I'm excited for my first night out here in Brittany. Oh, hell I'm excited for a night out period. Besides O'Henry's which doesn't count, the last time I went "out" was with Anne and Jade to a nightclub in Portland about a year ago. Some flashy place with watered-down blue drinks. I wasn't in the mood and it wasn't my scene. Something tells me the local pub here will be more to my liking.

I send a quick text to Juliette, *Getting ready see you soon!*

It's been drizzling off and on all day, but I decide to risk it and wear my leather jacket without a hood. Looking in the mirror, I smile at how my new haircut compliments my all-black ensemble of skinny jeans, and the new sweater and booties I purchased in Lannion. The only jewelry I'm wearing is the necklace Mémé gave me, it's blue-green stones reflecting in the light.

I hardly recognize the woman looking back at me, and it's not just the new haircut or outfit - it's more than that. "Lara Sloan," I chuckle at my reflection, "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're looking happier." And sexier, I admit to myself. Which is a new feeling.

Grabbing my clutch and heading out, I'm halfway down my driveway when I see a familiar figure up ahead.

I smile, surprised to see him here instead of at the pub. "Salut Philippe!" I feel like we know each other well enough now for me to use the more informal greeting.

"Ah, my favorite petite American." He approaches wearing his charming smile and instead of the traditional French greeting, he takes my hand and lightly kisses it with a slight bow.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Such a flirt, I think to myself, suppressing a giggle. He takes my hand, looping it through his arm as we start to walk.

"So, what has my petite American been up to since I saw her last?"

"Oh, this and that, I explored Lannion yesterday..." I pause, remembering the handsome stranger I met. I find myself blushing slightly at the memory.

Philippe raises his eyebrow. "Lannion was to your liking I take it? Or something or someone was?"

I steer the conversation to a safer subject. "Well, I did meet a woman who does pottery. Beautiful pieces. My grandmother's house has some that look similar actually..."

My thoughts wander to the letter. The initials can't be a coincidence, so the letter was most likely a thank you letter to Mémé for purchasing the pottery. But then again, based on the length of the letter, Adelaide Dubois was most likely saying more than just thank-you, so it must have been a friend. My curiosity is piqued and it's like I've opened a window into Mémé's life and I'm not ready to shut it yet. Earlier, I had tried to translate it using Google translate but gave up and decided to wait till Juliette could help me.

"Philippe," I say suddenly, "You have lived here a long time, do you know an artist with the initials A.D.? Or possibly Adelaide Dubois?"

"I haven't heard the name no. I was born here yes but did much traveling in my youth. It has been in the last year I have returned home to run the family business. However, I can ask my father. He has lived here his whole life."

"If you don't mind, I'd appreciate that."

He pats my hand and gives me a sideways smile. "But of course. Anything you ask."

I suddenly find myself wondering how old Philippe is. Or what his family is like. He has never mentioned a wife or a girlfriend. But Philippe seems like the type that might have many girlfriends.

"So, is it just you and your father? Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Ah yes, I have one sister who lives in Paris. She runs a successful bakery. We have our father only, our mother died when we were young."

"Oh, Philippe I'm so sorry," I say sincerely.

We fall into silence for a moment. When he finally speaks, he says, "My mother was exceptionally beautiful. My sister, she looks just like her. And just as much kindness in her heart. I hope you can meet her one day."

"I hope so too," I say as I smile up at him.

He pats my arm absentmindedly. "So you will stay?"

"Oh, I can't for much longer. I wish I could," I answer sadly. "Honestly, I haven't thought out the future much beyond my visit here, and have no idea what I'll end up doing with the cottage, but one thing is for certain - I have to go back home. I have unfinished business back in Portland."

"Ah yes, responsibility calls as you would say." He shrugs, "I understand. This is what brought me home."

"You said you came home to help your father with the business. What were you doing before that?"

"Seeing the world!" He drops my arm suddenly to spread both of his out wide. "The world was for Philippe the oyster!"

I stifle a giggle at this; he would refer to himself in the third person. "And the business is the extent of your responsibility? No wife or children?" I bite my lip. I know the question is blunt, but I can't help but ask.

He looks at me sideways with a grin and returns my arm into the crook of his own. "Ah, my curious American. Tell me what you would like to know. Am I married? No. And have never been. Any children? Not that I know of. Do I have a lover?" He looks at me with a sly smile and wiggles his eyebrows. "At present no."

I can't help but let a giggle escape this time. He really is too much, but I find him endearing. Seeing the pub up ahead, I pat his arm. "Ok Casanova, let's get you a drink."

We are both grinning as we enter Tilly's while letting our eyes adjust to the dim lighting. It's already really crowded.

"I'll get us a drink. Beer?" Philippe offers.

"A whiskey neat for me. And thanks, I'll get next round," I answer as I scan the crowded pub for Juliette.

Finally, I see her waving from a corner table and let Philippe know where we'll be sitting.

"Lara! I have missed you." She gets up to greet me as I approach her table.

"I have missed you too! I've been looking forward to tonight." I greet her with a kiss to both cheeks.

"What has been keeping you? Painting?" she asks.

"Yes, I've been painting, and I'd like your opinion. I'll show you tomorrow when you come over. Oh, and I have a letter I need you to translate for me since it's in French."

"But of course. Anything you need. Happy to help." She looks behind me and I see her eyes go wide.

Turning my head, I see Philippe coming over with our drinks. Glancing down at Juliette's empty glass I say, "Sorry, I should have asked what you wanted. This is my friend Philippe. Philippe, this is Juliette."

When I get no response from either of them, I look at Philippe by my side and see he's staring at Juliette with an equally shocked expression. I look between them and wonder what the hell is going on.

"Salut Philippe," Juliette murmurs finally.

Philippe rouses himself out of his apparent stupor and sits down, his normal charming smile returning. "Salut Juliette."

"You two have already met?" I ask the obvious.

I see Philippe nod beside me, and Juliette smiles slightly, her eyes not leaving his face. "Yes, but a long time ago," she answers quietly.

Philippe clears his throat and looks at Juliette's empty glass. "Can I refresh your drink?"

She nods, "Oui, merci."

I glance at Philippe as he gets up. I've never seen him so quiet and I can't read the look on his face, I can't tell if he's bemused or upset.

Turning to Juliette once Philippe is out of earshot I say, "Ok, spill Juliette."

She furrows her brow in question, "Spill? What is spill?"

"I don't mean to pry but there's obviously a story here..." I trail off, expecting her to understand my meaning.

But Juliette's face is blank, so she either doesn't understand or is pretending not to. I decide to drop it for now. The band takes the stage and starts off their set playing a rock song that gets everyone moving.

I lean over and shout over the noise, "What band is playing?"

"Merzhin. From Bretagne, Celtic rock." Juliette answers.

Since getting to know Juliette and chatting with the other locals, I've learned Brittany is synonymous with Bretagne, but I'm surprised by the latter.

"Celtic?" I question.

"Bretagne has much Celtic heritage," she answers.

"That explains all the Celtic symbols and shops I keep coming across."

Juliette nods, but I doubt she heard what I said over the music.

Philippe comes back with two beers, another one for himself and one for Juliette.

Juliette raises her glass and announces, "à notre santé!"

I raise mine as well. "To new friends!"

Philippe joins us in the cheers and then practically drains his beer. I can't help but watch him as he drums his fingers on the table to the music while sneaking glances at Juliette. With the way he's looking at her, I wouldn't be surprised if they were more than friends back in the day.

The rock song comes to an end, and drinking the last of my whiskey I announce, "I'm going to get another one. Be right back."

Philippe nods in response, "Want me to come with you?"

"No, I'll be fine," I say while getting up.

I make my way to the bar and glance back at them while I wait for my drink. Sure enough, they've turned to each other and are talking for a moment. If I didn't know better, I'd say Juliette blushed at whatever Philippe just said to her.

Another upbeat classic rock song is playing when I make my way back to our table, drink in hand. I move over to Juliette and tap her on the shoulder. "Let's go dance!"

Back home I would be one of the last people to suggest dancing but in this foreign country where no one knows me, I feel free. I feel different. And this different Lara feels like dancing at the moment. Juliette looks hesitant but I move to grab her hand and pull her up with a grin.

She laughs, deciding to give in, "Ok mon amie!"

Laughing, we join others in front of the stage and get lost in the music. Glancing back at Philippe, I see him watching us, but to be honest, his eyes are mostly on Juliette. But I don't mind. I find Philippe attractive, but I have to admit I really see him more as a friend. Maybe a "make out with when you're not sober'' type of friend, but still a friend, I think with a wry smile. And besides, with the way he's looking at Juliette right now...

Wistfully, I think about how good it feels to be looked at like that. It gives you a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach, excitement rising through your whole body, electricity making every hair stand on end. I wish I could say it was Brett that had made me feel that way. That would make sense considering I married him, but no. Excitement yes, but the nervous kind, the type where you just want to impress the other person. Not the type that makes you feel wanted and desired in your own skin.

That feeling, I've only felt once....

Right before Jake kissed me.

~*~

We end up closing the place down, none of us in a hurry to get home. We even get the chance to meet the band at the end. Or rather I'm feeling so forward at this point I walk right up to them and introduce myself. They're surprised to meet someone from America in a venue in Locquirec. They invite us - well pointedly me and Juliette - to an after-party, but we decline, knowing we've already had too much to drink.

Paying our final tab, we saunter out to the street, sweaty, and just a little bit tipsy. Philippe more than willingly offers his support between both of us, his arms around circling our waists suggestively.

"Philippe you are a tease!" I swat playfully at his chest. I'm feeling the whiskey at this point and don't hold back. "But I can see you only have eyes for one and it's not me."

I laugh meaning it as a joke but watch the awkward glance between Philippe and Juliette. Biting my lip, I admonish myself silently - time to sober up Lara.

Arriving at my driveway, I turn to hug Juliette goodnight. "I've had the best night thank you, my friend."

She kisses me on the cheek. "Bonne nuit!"

"Get some good sleep! We have our trip to Mont Saint-Michel tomorrow."

"But of course." She wiggles her finger at me laughing. "Too much drink."

I smile. "We'll be fine! Philippe, you should come with us!"

Philippe rubs his jaw. "Philippe makes this one promise to himself. Never to make agreement after drinking."

We all laugh at this, and I wave them goodbye. At my gate, I stop to look back and see Philippe take off his jacket and place it on Juliette's shoulders. Smiling to myself I make my way inside.

It's cold in the house and I quickly wash my face and burrow under the heavy quilts. But instead of being sleepy, I lay awake with my eyes staring at the ceiling. I'm thinking of all the discoveries in the last 48 hours and my mind won't shut off. Sighing, I finally turn on the bedside lamp.

Even though Juliette said she'd look at the letter tomorrow, I'm too impatient. Grabbing the letter and my phone, I slowly type in the first sentence using Google translate, taking my time making out the scrolling handwriting.

Mon amour tu me manques comme je ne peux pas dire.

I finish typing and stare at the screen with surprise.

My love I miss you like I cannot say.