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vivianna
Griffin and I have become something of a unit.
To become a unit, I’ve learned that each party is thrust into the other party’s life. They meet the Very Important People in their partner’s life and vice versa.
Like Griffin meeting my parents, who live more upstate—almost rural— and who love him immediately, easily, effortlessly, despite the initial skepticism that came with the whole dating show thing. They ask him just about a million questions about firefighting, individually.
I meet Griff’s brothers, equally as witty but far more introverted than Griffin. Griffin’s older brother, Ben, regals me with embarrassing Griffin childhood stories, while his youngest brother, Owen, laughs hysterically. His mother and step-father are just about the sweetest ever, and on our first meeting, Griffin’s mom literally bursts into tears and almost kills me with a bear hug.
I also get to meet Griffin’s firefighter buddies, including his best friend, Ryan. Our first meeting, the guys basically spent the entire morning cleaning up their apartment, perfectly situated in very natural and totally non-scripted positions once Griffin lets me in. From the first day I met them, I’d figured they were funny guys, albeit annoying in that charismatic way. They were brothers to each other most of all, and it made sense, since they’d been sharing the same apartment among the five of them since they first became part of the fire department. I didn’t know how I would fit in, especially when Griffin and the guys had all but dragged me to a bar for our second or third meeting. But Griffin’s boys were effortlessly charismatic, flocking around me, poking fun at me like they were my brothers too.
Another part of introducing someone to your life is introducing them to your job. So, a week back in Manhattan, I seized the opportunity to tour my clinic for Griff. He sat in the waiting room, watching me bustle around, carry patients to-and-fro. And he seemed entertained, looking up from the three-years-outdated PetVet magazines every time I walked into the waiting room. I had to keep myself in check, hold myself back whenever I saw him leaning back in his seat, spreading all over the comically small waiting room chair, lest I kiss him or something.
And the loans didn’t feel so far away anymore, not just because of the fact that Griff’s presence made me feel that maybe my goals weren’t totally out of reach, but because we had created a three year plan to pay off all the loans. I remember, because that first Friday back, we’d sat at my dining table at an abhorrent 4 AM in the night to map up our financial plans for the next few years now that we had a life-changing 100k. Because above anything else, we’re a team.
And that was exactly two years ago today.
It’s been a week in our new apartment that we were finally able to afford— after getting all our shit (financial-wise) together—and we’ve just had our housewarming party, which went swimmingly. Because our people were there, like Reese McCormack who finally warmed up to Griffin after he “stole me away”, and all of Griffin’s biological and chosen brothers who dropped by with a Costco cake and at least three beer trays, and even Ramona Castillo, who was in town for the week and dropped by with good wine.
When everyone is gone, it’s silent.
Midnight, I’m relishing in Griff and I’s new apartment, in the expansive space, in the hardwood, in the granite kitchen island, in the furniture that arrived Wednesday. I’m making myself a hot chocolate, smelling the new house smell and feeling all put-together in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever completely felt.
I hear Griffin shuffling somewhere behind me before I feel his chin pressing into my shoulder, his arms circling my waist, his abdomen pressing against my back. He just showered. I can tell because his hair is damp, and he smells especially clean.
“Do you always shower at odd times of the night?”
“Do you always make hot chocolate for yourself at odd times of the night?”
I’m brought back to two years ago, toward the beginning of Lovebound, to one of Griffin and I’s many back-and-forth conversations.
A smile curves onto my lips, and he kisses the corner of it. “Can I have some?”
“No,” I say, as I raise the mug to his lips and wipe off extra from his lips. I’m used to him, never tired of him, of this. And once we became a unit, I considered, albeit briefly, that maybe he’d get bored of me, that maybe we wouldn’t make it past a year.
But the doubts were evidently stupid, and as other Lovebound couples from our season disintegrated before our eyes—even Zander and Imogen who called it quits after a few months—we stuck together, like there was no possibility of falling apart. Because with Griffin, there’s this ease, this impossibility.
We finish the hot chocolate, swaying together, slow-dancing like a high school or elderly couple, his hands looping around my waist, my head pressed against his shoulder. I never fully understood how gently those rough hands can hold me.
And with ease, we dance. We dance with leisure, with patience. Until we’re interrupted by two simultaneous notifications from our phones:
FROM: LOVEBOUND@SunriseTV.COM
Subject: Guest Star Opportunity
Hello to you both!
We hope this letter finds you well.
As you likely know, filming for the 21st Lovebound season begins this upcoming February. As Lovebound veterans, we would love to have you two back on the show this season to guest-star. You two have one of the most iconic Lovebound stories to date, and we—alongside millions of Lovebound fans— would be honored to have you back.
If you accept this invitation, we would expect you to arrive by January 15th at Sunrise TV Headquarters. All expenses will be paid just like your last visit. The only difference is that the two of you will be here as guest stars and fellow hosts, one of a few couples the company will be testing out as potential hosts in the near future.
Once again, we would love to have you back. Please feel free to reach out with any questions and if interested, confirm your attendance via email by January 1st.
Your hosts,
Mila and Philip Amador
I look up at the same time that Griffin does, his eyes glinting. “What do you think?”
As my arms swing around his neck, his curve around my waist. “I think that sounds like a free vacation.”
His lips curve into a smirk, and mine echo their movement, slowly but surely.
And he’s looking at me, eyes sparkling as though he would’ve felt exactly the same way regardless of what my answer would be, like the selling point is me and nothing else, like we’re not only the two people left in our home, but left in the world.
“Vacation it is,” he says, setting our empty mug down and spinning me around.
I let out a little shriek, of glee, of excitement, of complete contentment. He laughs, his dimple mischievous, amused.
And I know then that I’d definitely, probably, most likely follow Griffin Andrews to the ends of the earth.