Good Elf Gone Wrong: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

hat are we going to do, Pugnog?” I said early the next morning as I stood in the doorway of the Canning Factory venue, gazing out over the remains of the wedding kickoff party from last night.

Hudson had not shown up for breakfast. I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not.

I wished he had shown up, if for nothing else so that he would kiss me again. That first kiss with him had been single-handedly the most amazing kiss I had ever had in my life, ever. And if he made love like he kissed … well, I didn’t have any anxiety about losing my virginity to him.

“You’re perverted,” I whispered to myself harshly. “He’s not attracted to you. He didn’t kiss you good night, and he certainly didn’t invite you upstairs to continue what he started.”

I pulled on my rubber gloves. I wished my parents had just hired a cleaning company, but Kelly and James wanted to save money to help start them on the right path for married life.

At least being alone gave me the perfect opportunity to replay every single awkward interaction I’d had with Hudson last night.

“You’re a terrible kisser,” I berated myself as I stuffed used linen napkins into a garbage sack to take home and wash. “He probably went home and called some woman to come over who was actually good at sex, who he was actually attracted to.”

I tied off the top of the bag.

I hadn’t made a dent in the cleaning. I had been hoping to reuse some of the decorations for the wedding. The wedding that was still on. I chewed my lip and wondered if Hudson was going to bill me soon. I’d better scrounge up some cash.

I slumped in a chair.

In the morning sunlight, the broken pipe looked even worse. And even though Hudson had cleaned up the water last night, I was sure the venue was going to have a fit and charge a ton of money. The form I had signed when renting the venue meant I had assumed liability for any damages. Yes, I had signed the form against my better judgment, because Kelly was too busy not working to actually rent her own party venue. The Canning Factory had my credit card info; they were going to charge me an insane amount.

Which, I realized when I checked my credit card account, would be a real freaking problem for me, seeing as how the card was close to maxed out. The venue owner was going to take me to court. I would have a record. I could go to jail.

“You have a shopping problem,” I told myself. “This New Year you’re going to get healthy and stop spending so much money.”

Gracie: Can you ask Emily if she can contribute some money for the pipe repair? The venue is going to charge me.

Dad: Don’t worry. She left some cash! *smiley face emoji*

I breathed out a sigh of relief. Emily, a high-powered attorney, was not the easiest to deal with.

My dad sent me a photo of three $100 bills on a tabletop.

Gracie: I think it’s going to cost more than that …

Dad: Really? Can you just pay the venue, sweetheart, and James will reimburse you?

“Argh!”

Pugnog dragged himself up from where he was napping on a pile of garland I had spread out to dry.

I sat down in the middle of the mess, feeling hopeless. At this point, James and my sister owed me thousands for the wedding. I had a sinking feeling I was never going to see any of that money. At least with the decorations I could repurpose them for other uses or donate them to a local retirement home or hospice.

But this pipe? It was going to be a huge expense. One I couldn’t afford.

I felt my chest tighten with panic.

Maybe if Dakota had been here she could have helped talk me off the ledge, but her parents had insisted on having breakfast with her because, We never see you ever since you abandoned us for New York City.

Guilt tripping is an art form in my family.

The lump was forming in my throat, and I felt tears prickle at my eyes.

“It’s going to be fine,” I told myself. “James and Kelly haven’t paid you back for the other wedding decorations because they’re busy. Planning a wedding is stressful, and you get tunnel vision. That’s probably why you had no idea James and Kelly were having an affair last year.”

I balled my fists up. Pugnog licked me on the ankle in concern.

“I am not crying over that,” I whispered to myself angrily. “It’s been a year, and I am over it. I even have a grand revenge plan. I am a woman in charge of my own life.”

Unfortunately, my life was pretty lackluster, I realized, my stomach in a knot of anxiety and existential dread. My credit card was maxed out. I was going to spend Christmas in jail. Hudson thought I was gross, my sister was marrying my ex, and my job was low paying and sucked.

“Just focus,” I told myself as I hyperventilated. “Clean up the venue then go home and bake cookies and listen to Christmas music.”

I leaned over, feeling lightheaded. Pugnog barked in concern.

Faintly, I heard a man’s boots on the old wood floor.

“Gracie. Gracie.” Hudson shook me roughly. “What happened?”

“I’m going to jail,” I squeaked. “Also I think I’m going to pass out.”

I fanned myself and leaned over to rest on the bag of dirty linen napkins and closed my eyes. Maybe I would just live here. I could tell the venue I could be the live-in caretaker like Quasimodo.

“I don’t understand.” Hudson patted my face in concern, almost like a worried boyfriend.

He is not your boyfriend, and that’s good, because he’s not your type.

Even if he was a panty-droppingly good kisser.

Maybe it was because he was a familiar face or maybe I ate too much bacon at breakfast, but all I wanted was for him to wrap me in his arms and hug me and tell me everything was going to be okay.

You’re an adult. Yes, a virgin, and yes, you are currently sleeping in your childhood bedroom surrounded by all your toys, but you are still technically an adult, and you need to act like one.

“I’m sorry,” I told Hudson. “This isn’t your problem. I know you’re not really my boyfriend, and you don’t even like me.”

His face darkened for a moment.

I sighed and forced myself to sit up and gestured helplessly to the broken pipe.

“The venue is going to charge my card, and it’s already almost maxed out, so I won’t be able to pay, and they’re going to send me to jail for the damage,” I explained, almost succeeding in keeping my voice from warbling though my chin trembled there at the end.

“Gracie,” Hudson said gently, taking my hand. “The venue isn’t going to send you to jail. I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” I argued, already accepting my fate of spending Christmas in prison. I was crafty and was sure I could repurpose Styrofoam food trays to snowflake decorations.

“This is a huge expensive pipe, and I signed a form promising I’d pay for damages. Honestly, I’d rather go to jail than beg James for money to reimburse me. He’s so awful. Did you know he never paid a dime for his last wedding?” I said, feeling even more low. “I spent tens of thousands of dollars and poof! It’s all gone. James acted like I was asking for his kidney whenever I would try to get him to pay for it. Now this. I don’t want to spend Christmas in jail.” I let out a sob and tried to control myself.

“It will be okay, Gracie.”

“It won’t.”

Hudson rubbed his jaw.

He hesitated a second then said, “I know everything will be fine because I own this building.”

“You what? How? It’s huge. I thought you were a janitor.”

“I used my military bonus,” he said with a shrug. “Got a good deal. No one wants to invest in the Gulch.”

I looked around at the cavernous space.

Hudson owned all of this?

“I think I severely miscalculated you,” I said to him after a moment.

“Stop it,” he said brusquely.

“What?”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m like I’m some sort of catch, like I’d be a good husband. I’m not.”

“I know. You made that pretty clear already.”

He scowled.

Whatever. Screw him.

“I’ll fix the pipe and bill James directly,” he stated.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” I said stubbornly. “You’re not my boyfriend, and you don’t need to do favors for me. You’re running a business. You should treat me like any other patron who ruined your property.”

Hudson sighed, annoyed. “This is just a side thing.”

“Don’t undervalue yourself,” I lectured. “Property management is no joke.”

“I don’t need you giving me lectures on how to run a business.”

“I’m giving you a lecture on knowing your worth. Now put me on a payment plan,” I insisted.

“Sugarplum, you are going to be the death of me.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Just let people do nice things for you.”

“Your nice things come with strings attached.”

He gave me a sly grin.

“Do they?”

He easily swung me to my feet.

“You’ve spent the last three days here cooped up decorating,” he stated. “It’s Christmas. Go do something fun. I’ll have my team clean.”

The lure of spending Christmas out in my small town as opposed to cleaning was strong.

“I do like spreading Christmas cheer, but I really shouldn’t leave the venue like this. Are you sure?”

He winked at me. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

“At least take one of these Christmas trees home for your apartment,” I told him. “Kelly doesn’t deserve all this holiday cheer.”