Page 59 of An American in London

“Do you want to talk about this?” she asks.

“Not really,” I say honestly. Not because I don’t want to dredge up old feelings, but because old feelings aren’t relevant to my life now. Jed’s gone. I might feel differently when I get back to New York, but honestly, it feels like I’m over him. It’s better like this. “Jed leaving was a shock. But I think he did the right thing. Beyond history, I’m not sure what we shared. I’m realizing we weren’t connected in the way a couple should be. The fact he could suddenly up and leave me and I didn’t have the slightest inkling means something between us was missing.”

“You think you grew apart? Became like ... brother and sister?”

I shrug. All I can see is Ben at the moment. “I’m not sure we would have stayed together if it hadn’t been for my mother’s death.”

“Tuesday, men don’t stay because they feel sorry for women. Not for a decade anyway.”

I didn’t meanJedstayed, more that I had. I was so afraid of losing someone again, I clung on well past the time I should have let go.

“Yeah, but we weren’t right together.” I think back to dancing with Ben in the walled garden—how in sync we were, how connected I felt to him physically and mentally. “I never felt Jed and I were a team. I could never read him like I can read—”

She’s going to think I’m nuts if I start comparing Jed to a man I met just a few weeks ago, but when I put them side by side in my head, all I can think about is how much more I feel for Ben than I ever did for Jed. I like the way Ben doesn’t pretend to be an open book like Jed always did, while really keeping all his true feelings secret. Ben is the opposite. He’s private and zipped up and keeps it all in, but if you payattention and gently nudge the closed doors open, it’s all there to see. He’s not pretending to be anyone he’s not.

“I never felt like I saw one hundred percent of Jed. Yeah, he was easygoing and charming and super friendly. He was everyone’s best friend within five minutes of meeting them. But that was only part of him. The rest he kept hidden. Even from me.”

“You think he’s a secret serial killer and the police are closing in, and that’s why he ran back to Iowa?” She laughs heartily. But I can’t. Not because I think Jed’s got a trail of dead bodies in his wake, but because I think it’s so sad he would have proposed marriage to me and not felt he could show me his whole self.

There’s a knock on the door, and I spring to my feet. I don’t want to talk about Jed anymore, and I’m grateful for the interruption. “Hang on, I have to get the door.”

I open the door and am greeted with a huge bouquet of flowers. “Miss, can I bring them in? There are several vases.”

“Several vases of what?” Melanie asks. “What’s going on?”

I flatten myself against the wall as three porters bring in roses of every single color. I’m immediately transported back to the walled garden. There’s only one person who could have sent me these.

“Someone sent me flowers,” I say.

“Show me,” she asks.

I turn our call to video and point the camera to where the porters have placed the flowers on the dressing table in front of the TV. They’re wonderful. I scan the vases for a card before the porter hands me an envelope.

I tip him and they leave, the envelope growing hot in my hand.

“Who are they from?” she asks.

I open the envelope. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen his handwriting before. I love the way he exaggerates the “y” in my name, and in the word “lovely.”

“Tuesday?!” Melanie splutters.

“Ben,” I say as I read the note again to myself.

Lovely Tuesday

I’ll pick you up at seven.

B

My heart lifts up, up, up.

His first dinner with a woman, and my first first date in a very long time.

“Ben? The hotels guy? What, as a thank-you?”

“Maybe,” I say. “He’s taking me to dinner tonight.” I flip the phone around so I can see her face. Her eyes are as wide as the Hudson.

“Oh, so you and he ...” She pulls her mouth into a smile, sucks in a breath, and nods. “This is good.” She pauses. “Tell me everything.”

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