The Wildest Sun by Asha Lemmie

Author:Asha Lemmie [Lemmie, Asha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-12-05T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

• • •

That night as I dress, I tell myself I’m not going to look too nice for him. I don’t want him to think I’m trying to impress him.

But he called me pretty. And I find that I don’t want him to change his mind. I’m not interested in him, but I will take whatever admiration I can get.

So I wear the shortest dress I have, one of the few things I’ve store-bought in years—but I can’t wear Maman’s hand-me-downs tonight, I just can’t. It is sleeveless and in royal blue with buttons down the front. I put on heels even though I will trip over the cobblestones in them. The waist on the dress cinches tight, and I feel a little breathless already.

I pile my curls on top of my head and empty half a bottle of hair spray to keep them there. I even spend a full minute practicing a coquettish grin in the mirror before realizing how dumb I look.

Javier can deal with my natural expression since he’s the one who came up with this idea. And it’s really a stupid idea. But I find that I’m giddy. I’m sure to make a fool of myself, but I’m still grinning. Not just because of tonight, but because of what comes after.

Next week I’m going to meet Papa. It has to be perfect. I’ll use the boat and I’ll find him when he’s alone, and somehow I’ll make him love me. I’ve never been one for details but surely it can’t be that hard? This time, something will turn out right.

I could have gone there the first day and knocked on the door. But I can’t show up like a stray dog. I’ll never erase that image if that’s where we start.

I’ve thought about it for years, and I’ve realized that he doesn’t have to know who I am from the first day. We’ll have years for all of that. I don’t need him to love me in a rush of petals and light. This is not a fairy tale and I am not the kind of girl who gets to be in one.

No, the important part is to make sure that there’s a blank page between us. The important thing is that there’s hope.

Javier picks me up at eight o’clock. He pulls up in a gigantic convertible, the ghastliest shade of yellow I have ever seen, like neon mustard. It may be hideous, but it looks brand-new. He honks loudly though I’m standing right in front of him on the steps to my boardinghouse.

“I’m not getting in a stolen car,” I shout at him. “I’ve got enough problems.”

He gets out of the driver’s seat, comes around, and opens the passenger-side door. He’s dressed in a mulberry-colored short-sleeved shirt that looks a size too small and gray slacks. “Well, good evening to you as well. The car’s not stolen. It’s my own, I got it last birthday. Now, get in.”

I hesitate. “If you have a

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