Armand and I are spending the afternoon in a beautiful French rural idyll. It’s nice not worrying about running into someone we know. We can hold hands in public, something we can’t do in London because none of our friends or family suspect that we’re involved. We’re forced to hide our love.
Armand and his wife, Etienne are separated. I dated their son, Michel but I broke up with him after I met Armand.
“Happy?” Armand asks me now.
I nod. “Extremely.”
This is for the Weekend Writing Prompt by Sammi Cox. For instructions, click Here.