Page 41 of Dating Goals
Griffin’s brows shoot up, and a flicker of genuine surprise crosses his face.
“It’s my mom,” I explain, reluctantly glancing back inside.
Griffin looks utterly bewildered. “If I’d known you lived with your mother, I would have brought two bouquets.”
Over my shoulder, in a hasty mix of practicality and protest, I call out in Swiss German, “Nur ein Freund, Mama!”
Griffin wags his brows. “Just a friend, eh?”
I study him, only slightly impressed. “You understood what I said. Not bad.”
“Lucky guess,” he says, leaning against the doorframe like he’s the most comfortable man in the world. I’m caught off guard by his easy demeanor. “Anyway, I’ll just have to come back tomorrow with more flowers.”
I invite him in, partly to regain some footing, partly to stop the neighbors from enjoying the spectacle.
“Come in while I find a vase.”
He follows me into the living room, where my mother is practicing tai chi, dressed in layers of flowing, bohemian sweaters, her silver-streaked hair in a loose braid. Beads around her neck jingle as she turns. And with Griffin here, I’m more aware of the smell of patchouli clouding the whole house.
“Griffin is here to learn Swiss German,” I say quickly before she can ask questions. The less she knows about this dating coach arrangement, the better.
But Griffin has already charmed her. She flies to him immediately, all warmth and sparkles, clasping his hands in hers. “Would you like to sit, Griffin? Can I make you some coffee?”
“Oh, no. We’re not staying.” I hold up the bouquet as if it’s a timer, as if the flowers will die if they’re not in water within the next ten seconds. But he’s already sitting across from her, soaking up every embarrassing thing she has to say. How nice itwas of him to bring me flowers. How my favorite color is yellow. How when I was six, I went through a phase where I would only wear yellow.
Griffin is taking it all in, totally making himself comfortable, like he’ll settle in and never leave. I blame the patchouli.
“So, what brings you to our little village?”
“I’m a hockey player. I’m with Visp right now, but usually, I’m with Toronto.”
Her reaction is completely over-the-top, but that’s my mother for you. “I traveled to Canada years ago in my backpacking days.”
Here we go. Mom could go on about backpacking for at least an hour if I let her. So I hastily toss the flowers onto the kitchen counter and call back, “I’m just going to get these into some water, and then we can go.”
Their voices float back to me as I fill up a vase. Mom is drilling Griffin about his travels and telling him about that one time she camped on a mountain in Peru.
I finish arranging the flowers, and before Mama can get Griffin set up with some pillows and a blanket, I seize his hand, pulling him off the couch. “Okay! We’re going!Uf Widerluege, Mutti!”
She beams up at Griffin. Most likely imagining what a nice son-in-law he’d be, probably since he’s the only man to ever visit me in the history of forever. “Very nice to meet you. Come back soon!”
“You can count on it, Frau Gisler.”
Griffin laughs as I drag him outside. “Are you always this demanding?”
“I had to save you from her. She’d never let you leave otherwise.”
He ducks under a cascade of brightly colored wind socks that flap above the front door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Your mom’s great.”
He takes my arm and guides me around the icy sidewalk. The whole dating practice thing is throwing me off. It’s like Christmas and Easter at the same time. I don’t know what I should prepare for.
We head toward the town square. Griffin sets a brisk pace, the crisp mountain air barely registering to him, but my breath hangs in little clouds between us. He watches me from the corner of his eye. “So, can you guess where we’re going?”
“I’m not a mind reader,” I reply.
He laughs. “Good thing I’m coaching you, then.”
“You love bossing people around, don’t you?” I tease.
