When morning comes I haven't slept much. I'm not sure why, because I'd been exhausted when we finally got home - I just kept waking up and taking an hour before falling back asleep. It's only ten when I finally give up. Next to me Emma is still fast asleep, wrapped up tightly in her covers, and she probably will be for a while. I can't stay forever, sadly, because duty calls. And it does so in the shape of my father, who's coming to pick up Eschieve. She's still staying in my apartment, but we haven't spoken much since our fight. It was father who told me she's still going to boarding school, but in Wales instead of Canada. 'So you can visit her every now and again,' he said, 'that'll hopefully keep her satisfied and under wraps.' The man has no clue of what's going on in his own family, because I have no plans to visit and I doubt Eschieve wants me to. 
Lucky for me he won't come around until dinner time, which means I still have a few hours with Emma. If she ever wakes up.
I try my hardest not to wake her when I slip out of bed and into the bathroom for a shower, much needed after a day like yesterday. The moment I turn around I knock over the shampoo bottles, but by now I'm trained enough that I manage to catch them before they hit the ground. Emma doesn't like me spending outrageous amounts of money on her, but I swear to God she is getting a remodeling of this damn bathroom for her birthday. I finish up quickly, glad to get out of the claustrophobic box of tiles. Dressed in an outfit I forgot to take home, now freshly laundered by Emma, I make myself coffee and settle myself in front of the tv, catching up with my socials. When after an hour Emma is still not giving any signs of life, my stomach is starting to protest the lack of food. So I leave a note on my pillow for Emma to find, urging her to stay in bed even if she does wake up. In turn, I grab her keys and silently slip out of the front door, where I'm hit in the face with an unexpected amount of sun. The air is still cold, but the sun is not. It seems that winter is finally on its march out of Scotland; it feels like I haven't seen the sun in months. The lovely weather makes me decide to walk. It's not far to my destination, maybe twenty minutes - to a little bakery called Morsures et Friandises that Emma and I have passed several times and each time we say we should go in sometime, but we never do. The shop is basking in the sunlight, reminiscent of the boulangeries that dotted the streets of my grandparents' village in the countryside. A bell chimes happily when I open the door and I'm greeted with a bright smile from the girl behind the counter. "Bonjour, welcome to Treats and Eats. What can I help you with?" She says, with a very slight French accent, though there's definitely also some Scottish in there. 
"Bonjour," I answer, unable to help my own smile because hers is just so damn contagious. "Treats and Eats? That's not what the sign says."
"Ah oui, you caught me!" She laughs. "But I find customers respond better to the French."
"And who can blame them?" I grin. "What's your best sold item?"
"That would be my pain au chocolat, which cannot be surprise to you. Would you like to try some? Oh, who am I kidding!" She waves her own comment away. "You're a Frenchman, of course you do!" She hands me a little bite size chocolate croissant, the taste of which takes me back to lovely summers long past. We chat for a little while and eventually I leave with some of the chocolate croissants, regular croissants, a bag of freshly baked madeleines and a gorgeous loaf of brioche. The girl, who introduced herself as Cosette, bids me goodbye and I promise to visit again soon. I make another quick stop at the greengrocer for some fresh fruit before quickly making my way back to Emma's apartment. Lucky for me she's still asleep, giving me all the time in the world to whip up breakfast; I make French toast with strawberries from the brioche, warm up the pain au chocolat to make sure it's nice and gooey, leave the croissants plain like a true Frenchman and finally plate up a few of the madeleines to go with the coffee. With everything precariously placed on a tray I make my way to the bedroom, where she is still somewhere deep into her dreams. I put the tray at 'my' end of the bed and kneel down at her side, brushing a strand of her out her face.
"Bonjour, mon cher." I say softly, making her stir. "It's time to wake up." 
"Noooo…." She moans, rolling onto her back and stretching out her arms. "Five more minutes…" 
I chuckle, leaning in to kiss her softly. "If you enjoy your coffee cold, you could do that. If not, though, you might want to open your eyes and say hello to the world. And to me."

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