17

The next morning, I sat with arms folded on a kitchenette stool, Finn sitting on my lap; already dressed up for school but still taking his cereal. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, yawning. I was so tired — it'd felt like I'd slept for barely two minutes before Finn came jumping into my room — announcing that it was morning already. I'd been too damn exhausted to change out of my dinner clothes, and Cora spent a long time with Mr. Salazar — she still hadn't told me what they discussed — if he agreed to keep his mouth shut and not tell Me. Sturm about Finn.

“Come on now, Cora,” I prodded. “What did he eventually say? I don't know, but my baser instincts are telling me to pack up a suitcase and get the hell out of this place.”

She laughed, smoothening her tresses with her fingers. “Relax, dear. Remember how long it took to get that job. You're not in New York for anyone but you and your son. If Mr. Sturm finds out, so? Fuck him.”

“Do you think he'd be able to press charges aga