Page 28 of His Christmas Gift

Dean merely grinned and nodded.

After getting in the car, he took us into town and parked in a nearly empty parking lot. We walked down the sidewalk toward all of the stores and restaurants, admiring some of the Christmas decorations and lights that adorned the light poles and storefronts. It was nice just walking and talking to him, sharing some stories from our youth.

“This must all not be that impressive to you after getting to live in a fancy place in the city,” I commented as I gestured to the small, local stores around us. A few of them could use a fresh coat of paint or their windows dusted. It wasn’t fancy here, but the townspeople were kind and meant well.

“I love this place,” Dean replied, making a surprised look fill my face. He then shrugged. “The city is great and all. There’s a lot to do and a lot of people to meet that I couldn’t do here, but I grew up here. I have more memories here.”

“Oh,” I said, not expecting that response from him.

Dean paused, stopping his steps to look at me.

“You really think I’m some snobby, money-hungry guy, don’t you?” he asked me as he frowned.

I felt sheepish at that point. In a way, I did still see him like that. I had been around so many people who were in the same position as him, owning their own companies and having more money than they knew what to do with. It was New York City. So many of them didn’t even want to look in my direction, or when they did, they looked down on me.

“You’re not that bad,” I replied. I had met way worse, and at least he was genuine in certain ways.

“I’m not going to rub my wealth in anyone’s face. Do I like to do extravagant things and waste money from time to time on pointless, expensive things? Yes. But I only do that as a reward for my hard work. None of this was handed to me,” Dean told me.

How could I argue with that? He was right. He never rubbed his wealth in my face or anyone else’s. He was proud of his work, and he spent the money he earned on whatever he wanted. He could be cocky, but that was just a level of confidence that I didn’t have. It didn’t make him a jerk.

“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. I shouldn’t have made him explain himself in the first place.

Dean sighed as his shoulders loosened.

“Don’t be. I could stand to go back to my roots a little. My parents always took me and my brothers on all these fun little trips or just biking on a path down the road. We were always doing things and having fun,” he replied. “Being in the city made me feel like I had to do something extravagant to have any fun.”

I knew where he was coming from. Being from a small town, going to the city was a bit of a culture shock. There were all these new things to do and see. Everything in our hometown seemed so small and unimportant compared to what we had now. But the novelty of it all eventually wore off. The amount of things to do didn’t matter. It was all about the memories and the feelings.

“I don’t have many good memories in New York City. I mean, I love being there, but I haven’t really gone out and just enjoyed being there,” I admitted. I did all of the touristy things, but I hadn’t taken much time to explore outside of the city, to thoroughly enjoy my new home.

“Me either,” Dean replied with a faint smile. “Maybe we should make it a point to try new things there. I actually want to go to that cherry blossom place. I’ve never actually been there, but I saw pictures.”

“When we get back, we can together,” I suggested, feeling my heartbeat quicken as he smiled brighter at my suggestion.

“It’s a date,” Dean said, winking at me before motioning for me to follow him down the sidewalk. He led me all the way to the front of the Magnolia Café, one of the local staples in town.

“Wow. I don’t remember the last time I’ve been here,” I told him as I admired the quaint look of the place. A wooden ramp with a green railing led up to the white building with a dark red roof. Music poured from inside as patrons enjoyed good food in a cozy atmosphere.

“I went here all the time with my parents as a kid,” Dean replied, looking cheeky like a kid as he stared at the restaurant. “I would devour a shrimp po'boy every single time.”

I laughed softly, imagining Dean as a little kid putting away an entire shrimp po'boy. Even if he looked different with his expensive button-downs and ironed pants, he still had the Southern drawl and a faint dash of freckles on his shoulders. This place would always have a place in his heart, and it was nice that he didn’t look down on this place just because he was some big shot in New York City.

“My parents didn’t want to come here much. It wasn’t up to their standards,” I muttered as I shook my head.

“Why did they never leave this place and go somewhere more accommodating to their tastes?” Dean asked.

I shrugged.

“They like being big fish in a little pond,” I replied. That was the only answer that I could come up with.

“Well, I’m taking you here today,” Dean said, taking my hand and dragging me up the ramp toward the front of the restaurant.

Laughter rang from me as I stumbled after him, feeling a fluttery sensation in my stomach. This was really starting to feel like a date, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to ruin this moment, and I didn’t want to lose it.

“Welcome! Just two?” a young hostess greeted us at the front of the restaurant.

“Yes, just two,” Dean replied with that dazzling smile of his that could probably make the weak faint.

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