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and bent to brush her cheek with a kiss.
He was impressive, a tangible presence, exuding the class and polish of his Ivy
League graduate degree, his looks an attractive balance between his Cuban mother
and African-American father. After fulfilling his service requirement for West
Point, Orlando had gotten an advanced degree in political science from Columbia
and had become an expert at managing electoral campaigns. He was known as one of
the best in the business, stopping at nothing to advance his candidate’s
cause.
    “Just curious,” he said in his half-teasing way, “does rush
hour come unexpectedly every weekday?” He softened the critique with his
trademark smile.
    Sonnet furrowed a hand through her hair—it was now a fuzzy
mess, thanks to the rushing and the rain. Yes, she had emerged from the subway
to find the sunshine had turned to rain—and of course she had no umbrella.
    “I got caught in the rain,” she confessed.
    “You should carry an umbrella.”
    She hated seeming scattered and disheveled around Orlando, who
was always the soul of organization. And here she was, committing the trifecta
of blunders. She had lost the key to his apartment. She had lost her mobile
phone. And to top it all off, she was late.
    “I don’t blame you for being mad,” she said.
    “Hey,” he said, “it’s okay. Nothing to get mad about. I’m
on-time enough for both of us.”
    She summoned a smile and took his hand. Orlando Rivera was
brilliant, professional and knew the importance of being prompt. No wonder he
was in charge of getting her father elected to Congress.
    It was surreal to Sonnet, the idea of her father becoming a
U.S. senator. But it was not surprising; Laurence Jeffries had always been a
larger-than-life figure. Although he was her birth father, he’d taken on the
proportions of myth. Yes, she admitted that. But it never kept her from hoping
they would build something sturdier on that foundation.
    As a kid, she’d fantasized about having him in her life more
than a couple of times a year. Then she’d been accepted to a major college, and
everything had changed. Suddenly she had done something remarkable, winning a
scholarship for a world-class education, and her father not only took note, he’d
reached out to her. She still remembered the expression on her mom’s face when
Nina had handed her the phone. “Laurence wants to speak to you.”
    Her father almost never called. There was usually a stilted
conversation on Christmas, late in the day after all the presents and feasting,
and sometimes on her birthday, when he remembered. So for him to call out of the
blue had been extraordinary.
    “You’ve made me proud” were his first words to her that
day.
    Her heart had taken wing. Sure, she knew she’d be justified in
asking him why he’d never been more than a modest monthly check to her up to
this point, or asking him why he couldn’t have been there for her during her
not-so-proud moments, like when she’d been caught skipping gym class, or when
she’d stolen a sex manual from the library, or was left on the curb after her
first date, because she’d refused to put out.
    But instead of hurling recriminations, she’d opened her heart
to her father. They’d talked at length about her future and her goals. She’d
once thought she wanted to teach or somehow work with children, but her dad had
convinced her that she would have more of an impact on the world with an
international career. He was passionate about global affairs and about the
possibility of bringing about positive change in the world, and that passion was
infectious. Broadening her focus, Sonnet had pursued international studies with
single-minded determination, intent on proving herself every bit as worthy as
the two trophy daughters her father had with the woman he’d married.
    She pulled her mind away from her dad’s “other” family—his
legitimate family. Angela, his lovely and accomplished wife, and his daughters,
Layla and