Read The One in My Heart for Free Online

the students could fill out evaluation forms, which my grad student would collect. But as I left the classroom, a student named Keeley followed me out.
    “Dr. Canterbury, excuse me, can I ask you a question?”
    “Sure.”
    “Savitha and I have a bet. I say this is you.”
    I knew exactly what I’d see even before she held out her phone toward me—she wasn’t the first student to have stumbled across my “princess” photo, which had turned into a bit of an Internet meme. The last time a student asked me this question, the dress had been Photoshopped to a tutu pink, with a caption that read, Someday my prince will come . This time the couture gown had been swapped out altogether in favor of an Elvish robe. My hand was held out toward none other than Aragorn. And between us were the words, Someday my king will return.
    I laughed. “No,” I told Keeley, “it’s not me. But can you send me the image? My stepmom is a huge Tolkien fan and she’ll love this.”
    Back at home, as soon as I’d sat down on the living room couch, Zelda poked in her head and said, “I had lunch with the Somerset boy today.”
    “What? Just like that?”
    “He rang. I asked him if he’d like to meet in person instead. He told me to name the time and the place.”
    Zelda flitted into the kitchen and came back with cups of tea and a plate of cheese crisps for us. “And guess what we talked about at lunch?”
    “His intentions toward his parents?”
    “No, he was quite guarded about that. We talked about you, mostly.”
    The idea of my gloriously anonymous Prince Charming not only acquiring a definite identity but holding a conversation about me…What the hell was going on?
    “He knows all about you,” Zelda went on. “Well, everything that can be Googled, in any case: the genius grant, your patents—and even that conference in Germany you’re going to in February.”
    I gulped down some tea. “He’s been cyberstalking me?”
    “Well, why not? You are the point at which his life could have taken a very different turn—if he’d come to Paris. Why wouldn’t he Google you? And once he saw what you look like, why wouldn’t he want to know everything about you?” Zelda grinned. “I rubbed it in—told him he blew it by ditching us in Paris. And guess what he said to that?”
    “Something about his Park Avenue apartment and how successful he’s been without us?”
    “No, he asked me whether you were seeing anyone.”
    I was speechless.
    Zelda leaned forward. “I think you’ll like him. He’s splendid-looking. Very personable too. According to Frances, he made an absolute fortune out west. Not to mention he’s a Somerset—your father would have been tickled.”
    Pater would indeed have enjoyed being connected to the Somersets, who were English aristocracy transplanted to New York. I gave Zelda a sideways glance. “You’re not hearing wedding bells, are you? That would really be putting the cart before the horse.”
    “A little, I’ll admit. But I get the sense the boy is seriously interested in you.”
    And the boy could take his serious interest and shove it. A man should know his place, and this man belonged firmly in fiction.
    “Maybe I’ll meet him after I get tenure, but not before.”
    And maybe after I was offered tenure, I’d find some other excuse to not meet the Somerset boy.
    I pulled out my phone and brought up the image of Aragorn and me, together in one frame. “Now come here. I’ve got something that’ll blow your mind.”
    TEN DAYS LATER, ZELDA LEFT for her trip to the Turquoise Coast of Turkey. I worked more or less day and night, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day included. The day after Christmas I woke up late, did laundry and dishes, and went for a walk in the afternoon.
    It was a bright, crisp day, almost not cold under the sun. Central Park was crowded with tourists who wanted the Christmas-in-New York experience. I smiled at couples taking selfies together, and bundled-up toddlers riding on