The Sun Sister (The Seven Sisters #6) - Lucinda Riley Page 0,194

it is. I’ll keep my cell right by me.’

‘Thanks, Miles. I’ll see you tomorrow then.’

‘You sure will. Try and get some sleep. Bye now.’

‘Bye.’

The smile that had formed on my lips was still there as I switched off my cell. I got the feeling that Miles really cared about me, and that made me feel warm inside.

The question was, I thought, as I decided I didn’t need the ginger tea anymore, would I also go and visit the place where Pa had found me tomorrow?

I just didn’t know.

I slept right through until eight and staggered blearily to the bathroom. I gave a small shriek as I saw my reflection in the mirror, having forgotten about my hair transformation.

‘Christ, Electra.’ (I’d decided it was okay to occasionally swear under the privacy of my own breath, although the purists would say that Jesus was always listening . . .) ‘What on earth is Miles gonna say? My hair is shorter than his!’

As I went to make myself some coffee, then padded back through the living room to the terrace to enjoy the glorious early June morning, I wondered why I cared.

After a very speedy run round the park, I jogged back inside, had a shower and towel-dried the centimetre of wiry fuzz on my head. Then I went to my closet, wondering what on earth to wear that would be suitable for my date – no, ‘meeting’ – with Miles. I’d only been to Harlem a handful of times, and that had just been passing through for a shoot on my way uptown to Washington Heights or Marble Hill.

Having tried on most things in my wardrobe that were vaguely suitable, I went back to my original choice of jeans, sneakers and one of the hoodies with my signature gold lightning bolt zigzagging across the front. It hadn’t taken a lot of imagination to come up with a design for XX, but whenever I wore it – and I had one in four different colours – I felt empowered.

I added some mascara and a dab of Vaseline to my lips, then sat down on the couch, waiting for the concierge phone to beep and tell me I had someone waiting for me downstairs.

My cell rang and I caught a flash of an ‘M’ briefly as I put it to my ear. I felt my stomach plunge as I braced myself for a cancellation from Miles.

‘Hi.’

‘Electra, it’s Maia!’

‘Oh.’

‘What?’

‘I just thought you were someone else – I have you both under M and you’re “Mi” for short, and . . . Oh, never mind,’ I gibbered.

‘Right. Anyway, sorry I missed your call last night. How are you?’

‘Oh, I’m really good, thanks. You?’

‘Up very early to drive out to the fazenda. Remember I told you about the project I’d started? We run weekends there for kids in the favelas who’ve never been out to the countryside.’

‘Of course I remember.’ I looked at the clock and saw it was five past eleven. ‘Hey, that’s a coincidence, because I’m heading to Harlem right now with a friend, to look at a drop-in centre for teen addicts that he advises at. I want to do something to help.’

‘Electra! That sounds fantastic. I’m just so proud of you, I can’t even tell you! And yes, of course I still have the quote I translated for you from the armillary sphere. Want me to tell you what it says?’

‘Yeah, go for it.’

‘It’s by a very famous Danish philosopher called Søren Kierkegaard: “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” I think it’s beautiful.’

I paused as I took in the words, and thought that Pa could not have found anything more perfect for me. Tears pricked my eyes.

The concierge phone beeped at me from across the room. I breathed an involuntary sigh of relief.

‘Listen, I gotta go, but it’s so good to talk to you.’

‘And you, Electra. Let’s both speak next week in a calmer moment. We might be able to pool some ideas on our different projects.’

‘Yup. Bye, Maia,’ I said, cancelling the call as I lifted the concierge receiver. ‘I’m on my way down.’

‘Hi.’

Miles was sitting in the waiting area and rose as I emerged from the elevator.

‘Hi,’ I said, feeling ridiculously shy.

‘Your hair—’

‘I know,’ I said as my hand went protectively towards my head.

‘I really dig it,’ he said, giving me a wide smile. ‘It suits you.’

‘I feel, like, very exposed,’ I said as we walked out of the entrance.

‘With cheekbones like yours, I don’t