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“But I could have, and it would be dead now because of you.”
“Shut up. Your imaginary cat is fine. Besides, you have allergies.”
“He’s hypoallergenic.”
I shudder. “Not one of those inside-out skinless cats?” I gag.
“I think you mean furless. And no. If it’s my cat fantasy, then I’m not allergic anymore and I can have a floofball.”
Her wordscat fantasyimmediately makes me think of Dash calling me Kitten and my cheeks start to heat.
“Are you blushing? You are! Spill the beans, street brat.”
“Don’t,” I groan, thinking of Wint. “Let’s just say it’s complicated, but I’m safe, and leave it at that.”
Elle scowls at me but, surprisingly, lets it go.
“Well, you’ll have to swing by my place at some point and grab your present!”
“Will do. Are you having a nice time?”
“The best. Except, family. You know? It would be perfect if I were here all alone!” I laugh. Elle doesn’t mean it, she adores her family. She just adores them a little less when they’re all stuck together under one bit – albeit huge – roof.
“Met any gorgeous Scottish lords in kilts yet? How old did you say Harold was?” I wiggle my brows at her. “Gonna give him your Z-card?”
“It’s a V card, you knobhead.”
“Yours isn’t anymore. You’ve clung on to it so long you’ve reached the terminus.”
“Meaning?”
“If you don’t get laid soon you’ll expire!”
“Ellie, what does getting laid mean?”
“Good one, dickhead!” Elle hisses before turning back to the precocious nine year old eavesdropping in the background. “It means opening your presents. I’ll be along to do it in a minute.”
“Yay!” she screams. “Ellie says we can all get laid in a minute!”
I burst into fits of laughter as Elle’s face resembles‘The Scream’.“What have I done?” She groans.
“Nothing. Just say she misunderstood or misheard you. Whatever.”
“Elle?” My laughter dries up the minute I hear his voice and I freeze. “Why is Mr. Donnachaidh’s granddaughter screaming that we’re all getting laid?”
“Oh stop showing off that you can say his name and I can’t. Just call him Harold.”
“Don’t fraternise with the staff, Elle. It’s unbecoming.”
“Bite me asshole or I’ll give you some more broken ribs,” Elle threatens.
“Broken ribs?” The question slips past my lips against my will.
“Oh yeah, babe, look at this!” She crows, flipping the camera around on her phone so that Aiden fills my vision.
Only, it barely looks like Aiden.
One eye is completely swollen shut, the other is black and blue, there are cuts and scrapes all over his face, a split lip and his nose is definitely broken. Maybe in more than one place.
