Christmas Is Better Together

"You want the usual?" The barista's voice was soft and pleasant, even over the drive-through speaker. I had been ordering a black coffee and a scone daily since I started my law career five years ago.

"You know it, Dani," I confirmed. I'd been coming to this Starbucks every morning before work, but the new girl working the window the last few weeks had me looking forward to the visit more than I had in the past.

Dani was a brunette in her early twenties, or at least I had guessed. She had a smile that warmed up a room, which was nice given the frigid air outside during the long Chicago winter. I had been attracted to her immediately, not just for her looks, but for the way she brightened up my morning commute with her cheerful banter.

Every day, I pulled up to the drive-thru window, and Dani was there, her smile radiant in the early-morning gloom. We'd exchanged pleasantries for weeks, our conversations growing longer, her smiles more genuine. As a lawyer, I had a penchant for spotting patterns in the way people spoke and acted, and I was beginning to suspect she was deliberately slow walking my order to draw out our moments together, which I did not mind in the least.

I pulled up to the window. Dani leaned forward, no drink in hand. She was wearing a red apron for the holidays, and had her hair in a ponytail, fished through the back of her black logo baseball hat. She was unbelievably cute, I thought as she smiled at me, her soft brown eyes meeting mine.

"How's it going, hotshot?" she asked. She'd been calling me that for weeks, ever since in one of our earlier conversations she'd discovered I was a lawyer at a major firm downtown.

"It's going. A lot of paperwork to finish for a client, and only two days until Christmas. How about you?" I replied. Her smile faltered almost imperceptibly before returning.

"It's great, I love the holidays," she replied with just a hint of stiffness. Some people may not have noticed, or cared, but I did.

"I see your customer service smile, Dani. You all good?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's not a big deal," she said, lowering her voice to avoid being overheard by a manager. "It's just, I'm staying here this year to work on my thesis without classes to distract me, so I'll be alone for the holiday. Normally I go home to Minnesota every year, so just a little sad, that's all," she added.

"I understand. My parents have been going on cruises every year for the holidays since they retired a few years ago, so I've been on my own," I explained. "I'd be annoyed at them if I could ever get time off to go visit for Christmas, but you don't get days off when you're trying to make partner."

At that moment, one of her coworkers brought over a drink, which she checked and handed me. Then she grabbed a bag with my scone in it and passed it over as well, her smile still off. I was actually sad that my order was ready.

"See you tomorrow, hotshot," she said.

"Have a good day, Dani. Good luck on your thesis," I replied. Her smile seemed to brighten slightly at that. As I drove off, I felt bad for her and decided to do something I'd been putting off for a few weeks now. Work was a slog like it was every day, but on my lunch break, I'd walked to a store a few blocks away, thinking only about Dani.

***

The next day, I returned at the usual time with my usual order, but I also brought something else with me. I had a small, beautifully wrapped gift with a card attached. "Merry Christmas, Dani," I said as I handed it over. She took it with a look of surprise before her eyes narrowed slightly.

"What's this for?" she asked. Suddenly unsure, I realized in that moment that a girl like her was probably hit on by most of her regulars. Maybe my conversations with her weren't special at all, and she was just a friendly person. Maybe I was being creepy, bringing her a gift on Christmas eve. Oh well, I thought, I'm in it already. Better to just commit and then find another Starbucks on the way to work when I crashed and burned.

"It's just a little something to thank you for making my mornings less boring," I replied with a wink, projecting a confidence I didn't feel.

Dani blushed and took the gift, her eyes lighting up as she read the card, in which I had written a short message: I'm sorry you won't be home for Christmas this year -- hopefully this brightens your spirits like you brighten mine every day.

"You didn't have to do this, Jake," she said. Was she being grateful? Or was she put off?

"I know," I said. "But I wanted to. And, if you're still looking for plans, I was wondering if you'd like to have Christmas dinner with me tonight? I'll cook, I'm not terrible in a kitchen." Moment of truth. Better open Google Maps and find another location, my brain screamed at me.

Her eyes widened and she bit her bottom lip, looking uncertain, and to my hopeful gaze, maybe a little happy? "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

"You wouldn't be. Besides, I've got no one to spend it with either, so it's the perfect solution," I assured her. "Just say yes." Please, please, please say yes, I thought.

There was a pause before she spoke. The sounds of the morning rush echoed through the shop behind her and my heart raced nervously in my chest. "Okay, I'll say yes," she said finally, grinning. "What time?"

"How about 7?" I suggested. Fuck yes, I thought, relieved. "My number is scrawled on the back of the card, text me and I'll give you the address?"

Her eyes widened again, but she nodded. "7 it is. Thank you, Jake," she said, her voice sounding genuinely touched.

I felt my heart swell a bit. I'd never been one for grand romantic gestures, but there was something about Dani that made me want to make her smile. I just hoped she liked the gift.

***

Around 11, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Tearing my eyes away from the pile of transcripts I'd been reading, I pulled it out and checked the messages.

"Jake?" read the message from an unknown number. "It's Dani," a second text read beneath it. I typed out a reply.

"Hey, Dani. How's work?" Smooth, I thought sarcastically.

"It's work. What should I wear tonight?" she asked. I thought about how to answer that for a moment before replying.

"I'll let you choose, cozy or classy? I can do anything from Christmas sweater to Christmas gala," I sent back. That was the right call, right, putting it into her hands?

"Let's do nice and classy. I'll save the dorky sweaters for my family Christmases, not first dates." A typing bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again, then disappeared. It reappeared a third time before a message came through. "This is a date, right?" I laughed, glad to see I wasn't the only one who was nervous.

"Yes, it's a date," I sent back.

"Send me your address. Can't wait," she sent back.

***

1 o'clock rolled around and I felt the buzzing in my pockets again. I reached for my phone, eagerly hoping it was Dani again. Disappointment hit when I saw it was just my mom, wishing me a Merry Christmas eve with a picture of herself and my father standing in some Caribbean beach town. That wasn't fair of me, I thought, shaking off the disappointment and wishing my parents a nice holiday.

***

The next time my personal cell buzzed, I tempered my expectations and grabbed it from my desk where I'd left it. This time it was Dani, and I felt my heart leap a bit in my chest.

"JAKE ARE YOU CRAZY?" read the first message. A second followed immediately. "I can't accept this. We barely know each other!" Fuck. She must have opened my gift after her shift. Maybe I'd done too much, creeped her out with my romantic gesture. Shit, I thought, not sure how to respond.

"I really wanted to give that to you," I typed diplomatically, "but if you think it's too much, I won't be offended if you can't accept."

"It's a lot, Jake. I know you're a hotshot lawyer and all but I'm a starving grad student, no one has ever given me anything like this before," she sent back, seemingly calmer after my response.

"Would it help to know that they're a client of my firm and sold it to me at a steep discount?" I wasn't lying, but I had called in a few favors from their corporate office on this one.

"Is it weird that it does help?" she sent back with a nervous laugh emoji. "I still don't know, it's a big gift," she added.

"Tell you what," I sent back, "Wear it tonight. If you still feel uncomfortable, I'll take it back, no questions asked."

"I can do that. See you in a few hours, Jake. And thank you, it was very sweet, if a little overwhelming."

Phew. Crisis averted, I thought, breathing out and leaning back in my desk chair.

***

Just before five, I packed up and left. On a normal day I would never dream of leaving before six, but it was Christmas eve, and all of the partners had already cleared out. Plus, I had dinner to prepare. I drove home on autopilot, a sense of excitement and nervousness filling my brain.

When I got home to my high-rise condo near the lake, I quickly pulled the ingredients I'd picked up last night and got to work, throwing together several Midwestern staple sides for a Christmas dinner. A turkey breast went into the oven -- unfortunately I hadn't had enough time for a whole Christmas ham, but this would be less wasteful anyway. I was just putting the last dishes into the oven when my doorbell rang, and I buzzed Dani in. I looked at myself in the mirror that adorned the wall near my front door.

I had changed in between food prep. My light brown hair was styled, and I was wearing a fitted white button-down shirt and navy slacks. A matching suit jacket was draped over the chair at my kitchen table, but I hadn't put it on due to the tan-colored apron I was wearing while cooking to protect my clothes. Hoping to make a good impression, I adjusted my clothes one last time until I heard the knock at the door.

I opened the door, and my breath hitched in my chest. The sight before me was breathtaking, and I stared possibly a moment too long before I stepped aside and gestured into my apartment.

"Come in. You look beautiful tonight," I told her. Dani looked pretty in her barista uniform, but dressed up for our date, she was stunningly gorgeous. Her wavy hair was done up elegantly, and she wore a dark red velvet dress. The dress had long sleeves but was low cut enough in the chest to reveal more than a hint of her generous cleavage. It hugged her curves to mid-thigh before hanging loosely, a slit cut into it that ran up the center of her right thigh. Her shoes were black strappy heels, and on her chest, she wore a white gold chain with a circular pendant -- the gift I'd given her that morning.

"Really? It's not too much?" she asked.

"How could it be? You look ravishing," I replied, leading her from behind with a hand on the small of her back.

"Well, this is the only dress I have that didn't look absurd with this necklace -- starving grad student, remember? I only had this from a charity event I had to attend in college, sorority stuff," she said, looking into my eyes for approval.

"You look elegant," I replied simply.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry for yelling at you via text earlier," she replied. "It's just, I opened the gift when I got home, and my roommate asked me about it, and when I explained it, she told me to watch out for love-bombing, and I got nervous, so I kind of freaked out."

"Love-bombing?" I asked her, unfamiliar with the term.

"Um, yeah, it's where someone does grand romantic gestures and showers you in attention to manipulate you, and since you're older than me, she made me think maybe that was what was going on," she said, looking vulnerable.

"I am so sorry. I had no intention of manipulating you with the gift, but in hindsight I see how it could appear that way. In fact, it's yours even if you walk out of here right now. I'll find another coffee shop and you'll never have to see me again," I told her. She smiled sheepishly. "And I'm not that much older than you, I'm 30, not a creepy old man," I added jokingly.

"See, it's that sort of response that makes me willing to give this a try, but maybe if this works out, no gifts or gestures for a while?" she asked.

"Done, and again, I'm sorry, I just wanted to make you happy," I said, grateful that she hadn't chosen to leave. "I need to pull a few things out of the oven over the next twenty minutes or so. Join me in the kitchen? I'll open a bottle of wine."

"Wine sounds really nice right now," she said with an embarrassed smile. I led her to the island and poured two glasses from a bottle of wine I'd picked up yesterday.

"To a Christmas that sucks a little bit less than it would have," I said, raising my glass. She giggled and took a sip, making an appreciative sound as she tasted it.

"So, hotshot, what are we having for dinner? This apron is doing it for me, by the way," she said with a mischievous grin, and I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or boldly flirtatious. I kind of hoped it was the latter.

"Look, if you're going to come onto me that strong, it's going to go to my head," I quipped back. Taking a sip of my wine, I put on a pair of oven mitts and pulled it open to check on the food.

"Oven mitts now, too? What's a girl to do?" she said in a mock breathless voice while fanning herself with her hand, and I laughed with her.

"Alright, alright, easy Dani," I said. "I cook, but don't get too excited until you taste the food. For all I know it's going to be terrible, and we'll be ordering takeout Chinese food."

"I'm sure it will be perfect. And in all seriousness, I've never had a man cook for me before, so thank you. Plus, given our relationship up to this point, it's nice to see you wearing the apron for once," she joked. I pulled a green bean casserole and a corn casserole out of the oven, testing them for doneness. "Oh, no way! This is exactly what my family would be having right now," she said, excitedly and a little melancholic at the same time. "I can't believe you're going through all this trouble for me."

"Me either, to be honest, but only because I can make way better dishes to impress a first date. My hot take is that Christmas food is only good because of nostalgia. That's why we only eat it on the holiday," I said.

"Mm, you're probably right about most of it, but I swear to God if you slander green bean casserole like that again I'll have you banned from my store," she joked. I raised my hands defensively.

"Alright, not green bean casserole," I agreed. "But can we talk about the stuff that Midwesterners call salads?"

"That depends," she replied, "are you from here originally?"

"Born and raised just outside Chicago," I replied.

"Then oh my God yes, they're disgusting. Whose horrible idea was it to put marshmallows and oranges in lime Jell-O and serve it as a side dish?" she said, laughing.

"Why'd you need to know where I was from?" I asked.

"Oh, because if you were from somewhere else and maligning Midwestern culture I would have told you they were the greatest culinary inventions since sliced bread," she replied as though it was obvious. I laughed.

"Maybe that misplaced pride is why we keep making them," I postulated.

"Could be."

"So, where in Minnesota are you from? Minneapolis?" I asked.

"Oh, I wish. Nope, a small little town in the middle of nowhere that you've never heard of. I went to the University of Minnesota though and then came here for my master's program at DePaul."

"What are you studying?" I asked curiously.

"Finance. I know, boring," she said.

"Maybe, but useful. I did my undergrad in finance," I told her. We continued chatting about her school while I pulled and prepped the last dishes and then served the food on two plates. I took off the apron and hung it up. By the time we sat down, I had poured the remainder of the wine into our glasses.

Conversation flowed easily as we ate, and I found myself growing more attracted to the beautiful woman in front of me as I learned more about her. It had been far too long since I'd taken the time to go on a date, and far longer since I'd been on a good one. I couldn't be certain, but she seemed to be enjoying herself as well, and as we finished dinner, I found myself hoping that our date wouldn't end just yet.

"Can I interest you in dessert?" I asked her.

"That depends, did you go all out and do that as well as this amazing dinner?" she asked.

"Sorry, but no, I bought a pie at the grocery store," I responded.

"Then I'll pass for now, not because I don't like pie, but because I am beyond full. I would have said yes if you had made it, just to be a good guest, but I might have felt sick later," she said with a smile.

"Drinks, then? Maybe you'll stay a while and change your mind about dessert," I said, more forward than I usually was.

"Maybe," she replied enigmatically, making eye contact with me as she did. My god, she was unbelievably gorgeous.

"What can I get you to drink? More wine? Something stronger?" I asked.

"I'd love a whiskey if you have one," she replied.

"A woman after my own heart." I bustled about, grabbing some glasses. "Ice?" I asked her.

"Neat," she replied, and I poured two glasses of my favorite bourbon and brought them over. She took her glass and had a sip, nodding appreciatively. My eyes lingered on her full lips as she drank, and I quickly cleared my mind, not wanting to be creepy -- I'd already dodged that bullet a few times today and didn't feel like pressing my luck.

"Come here," I said, offering my hand. She took it and stood up to join me, and I lead her around to the couch in my living room, where she sat down. I sat a few inches to her side, leaving her space to be respectful. Whether consciously or not, she shifted, closing that gap and sitting against me.

"Can I show you something?" I asked her. She looked at me with a smirk.

"As long as that's not the worst attempt I've ever heard to initiate sex, then yes," she joked. I laughed and smiled.

"No, I did something to celebrate the holiday, I promise you that that is not one of my moves," I said with a smile.

"And just what are your moves?" she asked. I looked at her, trying to be mysterious.

"You'll have to wait and see," I said, realizing as I said it that I was being extremely bold. She just looked at me, eyes twinkling with amusement, but didn't say anything else.

"So, what *is* it that you want to show me?" she asked after a moment. I cleared my throat theatrically.

"Hey Google, it's Christmas time," I said to the speaker on my mantle. Instantly, the lights around my apartment dimmed and changed colors to red and green. The fancy electric fireplace turned on, and Sinatra's voice filled the air, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas playing from the speakers in various spots around the condo.

Dani looked at me for a few seconds and then burst out laughing.

"That is the corniest thing that has ever happened. Ever," she laughed. "And I absolutely love it," she added, rubbing her arm against mine as she snuggled next to me. "Thank you so much for that, if this doesn't work out, at least I will always have that memory," she said with a grin. I smiled and put my arm around her, rubbing her right shoulder. She leaned her head onto mine and my heart skipped a beat.

We sat quietly like that for a few minutes, listening to Christmas music and sipping our drinks, until I noticed she was crying softly. I put my finger under her chin and raised her face to look at her.

"What's wrong?" I asked quietly, hoping I hadn't upset her somehow.

"Nothing, I'm alright. It's just a lot. The gift was a lot before," she said, fingering the necklace. I used every ounce of willpower not to stare past it at her chest, lifting my gaze back to hers. "But this, this is amazing. You did so much to give me a Christmas that I wouldn't have had otherwise and I'm so grateful, but why? Why, Jake? I'm just the girl who makes your coffees every morning," she sobbed.