CHAPTER 154
Words : 964
Updated : Oct 12th, 2020
"Please tell me that's a plate of cookies for yourself and not for Santa. . . " Jake says, his eyebrows raised as I walk into the living room, proudly holding the plate in front of me. I stop in my tracks and frown at him, looking down at the cookies sadly.
"But . . . it's tradition," I say sadly, giving him my wide puppy dog eyes. He groans loudly and slaps his hand over his eyes —
"Aunty Myra, this is what I'm talking about! She's obsessed with Christmas! It's slightly worrying!" He exclaims,...
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