Page 108 of Is She Really Going Out with Him?
A few months ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed of sharing this photo; it is too personal, unfiltered. But now I know that if I can share a picture of myself in my most vulnerable state, then I am not broken. I have loved and I have lost, but my heart still works. There will be other chapters. I will love again. Because—whatever the fallout—to feel like this about someone, to see and be seen so entirely, it is worth any risk. What I really reconnected with at the retreat was myself—what I need, what I want, and what I am capable of feeling.
PS: Will, I am in love with you. Call me.
My eyes are clouded with tears by the time I finish typing. Before I can talk myself out of it, I send it to theTimeseditor, along with Will’s copy and the photos I’ve selected.
As soon as I press send, I feel a jolt of adrenaline. How will he feel about my sending this to press? But then a wave of calm settles over me. Even if I’m too late, even if he doesn’t call, I still needed to say it. Because true love does not cower in the shadows; it roars, loud and proud, until it has given its all.
Google searches:
Do-it-yourself Regency hairstyles
What kind of underwear did Jane Austen wear?
Video tutorial, Regency dances
Chapter 35
The day of the ballarrives, and I am not feeling as negatively about it as I might. Noah has agreed to come as my date, which Crispin is thrilled about.Bath Livingis sending a photographer, and he thinks “the hot widower” will look great in the photos. Poor Noah, so objectified.
It’s been a week since I submitted the article. The editor, Fiona, sent a gushing reply saying how much she loved it and suggested only a few light edits. It was published in theTimessupplement this morning and I have been watching my phone, willing it to ring. He must have read it by now. But though I have received hundreds of messages from other people, there is nothing from Will.
Lottie
Wow! You look incredible. This article is EVERYTHING. Has he called??
Loretta
Announcing your rock era in the Times. Wonderful.
Jonathan
I am so proud of you, darling.
Crispin
Yes, Anna. THIS. This is what I wanted from you. I knew you could do it.
Dan
Getting lots of messages about your article. Happy for you, A. (Though not sure nuclear fallout is best analogy for divorce. Radioactive land cannot be reinhabited for hundreds of years.)
Unknown Number
Welcome to the “in love” club. Membership perks—a full heart and a happy soul. Sylvie.
How does Sylvie even have my number? By the afternoon, I decide to mute my notifications because it is too much. I don’t need friends from school whom I haven’t heard from in years messaging to say they’re sorry to hear about my divorce or happy to hear I’ve “found love” again. I suppose this is what you get for oversharing in a national newspaper. I just need to put the whole thing out of my head or I won’t be able to get through today.
Michael has invited Noah and me to get ready for the ball at his flat. He’s ordered our costumes and insisted on choosing my gown, claiming, “You’ll just pick the first one you see otherwise,” which is true. At his flat, Jane is already in full costume, her hair set in perfect ringlets and a ribbon band. Her manner is so sweet, her voice so demure, it feels as though she has stepped out of thepages ofMansfield Park. Though she lives two hours away from Bath, I can see from their body language neither of them will mind traveling.
“You really expect me to wear that?” Noah groans as Michael holds up a pair of breeches and riding boots.
“You will look marvelous,” Michael tells him. “Just don’t eat anything while you’re wearing them, we can’t risk stains. Anna, are you ready to see what I’ve got for you?”
“Go on then,” I say, and Michael opens his wardrobe and pulls out the most exquisite Empire-line, russet silk gown, with neat puff sleeves. It is embroidered all around the hem with an intricate floral design. “Michael, no, that’s too much!”
“It’s an exact replica of a dress from the era,” Michael says, clapping his hands in glee as though he’s pulled off a masterstroke. It requires all three of them to help get me into the gown without ripping anything. Then Jane insists on redoing my poor attempt at a hairstyle, repinning it in a complex arrangement of plaits and curls. When I finally dare look in the mirror, I have to admit, I look sensational. Maybe all my feminist misgivings about the Regency period and the oppression of women could be allayed by looking this fabulous.
“Wow,” says Noah, who looks equally dashing in his outfit.
