The day after Christmas it was just I and FWB in the house. His dad had taken off early to take care of car repairs and his mom had to return to work. I said goodbye to them the night prior. Luckily, it was a beautiful, beautiful crystal clear day out--cold but crisp with a bold blue sky. The mountains, vivid and green, beckoned in the distance.
We ate a quick breakfast of leftover tarte aux courges and apricot juice, with an added jolt of coffee for me. Then it was off again with the GPS, the radio, and nothing but the open road. I had no idea where he was taking me but he slipped on his Ray Bans and we set out beneath the sun.
Eventually we pulled off in St. Rémy de Provence, which is a famous tourist spot in the south known as the place where Vincent Van Gogh was treated in a psychiatric hospital and where Princess Caroline of Monaco stayed for a while after the death of her husband. Needless to say, it was gorgeous, so we parked and wandered the market and the streets, arms around each other's waists. We went into the church and then wandered some more, bought a few madeleines and noix de coco and other pastries for the goûter we were supposed to have with Y and M, Y being FWB's best friend and M his Canadian wife.
Off off off again in the car afterwards to Les Baux de Provence, a gorgeous medieval village preserved high on the large stone massif where it is perched looking out over the valley. And then Mr. FWB got more affectionate and lovey dovey than ever. Arm around my waist, walking hand in hand, kisses on my forehead and cheek. And then he wouldn't stop looking straight into my eyes. He likes to study them, and their colors, tells me how they are green and rimmed with blue and have brown stains, three of them, in the left eye, less in the right.
¨Tes beaux yeux verts,¨ he calls them. We were in the lower remnants of a medieval chateau when he whipped out his camera to take a picture of just my eyes before taking many, many more pictures of the two of us together.
And later in the afternoon he whipped out the word girlfriend on me.
We were walking arms around one another when he was teasing me once again about my Americanity and exclaimed jokingly, and only to us, ¨Excuse ma copine, elle est américaine!¨ with an accent on the American part of the sentence.
So I guess I have my question answered without asking it in the first place: he considers me his girlfriend. But I didn't need him to say it to know it, his body language was enough. After we left the chateau and the fortress remnants we went to the Carrières de Lumière, which is an art exhibit of works projected digitally on the empty stone quarry that was once mined to build the adjacent fortress and chateau. We were in the semi-dark and he'd pull me into a corner to kiss me or he'd pinch my tush affectionately...most of all he just didn't let me go. I can guarantee that throughout the day I had numbers 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, and 12 of this. And I'm not complaining one bit about that!
After leaving Les Baux, we went to Arles. Y and M called to say they were feeling under the weather, so apéro/goûter with them was a no-go. We left Arles for Avignon anyway and passed in briefly to say hello before walking the Christmas market and then sharing a plate of charcuterie and wine...two glasses of different wines which we also shared between the two of us.
Then it was off to the TGV station. I hate goodbyes. I really do. But I held it together this time; he even walked me right up to my gate and we kissed goodbye. Once on the train I thanked him for everything and told him I'd see him in January. He returns to Paris for two weeks for his final seminar for his Master. Then I said goodnight and sweet dreams.
His response?
¨ :-* ¨
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