Page 110 of Is She Really Going Out with Him?
“I was so mean to you when I last saw you, I thought it needed more than a phone call. Why didn’t you call this morning when you read the article?”
“I thought it needed more than a phone call,” he says, grinning. “So, Anna Appleby, you don’t hate me, you love me.”
“I love you,” I say, grinning back, but then I shake my head. “But it’s impossible—”
“It’s not, because I love you too.” He gazes down at me, his cheeks creased into smile lines, his green eyes swirling with adoration.
“You look really good in black tie,” I tell him, breaking eye contact to fully absorb his whole outfit. “Really, really good.”
“I know I do,” he says with a cocksure grin. “And you look incredible in whatever this is.” He tugs gently on one of my curls.
As he leans down to kiss me, I shake my head, suddenly feeling as though we’re missing a step. “Wait, how is this going to work? You live in Paris. I live here.”
“We’ll work it out,” he says.
“We’ll work it out?”
“We’ll work it out,” he says with a shrug. “There’s a direct flight from Bristol to Paris, you can be at my apartment in three hours. I’m excellent on the phone, I don’t know if you know that.” I pretend to glower at him. “Can I kiss you now?”
“Please do,” I say, putting my hands around his broad back, but as he leans down, I remember the other reason this wasn’t going to work. “Wait, what about children? You want them, I don’t want more.”
“Anna. I’ve been traveling for seven hours. I bought a tux at King’s Cross station. I haven’t thought beyond getting here and making sure you know that I’m in love with you. Whatever the future has in store, I know I want you in mine. As for the rest, well, as the saying goes,que será, será.”
I bite my lip, looking up at him. “Okay. So, are you going to kiss me, Havers, or what?”
“Not if you kiss me first,” he says, standing tall, teasing me because he knows I can’t reach his lips unless he bends down.
There’s a bench on the balcony, so I hitch up my gown, climb up onto it, and then throw myself off the bench and into his arms. He catches me, laughing, and now our faces are level, and I kiss him with everything I’ve got. Behind us there’s a flurry of applause and we turn to see Michael, Jane, and Noah all cheering us on, but then the master of ceremonies, a man in his seventies with bushy muttonchops, pushes himself forward.
“Sir, I am sorry, but you can’t attend the ball unless you’re wearing the appropriate attire,” he says.
“He’s here to make a grand declaration of love,” Michaelsays, squaring up to the man. “I can assure you, Austen would have approved.”
“I’m afraid I can’t make exceptions, it’s not fair on the other guests.” We all look back and forth between each other, reluctant to break up the party so soon.
“I’ll go, it’s fine. I’ll just meet you afterward,” says Will, squeezing my hand.
“No,” says Noah loudly, and everyone turns to look at him. “Will, meet me in the toilets.” Will looks confused. “So we can swap outfits.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, touched by Noah’s offer.
“He’s come all the way from Paris, he can’t leave so soon.”
“Oh, Noah, that’s so sweet of you,” I say, running forward to hug him.
“What are neighbors for?” he says with a shrug, his cheeks glowing pink.
So Noah and Will disappear to swap clothes. When they return, we all laugh because Noah’s breeches look like lederhosen on Will, and Will’s tux is far too long on Noah.
“Good enough for an eightsome reel?” Will asks the master of ceremonies, and the man gives a sharp nod of grudging approval.
“I’ll wait for you all in the bar downstairs,” says Noah, pulling his book on rare bird species out of his satchel.
So, Will and I get to dance, a proper old-fashioned reel. I haven’t learned this one yet, so neither of us know what we are doing. But as the music starts and we gaze at each other across the dance floor, I’m confident we’ll work out what we’re supposed to do.
Nine Months Later
The wedding is a quietaffair. Though when I say “quiet,” I mean sixty people all dressed in the loudest colors imaginable. The dress code on the invitation was “Loud and proud.” Loretta looks ravishing in a purple gown and her hair has grown back enough for a short updo. Roger is wearing a yellow tuxedo and looks, quite frankly, ridiculous, but Loretta appears delighted with him.
