn’t go to school the next day. I was ruined!”

I smile. Families that HP together, stay together.

Mathias looks at me with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Turning to Tahlia, he asks, “Did she let you?”

Tahlia nods, biting her bottom lip, and smiles sadly. I’m sure she’s remembering the way Mom taught us to travel the world through books, to places she could never afford to take us. She would have loved to be standing in this kitchen right now discussing Hogwarts with her three children. It hardly seems real that we buried her a year ago.

“Sorry, Matty,” I say, always the bearer of bad news in our shoestring budget household. “But you’ve gotta go to school. I have to work today.”

“You always work.” He frowns, wiping peanut butter off his face. “We never leave this place.”

“And aren’t we so lucky that Mr. Roller lets us stay here at his hotel? Aren’t we grateful he let me take Mom’s old job?” I swear I have to remind him every other day that we could be in a worse position.

Tahlia snorts. “Right, because Mr. Roller did us a solid when he sold this place to the highest bidder.”

It’s true, he did sell... which means in six weeks, we’re gonna need a new place to live. And I will need a new job in order to secure us a place. I swallow, knowing how impossible this situation is.

Still, I’m trying not to be bitter. In reality, he could have kicked us out a long time ago.

“I hate this,” Matty says. The spark of happiness from our Harry Potter conversation is now lost. “You used to take me to--”

“I know, Matty,” I say exasperated. “I took you to museums and the park and a million other fun places that I don’t have time, or money, for anymore.” I look at Tahlia, pleading with her to help give Matty some fun. He needs fun.

“Hey, why don’t we hang out after school today?” she offers. “We can go to that used bookstore. They might have a copy of The Cursed Child. You’ll be ready for that in no time. I bet you already started book seven.”

Matty smiles sheepishly, and the circles under his eyes make more sense. I bet he stayed up more than half the night.

“Really?” Matty asks, his eyes now bright.

“Really,” Tahlia promises. “Now go get ready for school and we can walk together. Mia clearly needs some time to get herself ready today.” Tahlia purses her lips together playfully, looking at my outfit again. “I mean, really, Mia, you look like you just woke up.”

“I did just wake up,” I tell her, laughing because honestly, I don’t look that awful. I showered and I swear I read somewhere that leggings now count as pants.

Resting my back against the kitchen counter, I exhale with a smile. If my wardrobe choice is the biggest drama of the morning, then we’re going to be okay. We may be unconventional, but we’re still a family living in the best city in the world.

I just can’t let any of these balls drop.

No pressure.