Free The One in My Heart by Sherry Thomas

done.”
    Consider it done. I remembered his text with that exact phrase. I could recite our entire exchange of texts from memory—and I sometimes did, silently, to myself.
    The taxi came to a stop before my house. Bennett walked me to the front door and kissed me on the temple. “Sweet dreams.”
    THE NEXT EVENING, AN ALMOST freakishly beautiful flower arrangement came to the door, a profusion of tulips in a clear glass trough, the blossoms progressing from pure creamy white to pale blush to a deep purple, the whole thing at once delicate and dramatic.
    A note came along. Thanks for dinner.
    I reached for my phone. Just for dinner?
    For sex you should send me flowers. Your orgasms were worth a dozen gladioluses, at least.
    I shook my head, half smiling, and looked at that message for far too long.
    The next afternoon I came home early to meet Zelda. I was turning the key in the front door when a big, black Town Car pulled up and disgorged her, sun-kissed from the walking holiday, a stylish new coat swishing around her knees.
    “Nice!” I said as I hugged her. The coat was cobalt blue, a brilliant pop of color against the overcast winter day.
    “A present from Mrs. Asquith.”
    “Did she get the car service for you too?”
    “No, that’s courtesy of the Somerset boy.”
    Whose evil genius I had once again underestimated. “I see.”
    I opened my wallet to tip the driver, who had lined up Zelda’s luggage neatly inside our door. But he only smiled and said, “No worries, ma’am. The gratuity is all taken care of.”
    I still gave him something, on the off chance that Bennett was a terrible tipper.
    Zelda and I hugged each other again. But no sooner had I put the kettle to boil than the doorbell rang. I thought perhaps she had forgotten something in the Town Car, but it was a deliveryman, holding a big brown bag.
    Which turned out to contain a five-course dinner, along with a box of pastry.
    “Bennett did say he’d send something around,” said Zelda. “Doesn’t do anything by half measures, does he?”
    The man’s manipulativeness was without bounds. “He called you?”
    “Yes, during the ride. And apologized for being somewhat dishonest when we had lunch. He said that he already figured out you were his neighbor in Cos Cob, but chose not to mention it because he wasn’t sure whether at that point you’d realized who he was.”
    “I hadn’t.”
    “But you met again on Boxing Day and got it all sorted out. Isn’t he a dish?”
    “I suppose you could say that.”
    Zelda noticed the flowers. “Oh, my, did he send those also?”
    “It’s a take-no-prisoners charm offensive.”
    “Don’t be so tough on the poor dear. It’s about time some nice young man mounted a charm offensive for you. He did mention that you’re a bit reluctant to go out with him, but that he’s trying to change your mind.”
    I was both miffed that Bennett had preempted me in his practice of evil genius-ism—and relieved that I didn’t have to explain anything. “All right, enough about him. Let’s talk about you. Tell me everything.”
    She did. We polished off half a box of pastry as she showed me all the pictures, described her favorite places on the Turquoise Coast, and gave me the latest gossip about her cousins.
    When she moved on to her visit to Mrs. Asquith, I was sorely tempted to ask her about the man from her past—whenever I wasn’t thinking about my research or Bennett, my mind would come to dwell on this mystery boyfriend and the particular stretch of her past that was like dark matter, something that couldn’t be observed except by its gravitational effects.
    What forces did the heartbreak still exert on Zelda?
    “Oh, that reminds me,” said Zelda. “I spoke to Mrs. Asquith about the Somerset boy, and she showed me pictures they took when they visited Iceland.”
    “They go on trips together?”
    “Isn’t that lovely of him? I mean, granted, he’s estranged from his own family and probably sees Mrs.