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“It’s a German-speaking canton in eastern Switzerland. About two hours from my parents’ house in Lugano.”
“I think it’s this way,” she says, pointing, and we leave the lobby and start walking toward one of the cottages. “What’s a canton?”
“Like a state. There are four official languages in Switzerland. Graubünden is German-speaking, but Lugano, right next to it, is Italian.”
Ada stops in the front of one of the cottages.
“What’s it like? Switzerland?”
I want to say,It’s beautiful, but not as much as you.
Of course, I know better. She’s not the kind of woman to swoon at a cheesy remark like that. Even if I mean it. And I do.
I settle for, “Incredible.”
“So this is me, and you’re right next door. Which is pretty remarkable since this place is usually booked solid on the weekends. I’m still not sure how you managed to snag an extra night for both of us.”
I wisely keep my mouth shut.
“Meet me back here in fifteen minutes? I want to give my parents a quick call.”
“Sure.”
When she disappears inside her cottage, I get to work. We have dinner reservations in an hour right at the inn. Ada said the town is only a few blocks long, the main street small enough to explore in a few hours. So we’re saving that for tomorrow. Also on tap tomorrow, two nearby wineries, even though it’s not my drink of choice.
I drop off my bags and head to the front desk. A few minutes later, with a champagne bottle and two glasses, I make my way back to Ada just in time.
“What the . . .”
She’s dressed in the same pink and brown sundress as before, her long hair still hanging in waves all around her shoulders like some bohemian sun goddess.
“I know you wanted to show me around the resort before dinner. And I want to see it. But I thought we could sit and talk for a few minutes first.”
“Um, where exactly?”
Thankfully, I have an answer for that. One that, unfortunately, does not involve inviting her into my small cottage.
“Apparently back here”—I walk from her cottage across the bridge, and thank God, she follows—“there is a little table tucked away in the corner. Ahh, there it is.”
There’s a single wrought iron table, surrounded by greenery and flowers.
“How did you know this was here? And where did you get those?” She nods to the champagne and glasses in my hand. “And what are we celebrating?”
I put the glasses down, realize they won’t stand straight on their own—the table’s too tilted—and hand them to Ada instead.
Pulling on the cork, I answer her questions.
“The lovely woman at the front desk. The restaurant. And we’re celebrating two days of forgetting that you’re Ada the FDA employee and I’m Hayden the sponsor. Starting this very moment, you’re simply Ada, and I’m simply Hayden.”
Ada yelps as I pop the cork. When she recovers and reaches out both flutes for me to fill, I’m encouraged.
“Sound good?”
She’s still hesitant, but I aim to change that.
“Sounds good.”
“A toast, then.” I put the bottle on the ground next to our table.
