Working for a French company in the US meant that we constantly had visitors from France. Sometimes they would come to "work with us" for weeks at a time.
We hated when these people came over since we always took it as a sign that we were incapable of doing our jobs correctly.
One faithful day in September of 2006 we were expecting a visitor that would be with us for over four weeks.
This colleague came by early in the morning, and in typical French fashion came by to shake all of our hands. When I first saw this guy I was surprised.
He wasn't in his fifties like most of the people that went over, and he wasn't French. Plus he was looking quite sharp in a suit.
Being a single girl in my early twenties I also couldn't help but notice that he was quite handsome and sans wedding ring (isn't that the first thing we girls notice?).
He was also nice and sort of shy. I admit now that I was quite smitten. Not smitten enough, however, to invite him to my birthday celebration that night. He was still a visitor from France, who knows what kind of information he would be reporting back!
The month came and went and we hardly spoke other than the daily "bonjour", and he was soon back in France.
Never would I have imagined that on that faithful September day I was meeting the man that would become my husband. The man that would become the father to my boys. And the guy, that six years later, still looks amazing in a suit.