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Before our first date, I tell Claire that Isabelle is only the name I use when I dress and that she will be meeting Ian tonight. She listens, smiles, and leads me into the restaurant cloakroom. A sapphire satin dress is waiting there in my size. Claire says she invited the person whose messages made her laugh, and she suspects Isabelle wrote more of them than Ian admits. I am still a man as she helps me into the dress, still uncertain whether this is courage or another place to hide.

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