Page 11 of The Holiday Exchange

I smile at his enthusiasm. “I’m convinced you’d be excited over any small-town references.”

“Maybe.” He runs his fingers over my framed high school diploma. “I like that it hints at what your childhood was like.”

“Minus feeling out of sorts as one of the only gay kids in town, this was a nice area to grow up. My parents are awesome. Was your childhood that different?”

“Besides the large versus small city?” he asks, and I nod. “My parents were always attending galas, traveling, and pretty much leaving us to fend for ourselves. Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t neglected and always had everything we needed, but you seem so much closer with your parents than I ever was.”

I wave a hand. “The grass is always greener and all that because truth be told, I felt a bit isolated here—suffocated too. Like I said, it’s why I chose Boston.”

Dawson glances out the window toward the back of our property, where tree saplings and the base of the mountain are in clear view. “I can understand that.”

I show him more of my trophies earned mainly from town fairs for stuff like apple-bobbing and pie-eating contests. Dawson seems even more enchanted, so I chalk it up to him watching his fair share of Hallmark movies. We ignore the bed issue—at least it’s not a single—and head back downstairs, where my mom has set out cheese and crackers and freshly baked cookies to tide us over until dinner. “Thought you might be hungry.”

“Thank you,” Dawson replies, reaching for a plate and digging right in. Outside of his nerves in the car, his enthusiasmis catching. His resiliency too for finding comfort in situations he’s unfamiliar with. There’s a lot to learn from his outlook on life.

I pop a chunk of cheddar in my mouth. “Dad headed back to work?”

“Of course.” She winks. “And don’t worry, you don’t have to help—not with a guest in town.”

“I’d love to see the business,” Dawson says around a hearty bite of a cookie. “I’m fine to head over there.”

I meet Mom’s eyes, and there’s a twinkle there because she’s enjoying this—me bringing a guy home. We retrieve our coats, and I hand Dawson a pair of waterproof boots to slide into. “We always keep extra pairs.”

He blinks a few times like he’s trying to take it all in. “Thanks.”

Outside the wind has picked up, so I adjust my hat over my ears and turn toward our snowmobiles stored on the side of the house.

“You two go ahead,” Mom says, zipping her coat to her chin. “I feel like a walk.”

“I don’t mind walking either,” Dawson says, throwing me a pointed look.

“Are you sure?” I mouth, and he nods vigorously.

Dawson takes a step back. “Please, lead the way.”

“Will do,” Mom and I say in unison, and I bark out a laugh.

Dawson grins. “My brother and I do that all the time.”

I try to envision the two of them as kids, finishing each other’s sentences or getting on each other’s nerves, but it’s hard.

“Brother?” Mom inquires.

I throw him a quick glance. “Uh, Dawson has a twin named Nathan.”

“How lovely.” She glances at me. “Can you tell them apart?”

“Oh God, definitely,” I blurt, then clear my throat because my response was way too telling.

“I keep my hair a bit longer than my brother’s,” Dawson thankfully interjects. “Our personalities are different too. He’s all corporate whereas I own a small beverage business in town. It’s called Sip and Savor.”

Mom’s cheeks are rosy as she grins. “Is that how you met?”

“Yes,” I reply, “it’s down the street from my office building.” Glad we had this conversation in the car, seeing as it’s coming alive now. “His lattes and smoothies are the best. The wraps too.”

“We’ll have to try them our next visit to Boston.”

“Yes, ma’am…I mean, Donna.”