Good Elf Gone Wrong: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

“You don’t think it’s weird?” I asked to Dakota the next day when we were five hours deep into decorating for Kelly’s wedding at the historic Canal Club on the water, where rich families of Manhattan used to host their families in the summer.

Yes, this was where I had been going to get married to James. The venue was beautiful—black-and-white marble floor, high plaster ceilings decorated with mythical creatures, huge brass-and-crystal chandeliers with real gas lights. The place had been dilapidated for years, crumbling and disintegrating, until some nameless developer had bought it, painstakingly renovated it, and turned it into one of the hottest wedding event venues in the area.

Too bad I hadn’t gotten to have my wedding there. What stung more was, even if I did marry Hudson—which wasn’t going to be likely since he had just ghosted me after that intense night where I thought we were having a connection—my family was just going to say I was copying Kelly’s idea.

I looked around wistfully. I had kept the decorations more minimal than at the Canning Factory, so that the architecture of the space could really shine.

My phone buzzed, and I scrambled for it.

Hudson: Sorry for running off. Something came up with work.

Hudson: I’ll come by to see you.

Gracie: We’re almost done for the day.

Gracie: See you for dinner?

“Wow,” I said, staring at my phone, the screen swimming in my vision as I tried not to cry. “It took him eight hours to respond to my message. What an asshole.”

Dakota gave me a knowing look.

“I know,” I said dejectedly. “I know you said not to fall for him.” I wiped my nose.

“He’s a bad boy. That’s what they do,” she said gently. “Look, you had a night of romance-book-worthy passion. Be appreciative of that, but be prepared to block him and move on with your life.”

“I guess.” I sighed. “It’s just the whole thing feels a little off?”

“It’s the postorgasm letdown. You’re always worried about getting your next fix. That’s why bad boys are dangerous,” she said matter-of-factly. “They make you feel special, like you’re the most important thing in their life, then they treat you like shit and expect you to take it. Don’t play his game. Tell him not to come over unless he’s going to fuck your sister.”

I winced.

“You just gave that man $3,000.” Dakota shook me. “Therefore I better see a marriage end in a fiery explosion in”—she checked her watch—“thirty-six hours.”

My fingers hesitated over the text messaging app.

“Hudson does not love you,” Dakota stated in a low voice. “He is incapable of loving you. He is an asshole, and that makes him attractive and fun for a hookup situation. That does not make him suitable for the type of life you want to build.”

“Hudson said he was falling for me,” I said desperately.

“He was lying. He is a bad boy. That’s how they are, and Hudson seems like he’d be the worst of the bunch.”

I knew what my friend and cousin said was true, and yet, if Hudson had shown up and whisked me away in his arms, I’d forgive him for everything.