Chicken nuggets and Kraft dinner. The dinner of champions.

We must be the winningest family in the history of the world, considering we’ve had the same dinner for the past three days. I just haven’t had the chance to go to the store for any real food, and whenever I send Calvin, he always comes home with the blue package, and frozen chicken nuggets. I’m probably slowly killing these kids with preservatives and dyes.

But what can I do? It’s the only food that every one of the picky eaters in the house will eat.

The imps are doing the Indy 500 around the cramped kitchen as I pull the tray of nuggets out of the oven. Cara is working on her trig homework and trying to get ahead of that so that she can take over the parenting duty and I can go in for my last shift at the diner.

Yep, I’m quitting. I haven’t told the rest of them, but the half a million dollars that Mr. Max Winchester promised me? He says it’s going to be wired into my bank account tomorrow.

I can hardly believe it. It’s a rare moment when my checking account rises above negative numbers. To think of all those zeros that are going to be in there?

I want to celebrate.

But I can’t. That would be preliminary. I’m not entirely convinced I won’t wake up tomorrow and discover it was all a dream. Or get a note from Mr. Winchester telling me that he’d made a mistake. After all, our meeting? It hadn’t been wonderful. He’d wanted me to change everything about me. My hair, my clothes, my living arrangement. I had a hard time understanding why he’d even chosen me to begin with.

It’s clear Max Winchester is a demanding son of a bitch. I’m not sure I did a single thing right during our lunch meeting, something I’ll need to rectify if ever I hope to succeed at posing as his wife. Otherwise, he might cut me loose and demand I return the money.

Besides, I’m not going to tell anyone in my family what I’m up to. Mr. Winchester wanted discretion. And he’s got it. I may not be giving up my virginity, but something about this still seems . . . sleazy. Like I should hide it from the world.

Maybe it was the way that Mr. Winchester had looked at me.

He’s older. And rich. So I was right on those accounts. But I was wrong on nearly all others. There were no buck teeth, no extra folds of skin, no visible scars, no warts, nothing even remotely disgusting. No, quite the opposite. He’s raw, animalistic, and powerful. Like, he speaks, and people notice. He has presence. His eyes penetrate. When I’d sat across from him this morning, I couldn’t stop blushing, because he’s not just attractive . . .

He’s just about the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.

He was tall. Broad-shouldered. He looked like a magazine cover, in that tailored suit that fit him like a second skin. He had dark hair that fell kind of rakishly over his brow, and a brooding stare, with a diamond-sharp gaze of light, crystal blue eyes.

Ever since high school, I’d gone through my day-to-day, meeting boys, and then men, who were okay, but did nothing to me. I never had any of the physical responses that you read about in romance novels, like sweaty palms, tingling body parts, weak knees.

But this morning, when I was introduced to Max?

I got it all. My palms slickened instantly. Something swarmed low in my abdomen, and I instantly felt a wetness between my legs. My whole body buzzed. I almost passed out, it was suddenly so hot in there. His gaze raked over me, hard and demanding, like he’d seen a million women before, and none of them had ever impressed him.

But I was impressed. More than impressed. In one one-hour meeting, he’d etched himself deep within me, so much so that I’m still buzzing, now, even eight hours later. God, he was simply breathtaking, leaving me so giddy that on the train ride home, I was breathing like I’d just run a marathon.

I already can’t wait. I want to be tortured by his deep, penetrating gaze again.

So what if he’s a sleaze who plays with women? He excites me, which is more than what all the other men I’ve ever met have done.

As frightening as meeting him was, as much as I’d seemed to disappoint him, I must be a glutton for punishment, because I want more.

I throw down some plates and manage to fill them all with orangey goodness, and a few dinosaur-shaped nuggets for eight, as my phone starts to buzz with another text from Talia. She’s been texting me since Sunday morning, wanting to know if I accepted the bid, her messages getting more and more urgent. This time, it’s: Did you die?

Filling the drink glasses with milk, I thumb in: I’m here. I did. But I can’t talk now. I’ll call you soon xo

Then I scream through the apartment that dinner is served. Thunder, as my brothers and sisters come running. In a minute, we’re all assembled around the table, and it’s utter chaos.

It stops for just under ten seconds so we can say grace, and then, chaos erupts again.

The small apartment is a mess of ruined things and garbage and dirty dishes. You can’t step a foot in any direction without stepping on a broken crayon or a Lego. I try to clean it when I have the time, but it always descends right back into complete disarray, where nothing missing can ever be found unless it expires and starts to stink.

I’ve seen Hell. And this is it.

Funny, when my parents were alive, dinner was relaxing, and even quiet. All of the kids were so well-behaved. I can’t help thinking that being without parents, under my guidance, has turned them into a bunch of monkeys. Watching Griffin pelt Tyler with a nugget, Andrew stabbing his hand with a fork repeatedly, and Maisie shrieking at the top of her lungs from the high chair, the thought makes me sad. Calvin just rubs his temples contemplatively, and Cara stares into the distance and shovels food into her mouth, as if they’ve driven her catatonic.

We used to live in a big house in Fort Lee. My father had a good job in the city as an investment banker, but he still came home at six for dinner every night. My mother was a stay-at-home mom, but she had a nanny to help her with all the children. We went on yearly vacations to Disney. We were not rich, but well-off. And I didn’t realize it… but we were happy.

And then my father had to have a little bit too much to drink at a work event in the city.

Coming home in our family Mercedes sedan, he and my mother had crossed the line in the Lincoln Tunnel. He’d hit another car, which spun out, killing the four occupants inside, as well as my parents.

Attorneys for those killed by my father went after his money. He didn’t have much, but what he did have saved for us to go to school? It was taken away. We lost the house, and all of his savings. There was a small trust left to us, but that was been petered away within six months, after all the funeral expenses and whatnot.

I’d been a straight A student at Columbia, majoring in Education. I dropped out of college before my senior year could start, and began working at the diner. But almost immediately, we’d started to go into major debt.

“Does anyone have any exciting news to share?” I say, trying my damnedest to make normal family dinner conversation. I always do this, and it always results in abject failure, but I need to at least try for normalcy.

Calvin rubs his eyes tiredly and says, over the din of screaming and screeching kids, “I’m about to lose my hearing?”

Cara nods. “I think I am about seventy-five percent crazy, with hopes of making one-hundred by the end of the week.”

I give them a look. I think of sharing my good news, but no. I need to keep it quiet. Impressionable kids do not need to know that there are men out there who will buy innocent women. I want to let them enjoy their childhood dreams of princes and princesses a little longer. Eventually, though, the money will come in, and they will want to know where it came from. I try to think of a way I can spin it. Rich anonymous donor? Lottery win? New boyfriend?

“Your hair looks fantastic!” Cara says, suddenly noticing it. For the first time in forever, I’m wearing a style other than a ponytail. I’d gotten something called Bayalage, so it has blondish highlights, and a cut that gave my normally pin-straight hair long, supermodel waves. I’d looked at the bill from the salon, and it was over ten-thousand dollars, so it should’ve looked good. I don’t think I will ever wash it.

“Thanks,” I say.

“Where’d you get that done?”

“Um? Great Clips?”

“Really?” I can tell when she grabs a lock and studies it that she’s thinking of booking an appointment there, stat. “Which stylist?”

When I open my mouth to speak, two things happen at once: Tyler spills the entire carton of milk all over the table and his brother Griffin, and the doorbell rings.

“Agh!” I say, diving across the table and trying to steady the gallon container before it all can leak out. Tyler just stands there, like a statue. The regular chaos dissolves into a full-blown, three-ring circus. I grab for the paper towels and start to swab up the mess of milk-soaked macaroni as Calvin runs toward the door to answer it.

“Hey, Lily?” he says from the foyer as I throw a drenched paper towel into the trash and reach for another.

“One sec.” Ugh. There is milk on the floor. Milk on my shirt. Milk everywhere. If we don’t clean it up right away, it’s going to smell like sour milk in here for eternity. And now, I’ll need to go to the store and get more.

And milk is freaking expensive. Yes, I may have half a million dollars coming tomorrow, but I don’t count my chickens. And I’m still not so sure that sexy Mr. Winchester with those brooding eyes isn’t a dream I’m going to wake up from.

“Uh. Lily?” Calvin says again as I get down on my knees and mop up a puddle.

Throwing away her own paper towel, Cara rolls her eyes and heads to the foyer. “I’ll go see what the helpless one is squawking about.”

“Thanks. Don’t walk through it, Griff!” I shout at the six-year old as he parades through the mess. Fantastic.

“Uh, Lily?” Now Cara’s acting like her twin. What the . . .

Fine. I guess I’m the only one around here who is capable of doing anything.

I throw the rest of the towels away, thinking I need to remember to put paper toweling and milk on the shopping list for tomorrow, then head into the foyer.

Cara and Calvin are standing in front of the open door, mouths agog.

I look past them, to a sea of boxes, like a Jenga puzzle, that takes up nearly the entire available space in the door. “What . . .”

There’s a delivery man behind it, but I can’t see him because all of the boxes are in the way. He says, “Mr. Winchester sent these.”

I look at Cara, who says, “It has to be a mistake, right?”

Calvin looks at one of the boxes and scratches his head. “What the hell is a Dolce?”

The delivery man manages to shove aside the dolly full of boxes without creating a massive avalanche. He squeezes through the empty space he’d created and says, “You’re Lily Brogan, right?”

I nod, dazed.

He thrusts an electronic board under my nose. “Sign here.”

I do, as Cara says, “What are you doing? They can’t be ours, can they?”

I gnaw on my lip as the delivery man brings the box mountain in, sets it down in our foyer so that it takes up most of the open space there, and says, “Oh. There’s a note that came with it.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small white envelope, which he hands to me. “Here you go. Have a nice night, miss.”

I smile at him, thank him, then shove the door closed as he leaves. Then I look at the envelope, as my two siblings stare at me. “Lily,” Cara says, nudging me. “What is this all about?”

I don’t answer. I slide a finger under the flap of the envelope and lift out a little card that says, Meet me at the Velvet Lounge tonight at 8. Wear the white Valentino. Don’t be late.

I look up, body buzzing all over. Eight. That’s only two hours from now. My siblings are staring at me, expectant.

“I—“ I start, then look up at the boxes. All shapes and sizes, shoeboxes, dress boxes, coat boxes, hat boxes, from all different brands, most I’ve never heard of. Knowing what I know of Max, they’re undoubtedly top-of-the-line and outrageously expensive. I manage a slight smile at my brother and sister. “I have a new boyfriend.”

Cara narrows her eyes at me. “Are you freaking kidding me?” She lifts up the lid on a pair of shoes and says, “Does he have a little brother?”

I shrug.

“Seriously.” She lifts another box up, but I’m afraid to touch them. Almost like if I do, the whole dream will go poof and disappear. “He just went out and bought you all this? Is he rich?”

I nod slowly. “He wants to take me out to meet some of his important friends, and I told him I couldn’t, because I didn’t have anything to wear.”

She’s eyeing me suspiciously. Cara may only be sixteen, but she’s a straight-A student, and has always had a healthy sense of skepticism. Eventually, she’s going to get that this isn’t normal boyfriend behavior. “Well, now you have a lot of things to wear. In fact, I don’t think all of this will fit in our bedroom. Where did you meet him?”

I clear my throat. I haven’t been anywhere, really, except at the hospital with Joey. “Oh. Um The hospital. He’s um. A doctor there.”

“Really?” she smacks my shoulder and gives me a wink. “You’ve been holding out on us! It must be serious. Look at this number.”

She lifts a white, slinky dress out of a Valentino box. That’s the white. The white he wants me to wear.

It may be the color of innocence, but it’s positively sinful. I can tell by the skinniness of it that it’s clingy, and the V of the neck might just bare every ounce of cleavage I’ve got. I shiver with the thought of walking into the Velvet Lounge and Max Winchester’s intense gaze, falling on me. I think of him touching me, kissing me, holding me and pretending I’m his wife.

Max Winchester. The hard-nosed, gorgeous man with the penetrating stare.

I’m game, if he is.

I gnaw on my lip. I can do this.

“Can you guys clean up and get the kids in bed?” I ask, snatching the white dress from Cara’s hands. It’s so silky and fine, I bet my nipples will be poking straight out of the fabric. Do I even have a bra to wear under something like this? “I have somewhere to be.”

“Somewhere?” Cara asks, confused. “What about the diner?”

“I have to call in sick,” I say, hoping that if all works out and I get the money I’m promised, I can call out forever. “Something important came up.”

“Does it involve Dr. Sexy?” Cara asks, opening another box and pulling out the sheerest white corset push-up bra and thong set I’ve ever seen. I can wear that under the dress, if I can figure out how to get it on. She blushes. “Oh my god, Lily!”

“What the hell’s that? Dental floss?” Calvin asks, guffawing as I grab it from her and tuck it under my arm.

“Stop going through it all!” I shout at them, blushing. “I might have to return some of it and I want to have all the receipts together.”

Cara snorts. “You just don’t want us going through your sexytimes lingerie.”

Yes. That’s exactly it. But I don’t have time to corral all this stuff someplace where no one will touch it. Though I’m not sure a place like that exists in this apartment. My siblings are like locusts when it comes to this stuff. Nothing stays shiny and new in this apartment for long.

But I have to get ready.

“Just please. Try not to touch it?” I beg, rushing toward the bathroom so I can change.

I leave them both staring after me, and I can almost see the question mark lingering above both their heads in a giant thought bubble.