Good Elf Gone Wrong: A Holiday Romantic Comedy
Good Elf Gone Wrong: Chapter 22

“What a lovely party,” my great-aunt Myrtle was gushing at the top of her voice. Every so often, her hearing aids gave a loud, long beep.

“Where is the man of the hour?” her sister asked.

Good question. Where was James? Maybe he had found someone to cheat on Kelly with, and I could politely tell Hudson that his services were no longer needed.

“Kelly likes to make a big entrance,” I reminded my aunts. “She probably has James backstage with her.”

“That sentient lump of dried whale sperm? No, I meant him.” She lowered her voice to what I’m sure she thought was a whisper. “The one from the photo that you had sex with in a gas station dumpster.”

“Good news and misinformation sure do travel fast in our family.”

“I haven’t seen a member that big since they banned Playgirl,” her sister, Lottie, said to me. Both elderly women fanned themselves. “My sugar went sky-high when I saw that photo.”

“Aunt Myrtle!” Dakota kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t call it a member.”

“We started charging because so many of our neighbors at the retirement community wanted to see it,” Aunt Myrtle said.

Oh no. Hudson was going to kill me.

“Bertha thinks it might be a scam. We promised her we’d see for ourselves. So where is he?”

“Hudson might have to work,” I said desperately.

I’d been at the venue all afternoon, putting up the finishing touches. I had half expected Hudson to show up, my dark knight in blackened armor.

Maybe he skipped town. Maybe he decided that $5,000 wasn’t worth it to deal with my family.

I tugged at the hem of my cocktail dress.

Squeezed into the strappy heels, my feet felt numb. I wished he would have told me he wasn’t coming. I would have worn flats.

One of my dad’s cousins, Emily, came into the venue, her two teenage daughters sulking behind her.

They perked up when they saw me.

“Where the famous boyfriend?” one of the teens asked me, twirling a strand of her hair, which was done up in bows and clips and was reminiscent of how I had tried and failed to wear my hair in middle school.

Everything was just one big redux. Even weddings.

“Kelly probably knows,” her sister said snidely.

Man, teenage girls really know how to find your weak spots and dig the knife in.

“Gracie is having a mental health crisis,” their mom scolded them. “Don’t make fun of her.”

“Actually, I’m fine,” I said.

Emily gave me a blandly sympathetic smile.

“Good for you for keeping a positive attitude. If it had been me, I would have married the asshole, done the whole marriage song and dance for a few months, then divorced him and cleaned him out and bought a nice cottage on a lake.”

“That’s why Holbrook Enterprises pays you the big bucks.” I gave her a pained smile.

“Where’s the gift table, dear? My husband has your sister’s present. And really, you didn’t need to send back the stand mixer I bought you for your wedding. You could have kept it.”

“I rent a tiny New York City apartment. I don’t have room for a stand mixer.”

“I told you, you could have come stayed with me. Kenny has an extra bed. Kenny, watch out,” Emily snapped as an eight-year-old boy on a scooter slammed into me.

“Say ‘sorry, Gracie,’” his father scolded, running up to him.

“I told you I wanted McDonald’s,” Kenny screamed while I rubbed the back of my legs.

“The scooter is an outside toy,” his father said over the screaming.

“I need to go make sure my daughters don’t get into the holiday punch,” Emily told me.

“Is it the same punch as at your wedding last year? That was really good. And the spicy cheese straws were …” Emily’s husband trailed off as his wife glared at him.

“We have a spiked and nonspiked punch option,” I told them weakly. “Enjoy the party.”

I could feel a bruise forming on my leg.

I went to the drink table and grabbed a Christmas Cosmo, sipping the syrupy red drink.

The venue was crowded with family and friends, and everyone was talking about me. They were either whispering to each other or, in the case of several elderly family members, talking at the top of their lungs about how it was quite the shock last year when the wedding was abruptly canceled, and isn’t it nice that Grace is finally getting back out there, and where is that young man anyway?

I huddled behind a column as I tried to tune out one of my aunts talking to a family friend who was saying that this engagement party was so much better than the last one, and wasn’t it just fantastic they used a different wedding planner.

Gulping my drink, I wondered if I should make a break for it and grab some cheese straws. What if my teenage cousins were right and Hudson was with Kelly? They could be hooking up right at that moment. He was probably telling her that she was perfect and secretly glad that he didn’t have to have sex with boring, unexperienced me.

Yeah, I was definitely going to need those cheese straws and another drink. Head bent down, hoping no one would notice me, I held my breath and ducked back into the crowded engagement party.

“Gracie.” My mother grabbed my arm. “Where is Kelly? She’s supposed to make her big entrance soon. Can you go find her and make sure she doesn’t need anything?”

“Sure, Mom,” I said, flashing back to my big entrance at my wedding welcome party exactly a year ago.

As I headed through the crowd, the chatter of voices at the party slowly morphed into gasps of surprise. All the people in their holiday finery parted, and there was Hudson.

He wasn’t wearing his skullcap, and his black hair was swept off his forehead and parted severely on the right. The collar of his leather jacket was turned up. In black jeans and heavy boots, he was even more underdressed than the valets.

“You made it,” I said feeling slightly out of breath. I really needed to actually stick to my New Year’s resolution to be healthy. Clearly things were getting dire.

Was this dress too small for me?

Yes.

Was it impossible to breathe?

Also yes.

Had I skipped breakfast and was now seeing beef Wellington and Christmas cookies blowing kisses and winking suggestively at me in the corner of my eye?

Yep, but it was worth it to see Hudson’s eyes slide from the top of my head with the messy updo my cousins had tamed my curls into, to the subtle swell of cleavage in my black bolero cocktail dress, down my curves that had been Spanxed into submission, to the high-heeled shoes and back up again.

See? Just because I was a virgin didn’t mean I was a little girl.

Hudson reached out, hooked two fingers in the top of the dress bodice, and pulled me to him.

“I can’t wait to take that dress off you tonight,” he said, leaning in to kiss my neck, where my pulse jumped.

He’s not interested in you. Don’t throw yourself at him.

It was going to be like that time in eighth grade when Claire stole my notebook and saw me making up wedding monograms for me and Franklin Prescott the Fourth and told everyone I was a delusional stalker.

It was too late. Hudson smelled amazing, and I relished the feel of his hard muscles as I looped my arm through his. I could definitely see why my sister constantly chased bad boys.

You’re not thinking rationally. Those Christmas Cosmos were strong, and you didn’t eat all day.

“She’s obviously with him for one reason,” one of my mom’s friends joked.

“Certainly an upgrade from James,” another woman said.

“I just got divorced. Maybe I’ll take a walk on the wild side,” Mitsy joked.

“Please. He’s with her for her money. They’ll have a fast marriage, then six months from now we’ll hear about all the messy details on a true crime podcast,” Claire’s mom said.

Under my fingertips, I could feel Hudson tense up.

Somehow it was easier to defend other people from mean comments than myself.

I turned to Claire’s mom.

“Actually,” I said loudly, “I’ll have you know he’s not with me for my money. Because I don’t have any. My dad hasn’t given me a dime since I finished college. He wanted us kids to be independent. He’s even underpaying me at the job I work.”

“Wait. I thought Kelly said he paid her credit card,” Claire said in a slightly nasally tone.

I clenched my jaw. “Shockingly, the rules are different for my younger sister. Come on, Hudson. Let’s get you a drink. You got here a little late, and I saw all my senior relatives pilfering the hard liquor, so you might have to survive on wine.”

“Psst!” Granny Murray waved us over. “Hey, handsome!” She lifted up her skirt.

Hudson sucked in a breath.

“Gran, please. This is a nice party,” I begged.

My grandmother pulled out a bottle of whisky from a thigh holster and a glass out of her bra.

“Someone has to take care of this poor man, Gracie,” she said, handing Hudson a glass and filling it up.

“Don’t!” I tried to snatch it from her. “We need to wash that.”

“What? It’s not like I was hiding it up my snatch.”

Hudson knocked the drink back.

“He really knows how to bring the heat,” Granny Murray said appreciatively as Hudson handed her the glass back.

“I need some cheese straws and another drink.” I massaged my temples.

“Good fucking luck with these lushes here. You put out free food and alcohol, and family members you haven’t seen in a decade show up.”

“Up yours! I’m here for the drama!” yelled one older woman with pink hair and a dress that was more see-through than I would be comfortable in, but more power to her.

It wasn’t even eight thirty, and the elderly relatives were wasted.

“I bet you’re loving this then,” Granny Murray shouted at her. “This is your fantasy come to life, Mildred, considering you were the mistress, but our father had the good sense to threaten to disown my brother if he married you.”

“Mistletoe!” one of my elderly great-aunts drunkenly screamed, pointing up above my head.

“Kiss the girl!” Granny Murray hollered.

What? A kiss? Here? Now? With him?

“I, um—” I stammered.

Around me, all my relatives tapped their silverware on their goblets and cocktail glasses like we were the soon-to-be-married couple they were all here to celebrate. No, we weren’t going to be using disposables at my sister’s engagement party—cheating whore or not, some of us had standards.

Hudson’s arm came around my waist.

I pressed my hand against his chest, under the thin T-shirt fabric, below the plates of muscle, his heartbeat under my fingertips.

Was I cut from the same unwholesome cloth as my sister? Probably. Because all I wanted to do in that moment was kiss my fake boyfriend.

DO IT! Dakota mouthed off to the side.

Hudson wasn’t waiting for me to finish having an existential crisis.

“We don’t—” I managed to squeak out, right before he grabbed me by the back of the neck, pulled me to him, and crushed our mouths together.

I had never been kissed like that before. It was like jumping out of a plane into the middle of a blizzard.

Though the hand against the back of my neck was hard, unyielding, holding me in place so he could claim my mouth, his lips were soft. He tasted like freshly fallen snow, pure and exhilarating.

I clung to him, my fingers digging into his shirt as his tongue swept in my mouth, stealing my breath, tossing me every which way in a storm of desire.

He withdrew, the kiss gradually subsiding, his mouth lingering on mine as I gasped for breath.

“That—that was—”

It was like being kissed by a man is what that was.

Hudson nuzzled my neck softly then whispered in my ear.

“You look like you just got dragged by a snowplow. Smile, Sugarplum.”

I wasn’t sure if my sister thought she was missing her cue or if she had a sixth sense for someone else being the center of attention, but the DJ suddenly blared “All I Want for Christmas,” and Kelly sashayed out onto the low stage.

“I know what I want for Christmas,” Hudson said, ignoring my father, who was trying to get everyone’s attention.

Then Hudson started some sort of club dancing that I was neither coordinated nor popular enough to know how to do. It involved a lot of his hands on my ass though.

“Partay!” Granny Murray whooped, holding up the flask of whisky.

“If you could all please turn your attention to the bride,” the DJ practically yelled out over the loudspeaker.

“Why do you taste so sweet?” Hudson murmured, cupping my chin and kissing me again as he spun me around.

His hands were sliding under my dress, right as my sister screamed, “Gracie, stop acting like a teenager. This is someone’s wedding kickoff party. It’s pathetic.”

I tugged my dress down, feeling guilty. I also didn’t want Hudson to know I had two layers of spandex on under this dress. That would be the opposite of the raw sexual power of that kiss.

Kelly didn’t wear Spanx. Actually, Kelly liked to brag that she never wore anything under her dresses.

My elderly relatives and, let’s be fair, a good handful of my nonelderly relatives were going wild.

“Take off your shirt!” someone in the audience hollered.

“Oh, stop it,” Kelly said, pretending to be offended. “This is a nice party.”

“Not you. I’m a plastic surgeon,” the man slurred. “I already know what fake tits look like. I meant him. Uh—”

“Uncle Kirk?” I said as the crowd shuffled to look at him.

He shrugged helplessly.

“Surprise, everyone. I’m bi.”

“Aw. Is this a coming-out party?”

His sister started crying and gave him a big hug. “I always knew you could live your truth.”

“Adorable,” I said and started to get teary-eyed.

“Mazel tov!” Granny Murray yelled while Granny Astelle had conniptions, her hand fluttering to her throat. “Shots all around!”

“This is not his coming-out party. This is my wedding,” my sister screamed. Her eyes, surrounded by thick eye makeup, bugged out in fury.

“Best get back in the closet, Kirk,” one uncle muttered. His wife hit him with her clutch.

James took the microphone from Kelly.

Hudson wrapped his arm possessively around my waist. Now that we’d seemingly broken the kiss-me-like-you-want-to-fuck-me barrier, he had put the car into overdrive and was rubbing his hands all over me.

It was doing things to me and probably ruining my Spanx. I shifted in my heels, trying to ease the ache between my legs.

I didn’t know what I was going to do if we did start having sex. I already felt like I was going to pass out just from having Hudson’s fingers trailing slowly up and down my dress, giving me the barest fluttering sensation.

“I just want to thank everyone for coming,” James said over the noise of people talking, either engaging in postgame analysis of The Kiss, yelling at the kids, or asking Uncle Kirk about his journey of self-discovery, and oh, by the way, could he also hook up a very supportive family member with some fillers?

“As you know,” James soldiered on, “this has been a big year for Kelly and me. Obviously, we didn’t have the most traditional start, but we are looking forward to taking the next step in growing our little family.”

“As a gynecologist,” one of my aunts interjected, “I would like to remind you that anal doesn’t make a baby. Just felt the need to clear that up. I know that’s your preferred method, based on what we all witnessed last Christmas. What?” she said as my mom yelled at her. “This week alone, I had two infertile couples who were just shocked—shocked, I tell you—at this information. This is a public service announcement. Be blessed!”

Hudson leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Can you do me a favor and hit me over the head with the Christmas punch bowl to put me out of my misery?”

I elbowed him, and he grinned against my hair.

“Just keep going, James,” my mom said.

“We’re so thrilled to celebrate with all our friends and family,” James added, taking Kelly’s hand.

“Someone control that boy,” Grandma Astelle scolded as Emily’s son zipped by on his scooter. Astelle swiped at him with her cane.

Kenny yelled and swerved around her, taking out a nearby Christmas tree. The tree went one way, ornaments flying, while the scooter went the other, right into a large pipe running up the wall.

“I am so sorry,” Emily said, stalking over to retrieve her son as she drained the rest of her glass of wine. “Forget what Abigail says. Just do anal. Your life will be a lot better. Get up,” she snapped at her son. “Stop embarrassing me.”

There was a loud hissing noise, and then water started gushing out of the pipe.

I raced over to it. All the food, the decorations, everything I had worked so hard on was going to be ruined.

“Someone get some duct tape!” I yelled.

No one was listening. My dress, my hair, and my makeup were quickly ruined by the spray of water.

“Your little brat is destroying my wedding,” Kelly was shrieking while Granny Murray yelled at everyone to save the liquor.

“I’ve got the cheese straws,” my brother called.

“You’re going to pay for this! You’re going to pay for all of this!” Kelly yelled.

“Fuck,” Emily cursed, grabbing one of the bottles of wine. “There goes my Christmas bonus.”

“At least give me a napkin?” I pleaded, trying to use my hands to hold back the water.

James approached me, holding a tablecloth over his head and wincing as a bit of the spray landed on his shoes.

“I think we need to call a plumber.”

“No shit, James.”

“I don’t know if any is going to come out here,” he added. “It’s late.”

“Not helpful,” I snapped.

Suddenly Hudson was beside me, shirtless, because what more did the night need to really push it over the edge?

“You’re just going to make it worse,” James said as Hudson picked up a huge mallet and started whacking at the pipe.

“Is everyone completely insane?” I shrieked.

Suddenly the spray of water stopped. Hudson continued to hit the pipe, which actually was a valve next to the pipe.

“It gets sticky,” he explained, setting the hammer down and leaning the handle against the wall. “Sometimes you just have to bang it hard.”

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