A warm welcome to author Ariel Tachna joining us today here @ Love Bytes .

Welcome Ariel 🙂

Absence makes the heart grow fonder

Absence makes the heart grow fonder…. How often have we heard that phrase in our lives? I’m not even going to try to count for myself, and if you can, you’re luckier than I am. The anonymous poet who coined the phrase in Francis Davison’s Poetical Rhapsody in 1602 may have been on to something, or he may just have been on something.

The real question is whether he was right. I’m not a sociologist and I’m not going to start quoting studies by those who are, but I will share a little story about my own experience. My husband and I started dating in 1992 when we were juniors in college. We graduated in May of 1994. He went to medical school in Texas. I went to France to teach English for a year. A couple of things went into that decision, none of which actually had anything to do with absence making us fonder of each other. For me, it was a chance to live in France again while I was still young and unmarried and also a chance to keep a promise to my grandmother to live for a year completely on my own so I would know that no matter what happened, I could take care of myself. There was also a sense that if I went abroad that year without him (we met in France on my first trip abroad) and missed him more than I missed anyone else, I’d know he was the one. So maybe there was a bit of absence making the heart grow fonder in it all.

I spent ten months in Dijon teaching English and perfecting my French. And every single day of those ten months, I wrote to him. Sometimes it was a couple of pages. Sometimes it was only a few lines. And each time I’d filled the front and back of two pages, I mailed the letter. Some weeks he’d get a letter every day. Other weeks he’d get one. But I never failed to write at least a little bit, and I looked forward to his letters more than I did any others.

Did absence make my heart grow fonder? I don’t think so, but it did show me that I missed him more than I missed my parents or my college friends or anyone else I kept in touch with that year.

I learned a few other things that year. I learned that long-distance relationships are hard. It took that work of writing him every day to keep things going. In the age of Internet and instant messaging, it might be easier, but I didn’t have an e-mail address or anywhere to get Internet access, so it was pen and paper and phone calls on Fridays (because international phone calls are expensive). I also learned that having a set end date makes the separation more bearable. I’m not sure how I would have handled it if I hadn’t known when I’d be flying home to see him again.

In At Your Service, Paul and Anthony spend a week together in Paris when Anthony is there for work, and then Anthony goes home. They both expect things to end there, except that they don’t. In this age of digital communication, they find they can keep their friendship going, even if they keep it at that level instead of descending into phone sex. And they find that they do grow fonder as time passes, so that when Anthony returns to Paris for a semipermanent stay, they have a foundation on which to consider building something more.

In the excerpt below, Anthony and Paul enjoy a brief Skype conversation as part of their ongoing friendship despite the distance.

As Anthony wrapped up his work e-mails, he heard the notification from an incoming Skype conversation. He clicked on it and smiled when Paul’s face appeared on the screen for their weekly conversation. They’d started chatting on Skype because it was easier than typing in a chat window. Now it was a weekly occurrence that Anthony looked forward to with as much anticipation as he did the basketball games with the guys or Sunday dinner at Matt and Robin’s house where he could spend hours spoiling Baby Layla.

“Perfect timing. I just finished.”

“Good,” Paul said, his voice crackling a little through the connection. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Anthony said, thinking back to the Fourth of July barbecue at Cary’s house and his date with Steve. “Really good.”

“That sounds promising.” Paul’s grin was wicked. “What happened?”

“I had a… date on Saturday. Remember the hot guy at the bar, the one whose number you kept telling me to get? Well, I finally asked him out.”

“About time, man. You’re slow as a snail. I’m not saying you have to fuck everything that moves, but four months?” Paul teased. “So where’d you take him?”

“Saturday was Fourth of July, our national holiday, and one of my friends, Cary, always has a big barbecue at his house,” Anthony explained. “Everyone brings their families, their girlfriends, or a date, so I thought it would be a good first date.”

“And?”

“You are a closet pervert,” Anthony said.

“Nothing closet about it,” Paul replied. “Go on, tell me what happened. You know you want to.”

“It was good. We had fun. Cary makes the best hamburgers I’ve ever tasted,” Anthony said.

Paul rolled his eyes. “Was the sex good?”

“I wasn’t kidding about the closet pervert bit. I didn’t sleep with him. I don’t know him well enough for that yet,” Anthony said.

Paul looked way too smug for Anthony’s peace of mind, but he didn’t ask Paul for an explanation. If he did, he’d have to explain how Paul was different, and that would either belittle the time they’d spent together or make it out to be more than it had been. He and Paul had become friends in the four months since Anthony left Paris. Through e-mails, online chats, and Skype calls, Anthony had learned almost as much about Paul as he knew about Matt, Cary, and the others. The only difference was the physical proximity. And the fact that he’d slept with Paul, something he hadn’t done with any of his circle of friends in Winston-Salem.

“What do you know about him?” Paul asked.

“His name’s Steve, he’s thirty-three, he works at Wake Forest in the business department. He’s been in Winston-Salem for a year and likes it so far. He laughs at my friends’ jokes, and my goddaughter likes him.”

“How is Layla?” Paul asked. “You didn’t send me pictures last week.”

Anthony relaxed immediately at the change of subject. He’d been stunned at Paul’s fascination with Layla, but he’d gladly shared all the updates on the last few months of Robin’s pregnancy and then on Layla’s development since she was born. “She’s doing great. She’s a month old now and getting more alert all the time. Hold on a second. I’ll send you the pictures from the barbecue. I think there’s one of Steve too.”

“Eh, keep the pictures of the boyfriend. I want to see my baby,” Paul said.

Thank you to Love Bytes for hosting me today and to all of your for stopping by and reading. I’ll be giving away an eBook copy of one of my books to one lucky commenter.

Blurb:

When Anthony Mercer walked into Au cœur du terroir, he was looking for good food and a pleasant evening spent with a friend. He never expected to meet—and sleep with—Paul Delescluse, a waiter at the restaurant. After spending a magical week together in Paris, Anthony must return to his life in North Carolina, while Paul remains in France.

Despite the distance and the lack of promises between them—Paul wants sex, not a relationship—Paul and Anthony forge a solid friendship. Then Anthony’s job takes him back to Paris, this time to stay. Paul is thrilled to have him back, but Anthony has a harder choice: be another of Paul’s conquests or fight for the relationship he knows they could have, if only Paul would believe it.

Buy links:

Dreamspinner Press ebook

Dreamspinner Press Paperback

Amazon

When Ariel Tachna was twelve years old, she discovered two things: the French language and romance novels. Those two loves have defined her ever since. By the time she finished high school, she’d written four novels, none of which anyone would want to read now, featuring a young woman who was—you guessed it—bilingual. That girl was everything Ariel wanted to be at age twelve and wasn’t.

She now lives on the outskirts of Houston with her husband (who also speaks French), her kids (who understand French even when they’re too lazy to speak it back), and their two dogs (who steadfastly refuse to answer any French commands).

Visit Ariel:

Website: www.arieltachna.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/ArielTachna

E-mail: arieltachna@gmail.com