The One in My Heart by Sherry Thomas Page A

patted him on his sleeve. “The man works too much.”
    “I hope you have a great time,” said Mrs. Devonport eagerly. “We have a fantastic deejay—or at least that’s what Charlotte tells me.”
    We congratulated her and moved on. By the time we got to the ballroom, news of Bennett’s presence had spread. Guests came and reintroduced themselves; those of the younger generation were his former schoolmates and neighbors, those of an older generation friends or acquaintances of his parents.
    But no sign of the parents themselves.
    “Are they not here?” I asked when we were finally able to sit down, after this bout of heavy-duty schmoozing.
    “If they are, I can’t see them.”
    We’d arrived a bit late on purpose, so that as we made our way across the ballroom, we’d be easily visible to the guests who were already seated. “You think they might be running behind too?”
    Bennett shook his head, a grim look on his face. “For them, punctuality is next to godliness.”
    “But there isn’t a set time for dinner.”
    The reception, despite its location, was a casual affair, with a small-plates buffet and no formal seating arrangements.
    “If they were coming at all, they wouldn’t miss the toasts.”
    As if on cue, the best man rose for his speech.
    Speeches and toasts followed one another. I glanced at Bennett every so often. He laughed and applauded at all the right places, showing no signs of having been let down. When the bride and groom took the floor for their first dance, however, he laid his head on my shoulder and sighed.
    My heart ached, as if his disappointment were my own. “There’ll be other chances.”
    He sighed again. “I know. I’ll be fine.”
    Without realizing what I was doing, I kissed him on his hair. He took my hand in his and played with my fingers. I felt…paralyzed. Part of me wanted to yank away immediately. And a different part of me would like for us to stay like this forever.
    In the end Bennett was the one to straighten first, dipping a spoon into a demitasse of soup—he’d hardly touched any of his food. “I spoke to Mrs. Asquith a couple of days ago and asked about Zelda’s ex.”
    I felt a flutter of a different kind of nerves. “What did she say?”
    “He and his wife are in the middle of a divorce, which kind of took everyone by surprise.”
    “Is it because he found someone else?”
    “Mrs. Asquith didn’t think so. Seems like there was just nothing left.”
    “Did she tell Zelda?”
    “I didn’t ask.” Bennett looked at me. “You think she’d still care, after all these years?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    “Because she has never mentioned him, not even by allusion: ‘Oh, there was a man I once dated,’ or, ‘a TV producer I used to know.’ It’s like she erased him. You see what I’m saying?”
    “Yeah, I do.”
    Hmm. Did he understand because he had done just that, expunging his ex from his existence?
    No, what was I thinking? He’d never hesitated to bring her up, not from the very beginning, with that reference about having been known to like an older woman.
    “Do you want to dance?” he asked.
    I spied Mrs. Devonport approaching the buffet. “You go. I’ll do some investigating.”
    “Seconds?” asked Mrs. Devonport as I drew up next to her.
    “Absolutely. I love these little bowls of truffle risotto.”
    “I haven’t had it yet, but I’m so glad you like it.” She leaned in a little closer. “We’ve been wondering where Bennett has been hiding himself since he came back to town. I guess it’s been with you.”
    “Not all the time. He’s still doing his fellowship, and there’s no end to the work.” I also leaned in toward Mrs. Devonport. “I didn’t know until Bennett told me just now that Charlotte is his mom’s goddaughter—I said I had a reception to go to and would he mind coming with me, so he really had no idea who the wedding parties were. Are his parents going to be here, by any chance? I should probably