I awakened to find that Jean-Paul and I must have fallen asleep on the couch during our movie date. He was laying next to me as I was cuddled up into his arms. I moved his muscular arm off of me before slowly and carefully rising up off of the couch. I quietly made my way to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast.

I put in my headphones and started listening to the upbeat music while dancing through the kitchen, gathering the bacon, eggs, butter, and buttermilk and placing the ingredients on the counter.

I took a frying pan out of the cabinet and began opening up and slicing the bacon in half and filling up the frying pan. After measuring and mixing all of the ingredients, I patted out the dough and shaped the dough into a circular shape before placing them into a greased cooking pan. Lastly, I whisked some eggs up with pink salt and pepper and poured them into another frying pan with melted butter.

The country meal reminds me of my mornings cooking breakfast with my mother in our small Kentucky home, sitting around the dinner table with our heads bowed in prayer.

By the time I pulled the buttermilk biscuits from the oven, the aroma of a Sunday breakfast began to waft through the air.

"Mm, something sure smells good in here," Jean-Paul exclaimed as he got up off of the couch and walked into the kitchen.

"I made us some breakfast," I said as I placed a soft kiss upon his lips. He walked to the fridge before grabbing some orange juice and pouring us both a glass and taking it to the dining table.

"Do you need any help?" He asked as he grabbed a couple of plates out of the cabinet and set the table for me.

"I think I got it. I was going to set the table but you beat me to it." I winked as he helped me take the food to the table.

We sat at the dinner table together enjoying our breakfast and flashing smiles back and forth to each other. It was at that exact moment that I saw that special sparkle in his eye. He truly looked happy. A man that is visiting from almost 4,000 miles away would have to be getting homesick. I only imagine how hard it is to be so far away from everything that is familiar to you. But the fact that I can make this man smile even being so far away from home felt like a good thing. I just never wanted the moment to end and, I hoped that it wouldn't.

After enjoying our breakfast in silence, I began to put the leftovers into containers. While I did that, Jean-Paul really surprised me by clearing the table, clearing the food residue off of the dishes, and loading the dishwasher.

I wasn't sure what his plans were for the day, but I didn't want to let that man walk out of my door. I wanted time to stand still, to freeze in this perfect moment with this handsome stranger standing in my kitchen. But I knew I couldn't keep him prisoner inside of my apartment. The sinking feeling in my stomach told me that he would be leaving sooner rather than later. One look in his deep green eyes told me that he didn't want to leave any more than I wanted him to.

He finally broke the long silence. "I am going to go back to my hotel to get things in order. Would you want to have dinner with me tonight? Maybe we can go see an actual movie in the cinema. That is, if you would want to."

My lips moved, trying to form words, but no sound came out.

Finally, the words sailed smoothly across my lips. "Of course I'd like to go see a movie with you and have dinner afterward. Pick me up at six-thirty? The movie usually starts around seven."

He gave a brilliant smile and nodded before moving his way to the front door. Then he placed a kiss upon my cheek, before opening the door and walking out. I watched him from the threshold as he walked down the hallway and to the street outside. I closed the door and stood in front of it as a smile stretched across my face from ear to ear. I felt my happiest when I'm with Jean-Paul.

Jean-Paul reminded me of my father in many ways. He always stepped up to help my mother without her even asking, and he was so gentle and loving towards her. I never felt that way around Max. He always sat on the couch while I'd fix dinner or clean up. It would have been nice to feel like a team around him, but I didn't. I felt that way around Jean-Paul.

Some part of me was wondering what would happen with our friendship, relationship, or whatever this was when he would go back home to Paris. Would that just be the end of us? Would I ever see him again?

I turned the dishwasher, and contemplated what to do while I waited. I had about six or so hours until he would be arriving back at my apartment to escort me to the movies. I needed to find out what to wear, what to do with my hair, and I needed a shower.

I hopped into the shower as quickly as I could to wash off the grease from the bacon we had at breakfast. I smelled like a restaurant cook, which isn't a bad thing, but when going on a date, you want to smell clean and fresh.

I got out of the shower and threw my hair up into the towel to soak up some of the excess water. Then I put on my robe and walked back into the bedroom. I sat down onto the bed and began flipping through the channels on the TV. A hallmark movie came on, and before I knew it, I was being pulled right into the movie.

The movie gave me all the feels. It felt like something right out of my life. A girl breaks it off with a guy and goes on a little getaway to the middle of nowhere, where she runs into a mysterious man at a local diner. Long story short, the two of them end up as a couple and lived happily ever after. I only hoped my story ends in a fairytale romance. The movie finally concluded and I wiped the tears off of my face.

I walked into the bathroom, pulled the towel from my hair, and began blowdrying it.

After my hair was nice and dry, I began curling my hair into soft spirals that fell midway down my back. I always thought it made a woman look like a princess. I applied a little bit of makeup and spritzed a bit of perfume onto my neck and arms.

I walked into my closet and picked a black laced off shoulder cocktail dress and a pair of black flats. I gazed at myself into the mirror before making my way into the living room and sitting down on the couch while waiting for Jean-Paul to arrive.

I began checking my watch every few minutes and feeling like the minute hand was barely moving.

Finally, a knock came from the door. I leaped from the couch and ran to the door, taking a deep breath. When I finally opened the door, Jean-Paul stood just outside in a white button-up shirt and black slacks, with his hair brushed to one side, and the scent of mint, leather, white wood, and patchouli cologne.

"These are you for you," he whispered as he handed me a bouquet of flowers that contained a mixture of pink roses, and purple and yellow iris.

I took a deep whiff of the fresh blossoms. "Thank you, Jean-Paul. These are beautiful." I smiled and immediately put the bouquet in a vase, staring at the colorful flowers. They were gorgeous, unlike any flower combination, I had ever seen before. I was beginning to get a little nervous though. The last time I got a bouquet of flowers I also got my heart broken. I didn't really think much into it though because Jean-Paul was nothing like Max.

I laced my hand into Jean-Paul's. We walked out of the apartment and to the uber car that was awaiting us. I almost felt like a princess awaiting her royal carriage.

We got into the uber and instructed him to take us to the French restaurant that I had decided that I had wanted to go to. I wanted Jean-Paul to feel as much at home here as I could. He may be in New York visiting, but if I can bring a little Paris to him while he was in America, then that's what I would do.

When we arrived at the restaurant, Jean-Paul slid out of the backseat first, then he took my hand in his and helped me out of the car. We walked into the restaurant and the waiter came to seat us.

Inside, the lighting was recessed, silk tablecloths lined the tables, and a string quartet was playing in the corner. It set a romantic mood for the evening. I bit my lip and realized that this was the fanciest place I've ever eaten.

"Bonjour," the waiter greeted us.

"Bonjour." 

"Comment puis-je vous servir ce soir?" he asked as he gave us our menus. Jean-Paul scanned the menu before ordering a beverage of his choice without batting an eye.

"Puis-je avoir un verre d'eau?" The waiter asked, turning to look at me. I stared at the man, dumbfounded. I hadn't realized when I made the dinner reservation that the waiting staff wouldn't speak English. I blushed deeply, unsure how to respond.

Jean-Paul lifted his head up to look at me. I was sitting at the table with my mouth hanging open in shock. I had no idea what was just being said.

"Ah, I keep forgetting that you don't speak French," Jean-Paul smiled, sensing my discomfort. "The waiter asked what he could do for us this evening. I asked him for a glass of water. I can order for you if you'd like."

I nodded my head in agreement. "I would like tea to drink, please."

"Puis-je avoir du thé pour la dame s'il vous plaît."

The waiter nodded his head and walked away.

"What exactly did you say to the waiter?" I asked as I raised an eyebrow.

"May I have a tea for the lady, please." 

I let out a sigh of relief. "I thought you said 'can you look at the poor lady'.

We both busted out in laughter, and I soon felt my tensed shoulders relaxing.

A few moments later, the waiter brought us our drinks. We looked through the menu to order our meal before I decided on ratatouille and brioche. Jean-Paul ordered beef bourguignon with a salad.

When the waiter left, Jean-Paul grabbed my hand and whispered, "Thank you for choosing a restaurant that reminds me of home."

I shot him a heartwarming smile and responded, "I would do anything to help you feel at home while you're here."

We stared at one another, making small talk with our hands still intertwined.

Finally, after a few minutes, our food was brought to the table. My cuisine reminded me of what my mother ordered in Paris so many years ago. It brought back a lot of memories. The smell of the food made my stomach rumble. That's when I realized just how hungry I was.

Jean-Paul and I sat and ate our food in silence, occasionally smiling at each other in between bites. The noise in the restaurant was quite loud but all I could focus on was the man sitting across from me. It's almost as if the rest of the world stood still.

"What was it like growing up in Paris?" I asked.

"Growing up was hard just because my mother had to do everything on her own like raise me, work, and pay all of the bills," he said, his eyes sad, but then he smiled. "But I would say living in Paris was absolutely amazing. I grew up in this house called a Domaine, which is a house on a big plot of land. Some have orchids or vineyards on their land, but we eventually added a pool and a garden to ours. It was nice not having to be surrounded by a lot of people."

I saw a sparkle in Jean-Paul's eyes as he spoke about his home. His words made me long to visit the city again now that I was an adult, and I vowed that one way or another, I would see the city of love again one day.