He thanked me with a kiss.

I’ve never cooked anything more complicated than spaghetti with meatballs, and I’m more skilled with a microwave than a sautée pan, so I was really impressed by Sebastian’s efforts in the kitchen.

For our aperitif, Sebastian prepared oysters on the half shell, and for the main course, there were thinly sliced fillets of chicken with Roquefort sauce and sautéed potatoes. I was in serious danger of missing out on dessert by filling myself with too much of the crunchy, fragrant bread that seemed to be in overabundance in this country, but thankfully I left just enough room to enjoy his delicious banana tarte tartin.

“Oh my goodness, this is awesome,” I exclaimed between mouthfuls.

“You are too kind,” he said as he poured some more wine into my glass.

That night we made love in his bed. It had wrought iron posts and an impossibly soft mattress. I felt as though we were lying on a bed of spun clouds. I never wanted this night – this week – to end.