There was plenty to celebrate on our first Valentine’s Day living in France: My husband Gianpiero and I had just received job and PhD offers — and we were engaged! But our mood wasn’t exactly jubilant. We were the only people in the small Chinese restaurant that was wedged into a corner of the train station parking lot and, though a lively joint at lunch, it wasn’t quite the place where couples dined on Feb. 14. We wouldn’t have chosen to eat there either, if one of us had made a reservation elsewhere. But I had been busy at work and assumed that he would take care of it. So had he. The server must have sensed the tension between us as she deposited a plate of limp spring rolls on the plastic tablecloth.