Page 65 of Christmas off Script
Oh, no. You’ve made it weird! Abort!
Pulling away, she focused on the chocolate, popping it in her mouth. ‘Hugs and chocolate!’ she said with forced cheerfulness. ‘All a girl ever needs.’
Biting through the crisp shell, Ella resisted the urge to moan as the perfect amount of chocolate, sugar, cream and praline coated her tongue.
‘Well, you’ve got forty-six left,’ Leo replied.
She risked a glance up. ‘Hugs?’
He pulled a face as he ate his chocolate, then swallowed. ‘The supply of them is infinite. I meant the chocolates. You’ve got two a day.’
‘And you’d be happy for me to eat both of them?’
There was the briefest of pauses. ‘Absolutely.’
‘Sharing is caring?’
He grinned. ‘And supports one of the many meanings of Christmas.’
‘Along with peace and goodwill to all men—’
‘And women.’
‘And batteries not included?’
‘One hundred per cent!’ Leo paused, then shuddered. ‘Did I ever tell you about the Christmas where our folks didn’t have enough batteries for all the toys they’d bought us?’
‘No. What happened?’
‘Mom and Mammy took the batteries out oftheirtoys and gave them to us…’
Ella shrieked. ‘Oh, my god! No way!’
Leo shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe the story himself. ‘Yes way. You know what they’re like. Enormous libidos.’
‘But even bigger hearts.’
He smiled. ‘Very true. I wouldn’t change them for the world.’ He lifted the present she’d given him. ‘Can I unwrap mine now?’
‘Yep!’ Ella loved watching Leo opening gifts she’d made. He was like the proudest parent, always loving whatever she’d produced, even if she wasn’t entirely happy with the quality.
He tore the paper, then held up the advent calendar she’d made, his eyes alight. ‘Holy shit, Ella! This is incredible!’
She’d drawn Foxbrooke Manor, with numbers on the windows and a twenty-four on the front door.
Leo ran his finger over the illustrations, as if Ella had just presented him with his first child who’d been born clutching a winning lottery ticket. Finding the window with a number one, he carefully opened it, then burst out laughing. ‘Me! As Santa!’
‘I couldn’t have drawn anyone else for the first window.’
‘You could have drawn you?’
‘But I don’t live here.’
He gazed at her askance. ‘Firstly, yes, you do live here. And selfishly, I never want you to leave. And second, you’re my BFFFFFFF, so you have to be behind at least one of the windows.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Have you drawn Dad’s bloody dogs?’
‘Maybe.’
‘And did you draw Perry and Bridget?’
