Chapter 13 Sunny
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sunny
I wake up feeling surprisingly optimistic today. Maybe I’m not entirely out of my depth with this whole running a hotel thing.
Ryder didn’t completely shoot down my idea for the Christmas Eve Gala. Okay, so he didn’t exactly throw a ticker tape parade for it, but he didn’t shut it down, either.
He worked with me. We went over the budget together, calculated how we could make it work, and he appeared actually to be on my side.
So, yeah. I’m feeling cautiously optimistic.
I hum a Christmas carol under my breath as I gather up the boxes of snowflakes, candleholders, and vintage tinsel. I’m ready to start my morning prep. I’m fueled by actual hope.
I can do what I need to by the time Christmas comes around.
This might turn out okay. The Garland Rose might not be doomed after all.
But when I step into the lobby, I freeze.
It’s absolute mayhem.
What the hell is going on?
There’s a line of guests snaking out the door, and people milling around with their phones out, giggling and whispering.
Some are in pajamas and fuzzy slippers, clutching coffee cups as if they had just run down from their rooms. Others are dressed in winter coats and hats, clearly not hotel guests.
At the center of it all is Ryder, grim-faced, in his immaculate coat, flanked by Dex and Nolan, who are valiantly trying to maintain order.
People are shoving things at him —napkins, receipts, even a Christmas ornament —and handing them to him for an autograph from the holiday celebrity.
Flash after flash goes off as guests pose for selfies with him. A little girl is hugging his leg, squealing about meeting “the real Christmas prince.”
I blink a few times. This is what’s happening right now?
I can’t even tell where the line ends. It’s some weird Ryder-themed fan event, except no one got the memo about how this whole thing was supposed to go down. Was this his idea? Or did this happen all on its own, without anyone realizing what was happening?
One of the pajama-clad women nudges me as I stand frozen in the doorway, her phone screen in my face as she tries to get a selfie with me in the background.
“Isn’t he just the cutest? I mean, you know, from Snowed in With Santa. How does it feel, working with the Christmas Prince?”
I try to smile, but I’m pretty sure it comes out as a twitch of horror.
“I’m not sure how to feel about it,” I say weakly, my mind whirling with a hundred things at once. “It’s interesting.”
The woman doesn’t seem to notice my panic. She’s caught up in snapping another picture, probably planning to caption it with something along the lines of “met a real-life holiday star and now my Christmas is complete.”
Meanwhile, the flash from another phone goes off directly in front of me, temporarily blinding me.
I look back at Ryder, who’s still stuck in the middle of this absurd, overwhelming scene. His usual stern expression is more of a stone mask, and I can tell he’s running on fumes.
He’s not handling this well. I can’t blame him.
A woman pushes through the crowd, holding out a gift bag. “Mr. Hale! I just wanted to give you this for all your hard work over the years. You really made my kids’ Christmases unforgettable.”
He takes the gift with a tight smile, nodding politely. His eyes are darting around the room, probably searching for an escape.
I hear a buzz behind the front desk and look over. Dex is sneaking peeks at his phone, grinning from ear to ear.
I march over to him, hands on my hips.
“Dex,” I start, trying not to sound too frantic. “What the hell is this?”
He looks up at me, practically gleaming with mischief.
“Oh, you didn’t hear? One of our guests—Lisa, I think her name is—posted a pic of Ryder yesterday with the caption: ‘Spotted: The Christmas Prince from Snowed in With Santa working at The Garland Rose Hotel! He still looks the same #ChildhoodCrush #ChristmasPrince #GarlandRoseHotel.’”
I stare at him, mouth slightly agape.
“It went viral overnight,” he continues, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “People showed up this morning, hoping for autographs and selfies. It’s like a Christmas miracle, only no one’s in on the joke.”
I take a deep breath, blinking rapidly to clear the fuzziness in my brain. This is happening. This is really happening.
And Ryder is right there, in the thick of it, an expression that suggests he’s about two seconds away from screaming.
Okay, I can do this. I can handle this. In the same way, I handle everything else by making the best of it.
I straighten up, cracking a grin for the crowd, hoping to charm them into some calm.
“Okay, okay, everyone,” I say, raising my voice to cut through the noise. “I know the Christmas Prince is looking mighty fine today, but let’s get a little order here, alright? Ryder’s a busy guy, not a public attraction, so let’s keep it moving, yeah?”
They don’t stop snapping pictures right away, but the murmur of the crowd starts to die down. Some people stop shoving things at him and turn toward me.
Good enough.
I glance toward the bar, where I see Dex casually leaning against the counter, still enjoying the chaos—time for a bit of sunshine in his day.
“Dex! Can we get some snacks and drinks ready to sell?” I call out brightly. “Maybe something festive, like eggnog or hot cocoa? We need to turn this into a win, people!”
His grin widens, probably figuring out where I’m going with this. “You got it, boss. You want me to spike that cocoa?” he asks with a wink.
“Only if you want to keep your job,” I reply with a smirk. “Let’s get things rolling and make it a party. All the proceeds go toward making the Christmas Eve Gala a reality!”
I turn back to the crowd, hoping to keep them engaged. There I spot Pearl amid the madness, leaning against the wall near the bar with an amused look on her face.
She’s watching the scene unfold like it’s some private show, her glass of wine held loosely in one hand. Her gaze flicks to me for a moment, and I can’t help but give her a brief nod, a silent acknowledgment.
She gives a small, approving smile, as if to say, you’re handling this just fine, kid.
I smile at her, making my announcement.
“We’ve got drinks and snacks for sale right here, folks. Let’s make it a toast to Ryder’s holiday fame! You can even take a picture with the Christmas Prince while you sip your cocoa. But just remember, this is a hotel, not a theme park.”
I start directing the guests toward the bar and lounge area. A few people glance around, then follow my suggestion.
As more guests shuffle toward the snacks and drinks, the lobby begins to settle into normalcy. I catch Ryder’s eye from across the room, and for the first time today, he looks slightly relieved.
I’m still not sure if I can pull this all off.
But if I can keep the guests happy, and keep Ryder sane through the madness, we might just have a chance.