Bromfield Hall @bromfieldhall - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
Bromfield Hall
@bromfieldhall
Welcome to Bromfield Hall, a fan blog on all the shows and pairings I love to watch - new or old. I'm in the UK and had far too many birthdays to bother counting anymore. This is NOT a spoiler free blog! Enjoy watching all sorts of things and am an amateur photographer. I love OUAT, Bridgerton, The Mentalist, Jisbon, CS, Polin and many more.
BRIDGERTON: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington
His Future - Little filler set from the end of the ball scene to when Colin reaches Penelope's carriage - Rated: G - Complete
A Family of Their Own - Set a few weeks after the Butterfly Ball, Penelope and Colin discover they are going to be parents. A fluffy tale with a smattering of smut - Rated: M - Complete
Dear Family - Set the day after A Family of Their Own. Colin tells his family that Penelope is expecting. Just a bit of domestic fluff with a dash of humour - Rated: G - Complete
Caught In The Act - Colin catches Penelope doing something he thinks she shouldn't - especially when she's a fair few months pregnant - Rated: G - Complete
Tongue Tied - After not being able to speak to Penelope at the Innovations Ball, Colin ponders why he suddenly got tongue tied - Rated: G - Complete
Pyewacket - Modern AU - Penelope is in love with Colin. Colin is in love with Penelope. Both think that their love is unrequited and don't want to act upon their feelings in case it ruins their friendship
Enter, Pyewacket... - Rated: M - Complete
Blame It On The Mistletoe - Modern AU - Colin and Penelope share a kiss under the mistletoe but then they're interrupted by Fife and his friends - Rated: Teen - Complete
Never Been Kissed - Modern AU - Colin finds out that Penelope has never been kissed at midnight on New Year's Eve and resolves to ensure that doesn't happen again - Rated: G - Complete
All's Fair in Love and War - When the wind catches the Hawkins balloon, Penelope is distracted and hesitates a moment too long before trying to run away. Colin is devastated that he wasn't able to save her from being injured and grows increasingly upset the longer she remains unconscious. When she finally does wake up though, he finds his problems may have only just begun... Rated: G - WIP
(Not So) Secret Admirer - Modern AU - Colin decides to secretly woo Penelope over the course of a week leading up to Valentine's Day with the aid of his siblings - Rated: G - Complete
UPDATED Always Together, Eternally Apart - Fantasy AU - Colin and Penelope have been cursed. She is a hawk by day and human by night. He is human by day and a wolf by night. Always together, yet eternally apart. Based on the film 'Ladyhawke' - Rated: G - WIP
What's Life Without a Little Fake Dating? - Modern AU - Penelope needs a date to her ex boyfriend, Alfie Debling's wedding. She thinks asking Colin to pretend to be her date for the evening could be the best, or more likely, the worst, idea she's ever had. Colin just wonders how on earth he's going to get through the evening when pretending is the last thing he wants to be doing when it comes to Penelope. Rated: G - WIP
Between The Lines - Modern AU - Penelope arrives at the annual Halloween Gala for Cowper Publishing not exactly dressed right for the occasion - Rated: G - Complete
Letters Never Sent - Just before they travel to Aubrey Hall for Christmas, Colin finds some letters in Penelope's desk, but they aren't from him - so who are from and why has she kept them a secret? - Rated: G - Complete
NEW Rust - After his fiancee's deception had left him humiliated and heartbroken, Colin had sworn off women and thrown himself into his work, hardening his heart and rejecting love. So, what do you do when the man you’re in love with barely acknowledges that you’re female let alone realise that you have feelings for him? Penelope knew exactly what she was going to do and Colin was going to hate it. Christmas Fic. Rated: M - Complete - UPDATED - EPILOGUE
The One - After years and years of hard work, musician, Colin Bridgerton, finally makes it to the big time when his new song becomes a huge success. He should be happy, he really should. It's everything he's dreamed of, except...he'd only written it in a last ditch attempt to move on from the past, and sending the demo had been a mistake, and now everyone keeps on and on asking him - just who is 'The One' he's singing about?
RATED: G - Complete
ONCE UPON A TIME: Killian Jones/Emma Swan
No Consequences - Ficlet for season 3 finale - set after Emma and Hook leave Past!Hook knocked out aboard the Jolly Roger: “I remember what you did, you know,” he muttered with a hint of resentment. “What you said to him…me, how you acted. It’s hazy, but as I stand here, I can recall everything, Emma.” - Rated: G - Complete
Just The Beginning - "I have some people I need to see," she replied with a smile before turning and running away. From him. Again. Oneshot/Filler for "There's No Place Like Home." Minor Spoilers. Rated: G - Complete
His Greatest Adventure - AU. CS. Set after Zelena has gone but no time travel ever took place and Emma hasn't got her magic back: "Well, this is awkward." Captain Hook's lightly spoken words hung in the air between them causing Emma Swan to let out a sigh and roll her eyes as she shook her head in annoyance. "You think?" she snapped irritably gesturing to the large heavy chain that joined them together - Rated: G - Complete
Glimpses of Love and Affection - "What the hell did you do that for? You could've been killed," Emma Swan accused loudly as she stalked up to the one-handed pirate who had just blocked and eventually killed a rather nasty looking flying monkey that had been almost on top of her. "I thought it was obvious, Swan. I was saving your life." Set after "Quiet Minds" then does its own thing from there. Some violence but nothing too graphic. Rated M for chapter 20 only - Rated: Teen - Complete
The Promise - AU: Zelena's time portal isn't opened up by her death and Emma leaves Storybrooke as planned after making Hook promise not to follow her - when she returns Hook is gone... Follows events through to 'Kansas' then does its own thing from there… Rated: G - Complete
Just Tonight - Modern AU - A night of unexpected passion leads to something infinitely more precious between two friends who don't realise the hidden depths of affection each has for the other. Romance/Angst and a little bit of Christmas fluffiness...eventually - Rated: M - Complete
No Quarter - The past catches up with Killian Jones as one of Hook's previous adversaries returns to wreak vengeance. Sequel to 'Glimpses of Love and Affection'. It's not a necessity to read GOLAA first but please note that I will make some references to events in that story - Rated: Teen - WIP
Hindsight is a Wonderful Thing - In answer to a group prompt on Tumblr: David's reaction to walking in on CS in a compromising position/private moment - Rated: Teen - Complete
When Did You? - Killian and Emma reveal when they first had feelings for the other - Rated: Teen - Complete
A Little Perspective - When their wedding plans threaten to overwhelm her, Killian reminds Emma just why she loves him - Rated: G - Complete
Just Forever - Modern AU - Killian and Emma spend their first Christmas together as a family. Sequel to 'Just Tonight' - Rated: G - Complete
Force of Feeling - Modern AU - Emma Swan is scared of opening her heart up to any man ever again. Love only brings pain as far as she's concerned but then she meets someone who could prove her wrong...if only she has the courage to let him in - Rated: Teen - WIP
So, Elopement? - A little divergence for 6x18. Captain Swan - Rated: G - Complete
101 Days of Captain Swan - 101 CS ficlets. Based off a list of 101 fluffy prompts. For the list go to http://bromfieldhall.tumblr.com/101days and send me a number! - Rated: Various - WIP
THE MENTALIST - Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Red Diablo - Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon had been missing from the California Bureau of Investigations for exactly fourteen hours and twenty-seven minutes. She'd gone home for a quick change of clothes and had never come back. Set after series four finale, sometime in the future - Rated: Teen - Complete
In The Dark - "Seriously, Jane, what is it with you and making me hide in small dark places?" Agent Teresa Lisbon grumbled irritably as she tried to shift one of her legs into a more comfortable position. What happens to Jane and Lisbon when they're left in the dark? Rated: G - Complete
What Makes You Beautiful - "Yesterday I made a New Year's resolution. I'm going to give myself one whole year to woo and win the love of California Bureau of Investigation's Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon." Jane's POV - Rated: Teen - Complete
Everything's Possible - Cho has some advice for the other men on the team - Rated: G - Complete
Redwood - "We're up, guys. Another body has been found dumped along the 299 a few miles south of Willow Creek this time." Jane and Lisbon are forced into a deadly game when they try to catch what they think is a new serial killer - Rated: Teen - Complete
UGLY BETTY - Gio/Betty
Painted On My Heart - Gio believes that it's over between Betty and himself and is determined to move on, but Betty has other ideas. Set after episode, 'Betty Suarez Land' then goes AU from there - Rated: Teen - Complete
A Little Hot Chocolate - "God, Suarez, it's been three months and the first thing I do when I see you again is help you out," drawled a familiar, low voice. "Looks like I'll never learn." Christmas Fic - Rated: G - Complete
He Doesn't Know - "I watch him hand over a sandwich to one of the models and notice how she eyes up the cakes as he walks away. I know exactly how she feels...I'd like to grab his buns too." Alphabet Challenge: U for Unrequited. Someone is lusting after Gio - Rated: Teen - Complete
The Morning After - "Gio chuckled and the sound washed over her like a gentle wave, bringing her body to abrupt, unwelcome awareness. When had his laugh stopped grating on her nerves?" Set the morning after S2 episode, Bananas For Betty - Rated: Teen - Complete
Nice To Eat You - Halloween Challenge - Betty walks home and encounters an old flame who's not quite the man he used to be. Y is for Yarling - Rated: G - Complete
SCARECROW AND MRS KING - Lee Stetson/Amanda King
I Am Not Now, Nor Have A Ever Been...A Spy - "Suddenly Lee had to get out of the office. He couldn't be there while they were checking hospitals and morgues for Amanda. He didn't want to think of her hurt somewhere or even worse - dead. It just made him feel sick." Filler. A scene which tells what might have happened while Lee waits for news on Amanda - Rated: G - Complete
Old Friends - An old friend helps Lee and Amanda with a case - Rated: Teen - Complete
Service Above and Beyond - Filler from the time Amanda pulled the mike from her ear and gave it back to Lee until they meet again at the house - Rated: G - Complete
Their Goes The Neighborhood - A filler that takes place in the time between Lee going to bed and them going to check on Frank Bodine's house - Rated: G - Complete
The Best Intentions - Set late first season. Lee isn't impressed with Amanda's latest attempt at helping him - Rated: G - Complete
A Hard Decision - 'That was close,' he thought to himself in relief. He felt extremely glad that he didn't have to try and explain to Amanda just why he was doing a background check on her fiancé. He shook his head in disbelief - he couldn't even explain it to himself - Rated: G - Complete
Second Honeymoon - Lee takes Amanda to London for their second honeymoon. Set a couple of years after the end of the series - Rated: G - Complete
All Is Calm - Lee reflects on how much his life has changed - Rated: G - Complete
Mistaken Identity - Filler for episode, "You Only Die Twice." Lee goes over the police files and reads about Amanda's 'death' - Rated: G - Complete
BABYLON 5 - Marcus Cole/Susan Ivanova
Valentine - "Marcus Cole ran full pelt along the corridors of Babylon 5, dodging the various lifeforms he met along the way. His mission this day was to leave a data crystal with a note outside Commander Susan Ivanova's door, ring the chime...then run like hell." Rated: Teen - Complete
Love Conquers All - Susan Ivanova meets an old friend of Marcus Cole's that may have the answer to bringing the Ranger back. A Marcus/Ivanova story set after the end of season 4 - Rated: Teen - Complete
BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER - Spike/Buffy Summers
Atonement - Buffy doesn't die at the end of S5's, The Gift, but Spike feels he's completely failed as Dawn is hurt. Just as Buffy discovers her newfound feelings for the vampire, he distances himself from the Scoobies because he feels unworthy. Will Buffy be able to prove him wrong or will the new Evil in town prove him right? - Rated: Teen - Complete
One Special Night - AU - A heated encounter with cynical stranger, William Saunders, on a winter's night gives sensible, Elizabeth Summers a chance to act out of character and leaves her with memories she'll treasure forever. But then, he unexpectedly reappears... Rated: M - Complete
Absolutely Perfect - AU: All Human. A fantasy ficlet where Spike & Buffy are captured in a moment of domestic bliss - Rated: M - Complete
The journey to Aubrey Hall was one that Penelope knew almost by heart.
There had been a time when it had meant Christmases spent surrounded by the wonderful chaos that only the Bridgerton’s seemed capable of creating. Later, it had become entangled with the moment Colin had retreated behind an armour so thick that it’d seemed to be impenetrable. And then it had become the place where she found her happy ever after – or happy new beginning depending on how you wanted to look at it.
Now, though, as late September sunshine spilled across the countryside, it simply felt like the road to family.
The fields rolled past in shades of gold and green beneath a lightly cloudy sky, hedgerows just beginning to surrender to autumn. Here and there, the trees had started to turn, their leaves touched with amber and copper that caught the afternoon light whenever the wind stirred them. Summer had not quite finished saying goodbye, but its grip was loosening with every passing day.
Penelope watched the familiar landscape go by, her fingers threaded comfortably through Colin’s where his hand rested between them on the centre console. He had reached for her once they’d left the motorway without saying a word. It was one of those little habits that had found its way into their lives over the last few months without either of them ever acknowledging when it had begun.
She smiled to herself and gently traced her thumb across the back of his hand, the charms on the bangle she still wore jangling lightly with the movement.
Colin glanced briefly in the direction before returning his attention to the road, his mouth curving into a smile of his own before he lifted her hand and pressed an absent-minded kiss against her knuckles.
It still caught her by surprise sometimes. Not the affection as such, just how easy it had become between them.
Not that there hadn’t been difficult times over the past nine months. There had. There likely always would be. Loving someone did not magically erase the fears they had carried before they found each other, and neither of them had expected it to. Colin still had days where his old instincts whispered that retreat was safer than staying. And she still occasionally kept things to herself rather than sharing her feelings, pretending all was well when it wasn’t.
The difference now was that they no longer faced those moments alone. They recognised those tendencies in each other and challenged them head on.
And together they’d slowly discovered that happiness was not a bubble you arrived at one day and simply remained inside forever. It was something you chose, over and over again, even on the difficult days.
She glanced sideways at him.
He looked…lighter.
The tension that had once seemed to live permanently beneath his skin had gradually eased over the months, revealing more and more of the man she’d first fallen in love with all those years ago. The impulsive, adventurous Colin who had once packed a bag and left one afternoon because he’d read about a market halfway across Europe that he just had to visit, right there and then. Or the Colin who had decided on a whim to participate in the cheese rolling event at Cooper’s Hill one year.
Anthony had given him merry hell over that particular decision. He’d not been best pleased at having to drive all the way to Gloucestershire to pick him up after he’d sustained a dislocated shoulder and sprained ankle.
She couldn’t help but grin at the memory. Colin had been suitably contrite until his brother had stormed out of the room and then he’d laughed as he’d told her and Eloise that he’d loved it so much he was going back the following year, determined to win.
He hadn’t, because Marina had happened instead. But, little by little, that man seemed to be finding his way back and it made her happy every time she saw another piece of him returning.
"What’s that smile for?" he asked suddenly, amusement colouring his voice.
Penelope looked over at him again and grinned even wider. “I was just thinking about cheese,” she told him, then giggled at his confused expression.
“Is Albion having another get together?” he asked sounding slightly miffed. “I haven’t heard anything.”
She shook her head and swallowed down more laughter. He sounded so put out. And really, that was the one thing she hadn’t seen coming at all. The way he’d befriended both her sister’s husbands.
“Doubt it, they’re away, remember?” she reminded him.
“Oh, yeah,” he said and darted another quizzical glance at her. When she merely smiled back at him, he grumbled good-naturedly, “Come on, Pen. Now you’ve mentioned food, you know it’s going to bug me. Don’t make me beg.”
“It’s really nothing,” she dismissed lightly, then added saucily, “And you know you love it when I make you beg.”
Colin laughed heartily at that but didn’t deny it. He couldn’t. And neither could she because that particular kink worked both ways.
“Always when I can’t do anything about it,” he muttered in faux annoyance when his mirth had died down.
She lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles this time. An appeasement that earned her one of his really tender smiles that invariably made her melt.
They settled comfortably into silence once more. Neither of them had ever minded quiet. There had been enough long journeys together over the years for silence to become its own sort of conversation, interrupted only by the occasional observation or shared thought whenever one occurred to either of them.
She gazed out of the window again. The closer they drew to Aubrey Hall, the more familiar everything became.
The quaint little village they always drove through that signalled they were just under an hour away. The stretch of road that snaked through the countryside bordered by tall hedges and with the odd house dotted along it.
Penelope found herself looking automatically towards the left-hand side of the road. The cottage would be coming up soon. She thought about it far more often than she'd ever admit.
When they'd visited Aubrey Hall at Easter, just over five months earlier, she’d noticed that the For Sale sign had been removed. She’d felt a dart of disappointment at that. In her heart it was their cottage, even though their time there had been fleeting.
Curious as to when it had been sold, she'd looked it up online, only to discover that it had been at end of January. Her disappointment had intensified.
It was stupid really. Logically, she knew she had no claim over the place whatsoever. It had never been theirs. They had simply taken shelter there for one snowy night because circumstances had left them with no other choice.
Whoever had bought it had every right to paint the walls, change the furniture and make a home there. Perhaps it was an elderly couple enjoying a quieter pace of life. Perhaps a young family escaping the city. Or maybe somebody had kept it as a holiday cottage and total strangers now sat on the old sofa, completely unaware of the little piece of history it held.
It was only when the car began to slow that her thoughts finally caught up with what was happening.
Her brow furrowed.
"...Colin?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he indicated, eased his foot more firmly onto the brake and began turning the wheel into the familiar entrance. The tyres crunched over the gravel drive as the cottage came into view.
"Colin...what are you doing?" she asked in confusion, glancing at the building in front of them and then at him.
"You'll see," he replied enigmatically.
She opened her mouth to question him again before thinking better of it. Instead, she turned back to gaze out of the windscreen as they drew up outside the house. He turned off the engine, the sudden silence strangely loud.
For a moment neither of them moved.
There were clearly some changes since the last time they were there. The borders had been planted with late summer flowers and climbing roses had spread across the front wall. The windows were new and gleamed in the afternoon sunshine. The front door had also been replaced, modern for better security, but still in keeping with the overall quaintness of the house.
Whoever lived there now obviously loved it.
And speaking of the new owners, she was still trying to make sense of why they were sitting outside somebody else's home instead of continuing on to Aubrey Hall. She turned back to Colin, who was watching her now with an expression she couldn't quite read.
"What's going on?"
He gazed back at her and, although he was trying very hard to appear calm, she knew him far too well not to notice the excitement shining in his eyes. Instead of answering, he climbed out of the car and disappeared around the back of it. A few moments later, her door opened and she looked up to find him standing there, one hand outstretched towards her.
It took Penelope another couple of seconds to realise he was holding something. A small bunch of keys rested in the palm of his hand and she looked from them back to his face, her brow furrowing in even more confusion.
"What are they?"
Colin glanced down at his hand before looking back at her again, his lips quirking up into a wry smile.
"Keys."
She rolled her eyes and let out a reluctant huff of laughter. It was a stupid question after all and trust him to not let her get away with it.
"I know they're keys," she replied with exaggerated patience. “But what are they for?”
His smile widened then he took hold of one of her hands and tipped them into her palm before saying, “They're for you.”
Penelope’s eyes widened and she turned the small bunch of keys over in her hand. There were only three of them, each one clinking as they shifted against one another. Her eyes lifted almost instinctively towards the cottage before dropping back to the keys again, her mind swiftly putting two and two together and then rejecting it almost as quickly.
Her gaze snapped to his and she drew in a sharp breath.
“You didn’t…”
Colin stepped back and, still holding her hand, gave it the gentlest tug until she climbed out of the car to stand beside him.
“Of course I did,” he told her as he led her up to the door. “Go on, open up.”
Penelope stared at him, a disbelieving little laugh leaving her as the enormity of what he’d done hit her. She really should have expected this. On Colin's own entirely unique scale of impulsive decisions, buying their cottage without breathing a word of it to her for months had to rank somewhere around a fifteen out of ten.
Which still made it only second to the first time he’d proposed to her.
Three weeks after Christmas, on the very evening she'd finally finished helping her replacement settle into the role she'd left behind, Colin had taken her out to dinner and popped the question.
It had been big and wonderful and romantic.
And she’d said no.
Because as much as she loved him and knew beyond any doubt that he loved her, she’d realised as he’d held her hand a little too tightly, and asked a bit too urgently, that fear was driving his sudden proposal.
It hadn’t been marriage itself he was reaching for, not in that moment, it was certainty.
For four years they’d slipped into a routine neither of them had ever questioned. Every weekday had begun and ended with one another. Work had become so intertwined with the rest of their lives that removing one from the other had left Colin feeling as though the ground had shifted beneath his feet.
She knew wasn’t leaving him. She was simply leaving the office. But much like the day she’d handed in her notice, she’d seen that Colin had felt her perceived loss acutely.
So she'd smiled, taken both of his hands and refused him. Then she’d reassured him that it wasn’t because she didn't want to marry him, quite the opposite. She just wanted him to ask again when the question came from a far better place inside him than one of fear.
He had looked utterly crestfallen for all of thirty seconds before admitting, rather begrudgingly, that she was probably right.
And then, to his surprise, she'd made him a proposal of her own.
"Come and live with me."
She’ll never forget the adoring look on his face when he said yes.
In the end, it'd turned out to be exactly what they’d both needed. They hadn't spent those first few months learning one another. They'd done that years ago. Instead, they'd learnt how to build a home together.
It had taken Colin longer than she'd expected to settle in properly. His flat had always resembled an expensive hotel suite more than anywhere a person called home and, for the first few weeks, he seemed almost incapable of leaving any evidence of himself behind. He washed mugs almost as soon as he'd finished using them, hung his jacket in the closet the moment he walked through the door and even apologised the first time she found one of his books lying on the coffee table, as though leaving it there was somehow an inconvenience.
She'd laughed, taken it right out of his hands and put it straight back down where he’d originally left it.
“Leave it,” she'd told him. “This is your home, Colin, stop acting like a guest.”
Slowly, he'd started to do just that.
These days the books stayed exactly where he left them until he'd finished reading them. His jacket had developed a habit of finding its way over the back of the dining chair after work and, much to her amusement, every now and then she'd go into the bathroom only to discover he'd forgotten to put the toilet seat down.
She still rolled her eyes at that one, every single time, because there were some habits she could obviously do without. But secretly, she rather loved every one of them – annoying and all.
And it hadn't just changed the way Colin lived.
It had changed the way he worked too.
He still travelled, but the trips had become markedly shorter, and gradually less frequent. Meetings that had once kept him away for three or four nights were now usually one at most or conducted over a video call. And where he’d often used to stay at the office into the evening researching new opportunities, he now left at six o’clock on the dot, every night.
She’d asked him one evening, while they were cuddled up on the couch, whether Anthony was okay with him taking such a noticeable step back. He’d replied that his brother had told him that seeing him so happy was worth far more than any amount of deals he could ever negotiate.
That had meant almost as much to her as it had to Colin.
Then, three months after moving in together, he'd asked her to marry him again.
This time there had been no carefully rehearsed speech and no trace of panic behind his smile. He'd simply cooked dinner for her then, afterwards, had reached across the small kitchen table, took her hand and asked her.
She'd said yes before he'd even finished speaking.
Looking back, Penelope knew it had been worth waiting those few months. She'd fallen in love with Colin long before he'd ever realised it himself, but watching him slowly rediscover the man he'd been before the armour had set around him had somehow made her love him even more.
Now, excited to see what he'd done inside, she shot him a wide smile and slid the key into the lock. The door swung open and she walked in, pausing for a few seconds as the familiarity of the place washed over her.
The scent of wood lingered beneath fresh paint, whilst the damp chill that had greeted them on that snowy December evening had long since disappeared. Sunlight filled the room, and for the briefest moment, she could almost see the ghosts of two people standing exactly where they were now, stamping snow from their shoes and wondering whether they would ever feel warm again.
The old stone floor was exactly as she remembered it, whilst the fireplace still dominated one wall, every bit as solid and reassuring as it had that night. Around it, though, everything had been gently lifted. The walls had been painted a soft buttermilk that seemed to catch the afternoon light, making the room feel brighter without taking away any of its warmth. New furniture sat comfortably alongside old features, the whole cottage somehow feeling both fresher, yet the same.
Her gaze moved slowly around the room before coming to rest on the sofa.
“You kept it,” she commented in delight.
“I did,” he replied, following her gaze.
She walked over to it, her fingertips brushing along the back as she remembered their first time together and how cherished he’d made her feel. Glancing back over her shoulder she gave him a cheeky smile.
“I have very fond memories of this couch.”
The corner of Colin's mouth lifted in response.
“So do I,” he retorted meaningfully. He crossed the room then, stopping beside her before continuing, “When I got the company in to do the work, it was the first thing I told them I wanted to keep.”
Penelope looked up at him, her heart squeezing painfully inside her chest.
Sometimes she still couldn't quite believe this was her life. That he loved her the way he did, treasured the same little moments as she and, somehow, always seemed to find new ways of making her feel like the most important person in the world.
She edged nearer then reached up and cupped his face between her hands, drawing him down into a slow, lingering kiss.
Colin smiled against her lips before his arms slipped around her waist, drawing her closer. When they finally pulled apart, he gazed down at her tenderly, his thumb absently tracing slow circles against the small of her back.
“What was that for?”
She looked at him for a long moment before glancing around the little cottage and back at him with a loving smile.
“For just being you, Colin.”
His mouth parted slightly on a sharp intake of breath and then he was kissing her again, deeper this time. One hand slid into her hair whilst the other settled firmly against the small of her back, drawing her flush against him until there wasn't so much as an inch between them.
A soft sigh escaped her as she kissed him back just as eagerly, her fingers curling into the front of his shirt before slipping around his neck.
When he finally pulled away, it seemed to take every ounce of restraint he possessed. He rested his forehead against hers for a heartbeat, letting out a slow breath before reluctantly putting a little distance between them.
"Let me show you the rest of the house before I lose my control completely and give the couch a repeat performance," he muttered as he put her firmly away from him.
She let out a soft laugh as he grabbed her hand and together they wandered slowly around the cottage, Colin pointing out little details when she asked about them. The kitchen had been thoughtfully modernised without losing its character. Upstairs, the bathroom had also been updated with the same attention to detail. The master bedroom had new fitted wardrobes that opened up the space enough for a king size bed. Penelope loved the lilac paint and antique dresser he’d placed there.
Once they were out on the landing again, Colin came to a stop.
“There’s one more room," he said, looking towards the final door at the end of the corridor before his eyes found hers once more. “This is the one I really want you to see.”
For the first time since they'd arrived, he looked almost uncertain. Nervous even. It was only the slightest change, but she saw it immediately and rushed to assure him although she had no idea why he should be worried. The rest of the cottage was beautiful.
“I have a feeling I'm going to love it,” she told him warmly.
He held her gaze for a moment before reaching for the handle.
"I really hope you do."
He opened the door and Penelope stepped inside. This was clearly where the second bedroom would have been, but he’d done something else with the space entirely.
“Oh, Colin,” she breathed, taking it all in with wide eyes.
"I wanted you to have somewhere that was completely yours," he told her softly. "Somewhere you could come whenever you wanted to write, or think...or hide away from the rest of the world for a while." She turned to look at him and he grinned. "Even from me, if necessary."
She laughed softly, shaking her head.
"Can’t see that happening any time soon."
Despite his outwardly teasing demeanour, she did notice that he relaxed slightly at her words.
“Well, I thought it was important that you knew you could.”
Penelope nodded then glanced around the room again. Sunlight poured through the wide window opposite the door, falling across an oak desk that had been positioned to look out over the garden and the fields beyond. Drawn towards it almost immediately, she walked over and rested her fingertips lightly against the polished surface before taking in the view outside.
The countryside stretched far and wide, fields giving way to woodland in the distance beneath the autumn sky. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen a more perfect place to write.
Mint green paint coated the walls and on the other side of the room, one had been lined with bookshelves. They were already filled with books she recognised before she'd even reached them. Some had sat on her own shelves for years. Others she'd borrowed from the library so much she'd often joked she ought to stop returning them altogether. There were novels she'd spoken to Colin about during long drives home from meetings, authors she'd recommended almost absent-mindedly over dinner one evening and old favourites she'd loved since she was a teenager.
He'd remembered all of them.
She smiled to herself as she traced her fingers along the spines until she reached one shelf that was almost empty.
Almost.
Sitting neatly at the end was a single hardback copy of her recently published first novel.
She reached out and picked it up, a thrill snaking its way down her spine. It still didn’t feel real. There had been months of late nights, countless rewrites and more moments of self-doubt than she cared to remember. More than once she’d convinced herself the whole thing had been a foolish dream on her part.
Colin and Eloise had been her biggest supporters of course. Without them she didn’t know what she would have done. Between them they’d kept believing in her until, eventually, she’d found the confidence to believe in herself.
"I wasn't sure how many more there'd be," Colin’s voice came quietly from behind her, "So I thought it was best to leave some space."
Penelope felt her throat tighten. She hadn't even finished planning her second book, yet he'd already imagined the ones that would come after it.
"You think there'll be more?" she asked, turning to look at him.
"I know there will,” he replied without the slightest hesitation in his voice.
She gave him a small smile then gazed around the room, taking everything in yet again. It was impossible to look anywhere without finding another little detail that told her just how much thought Colin had put into the room. A comfortable chair had been tucked into the corner beside the window with a soft throw folded across the back, whilst beneath one end of the desk sat a small printer she'd somehow completely overlooked. Even the stationery had been organised neatly into little pots and piles, waiting for her to use.
"You really have thought of everything," she remarked, smiling at him.
“I’ve tried.”
For a moment she simply looked at him, then, quite unexpectedly, she laughed.
It burst out of her before she could stop it, light and completely unrestrained, fuelled by the sheer happiness bubbling away inside her. She wasn't even entirely sure what she was laughing at. The room. The cottage. The books. The fact that this wonderfully ridiculous man had quietly spent months planning every last detail without her suspecting a thing.
"What?" Colin asked, unable to stop smiling himself.
She shook her head, still laughing.
"Nothing."
"Pen..."
"I'm just..." She let out another laugh, throwing her hands up in surrender. "I'm just so unbelievably happy."
Before he could say another word, she crossed the room and flung her arms around his neck.
Colin only just managed to catch her as she kissed him soundly, laughing into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around her waist to steady them both. When she finally drew back, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone with tears.
“Thank you.”
His smile softened immediately.
"You don't have to thank me." She opened her mouth to argue, but he firmly shook his head. "I love you. Seeing you smile like this is thanks enough." He brushed a stray curl back behind her ear before nodding towards the desk and grinning again. "Now...how about you try it out?"
She stared at him in surprise.
"But...don't we have to get to Aubrey Hall?"
“Not until the weekend.”
“The weekend?” she repeated in disbelief, wondering if the surprises would ever end this trip.
“I told everyone we'd be there then.”
Her brow furrowed as she worked backwards through everything he'd planned.
"So we've…”
“...got a couple of days to ourselves, yes,” he revealed, looking altogether too pleased with himself.
Penelope shook her head, wondering if her smile was just going to be a permanent fixture now.
"You're becoming very sneaky."
"Am I?" he challenged, innocence personified.
"Definitely," she retorted, looking at him fondly.
It was yet another side of him she'd seen emerging over the past few months. The man who'd once planned every minute of every day seemingly becoming a thing of the past.
"I'll be right back," he suddenly declared as he placed a quick kiss on her lips then turned away and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“You'll see,” he called back over his shoulder and then, before she could ask anything else, he'd gone.
Left alone, Penelope sighed then wandered back towards the desk and lowered herself into the leather chair. It was wonderfully comfortable. Supportive enough that she suspected she could happily lose hours sitting there. Resting her forearms on the desk, she looked out across the garden towards the fields beyond, watching the breeze stir the tops of the trees.
She'd dreamt about having somewhere like this for years, she'd simply never imagined somebody else would dream it with her.
Penelope wasn't entirely sure how long she'd been sitting there when she heard Colin's footsteps on the stairs again. She spun the chair around as he entered with her laptop tucked beneath one arm and a small overnight bag in his other hand.
“How on earth did you manage to pack those in the car without me noticing?” she asked in genuine bafflement.
“Distraction tactics,” he replied, placing the laptop down on the desk then handing her a piece of paper from his pocket. “Code for the Wi-Fi.”
She looked down at the neatly written set of letters and numbers then back up at him again with a faint frown, “What kind of distraction tactics?”
“The kind that unexpectedly gave me an hour while you were asleep afterwards this morning,” he reminded her with a smirk and a kiss on her cheek.
Penelope felt her face warm. They had been a particularly enthusiastic even for them. “Sneaky,” she muttered again, earning a chuckle from him as she turned back to her desk and opened her laptop.
“We’ve got a grocery delivery due,” he paused and checked his watch, “any time now from the local shop. I’ll go and sort that out while you settle in and then bring you up a tea.”
She hummed a response, focusing on getting the password right for the connection as he quietly left the room. Once she was online, she checked a few of her emails. As there was nothing urgent, she opened the folder containing the outline notes for her next book and, before long, became completely absorbed in them. Some needed expanding, others trimming back and even more needed getting rid of entirely. It was only when she sat back and read through them again that she realised there was very much a great deal of her own experience of love threaded throughout the story.
With that in mind, it suddenly became very clear what her opening line would be.
She’d only just started typing when she heard Colin coming up the stairs once more and looked up just as he walked in. He was carrying a tray with two mugs of steaming hot tea and a plate of biscuits. Dark chocolate digestives, her favourite.
“How’s it going?” he asked, crossing the room and placing the tray down.
“Great, actually,” she replied, taking one of the biscuits and biting into it with a hum of appreciation. “I think I’ve got the outline exactly where I want it.”
“That’s good.”
Colin reached for a biscuit himself before moving around to stand behind her chair. There something deeply satisfying about seeing her sitting where he’d imagined she would be, completely at ease in the room he’d hoped she’d love.
He glanced at the laptop then back to her and asked, “May I?”
“Of course,” Penelope nodded immediately and shifted the screen slightly so he could see better.
He rested one hand lightly on the back of the chair and slowly ate his biscuit while he read through the outline she’d put together. Every now and then he smiled at something he recognised or a note she’d clearly left for herself, but said nothing, simply taking it all in before his gaze finally settled on the opening of the first chapter.
He grew very still.
Penelope waited, watching him rather than the screen.
For a few moments he remained silent, his eyes fixed on the words in front of him reading them through once…then twice.
Finally, a quiet laugh escaped him and he muttered, “I don’t think I was that bad, Pen.”
“I think you were,” she retorted with a loud snort of disbelief.
He looked at her with amusement dancing in his eyes. “Tell that to my dreams back then,” he declared matter-of-factly.
She blinked at him, completely thrown. “Your dreams?”
“Mhmm,” he confirmed, shoving the rest of his biscuit into his mouth. “I wasn’t blind,” he continued after he’d swallowed it down. Off her incredulous look he added a trifle defensively, “Not in the physical sense, at least.”
Penelope stared at him, trying to reconcile the man standing in front of her with the one she’d spent years believing hadn’t noticed her at all. Slowly she began to smile. Discovering that Colin Bridgerton had spent years dreaming about her felt every bit as surreal as finding out he’d bought their cottage but, good God, did it turn her on.
Setting her half-eaten biscuit down, she slowly pushed herself to her feet. Colin instinctively took a small step backwards to give her room, but she immediately closed the distance between them again until only a few inches separated them.
Tilting her head back to meet his gaze, a decidedly wicked grin pulled at her lips.
“Well,” she began softly, smoothing her hands up the front of his shirt before letting them come to rest against his chest, “now I want to know everything that happened in these dreams of yours.”
“Do you?” he asked, grinning as he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist.
She bit her lip and nodded, pressing herself bit closer to him. “Will you show me?”
His gaze flicked down to her mouth and back again, grin widening. “Couldn’t think of anything more I’d rather do,” he replied, voice low. Penelope rose onto her toes, already expecting his lips to meet hers, but just as they were a hair’s breadth apart, he suddenly murmured, “But first…let’s make a deal.”
She quickly pulled back, eyes narrowing when she saw the mischievous look on his face.
“What sort of deal?” she wondered suspiciously.
“A perfectly reasonable one,” he assured her lightly. “You tell me why cheese was apparently the funniest thing in the world earlier, and I’ll happily demonstrate exactly what my dreams involved.”
She groaned and dropped her head against his chest.
“I should have known you wouldn’t let that go,” she grumbled.
He chuckled before lifting one hand to her face and hooking a finger lightly beneath her chin until she was looking at him once more.
“Come on, love,” he coaxed, “I’ve been trying to work it out all day.”
Penelope let out an exaggerated sigh, though the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth ruined any attempt of him taking her seriously.
“Fine,” she conceded, “I’ll tell you.”
His answering grin was infectious and she found herself responding in kind. Not waiting for her to change her mind, he grabbed her hand and started leading them to the door. At the threshold, Penelope suddenly stopped causing him to give her a questioning look.
“One second,” she said, slipping her hand from his and going back to her desk.
Leaning over her laptop, her finger hovered above the keyboard briefly before she pressed Save. A smile touched her lips as her gaze lingered on the screen a few seconds before she headed back to Colin.
“Right,” she began, slipping her hand into his once more, “about that cheese…”
Wrapped up in each other, they disappeared laughing into the room next door, not giving the laptop another thought where it sat open on the desk, the first line of her next novel glowing softly on the screen…
‘What do you do when the man you’re in love with barely acknowledges that you’re female let alone realises that you have feelings for him?’
Penelope woke slowly, aware first that she wasn't in her own room and then, a second later, remembering exactly why.
For a few moments she remained exactly where she was, staring up at the ceiling whilst the events of the previous evening returned with uncomfortable clarity. The argument. The bangle. Running after Colin and finding his room empty.
She grimaced slightly.
Lord, what a mess.
It probably would have been easier if she wasn't currently lying in the middle of his bed, surrounded by the scent of him…on his sheets, his pillow.
Turning on her side, she nuzzled into it and took an embarrassingly deep breath, wishing, not for the first time, that she’d done things differently the night before. Maybe he’d be with her now and not run off to God knows where.
Grumbling to herself, she reluctantly sat up and pushed her hair back off her face, blinking at the pale winter light filtering through the curtains. She couldn’t help but glance around in the vain hope that he may have returned and just not woken her, but of course he hadn’t.
He hadn't been there when she'd arrived the previous evening and he certainly wasn't going to miraculously appear now simply because she'd fallen asleep waiting for him.
The memory made her wince again.
She'd only intended to stay for a few minutes, that had been the plan. She would send her message, wait long enough for him to reply, and then return to her own room. Somewhere between the waiting and the worrying, however, exhaustion had apparently intervened.
Wonderful.
Not only had she managed to turn the most significant conversation of her life into an argument, she'd then spent half the night hoping to hear back from the very man she'd practically driven away.
Speaking of which…
She reached for her phone where it lay abandoned beside her and glanced down at the screen.
Nothing.
The message remained unanswered. Unread even, from what she could tell. The sight of it stung. More than that, it ignited a sudden spark of indignation that rapidly spread throughout her body and started humming insistently under her skin. For a few seconds she simply looked at the unopened text, her thumb hovering uselessly over the screen, her aggravation growing at the hollow, helpless feeling snaking its way from her chest to her throat,
"Oh, for God's sake, Colin!" she burst out, the words echoing around the empty room. With an inarticulate cry of frustration, she flung the phone onto the bed beside her and dropped her head into her hands.
God, she was so angry.
At him. At herself. But mainly him.
He'd walked away from their conversation and left her with a thousand questions she had no way of getting an answer to.
It was infuriating.
Particularly because she could understand why he'd gone.
That was the problem with knowing someone as well as she knew Colin. It meant that she had a good idea as to what was likely going on in his head. Knew how much it must have cost him to say even the little he had. Knew that when his feelings had finally slipped out from underneath all his carefully constructed armour and hadn’t been met in the way he’d expected it to be, his first instinct would be to run before he could be hurt any further.
The trouble was, understanding it didn't make her any less angry, because it was her. Penelope. She wasn't some passing acquaintance.
She was the girl who used to sneak him biscuits when Violet wasn't looking. The girl who had listened to every single travel plan he'd ever come up with, even the truly terrible ones. The woman who had sat beside him through some of the worst years of his life and never once asked him to be anything other than himself.
Surely, after all that, he had to know she wasn't questioning him to be cruel. That she hadn't been trying to reject him.
Didn't he?
Clearly not.
"Annoying, insufferable man," she groused, throwing the covers back and climbing out of his bed, her heart still aching for him despite her ire.
She bent and grabbed her phone, quickly opening it up again. For all she knew, Colin could be back in London by now. Wounded animals always bolted for home, right?
Although, in all honesty, she wasn't entirely sure where he considered home anymore.
Once upon a time the answer would have been easy. Bridgerton House. Aubrey Hall. His family. Any and all the people and places he loved. These days it felt rather less straightforward than that. For a long while now, work had become easier for him than people and airports had become preferable to staying still.
He owned a flat that looked as unlived in now as when he bought it a couple of months after he’d split with Marina. Possibly he’d gone there. Or maybe he’d left the country entirely and gone to one of the countless apartments or hotel rooms the Bridgerton’s owned.
She deflated a little at that thought. It would make things more difficult, but it wasn’t going to stop her from trying to work things out. She knew he didn't have his car, which meant he'd found some other way of leaving Aubrey Hall in the middle of the night.
Her fingers found the bracelet on her wrist, tracing absently over the cool platinum as she pondered the possibilities. The truth was that she could stand there all day wondering where he'd gone and cursing the fact that he’d left, but none of it really changed anything.
She loved him. Plain and simple.
And despite the spectacular mess they'd managed to make of things, she was pretty certain that he had feelings for her too. The bracelet alone told her that much.
Which meant she couldn't leave things like this.
Wouldn't leave things like this.
If he replied to her message, then good. If he didn't, she'd send another one later. And if that didn't work either, she'd find some other way of getting hold of him, because there was simply no version of reality in which she allowed Colin Bridgerton to disappear after a conversation like that without hearing what she bloody well had to say first.
With determination fuelling her, she made her way to the door, only to stop with her hand on the handle and glance back over her shoulder.
The bed.
Penelope stared at it for a moment then, with an exasperated sigh, she marched back across the room and straightened the sheets and quilt, muttering under her breath about impossible men and stupid habits. Angry or not, she simply couldn't bring herself to leave the place looking as though a small tornado had passed through it.
Shaking her head at herself, she finally went back to her own room and went straight to the bathroom for a shower.
The hot water helped ease some of the tension from her shoulders and, by the time she was dressed and had managed to wrestle her hair into something presentable, she felt far more capable of facing whatever came next than she had an hour earlier.
Or at the very least, capable of finding a cup of tea.
The sound of voices drifted towards her as she made her way downstairs and she found herself slowing slightly as she reached the kitchen door.
For one brief moment she considered turning around, then Edmund suddenly came barrelling out at full speed, nearly colliding with her in his haste.
"Sorry, Auntie Pen!" he called cheerfully, barely slowing as Miles followed close behind, dinosaur clutched in one hand.
"Raaaarrr!" the young boy roared, waving the plastic T-Rex around and charging after his brother.
Edmund shrieked with laughter as Miles chased him down the corridor and Penelope stepped hastily aside to avoid being flattened, small smile tugging at her lips.
Some things remained unchanged.
"Good morning, Penelope."
Kate looked up from the table with a warm smile whilst Anthony, who had been pouring himself another cup of tea, glanced over with a smile of his own.
"Morning, Penelope," he greeted, setting the pot down. "Sleep well?"
"Yes, sorry, I didn't realise I was quite so late," she replied, stepping further into the room and noticing the remnants of their breakfast.
"Nonsense," Kate dismissed. "You’ve had a busy few days. Come, sit down. Have something to eat."
She pushed a plate of pastries in her direction and made no comment on the black circles, she knew, sat under her still puffy eyes. For that alone, she could have kissed the woman.
"Tea?" Anthony offered, already reaching for another mug.
"Please."
She wrapped her hands gratefully around the steaming cup a few moments later and sank into one of the chairs with a contented sigh. At that particular moment she suspected someone could have informed her the world was ending and she'd still have insisted on finishing her tea first.
It was oddly comforting, sitting in the warm kitchen listening to Kate recount the latest disaster involving Edmund, jam and an extremely offended Newton, whilst Anthony attempted rather unsuccessfully to defend his eldest son's innocence.
Normally she would have laughed.
This morning, however, she found herself taking increasingly distracted sips of her drink and glancing out of the window every few seconds. Somewhere out there was Colin and whilst she had absolutely no idea where to find him, sitting there feeling restless and irritated certainly wasn't helping matters. She needed to make a plan at least; although she knew she couldn't just up and leave Aubrey Hall as well. Not for a couple of days, certainly. Or maybe just one. Would one day be acceptable before she made her excuses and left?
By the time she'd drained half the mug, she was completely ignoring what was going on around her and drumming her fingers on the table top in agitation, her mind going a mile a minute turning over all the different things she could do.
"Penelope?"
She blinked and looked over to find Kate watching her with gentle concern.
"Sorry," she said with an apologetic smile and stopped her fidgeting. "I think I need some air. I might go for a walk and clear my head a bit."
"Wrap up warm," Kate told her immediately.
"And watch the paths. They'll still be slippery," Anthony added in warning.
Penelope smiled faintly at their concern for her wellbeing and rose from the chair.
"I will."
She walked out of the room, leaving Anthony staring at the doorway for several moments after she'd gone. He waited until the sound of her footsteps had faded before setting his mug down with a long sigh.
Kate, who had been watching at him, reached over and squeezed his hand.
"You thought he'd be with her," she observed quietly.
Anthony nodded. "I hoped he would be. After everything we talked about last night, I really thought he'd stay because I could see he was trying, Kate. For the first time in years, he was actually trying."
She smiled softly. "And perhaps he still is."
"Perhaps," he conceded, though he sounded unconvinced. “Or maybe I was wrong to let myself believe that he'd finally stopped running."
Kate squeezed his hand again. "Even if he hasn’t, it doesn't mean he won't eventually. You said yourself that he was frightened."
"He was. I haven't seen him like that since…not since Marina," He shook his head as self-recrimination flooded through him. "I pushed him too hard…"
"You didn’t,” his wife assured him firmly. “You listened to him. You loved him and you told him the truth. What he does with that is up to Colin."
Anthony knew she was right. But seeing how clearly his younger brother’s actions had hurt Penelope, his protective instincts rose to the fore, making it difficult to summon much sympathy for him in that particular moment.
"When I get hold of him…" he suddenly muttered darkly, pushing back his chair. "Honestly, if he's gone back to London without speaking to Penelope, I'll…"
"You'll what?"
Anthony froze, then slowly turned around.
Colin stood in the doorway looking every bit as tired and unhappy as Penelope had. He was still wearing the previous days clothes, his hair damp from what Anthony supposed was a hurried wash, and one hand rubbed absently at the back of his neck.
For a second Anthony simply stared.
Then relief swept through him so quickly that he barely had time to register it before he was striding across the room.
"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, wrapping his brother in a fierce embrace before immediately stepping back again. "And don't you ever do that to me again."
Colin blinked in surprise.
"Good morning to you too."
Kate smiled into her tea.
"Good morning, Colin."
"Morning, Kate," he greeted with a tired smile before grimacing and rubbing his neck again.
Anthony folded his arms and looked at him expectantly.
"Well?"
“Well, what?” his brother replied with a frown.
“Don’t play dumb, Colin, we thought you’d left,” Anthony chastised abruptly.
"Clearly I haven’t,” he retorted. “After you went to bed, I had another whisky and ended up falling asleep in your study. That chair is the devil by the way. I woke up a few minutes ago with everything hurting and went looking for Pen, but she wasn't in her room. So far, I’ve checked the library and drawing room and even the bloody cloakroom, but no luck."
Anthony stared at him, his whole demeanour softening the more his brother spoke. His mouth quirked up into a smile and he clarified wryly, "You actually looked in the downstairs loo?"
Colin rolled his eyes.
“Yes, okay, I know how it sounds but it’s on the way to the kitchen and I can’t damn well find her…do you know where she is?”
“She went for a walk,” Kate answered, putting him out of his misery.
“Thanks,” he said with a nod then turned towards the door.
“Colin."
He stopped and looked back at his brother, then gave him an impatient, “Yeah?”
“If you hadn’t gone to sleep…would you still have stayed?” Anthony asked seriously.
Colin relaxed a little and nodded. “Yes, I would’ve stayed. I am staying no matter what happens next.” He hesitated a moment then continued soberly, “And…thank you.”
His brother looked perplexed.
“For what?”
“For last night. Listening to me, helping me see things a bit more clearly,” Colin replied. He gave him a rueful smile. “For not judging. I needed that.”
Anthony shrugged, as though the whole thing was of no consequence.
“Oh, I think you would’ve got there on your own, brother,” he remarked before adding drily, “Eventually.”
Colin let out a disbelieving snort. “I think you have far more faith in me than I do.”
“No,” his brother countered. “I just have faith in what you feel for Penelope.”
Colin stared at him, the words an unexpected balm to his battered emotions. Not because Anthony had said anything particularly profound. In fact, to his brother it had probably been the most obvious thing in the world. But after everything that had happened the previous evening, after all the fear and doubt and pain he'd managed to inflict entirely upon himself, hearing his brother say it so simply and with such certainty left him feeling unexpectedly moved.
Impulsively, he stepped forward and hugged Anthony again, earning a surprised laugh from the older man even as he embraced him back.
“Go and get her, brother,” he murmured quietly into Colin’s ear, “She’s waited long enough.”
Colin pulled back and gave him a nod, then shot Kate a quick grin before heading out of the kitchen feeling lighter than he had in a while.
He grabbed his coat from where it hung by the front door and shrugged it on before wrapping his scarf around his neck. His gloves, he realised with mild irritation, had apparently vanished, but he wasn't about to waste precious time looking for them now.
Bracing himself against the cold, he stepped outside. Instinctively, he glanced around the grounds, hoping to catch sight of her. When he didn't, he looked down and smiled. Fresh snow had fallen overnight and there, off to the left, he saw a new set of footprints.
Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he walked briskly alongside the trail of imprints, his eyes darting between them and the surrounding area, keeping an eye out for her. In his head, he ran over all the different things he should say when he finally saw her. Sorry was definitely a good place to start, although given the spectacular mess he'd made of things, there was every chance he'd open his mouth and say something utterly ridiculous instead. She would probably expect nothing less at this point.
The thought made him smile. Because for all his nerves and all the uncertainty still fluttering around in his stomach, one thing remained true. Penelope knew him better than anyone. She always had. And if she gave him even half a chance, then perhaps they could work through the rest together.
His heart beat a little faster as he rounded the fountain and followed the trail around a hedge. And then he stopped.
There she was standing next to the snowman she’d made with Caroline and Eloise.
For a moment he simply stood and looked at her, his breath catching slightly as he took her in. Her back was to him, bundled up in her coat against the cold, her copper hair glinting in the low winter sun, a stark contrast to the pure white surrounding them.
Suddenly, every speech he'd attempted to put together on the walk over deserted him completely and, perhaps, that was for the best. Nothing he'd rehearsed felt big enough now anyway. And if he made a total fool of himself, then so be it. After the way he'd left things, perhaps he deserved to.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward.
"Pen."
She turned so quickly she nearly lost her footing, one hand instinctively shooting out to steady herself against the small icy figure beside her. And then she stared at him, eyes wide and disbelieving.
“What are you doing here?"
His heart sank a little. It wasn’t the most encouraging of greetings, but he took another step towards her anyway, tentative smile on his lips.
“Looking for you,” he told her. "Where else would I be?"
She arched a brow at him and folded her arms, straightening up as much as her diminutive height would allow.
“I don’t know. You couldn’t get away quick enough last night, so I thought you’d be at least halfway around the world by now,” she bit out, hurt creeping into her voice despite her best efforts.
The smile vanished from his face immediately and he swallowed hard, hearing the pain underneath her words and hating himself for putting it there.
“I'm sorry, Penelope,” he apologised earnestly. “I'm so sorry about what happened.”
He pulled his hands out of his pockets and started to reach for her, wanting to touch her, have that connection. But then he stopped himself at the last second and let his hands fall again. Not now. He had to make things right between them first.
“I'd like to explain,” he said quietly after a moment. “If you'll let me? Please?”
Her expression softened, if only slightly, and she drew in a steadying breath before giving a small nod.
“Okay.”
Okay.
Okay.
Now she'd agreed, he found himself struggling to know where to begin. Were there enough words to make up for the utter disaster he'd made of things? He really hoped so. More than that, he hoped he could actually find them.
“I'm not confused, Pen,” he finally blurted out. “I just want you to know that. I'm a lot of other things, but not that. Not about you. Not about us.”
She stayed silent, her expression unreadable, and desperation began to edge its way in. He had to make her understand somehow.
“That’s what I thought you were telling me last night and I was wrong. I know that now. I heard things you weren't actually saying. But somewhere between realising my feelings for you and being absolutely terrified of losing you, I stopped hearing what you were really trying to ask me and started listening to my own fears instead.”
He shook his head and took a small step closer to her, snow crunching underfoot.
“And that's not fair because you deserved better than that. You deserved better than me getting angry and leaving you wondering where I was and what I was thinking. You deserved me staying and talking to you and trusting you enough to believe that you weren't trying to hurt me.”
His voice softened as he inched forward again.
“Because I know you, Pen. I know you and I know you would never do that to me," he smiled sadly. “And I think that's what frustrates me the most about myself. That I let my fear get the better of everything I've known about you for years.”
He fell silent for a moment, his expression tightening slightly as though the next part physically hurt to say.
“And the worst thing is…” He let out a shaky breath and shook his head. “The worst thing is that I'm scared that if I found myself standing in that place again, feeling that same panic, I'd do exactly the same thing.”
He laughed weakly and rubbed at his eyes.
“Not because I want to. God, I don't want to. And not because I don't trust you. I do trust you, Pen. I trust you more than anyone. I just…” He looked down and shrugged helplessly. “I don't know how to stop being that man overnight.”
His eyes lifted to hers again, full of pain and hope in equal measure.
“But I want to try.”
He moved even closer to her then until they were almost touching, their breaths mingling as he leaned in slightly and finally allowed the words he’d been afraid to say spill out, “Because I love you, Pen. And because I want to be with you. I want all of this. I want us. And if you want that too, then I'll spend the rest of my life trying to learn how to do this properly.”
Penelope was quiet for a moment, simply looking at him. At the man standing in front of her with tears in his eyes and hope written all over his face, asking for nothing more than the chance to try. It was difficult to stay angry with a man who was standing there loving her so openly. It was more than she'd ever imagined. More than she'd dared hope for.
More than enough.
Slowly, she let her arms loosen and fall back to her sides.
“Oh, Colin,” she whispered affectionately, her own eyes beginning to shine. “You really are an idiot.”
He blinked in surprise and she gave a tremulous smile before reaching out and taking his hand. He glanced down then back up at her with a faint smile of his own, his fingers tightening around hers.
“You don't have to know how to do all of this overnight,” she told him gently. “Neither of us does. We aren't suddenly going to wake up tomorrow and get everything right. We'll argue and we'll make complete fools of ourselves from time to time and that's okay. I’m not going anywhere, Colin…I love you.”
He drew in a sharp breath and searched her face for the truth of it. Thinking it a possibility and finally hearing her say it were two vastly different things he realised as his heart started to pick up pace.
“You do?” he asked, wonder written plainly across his face. “Are you sure?”
Penelope gave a watery laugh and squeezed his hand.
“Yes, Colin. I'm sure. I've loved you for an embarrassingly long time, actually.” She shook her head at herself. “So long that I honestly don't remember what it feels like not to.”
She watched as her words sank in and saw the look in his eyes give way to something softer and infinitely more precious, and the smile that spread across his face was so full of love that it made her chest ache.
“God, Pen,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “How did I get so lucky?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” she countered, smiling through her tears.
He reached up and tenderly brushed a stray tear away from her cheek before dropping his hand to her waist. He looked as though he wanted nothing more than to kiss her and, truthfully, Penelope wanted exactly the same thing. But something occurred to her and, as he started to lean in, she gently laid her hand on his chest.
“Wait.”
He immediately stilled and she watched concern flicker across his features as he pulled away a little.
“Don't worry,” she assured him quickly, “It's nothing bad. I just…there's something I wanted to show you first.”
“Okay,” he nodded, though he still watched her warily.
She let go of his hand then pulled her coat sleeve back a bit to reveal the platinum bangle sitting on her wrist.
“I just wanted to thank you for this,” she told him warmly. “I love it, Colin, it’s beautiful.”
His heart missed at the sight of it, looking as though it had always belonged there. He gently took her hold of her hand again, running his thumb over the charms until he stopped at the book.
“You know, the moment I saw this, I thought of you.”
She stared at him as he continued to play with the charm.
“Did you?”
He looked back up at her and nodded.
“I did. You're going to write wonderful things, Pen. I just know it.”
She frowned, her chest tightening slightly. His faith in her was wonderful but it also brought with it the inevitable reminder that, in a matter of days, she would be leaving. Not just Aubrey Hall, but the life she'd built around him for the last four years as well.
“I suppose we should talk about what happens next,” she ventured quietly. “With me leaving and…everything.”
“And we will,” he promised. “But not now.” His hand settled at her waist once more and the look he gave her made her stomach flutter. “Now, I'd just really like to kiss you. Is that okay?”
“It’s more than okay,” she assured him eagerly.
He grinned then and, this time, neither of them stopped.
His arms slid around her waist, pulling her against him, whilst her hands curled into the collar of his coat, tugging him down. And when he finally kissed her, it was slow and sweet and wonderfully familiar. All the hurt and uncertainty of the past few hours faded away as she lost herself in the joy of being in his arms once more.
Snowflakes had started to drift lazily around them by the time they broke apart, their breath clouding in the frigid air between them.
Colin smiled and brushed his nose gently against hers before leaning in again, one kiss not nearly enough. He’d barely touched his lips to hers, though, when he suddenly let out a hiss of pain and pulled back with a grimace.
Penelope blinked up at him in confusion before narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, before adding jokingly, “Don’t tell me you’ve had second thoughts already?”
The look of horror on his face was so immediate that she nearly laughed.
“Christ, no,” he exclaimed. “It’s my bloody neck.”
“Your neck?”
Looking faintly sheepish, he reached up and rubbed the back of it.
“I slept in a chair last night,” he muttered unhappily. “In Ant’s study.”
Penelope stared at him.
“Anthony’s study?”
He nodded, looking rather embarrassed as he rolled his shoulders to try and loosen the kink.
“Yeah, he was still up when I came downstairs. We had a drink and talked for a bit.”
Penelope said nothing, but inwardly sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Anthony Bridgerton had apparently been exactly where he'd needed to be when Colin had found himself unable to think straight. Whatever had been said between the brothers, she would always be grateful for it.
She glanced up at the sky. The snow had begun falling more heavily around them and the temperature was dropping.
“Perhaps we should head back inside now anyway,” she suggested. Her eyes fixed on where he was still rubbing the back of his neck and something mischievous flickered across her face. “And if you're very good, I might even be persuaded to help ease the pain a bit.”
Colin's head snapped up so quickly that he immediately winced.
“Ow!” he yelped before his eyes widened. “Really?”
She but back a laugh.
“Provided we don't freeze to death first.”
His answering grin was almost boyish, though the look in his eyes was anything but.
“Well, I could do with a nice hot shower,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “I was in such a hurry to find you this morning that I didn't have a chance.”
Penelope raised an eyebrow.
“That does sound nice,” she agreed, giving an exaggerated little shudder. “I'm feeling quite cold myself.”
His expression changed immediately and she felt a delicious flutter low in her stomach as his eyes darkened.
“Are you?” The corner of his mouth curved. “Fortunately, my shower happens to be more than big enough for two. Water conservation and all that.”
Penelope laughed softly.
“Very noble of you.”
“I do try.”
“Well, in the spirit of doing good deeds,” she murmured sweetly, “while I’m there, I can always check if you’ve got any other aches or…stiffness in places that require my attention.”
Colin drew in a sharp breath.
“Pen,” he groaned.
Her eyes widened innocently.
“What?”
“You can’t say things like that to me. Not when we have to go back and face my family.” He closed his eyes briefly and let out a low laugh. “Christ.”
The innocence vanished from her expression as she grinned unashamedly.
“Can't I?”
His eyes opened again and with a shake of his head, he grabbed her hand then set off back towards Aubrey Hall with such purpose that Penelope had to almost run to keep up.
Slipping a little, she couldn't help giggling, “In a rush?”
He looked over his shoulder, his mouth curving into a decidedly wicked smile before he stopped so abruptly she almost slid into him.
“You are enjoying this far too much, aren’t you?” he accused gruffly, pulling her into his arms again.
The grin she gave him was entirely unapologetic.
“I really am.”
He threw his head back laughed happily, loving this side of her even though he was quite certain she’d be the death of him.
“God help me.”
And pain in his neck be damned, he bent down and kissed her again.
Then, with the snow falling steadily around them, they turned towards the warmth and light waiting for them at Aubrey Hall. As they walked, Colin slipped his arm around Penelope’s waist and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smiling when she immediately tucked herself even further into his side.
He knew this was only the start. That there would be hard decisions and difficult conversations to come. Life wasn’t always easy, but somehow the thought of facing it all with Penelope beside him no longer felt quite so daunting.
Instead, as he listened to her giggle her way through the story Kate had told her over breakfast and found himself laughing right along with her, Colin discovered something he'd never expected.
Perhaps vulnerability wasn't something to fear after all.
The tears started falling before Colin even reached his room.
By the time he shoved the bedroom door shut behind him, he was scrubbing impatiently over his face with the sleeve of his jumper, his breath shuddering out of him as though he’d run the entire length of the house rather than merely walking a few yards down the corridor.
Damn, his chest hurt.
Not in the aching way he’d grown accustomed to over the years whenever something unpleasant slipped beneath his carefully maintained composure. But piercingly. Deeply. Like he’d been totally ripped open and left exposed to the cold.
He stood there for a long moment in the middle of the room, feeling strangely adrift as the reality of the last few minutes washed over him in slow, sickening waves.
What had he just done?
Christ.
He ran a hand though his hair and pulled hard on the ends, but the sting did nothing to ease the panic that was swiftly rising.
He’d actually said it.
Love.
And of all the ways it could have left his mouth, it had happened like that. In the middle of frustration and hurt and her questioning something he’d never been more certain of in his life.
Penelope’s reaction slammed back into him all over again and he angrily dashed away more unwanted tears as every awful second continued replaying itself mercilessly in his head.
The flinch.
The rejection…
And when he’d pushed her on it, she’d just…looked at him.
Humiliation twisted queasily in his stomach and suddenly, he had to move. Had to get out of there before he came apart completely.
He crossed to the wardrobe and pulled his case out before throwing it onto the bed and wrenching it open. Then he started grabbing clothes. From his dresser, off hangers. Shirts, trousers, anything within reach disappeared into the case in quick, jerky movements whilst his thoughts crashed relentlessly into one another.
Because her silence had been telling.
That was the part now clawing viciously at him, no matter how hard he tried to push it aside.
His jaw clenched as he shoved another armful of clothes into the case, cramming them down mindlessly.
Just what in the hell had possessed him?
He’d spent years burying his emotions down so deeply he barely even recognised them in himself anymore, and then one stupid argument had been enough to rip them straight out of him anyway.
And he felt like a complete bloody idiot, because he’d gone and done it again, hadn’t he?
He’d let himself get swept up too quickly in the certainty of it all, in wanting something so badly that he’d convinced himself it was reciprocated.
The thought made him feel sick.
He pulled the lid shut and leaned heavily on his case, dragging in several slow, rasping breaths. It did little to ease the nausea rolling around in his stomach.
He needed to leave.
Needed air. Distance. Anything other than standing there trapped in the aftermath of a conversation he couldn’t seem to escape.
He straightened abruptly then grabbed his coat from the chair before zipping up the case and hauling it off the bed. It landed on the floor with a dull thud and he headed out of the room, not even bothering to close the door properly behind him.
The corridor beyond was quiet, the warm glow from the wall sconces stretching long shadows across the floorboards. The house appeared settled for the night. Then the sound of a door opening in the direction he wanted to go startled him and he instinctively stepped back.
Bloody hell.
He couldn’t see anyone. Not now. Not looking like this.
He turned and hurried toward the narrow back passage used years ago by servants and deliveries, the route tucked away from the more lived-in parts of the house. The staircase there was steeper and dimmer, the old wood creaking loudly beneath his feet as he descended with one hand gripping the banister and the other wrapped tightly around the handle of his case.
Even in his flight, his thoughts refused to still. Every few seconds yet another fragment of their argument came rushing back, making his stomach lurch all over again.
By the time he reached the lower corridor his breathing had turned shallow once more. He paused and took in a shaky breath before fumbling his phone from his pocket with unsteady fingers.
He would call a cab and go back to London then try and figure out how to survive the embarrassment of ever facing Penelope again.
His thumb had only just unlocked the screen when the door to Anthony’s study opened and his brother stepped out.
Colin froze and stared at him in mortification.
Anthony looked equally startled for a second, his hand still on the doorknob before his expression changed into something almost sheepish.
“Ah,” he said lightly, casting a quick glance back into the study. “If Edmund starts asking where his drumsticks are tomorrow morning, I trust you saw absolutely nothing.”
Under any other circumstances, Colin probably would have laughed.
Instead, he just stood there gripping the handle of his case even tighter whilst his pulse continued hammering wildly.
Anthony’s faint smile faded as he finally looked at him properly, taking everything in. His case, his coat…his red rimmed eyes.
“…Everything okay?” he queried cautiously.
“Fine,” Colin replied far too quickly.
Anthony’s brow furrowed slightly and he carried on watching him in silence for a moment, probably seeing far much more than Colin wanted him to. Then his gaze darted down to the case and back up again.
“Going somewhere?”
“London.”
“At this hour?” his brother demanded in surprise
Colin couldn’t hold his gaze.
“I just need to go.”
The words came out hoarser than he would have liked and an awkward silence fell between them. When he eventually glanced back up, Anthony was looking at him with open concern now.
His eyes flicked once more to the case before he gave a small nod toward the room behind him.
“How about a drink before you disappear into the night?”
Colin opened his mouth automatically, a refusal on the tip of his tongue, but Anthony turned away and walked back into the study as though certain he would be followed.
Infuriatingly, Colin found he still could not quite ignore his brother when he used that tone, even when it wasn’t really an order at all.
With a resigned sigh, he pocketed his phone and followed him inside.
The study was warm and dimly lit, the fire burning low in the grate with the last embers of the day.
Colin left his case by the door and dropped his coat on top of it before moving further into the room. He lowered himself into one of the armchairs opposite the desk whilst Anthony crossed over to the small table beside it where a decanter sat waiting, alongside a set of crystal tumblers.
The clink of glass sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet as Anthony poured a generous finger of whisky into two of the tumblers before turning and holding one out to him.
“Thanks,” Colin murmured as he took it.
Anthony gave a brief nod before taking his own seat behind the desk. The green leather creaked softly beneath him as he leaned back in the chair and lifted his glass in a faint salute before taking a sip.
Then, he simply sat there watching him with that steady, assessing stare of his. The one that always uncomfortably reminded Colin of the solitary time he’d ended up in the headmaster’s office, after bunking off school with a mate when he was fourteen.
He shifted slightly in his seat and cleared his throat before taking a swallow of whisky that burned all the way down.
The silence dragged on.
And on.
Long enough that his already shredded nerves couldn't take any more.
“What?”
Anthony’s eyes didn’t leave him.
“You look like hell.”
“Thank you, brother,” Colin retorted sarcastically.
“I’m serious.”
Colin exhaled slowly and stared down into his drink, watching the amber liquid swirl lazily.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Colin shook his head and gave him a very terse, “No.”
“It might make you feel better,” Anthony suggested, not remotely deterred by his brother’s refusal.
A humourless bark of laughter escaped Colin before he could stop it.
“I very much doubt that.”
Anthony took another sip of whisky, still watching him over the rim of the glass in that maddeningly calm way of his.
“Well,” he began, waving a hand in the direction of the case, “whatever this is, do you really think running away is the answer?”
Colin bristled.
“I’m not running away.”
Anthony raised a brow at that, clearly unconvinced, and the expression irritated Colin almost as much as the question itself.
“Oh really?” his brother challenged mildly. “Because from where I’m sitting, slinking off in the middle of the night with your suitcase and coat does rather suggest otherwise.”
Colin looked away, staring instead at the couple of barely glowing coals left in the grate.
“I just need some space to think, okay?”
“Mm.”
God, that sound was aggravating.
For a few moments Anthony said nothing else, then, in a much quieter voice than before, he asked, “Did something happen between you and Penelope?”
Colin’s head jerked back toward him and he felt his cheeks flush hotly at the question.
“Why would you think that?”
Anthony gave him a faintly disbelieving look.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he countered sardonically. “Perhaps because she resigned completely out of the blue three days ago and ever since then the two of you have been behaving strangely enough that even Gregory has started noticing it?”
“Pen just has things she wants to do with her life,” Colin replied defensively, ignoring the rest of what his brother had said entirely.
Anthony gave him a long-suffering look.
“Yes, I’m aware,” he remarked and put his glass down with a thump on the desk. “But if it isn’t about Penelope, then what else could have got you this upset?”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“Mm.”
For heaven’s sake, there was that bloody sound again.
“There’s nothing going on,” he insisted.
Anthony pursed his lips, clearly weighing that statement against everything else he’d witnessed over the last couple of days and deciding it was complete nonsense.
“Colin, I saw you very nearly kiss her in the garden yesterday, remember?” he pointed out wryly.
Christ.
Colin held his gaze for a moment, a denial ready on his lips when his phone suddenly went off with a message alert.
Almost before he realised what he was doing, he pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced down at the screen.
Pen.
Colin cursed under his breath, switched the phone off without even opening the message and shoved it back into his pocket. The thought of reading anything from her right now made his stomach churn all over again.
Then he looked up and saw the knowing expression on his brother's face. For a second there he’d completely forgotten that Anthony was sitting directly opposite him.
“I think you can probably stop pretending now that this has nothing to do with Penelope,” he stated drily.
“Just leave it, Anthony,” Colin warned, raising his glass to his lips.
He’d just taken a mouthful of drink when, with all the subtlety he’d unfortunately come to expect from his brother, Anthony asked bluntly, “Are you sleeping with her?”
Colin nearly choked on his whisky.
“For God’s sake,” he spluttered, glaring at him in disbelief.
“Well?”
“That is absolutely none of your business.”
“You’re my brother,” he pointed out curtly. “And Penelope has practically been part of this family for years. I’d say that makes it very much my business.”
Colin let out a frustrated breath, wishing desperately for this conversation to end before it got any more unbearable.
Unfortunately, his silence appeared to answer the question anyway. Anthony’s eyes narrowed and he sat forward, resting his forearms on the desk. Giving his brother a stern look, he demanded, “Is that the real reason she resigned?”
Colin looked back at him, genuinely puzzled.
“What?”
“Penelope and you,” Anthony clarified. “Were you sleeping together? Did something go wrong?”
“No,” Colin denied vehemently, the answer coming so quickly he barely thought about it. “It happened afterwards.”
Silence.
Colin blinked.
Oh, for the love of…
Heat flooded straight into Colin’s face again as the full realisation of what he’d just admitted caught up with him.
“Sodding hell,” he groaned, dropping his head into his hand.
“Don’t worry, brother,” Anthony dismissed, “I can’t say I’m particularly shocked. Ever since you got here, I’ve had my suspicions that you’ve finally caught up to what’s been right in front of you for years.”
Colin tensed, feeling unexpectedly exposed. Not because he hadn’t realised it himself already — he had — but because apparently Anthony had seen it too.
And somehow that made him feel even more foolish.
For a few seconds he debated what to say to that. Anthony already seemed to have worked out most of it anyway and, frankly, Colin himself no longer had the faintest idea what he was supposed to do next. It had been a very long while since he'd gone to his brother with something like this, but at the moment he was struggling to think of anyone better to talk to.
“We…argued tonight,” he said looking over at him at last, the memory still painful. “She doesn’t think I know my own feelings.”
Anthony’s eyes narrowed on him.
“And do you?”
“Yes!”
His brother seemed to relax slightly at the certainty of the answer.
“But I take it she didn’t believe you?”
Colin hesitated and dragged a hand through his hair.
“She thinks it’s all been too quick,” he said, a touch bitterly.
“Well…,” Anthony began slowly, “she’s not entirely wrong.” At his brother’s frown, he pressed on, “You do have to look at this from Penelope’s perspective, Colin. She decides to leave and then almost immediately afterwards the two of you sleep together.”
The younger man stared at him, aghast.
“That’s not…”
“For all she knows,” Anthony cut in again, determined to get his point across, “this could be your way of trying to keep her around.”
The words hit like a physical blow, sending his mind reeling.
Because somewhere amongst all the hurt and humiliation and panic of tonight, he’d been so wrapped up in protecting himself from rejection that he’d hardly stopped to consider what any of this must have looked like from Penelope’s side at all.
“Jesus, Anthony,” he protested in stunned disbelief. “What kind of arsehole do you think I am?”
Something in his brother’s expression softened.
“One that spent years retreating so far into himself that the rest of us started wondering if we’d ever again see the brother we knew,” he told him plainly. “That’s why I asked Penelope to help at the office in the first place. She was the only person you still let even remotely close to you.”
Colin looked away at that, blinking hard against the unexpected sting of tears before tipping his glass back and draining the rest of the whisky in one go, welcoming the intense burn of it.
“When the hell did you become so bloody perceptive?” he muttered.
Anthony’s mouth curved upwards.
“Kate,” he replied without hesitation.
A ghost of a smile pulled briefly at Colin’s mouth despite himself.
Of course.
“It’s good to have you back, by the way,” Anthony added after a moment.
Colin glanced over at him and swallowed down the lump that seemed permanently lodged in his throat.
“I would say it’s good to be back, but it bloody hurts,” he retorted gruffly.
Anthony could sympathise.
“Yes, I’m afraid that rather comes with the territory.”
Colin snorted and sank back into his chair with a shake of his head.
“You know, for someone supposedly trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a God-awful job.”
Anthony gave him a rueful smile then leaned over to grab his tumbler before standing up.
“For what it’s worth,” he said as he crossed over to the decanter and put the empty glasses down, “I don’t actually think Penelope believes you were deliberately trying to manipulate her.”
Colin felt some relief at that, though it changed absolutely nothing about the mess he knew he'd made of things.
“But,” Anthony continued, turning back to him, “I do think she’s frightened of what all this means. And frankly, I don’t blame her for that. You can’t spend your entire life trying to avoid being hurt, Colin, because that’s not living.” He paused briefly before adding pointedly, “That’s just surviving.”
Colin had no argument for that.
He’d spent years surviving. Using work as a shield to keep everyone and everything at a distance. And now that he was having to face the stark reality of risking the one person he couldn't bear to lose, he felt like he was losing his mind.
The confession sat heavily on his tongue for several seconds before he finally blurted it out, “I’m so bloody scared, Ant.”
His brother was quiet for a moment.
“Of what?”
“Oh, I don’t know, take your pick,” Colin retorted with a hollow laugh. “That she’ll never believe me? That she’ll never forgive me? That I’ve already ruined this before it’s even begun? That I’ll never be the man she deserves?”
For the first time since they’d entered the study, Anthony looked surprised.
“Nothing is ever guaranteed, brother, especially not when it comes to love,” he told him with a frown. “But if you leave tonight, what exactly do you think that tells her?”
The question hung heavily in the room.
Colin stared down at the floor whilst the answer rose almost immediately, brutal in its honesty.
That he was a coward.
That the second things became difficult he’d fallen straight back into old habits and tried to run before he could be hurt any further.
And worse…
That perhaps Penelope had been right to question him after all.
Because if he truly meant what he’d said to her, if he really loved her the way he now knew he did, then leaving Aubrey Hall in the middle of the night without even trying to fix this hardly suggested he believed in them enough to stay and fight for it.
The realisation landed with sickening force.
Anthony could see the play of emotions on the younger man’s face and waited a moment before finally crossing the room to him.
Colin glanced up as he stopped beside the chair and rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.
“I can’t tell you what to do, Colin, but whatever you decide next, just be sure it’s not driven by fear, okay?” he advised seriously. Off Colin’s slightly bemused nod, he gave him a quick smile and stepped back. “I’d better go up. It’s late and Kate will be wondering where I am.”
Colin nodded again and Anthony headed for the door, pulling it shut behind him. He stood outside for a moment, staring at the dark wood before finally turning away and walking slowly down the corridor.
For the first time in years, Colin seemed willing to let people see what was underneath all that armour. His one hope as he began climbing the stairs, was that his brother hadn’t come this far only to run when it mattered most.
Penelope switched off the lamp on the bedside table and settled down under the covers with a little sigh.
The room fell into darkness save for the faint glimmer of light creeping in through the gap in the curtains. She couldn’t quite tell whether it came from the snow brightening the grounds beyond the windows or from the warm ambient glow spilling up from the rooms below, where some of the Bridgerton’s were likely enjoying the last of the evening in relative peace.
Closing her eyes, she tried to will her thoughts to quiet, but it didn’t work. Memories of the day drifted back instead, refusing to let her rest.
It’d been the best Christmas she’d had in years. Loud and chaotic and full of warmth in a way the last few had not been at all. No polished hotel dining rooms. No carefully curated festive experiences where everything looked beautiful and immaculate but beneath the surface felt hollow and lonely.
Today had been real…and threaded through nearly every second of it had been Colin.
She shifted onto her side with a little huff. She wasn’t going to let thoughts of him keep her awake for yet another night. She was not.
But apparently, she was…
Her mind’s eye was determined to replay every moment between them today it seemed. The way he had smiled at her across crowded rooms. The shared laughter over stupid jokes.
The scarf…
The moment I saw it, I thought of you.
Her cheeks warmed against the pillow and she felt her stomach do a crazy flip, much the same as when he’d actually spoken those words to her at supper earlier.
Eyes shooting open, she lifted her head and punched her pillow a couple of times in the pretence of fluffing it up, then lay down again. It was all just so frustrating. Because him saying things like that was exactly the problem she’d been grappling with ever since she’d spoken to Eloise. Namely that it was becoming harder and harder to keep neatly filing everything away under the familiar, sensible explanation that it ‘meant nothing’. That he had meant nothing by any of it.
Not when he looked at her like there was no-one else in the room and certainly not when he said things like that.
And Lord knows it scared her. Terrified her in fact, because she’d started to let herself believe in the possibility of something more.
But she knew she couldn’t let herself believe in it too easily. Not when she had wanted it for so long.
Because…what if she’d got it wrong?
What if she was simply letting herself be swept along by the hope of something she had secretly wanted for years?
Despite what Eloise and Violet seemed to think, she couldn’t quite silence that persistent little voice in the back of her mind. The one that sounded irritatingly like her mother and kept returning to the same explanation no matter how hard she tried to dismiss it.
That this was happening now because she was leaving.
The thought tormented her as she stared into the darkness.
She’d been there through some of the worst years of his life. Through the aftermath of Marina. Through the long periods where he had quietly withdrawn from almost everyone around him. She’d become an integral part of his life so gradually that neither of them had truly noticed it happening. She was the person who organised his days, navigated his moods and listened when he needed it.
Perhaps losing that was what had unsettled him so badly.
Perhaps it was not really her he was reacting to, but the absence her leaving would create. The loss of something safe and familiar and constant in his fairly solitary life.
And if that was the case, then she could not allow herself to mistake gratitude, comfort or dependency for an imagined affection, just because she longed for it to be true.
She gave a little grimace at the thought and rolled onto her other side, pulling the covers a little higher around herself with a grumble of irritation.
This was doing her no good at all. Lying here endlessly circling the same thoughts was hardly going to provide her with any answers tonight and, at this point, she was beginning to exhaust herself with it.
What she needed now was to forget everything and just get some sleep.
Closing her eyes again, she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to relax into the mattress.
Unfortunately, it still wasn’t to be. Her overactive mind clearly keen to bring up the one thing that refused to fit neatly anywhere at all.
The cottage.
More specifically, the night they’d spent together.
“Just stop it,” she groaned to herself in aggravation as everything they’d shared began to play out in glorious technicolour inside her head.
The eager way he’d touched her, the passionate way he’d kissed her, the heated words that had tumbled from his mouth as he’d brought them both to fulfilment.
It had been incredible. But, if she were completely honest with herself, it wasn’t the physical side of things that had shaken her most. It was his care of her afterwards.
She had felt cherished, like it’d meant something - like she meant something.
And that was the part she couldn’t quite explain away no matter how hard she tried.
Because gratitude and dependency did not account for the tenderness of him holding her all through the night as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Nor the look in his eyes the next morning when she told him she did not expect anything from him; that fleeting glimpse of hurt she still could not quite forget.
And perhaps that was why it bothered her so much now. Because every time she tried convincing herself there had to be some alternative reason for his behaviour, her mind returned stubbornly to that night and quietly ripped her whole argument apart again.
A sharp knock against the door startled her from her thoughts and her eyes blinked open in confusion.
Who could that be?
Frowning, she sat up and switched the bedside lamp back on. Glancing at the clock, she winced faintly at the late hour and then her heart gave a jolt.
Had something happened? Was someone ill?
Slipping hurriedly from the bed, she headed over to the door expecting that she would find either Eloise or Violet standing on the other side.
When she finally opened it, though, she looked at her visitor in shock…and forgot entirely how to breathe.
“Colin?”
He stood before her, cheeks flushed, hair ruffled and face tense. For a moment he simply stared at her and then cleared his throat lightly.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. “Did I wake you?”
Penelope shook her head. “No. I wasn’t asleep.”
His gaze darted over her, then immediately returned to her face and heat rushed into her cheeks as she remembered exactly what she had on. Her ridiculous nightshirt with ‘Kiss Me Under The Mistletoe’ emblazoned prominently across her stomach in cheerful festive lettering.
For one awful second, silence hung between them before he seemed to relax slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched.
Penelope narrowed her eyes. “Don’t say a word,” she warned.
“I wasn’t going to,” he denied quickly.
“You absolutely were.”
“Not at all,” he countered innocently. “I was simply admiring your…” He paused, visibly attempting to suppress a smile before giving up entirely. “…festive spirit.”
She laughed despite herself but when she glanced up at him again, the way he was looking at her sent a completely different kind of heat rushing through her.
Her smile faded slowly as self-consciousness crept in because she still didn’t know why he was standing outside her bedroom door in the middle of the night.
“What are you doing here, Colin?”
His eyes widened slightly and he shot a quick look each way down the corridor, then took a small step forward.
“Can I come in?” he asked hopefully. “I’d like to talk.”
“Now?” she asked cautiously. “Can’t it wait until the morning?”
“No.” He shuffled a little closer. “Please, Pen, let me in.”
For a moment she hesitated, common sense urging her to send him away before either of them wandered into territory neither of them seemed capable of navigating properly anymore.
But then she looked at him.
Really looked at him.
At the tightness around his mouth despite his teasing. At the way he seemed almost braced for her refusal whilst trying not to show it.
At the soft pleading look in his deep blue eyes…
The one she had always been completely incapable of denying him when he looked at her like that.
Letting out a quiet breath, she stepped back from the doorway.
“Fine,” she murmured, feeling a small spike of nerves flutter low in her stomach as he moved past her into the room.
She shut the door behind him and turned to see him come to a stop near the end of the bed.
Penelope gazed at him uncertainly.
There was an odd sort of nervous energy about him tonight. Like he was trying very hard to contain whatever it was that was brewing underneath.
And it made her feel uneasy too.
She watched as his fingers flexed at his side before curling inward again into fists. Then he glanced around the room before looking back at her with an intensity that made her pulse jump.
“Is everything alright?” she asked carefully.
“Yes. No. I mean…nothing’s wrong,” he corrected quickly, and then tutted, clearly irritated with himself. “Christ, I’m making a mess of this already.”
Penelope stayed silent. He clearly had something he needed to say and she could tell he was searching for the right words, whatever they were. She folded her arms across her chest almost in a poor effort to protect herself because now that the moment actually seemed to have arrived, where they might finally discuss what the hell was going on between them, she could feel all her earlier fears beginning to creep steadily back in.
Perhaps this had all been a mistake. Letting him in here. Letting herself hope again.
Colin suddenly drew in a breath before finally saying, “I wanted to thank you.”
A faint grimace crossed his face after he spoke, quick enough she might have missed it had she not been watching him so closely, although she wasn’t sure what it meant.
“For what?” she asked in confusion.
“My journal.”
Understanding dawned immediately.
“Oh.”
He nodded before continuing, “I meant to tell you earlier after I’d finished reading it.”
She shook her head.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yes, I do,” he insisted. His gaze fixed on her and this time there was something far more unguarded in it as he took an involuntary step toward her. “Pen, I sat and read every one of your notes.” A faint breath of laughter escaped him, though it carried no real amusement. “Some of them more than once.”
She looked at him in pleased surprise.
“Really?”
He nodded again and closed the remaining distance between them in a couple of strides. Once in front of her, he gave her a small smile.
“Yes, really,” he repeated softly. “What you wrote…it means a lot to me. More than you probably realise.”
She stared up at him, suddenly remembering herself years earlier, sitting curled up with his journal in her lap and scribbling thoughts onto coloured sticky notes because she’d been so absurdly impressed by him. By the way he noticed things. By the way he wrote about ordinary moments like they were something incredibly special.
Then everything with Marina had happened and she’d held onto it not knowing what to do.
Until now.
“I’m glad,” she said softly. “Because I meant every word.”
His mouth parted a little at that and then his smile widened.
“Even the part where you called me brilliant?” he asked lightly, though she could hear the vulnerability that laced his teasing tone.
“Yes,” she whispered, dropping her gaze as warmth flooded her cheeks once more. “Even that part.”
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then, slowly, Colin lifted his hand and placed a finger gently beneath her chin, tilting her face back up. His touch sent a swift tingle of awareness through her and when their eyes met again, her breath caught.
“Well,” he murmured after a moment, his voice low, “I don’t think anyone’s ever said such wonderful things like that about me before.”
Her folded arms loosened at the quiet honesty in his admission and, as though sensing a softening in her, Colin leaned a little closer. Her hands came up to rest against his chest, not to stop him, more to steady herself beneath the intensity of the way he was looking at her.
His thumb brushed her jaw, the touch so impossibly gentle that she felt herself sway toward him.
“Colin…”
She wasn’t entirely sure what she meant to say after that. Maybe nothing. Maybe his name alone had been enough because the look in his eyes darkened instantly, the tenderness still there but now mixed in with an unmistakable desire that made her heart stumble, then pick up pace.
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth, and then, as if he could no longer stop himself, he bent and kissed her.
The moment his lips touched hers, every coherent thought in her head vanished.
A faint sound escaped her as his hand moved to cradle her cheek before he kissed her fiercely, as though he had been holding himself back for far too long.
Fingers curling into the thick wool of his jumper, she clutched at him as heat rushed through her so fast it near left her dizzy. He drew her against him with an almost desperate urgency and suddenly she could feel everything; the hard line of his body pressed against hers, the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm, the slight unsteadiness in the breath he exhaled against her mouth.
And when her fingers slid into his hair, a sound so raw and needy escaped him it went straight to her core.
His grip tightened at her waist and the kiss deepened, slower this time, as though he was trying to pour everything he still could not quite say into the way he touched her instead.
The first she realised they’d moved was when the backs of her legs hit the edge of the bed. Colin’s arm tightened around her body as he guided her backwards onto the mattress and followed her down.
He caught himself above her, one arm braced beside her head, fingers tangling in her hair, whilst the other held her firmly to him. She couldn’t believe she was in his arms again, heat unfurling inside her as the feel of him all solid muscle and familiar weight pressed her down into the mattress.
His mouth left hers only long enough to trail along her jaw before finding that sensitive spot beneath her ear that made her melt every time.
She felt his hand move, smoothing down her body leaving a trail of sparks in its wake until he edged beneath the hem of her nightshirt, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thigh as he drew her flush against him.
The unmistakable hardness of him pressed between her legs through the thin barrier of their clothes and a soft, helpless sound caught in her throat as heat pooled low in her stomach. She arched into him, silently asking for more and he exhaled sharply, his breath hot against her throat before he resumed his slow exploration of her neck.
Penelope could not seem to stop touching him in return, her hands moving restlessly over his shoulders and down his back whilst she pressed herself even closer to him with another shaky breath.
“God, Pen,” he muttered, the words roughened with feeling. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
A shiver ran through her as his lips brushed her sensitive skin and she felt his hand starting to glide upwards to where she needed him most.
“Colin…”
“I think about you all the bloody time,” he groaned, the words spilling out of him unchecked before he captured her lips again.
The unexpected confession wrapped itself around her so completely that for a few blissful seconds she let herself believe in it entirely.
But then, somewhere beneath it all, she could still feel it, that awful creeping fear slowly forcing its way back to the surface.
Because this was Colin.
Colin, who had spent years carefully holding himself apart from everyone around him. Colin, who had looked at her tonight with a care and openness she was slowly growing more accustomed to seeing but still barely knew what to do with. Who was now saying things she’d never once imagined hearing from him.
And all of that should have thrilled her.
Because this was everything she had wanted from him for so long and yet, part of her still felt hopelessly behind somehow, trying unsuccessfully to catch up with how quickly everything between them seemed to have changed.
Her chest ached painfully because she wanted to believe it. God, she wanted to. Wanted to stop questioning every look and touch and word from him and simply let herself have this.
Have him.
But the dread of being wrong sat stubbornly underneath it all and before she could stop herself, her body tensed beneath his hands.
Colin stilled before pulling back just enough to look down at her, his concerned gaze roaming over her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
“Nothing.”
He looked unconvinced.
“Pen.”
She let out a small breath and turned her face away, frustration curling inside her because she was so tired of second-guessing every moment they shared.
“I just…” She swallowed hard before forcing herself to ask the question she had been circling around for days. “What are we doing, Colin?”
Obvious confusion crossed his face before he shifted further back from her, the warmth between them easing as uncertainty crept into his expression.
“Sorry, do you not want this?”
“No. No, that’s not…” She let out a soft, exasperated sigh because the last thing she wanted to do was make him feel like he was forcing her into anything. “I do want this.”
Some of the tension left his face at that and he moved toward her again, his hand going to her waist as though reassured by her answer. But before he could kiss her, she couldn’t help but add, “I just don’t know what this is.”
He stopped again and this time drew back from her fully, making her mourn the sudden loss of him. He gazed down at her and she knew him well enough to see from the expression on his face that he was weighing up what to say next.
Finally, he asked carefully, “What do you want it to be?”
His answer grated on her a little, because instead of easing the doubts spiralling around her head, it only seemed to fuel them further.
“I want it to be something you’re sure of,” she replied.
His expression softened and he gave her a faintly puzzled smile.
“I am sure.”
“Are you?” she challenged, unable to stop herself now that she’d started down this path.
His look of surprise was swiftly followed by one of hurt.
“Pen…”
“Because I’m not,” she cut across him, “I have no idea what’s happening between us anymore.”
For a moment he simply stared at her before pushing himself upright and easing back against the headboard, one hand dragging slowly through his hair.
“I thought it was fairly obvious.”
“Did you?” It came out sharper than she’d intended and she felt a pang of guilt when his head snapped back round at the injustice of it, but she pushed it away. Sitting up as well, she tugged the hem of her nightshirt down, acutely aware of her lack of clothing. “Because you came in here tonight thanking me and kissing me and I…” She broke off, shaking her head slightly before adding more accusingly, “I mean, let’s be honest, Colin, before a few days ago, you’d never even given me a second glance.”
He looked astonished at that.
“That’s not…”
Top of Form
“And now you’re saying you think about me all the time and you keep looking at me like…” She broke off mid-sentence, struggling to explain herself. “Oh, I don’t know. I just can’t keep up with it.”
Her throat tightened painfully because none of this was coming out the way she wanted it to.
Staring down at her lap, she tried to gather her thoughts and continued more quietly, “I resigned and everything changed and I don’t know if…” Her voice faltered slightly, the words sounding less certain the further she pushed through them. “I don’t know if this is really about me or if you’re maybe mistaking not wanting to lose me for…for something else.”
The utter silence that followed was awful. Suffocating.
When she finally gathered the courage to look at him again, every trace of warmth had vanished from his face. Gone was the hopefulness that had brought him to her room tonight, replaced instead by the familiar guardedness that had been noticeably absent from him these past few days.
A sick, sinking feeling spread heavily through her chest.
“Colin…” she said softly, reaching instinctively toward him.
But before her fingers could touch his arm, he stood abruptly from the bed and swung around to face her. He looked almost unnaturally composed now, were it not for the rigid set of his shoulders and the way his hands had curled tightly into fists at his sides.
“Is that really what you think this is?” he asked, his voice devoid almost entirely of emotion. “What you think of me?”
Guilt surged inside her and she pushed herself up onto her knees in the middle of the bed. She knew even as the words rose to her lips that they were the wrong thing to say and yet she couldn’t stop herself anyway.
“Oh, come on, Colin, you have to admit this has all been rather quick.”
His eyes widened and then a disbelieving laugh escaped him as he looked away for a second, shaking his head to himself.
“Quick,” he repeated under his breath, like he genuinely could not believe what he was hearing.
Something hot and defensive curled low in her stomach because he was acting as though she had no reason to question any of this.
“You’ve spent years keeping everyone at arm’s length,” she pointed out, frustration and disbelief tangling together in her voice now. “Can you really blame me for doubting all…” she gestured a little wildly between them, “…this?”
“No! Not everyone,” he retorted, the force of it silencing her. His jaw tightened as he held her gaze and, after a beat, he added more roughly, “Not you.”
She drew in a startled breath and for one suspended moment the room felt completely still around them.
Then he let out an abrupt, humourless bark of laughter as he pushed a jerky hand back through his hair, all pretence gone now.
“Although apparently none of that matters anyway,” he muttered bitterly. “Because you seem pretty determined to believe I’m confusing love for a good fuck.”
The stark vulgarity of the word made her flinch instinctively.
“Don’t say that.”
But even as the protest left her lips, the other word finally caught up with her.
Love.
Oh God.
“Don’t say what?” he asked flatly. “Love? Or fuck?”
She opened her mouth, desperate to say something, anything, but no words came. Her thoughts tangled hopelessly together, weighed down by the enormity of what he had just revealed.
He looked away and she saw the shine in his eyes before he closed them, visibly struggling to regain control of himself. Something inside her twisted painfully at the sight of it and every instinct she had screamed at her to go to him, but before she could even move, he was already turning away.
“I have to go.”
She stared at him for a second, her mind lagging uselessly behind the words before the meaning finally landed all at once.
“No, Colin…”
He stopped and for one relieved second, she thought he was going to turn back around. But when he moved again, it was only to reach into the pocket of his jeans.
She watched as he pulled out a small jewellery box and glanced down at it silently before crossing to the chest of drawers nearby and placing it carefully on top without ever looking at her.
“Merry Christmas, Penelope.”
The words sounded uneven, like he was forcing them past something lodged in his throat. And then he left the room, closing the door behind him with an unmistakeable air of finality.
Penelope remained frozen in the middle of the bed, unable to do anything except stare blankly after him, her mind awhirl.
What the hell had just happened?
Nothing about the last few minutes seemed to fit together properly anymore. Every time she tried to make sense of it, her thoughts only jumbled further around the same impossible thing until she felt completely overwhelmed by it all.
Love.
A shaky breath left her as she pressed her hands to her cheeks, trying desperately to steady herself whilst the reality of that slowly began sinking in.
Her gaze shifted to the chest of drawers and the small jewellery box sitting there, her brow furrowing faintly because he’d already given her a Christmas present, hadn’t he?
Still feeling strangely numb, she finally forced herself off the bed and crossed toward it. With trembling hands, she picked up the box and opened it, a small gasp escaping her the instant she saw what was inside.
She stared down at the delicate bangle in mild bewilderment until her eyes landed on the tiny typewriter charm hanging near the clasp and her heart gave a sudden lurch.
Carefully, she lifted it from the box.
The little charms jangled softly against one another as she turned it over and saw what else was there; a fountain pen, a tiny book…a pendant.
A writer is a world trapped in a person.
The engraved words blurred almost at once behind the sudden sting of tears.
“Oh, Colin.”
The whisper broke helplessly from her as she pressed her hand to her mouth, emotion swelling painfully inside her because this was so unmistakably him.
The real him.
The Colin she had known before all the walls and distance he’d built around himself.
And suddenly all she could see was him standing there trying to protect himself whilst she accused him of not understanding his own feelings.
An urgency seized her then and she clutched the bracelet tightly in her hand before hurrying from the room, barely registering the tears sliding unchecked down her face as she rushed along the corridor toward his bedroom.
His door was ajar and she entered without thinking twice, his name on her lips, but then she came to a shuddering halt. Her gaze darted frantically around as though she might somehow have missed him before it landed on the open wardrobe.
Her stomach dropped, then began churning unpleasantly.
The room was empty.
No clothes.
No case.
Suddenly, a broken sob tore from her throat and the tears came harder than before as her heart rejected what her head already knew.
In Season 3, Colin and Penelope’s wedding dance feels so beautiful because it’s completely centered on their love for each other.
The way they look at one another, dance so closely, and seem to forget everyone else in the room makes the moment feel incredibly intimate and emotional. It’s like, after everything they went through, this is finally their moment.
Colin’s gentle touch and the way Penelope looks at him with so much love and devotion says everything without either of them needing words.
What makes the scene so special is how tender it feels—not dramatic or overdone, just two people completely in love and fully choosing each other.
It really is such a lovely and heartfelt moment between them ❤️🌺
Penelope placed a steaming mug of tea down on her makeshift desk and checked her watch. She had an hour before she had to leave for work, just enough time to get some writing done. Opening her laptop, she brought up the file she’d been working on and, after a cursory read through, she began to type.
When she’d finally set out to start her book, she hadn’t thought of basing it on her own life, but that’s exactly what had happened. Things had crept in and rooted themselves in the story so steadfastly that in the end she’d given in and just gone with it.
Only she would know, after all.
The difficult part was going to be giving her main character a happy ending. It was a romance and, in that department, Penelope had no experience whatsoever.
The love of her life had got away.
No, that wasn’t right…he hadn’t got away, she’d let him go. There was a difference, and since then, she’d built a life that didn’t leave much room for looking back.
That had been the point.
Her fingers paused over the keyboard, the cursor blinking back from the half-finished paragraph on the screen, as though waiting for her to decide what came next.
She’d already done the hard part.
Or at least, that was how she’d been choosing to think about it.
The last few evenings had been spent working through the beginning, laying out the foundations of it all.
She’d started it with the death of her heroine’s father and without realising it, it had become the death of hers, the memories pushing through whether she wanted them to or not.
By the time they’d reached home that night, the police had already been there. The questions, the way they spoke to her mother, the way she’d answered a bit too quickly – it had all come back with far more clarity than she’d expected, spilling onto the page before she’d had much chance to stop it.
It hadn’t been just an accident.
There had been debts. More than that. Scams, gambling, even an attempt at extortion. Things that had felt almost unreal at the time, and yet had shaped everything that came after.
They’d lost the house for a start.
And she’d written it all.
Stripped back, slightly altered in places, changed just enough that it didn’t feel like she was putting her own life down in plain terms - but not so much that she didn’t recognise it.
That had been manageable.
It was easier, she’d found, to write about things that were already over. Things that had an ending, even if it hadn’t felt like one at the time. It was everything that came after that she hadn’t quite worked out how to approach.
Her gaze dropped back to the screen, to the line where she had stopped. It was the point where the male protagonist was supposed to come in.
She hadn’t written him yet.
Not really.
There were hints of him, scattered references she had allowed herself to include without trying to think too much about it. But nothing solid. Nothing she had to sit with and shape into something real.
She typed a couple more lines, then paused again. It was proving harder than she’d imagined.
Writing the character meant thinking about him.
Colin.
Not in the way she’d taught herself to think about him over the years, but properly. Clearly. With nowhere to hide from it.
She bit down on her lip.
They say write what you know but that had been the problem all along.
Her fingers hovered over the keys for a moment longer, then she sighed and leaned back in her chair. Picking up her mug, she sipped her tea and stared at the screen, debating whether to continue with her original idea or think up something safer instead.
She grimaced. She knew what she wanted to write. She just didn’t want to do it. It would mean unlocking feelings she had long since shut away in the furthest reaches of her mind.
She sat there for a moment longer, weighing it up, then tutted under her breath and set her tea down on the coaster with a sharp thump. She was being ridiculous. If she wanted her story told, she had to be honest about it and write the damn thing, painful or not.
Bracing herself, she leaned forward and started typing again, finally letting the memories flood in…
She’d been so determined to contact Colin, at first. It’d seemed easy enough then. She’d just underestimated how quickly time could get away from you when everything else was falling apart.
Replacing her broken phone hadn’t been a priority when there was no money and they were trying to work out where they would be living from one week to the next. Days passed in a blur and by the time she’d finally had a chance to catch her breath, she’d realised that she hadn’t written his number down anywhere.
Knowing he’d be worried, she’d decided to go to the library and use the facilities there. It felt infinitely more private than asking to use any of her family’s phones.
She could still remember it clearly. The low hum of the computers, the faint smell of books. The bright voice of a young girl reading a story about bellybuttons to a group of toddlers.
She’d smiled at their giggles before sitting down in front of one of the older machines, her fingers tapping lightly on the desk as she tried to work out where to even begin.
She knew his name. The pub had always advertised when he was playing.
What she hadn’t expected was everything that came with it.
The search results filled the screen almost immediately, more than she could take in at once. Articles, photographs, names that were vaguely familiar but carried far more weight than she had ever understood at the time.
His family wasn’t just wealthy. They were aristocracy.
She’d stared at it for a long while, scrolling slowly, her chest tightening with each new detail.
They were everywhere.
Events she’d never heard of before. Titles that made her eyes go wide. References to his elder brother and the position that came with it. Connections that stretched far beyond anything she ever could have imagined.
And the more she looked, the more it became clear in a way that it hadn’t before, exactly what she had to do.
Because for the first time, she understood what it would mean.
Not just for her, but for Colin too.
All the scandal her father had left behind didn’t disappear just because they had walked away from it. It followed them in ways she was only just beginning to understand. In questions she couldn’t answer. In things that would not stay buried if anyone started looking too closely.
She couldn’t bring that to his door. Couldn’t be the reason any of it reached him.
She’d closed the page then, her decision made. But instead of relief, there had only been a sharp, sickening sense of loss that rolled through her so intensely she’d had to press a hand against her stomach just to steady herself. It had felt frighteningly like grief all over again. Like losing someone precious a second time, only now she was the one choosing it.
It would have been easier, perhaps, if she hadn’t loved him so much. If what had happened between them had been nothing more than a brief summer fling she could eventually file away as a sweet memory and move on from properly.
But it hadn’t been.
And despite everything, despite the decision she’d made and how firmly she’d tried to hold to it, she’d never quite managed to stop looking for him afterwards.
Not constantly. Not obsessively. But enough.
Enough that every so often she would find herself searching his name before she could talk herself out of it.
Enough to know how his music was going.
Enough to know how he was doing.
It had been too easy really, and if, some days, she spent a little longer looking at photos of him than was good for her, that was her cross to bear.
She couldn’t remember what she had been searching for the day she stopped. Only that it had led her somewhere she hadn’t meant to go, a page she might have clicked past if the headline hadn’t caught her eye and made her draw in a sharp, pained breath.
Bridgerton Bachelor Set to Propose? Sources Say Wedding Could Be Imminent
She’d stared at it for a long moment, the words refusing to make sense at first, then sinking in all at once and making her stomach churn.
There had been a photograph beneath it, and that had made it worse. He was pictured at some exclusive black tie event with his arm around a woman who looked like she belonged at his side. Tall, beautiful, willowy, blonde.
Nothing like her.
She’d shut it down almost immediately.
Of course he'd moved on. Why wouldn’t he?
It was only later that night when it really hit. Lying in bed, tears streaming down her cheeks, her already broken heart splintering further.
It was one thing to think it might happen. Another to actually see it.
After that, she hadn’t looked again.
Penelope blinked, her focus returning to the laptop, to the half-finished sentence and the cursor still blinking patiently where she had left it. She exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through her long hair before glancing at the time in the corner of the screen.
“Crap.”
She pushed her chair back, the legs scraping lightly against the floor as she stood. If she didn’t get ready now, she was going to be late.
Reaching for her mug, she took it through to the kitchen and set it in the sink, then quickly got herself ready and headed out the door. By the time she reached the tube station, the morning rush had already begun to build, the platform crowded with commuters.
Six stops later, she got off the train, grateful to escape the rather unfortunate individual who had clearly not showered that morning.
That week, even.
And why did those people always have to stand next to her when she was armpit height?
She wrinkled her nose at the thought and turned down a side road. Gen’s studio sat tucked into the corner of a converted warehouse, the kind of place you could easily miss if you weren’t looking for it.
Penelope had started working for Genevieve Delacroix almost five months ago. She owned a small fashion label that was rapidly gaining notice for her distinct style and her ability to design for all shapes and sizes.
It had taken Penelope longer than she might have liked to get to this point in her life. For a while, after everything with her father, simply keeping things afloat had been enough. Her sisters had married and moved on. She’d tried dating a couple of guys, but it’d never worked out, and then Portia had been diagnosed with cancer. She’d stayed with her, working whatever hours she could get, doing what was needed while her mother recovered.
It had been slow, but she had recovered.
And once she had, Penelope had found herself stuck.
The life she’d built out of necessity had quietly become the only one she had, and at some point, she’d realised she didn’t want that to be it. Not anymore. She wanted something of her own. Something that wasn’t just getting through the next week.
A job that didn’t keep her on her feet all day had seemed like a good place to start. Then a flat of her own, eventually, if she could afford it.
So, when Penelope had seen Gen’s advert looking for a general office person, she’d done her research and liked what she saw enough to go for it. But instead of simply sending her CV like everyone else, she had turned up unannounced to hand it over herself.
Later, she would admit it had been mostly bravado, mixed with a fair amount of desperation.
At the time, though, it had worked.
Genevieve had liked the nerve of it. The willingness to show up and make herself known rather than waiting to be picked out of a pile. They had spoken for ten, maybe fifteen minutes at most, a conversation that had felt more like being informally assessed than interviewed. By the end of it Gen had offered her the job, trusting her instincts in the way she always did when it came to her business.
And it had paid off.
Somewhere along the line, the role had shifted into something else entirely. Less general office work, more being at Genevieve’s side, keeping things running, managing what needed managing before it became a problem. In the end, Gen had given her the title of PA and a hefty pay rise along with it.
Penelope had found a flat not long after. Small, but hers, and the world it opened up felt far bigger than the space itself.
Now, she pushed open the door to the warehouse and stepped inside. Shrugging off her coat, she popped into her small office and left her things there before heading out to find Gen.
Music was already playing, as it usually was. Gen liked something low and unobtrusive filling the space while she worked. It was the kind of background noise Penelope had long since stopped really noticing.
At least, that was the case most mornings.
Today, however, it caught her attention.
She slowed as she crossed the room, a frown creasing her brow as her gaze drifted toward the speakers.
It wasn’t the music itself.
It was the voice.
She’d know it anywhere.
She came to a halt, her stomach dropping even as her heart picked up its pace.
It’d been so long.
She shook her head in disbelief. Had she done this to herself somehow? She’d been thinking about him all morning, dragging it all back up after years of not letting herself go there, and now…was she hearing things?
“Who’s this?” she asked, her voice a little too high.
Perhaps she was mistaken.
Perhaps she’d got it completely and utterly…
“Colin Bridgerton,” Gen replied, not looking up from where she was adjusting a length of fabric with quick, practiced movements. “Haven’t you heard it before? It’s been everywhere for weeks. Big hit.”
…right.
“Has it?” she all but squeaked.
Gen glanced over at her, then paused, taking her in properly.
“Yes. You okay?”
Penelope nodded far too quickly.
“Fine.” A short, brittle laugh followed and she winced at how forced it sounded.
Gen didn’t move. The fabric hung loosely in her hands as she watched her, attention sharpening as she took in the reaction for what it was rather than what Penelope was trying to pass it off as.
“I know them,” she suddenly stated nonchalantly. “The Bridgertons.”
Penelope blanched, her breath catching before she could stop it.
“You do?” she asked, her voice coming out smaller than she intended.
Gen nodded. “Yeah. I went out with Benedict a couple of times, a few years ago. Turned out we’re better as friends though. And I’ve dressed a couple of his sisters too.”
“Oh.” The moment stretched as the implication started to hit. “Oh, no.”
The other woman’s expression changed, a realisation clicking into place as she stepped closer.
“Hang on,” she muttered, already reaching for her phone. “There was an interview the other week. Colin was talking about his song, said it wasn’t just something he’d written, that it was…” She glanced up and gave Penelope’s now flushed face a contemplative once over, “…about someone he couldn’t forget. From years ago.”
The redhead’s eyes widened. “He did?”
Genevieve nodded, then moved closer and held her phone out to her so that she could see. “Here, read it.”
Penelope hesitated before taking it from her, her eyes moving quickly over the screen. The more she read, the harder it became to breathe properly around the sudden rush of emotion welling up inside of her. By the time she lowered the phone again, her throat felt tight and her eyes stung with the painful realisation that she had not been the only one unable to truly move on.
Gen didn’t rush her. She simply watched her quietly before finally asking, “Is he talking about you?”
Penelope’s first instinct was to deny it.
The answer rose automatically to the surface, but the moment she looked up and saw the expression on Genevieve’s face she knew it would be pointless. Between the song, the interview, and the tears she was clearly trying not to blink away, she had likely already answered without meaning to.
And strangely, after reading his words, after carrying all of it around silently for so long, part of her suddenly didn’t want to lie about it anymore.
“I-I think so,” she admitted, and even that felt strange to say out loud. Her gaze dropped briefly back to the phone again before she handed it back. “I mean, I do know him, and I did leave,” she confessed unhappily. “And didn’t say anything. I couldn’t, it all happened so fast, Gen…”
She stopped, everything she’d just learned stirring up a whirlwind of emotions she struggled to contain. She’d spent so long convincing herself that he was lost to her, had even made peace with it and now this…
She gave a disbelieving shake of her head before muttering under her breath, “But...it was years ago. He couldn’t…he wouldn’t…”
“He wouldn’t what?” Genevieve prompted as Penelope trailed off again. “Keep loving you even when he thinks there’s no hope?” She smiled a little at the other woman’s dubious expression. “If you can, why can’t he?”
The question hung there.
Penelope’s throat tightened as she searched for something, anything, that might make sense of it.
Nothing came.
‘If you can, why can’t he?’
She couldn’t even deny it. Her love for him was so ingrained now.
But, could it really be true for Colin?
He hadn’t sounded uncertain in that interview. He’d said it outright. That he hoped she knew she mattered.
And his song…
She hadn’t really listened to the words. She’d been so thrown by hearing his voice, but now…now she really wanted to hear it again. To actually listen this time.
Across from her, the other woman remained silent, giving her the space to get there on her own.
“Can you…” She stopped, then tried again. “Can you play it again?”
Genevieve smiled and nodded. After a few taps on the screen, she held the phone between them and the first notes of the song filled the air.
This time, she listened avidly to every word.
When the song finished, Penelope didn’t speak straight away, the silence stretching for a moment before she managed, “Again, please.”
Gen didn’t question it. She simply reached for her phone and tapped the screen again.
The second time was worse. Every line hit a little harder because she understood where it had come from, what it meant, and that it had been written for her.
“Oh God…” she breathed, bringing a shaky hand up to her mouth. “What am I supposed to do?” she went on, the words coming quicker now as the little control she’d been clinging to began to give way. “You don’t understand what happened, what my dad… nothing’s changed, Gen. I can’t just…”
She broke off and dragged in an unsteady breath.
That was all it took.
Genevieve crossed the space between them without hesitation and pulled her into a fierce hug, cutting cleanly through the spiral before it could take hold.
“Hey,” she murmured. “Come on.” She drew back, her hands settling lightly on Penelope’s arms. “Let’s get a cup of tea. You can tell me everything.”
Penelope let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Okay.”
By the time they’d finished their drinks, she had told her everything. When she finally fell quiet, the older woman leaned back slightly, her expression sympathetic as she looked at her.
“God, Pen,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. That’s…a lot.”
Penelope let out a sigh, her gaze dropping briefly to her mug. “It’s not been easy.”
“I can imagine,” her friend murmured meaningfully. She tilted her head slightly then, considering Penelope for a moment before continuing slowly, “But…the Bridgertons aren’t like that, you know?”
Penelope frowned faintly, glancing up. “What do you mean?”
“They look after their own,” she replied, a wry smile touching her lips. “Trust me, I could tell you stories that would make your toes curl, and that’s just about Benedict.”
Penelope could imagine. She hadn’t had many dealings with Colin’s older brother, but she knew from some of the things, he and Eloise had said about him that he was quite the free spirit. Still, as nice as it was to hear that the family looked out for each other, that didn’t include her. Not then. Not now.
“But I wasn’t one of their own,” Penelope pointed out quietly.
“I don’t think Colin saw it that way,” Genevieve contradicted kindly. “I think you were a lot more ‘their own’ than you realised.”
Penelope swallowed against the sudden ache in her throat.
“Maybe,” she allowed softly.
Gen held her gaze for a moment before shaking her head slightly. “You deserve to be happy, Penelope,” she said, firm enough that it left little room to argue. “And from what he said in that interview, so does he.”
Penelope looked down at her mug, her fingers tightening slightly around it.
For years, she had held onto the belief that walking away had been the right thing to do. It had become easier with time, something she’d repeated to herself so often it had eventually stopped feeling like a choice and started feeling like fact.
But now…
Now she wasn’t so sure anymore.
“Do you think I got it wrong then?” she asked, almost afraid of what Genevieve might say.
The other woman’s expression softened. “I think you should at least talk to him and find out.”
Penelope frowned, her thumb moving absently around the rim of her mug as she turned the idea over in her mind. Maybe Gen was right. She owed him more than silence. She owed him the truth, at least.
“I’ll think about it,” she said at last, though even as the words left her mouth, she already knew she would. Eventually.
Genevieve, however, looked far too pleased with that answer for Penelope’s liking. Seconds later, she realised why.
“Or, you could actually see him tonight,” the other woman proposed with a sudden grin.
Penelope blinked. “What?”
“He’s playing a gig,” she informed her as she began typing something on her phone. “Small venue, other side of London. Let me ask Benedict if he can get us in.”
Penelope stared at her, momentarily lost for words.
She had only just wrapped her head around the fact Colin still had feelings for her after all this time, and now Gen was suggesting she actually go and see him?
Tonight?
A wave of panic swept through her at the thought.
Genevieve glanced up from her phone and must have caught the worried look on her face because she said, more firmly this time, “Look, I’m not suggesting you throw yourself at the man. We can go, have a drink, listen to the music, and leave again if it feels too weird. He doesn’t even have to know you’re there.”
Penelope swallowed hard. Every instinct she had urged her to put this off. To give herself time to think, time to breathe, time to get used to the idea before she actually had to face him.
But beneath the panic was something else too, something she could no longer pretend wasn’t there.
She wanted to see him again.
Not just through memories she’d replayed too many times in her own head, but in the flesh. She wanted to hear him laugh again. Wanted to watch his eyes shine when he spoke about something he was passionate about, wanted to know whether he still pushed his hair back the same way when he was nervous.
To know whether seeing him again would hurt as much as she suspected it might.
The idea still terrified her, but the thought of not going suddenly felt worse.
“Okay,” she heard herself say.
Gen grinned and sent off a message. Half an hour later, Benedict had replied.
“All sorted,” the older woman announced with obvious satisfaction. “We’ll leave a bit earlier today. Go straight from here.”
Penelope looked down at her skinny black jeans, pale pink blouse and sensible shoes before wrinkling her nose slightly.
“Really? I think I should go home and change first.”
“You look gorgeous,” Gen assured her. “And I really don’t think he’ll care what you’re wearing once he sees you, babe.” She held out the end of some silky red fabric towards her. “Now, hold that while I pin this up, will you?”
Knowing there was little point arguing further, Penelope took the material while Genevieve got back to work.
The rest of the day passed far more quickly than she expected, though afterwards Penelope couldn’t have said what she’d actually done for most of it. Gen attempted to keep her busy with idle chatter, but she may as well have been talking to one of the mannequins for all the attention Penelope managed to give her.
When it was time to leave, Penelope felt no more prepared than she had earlier.
“Come on,” Gen said, already reaching for her coat. “We’ll get a drink before it starts. You look like you could use one.”
Penelope murmured something in agreement and followed her out, her thoughts still hopelessly elsewhere.
The station was busier than usual, the platform already crowded by the time they arrived, and when the train finally pulled in, it crawled. They sat there for what felt like an eternity, Penelope’s anxiety ratcheting steadily higher while an announcement crackled overhead about problems on the line, delays further ahead, apologies for the inconvenience.
By the time they reached their stop, the earlier delays had left the station far more crowded than it should have been, people pushing past in impatient waves as they made for the exits.
They were quite late, so they didn’t speak much as they walked. Genevieve set a fast pace that Penelope struggled to keep up with, her stomach tightening the closer they got.
She was a little out of breath by the time they finally pushed open the door to the venue. The gig had already started, music assailing her ears before they were even fully inside.
“So much for that drink,” Gen muttered beside her, though Penelope barely heard.
The room was loud and warm, bodies packed too tightly together, the music vibrating up through the floor beneath her feet.
But none of it really registered.
Because she had already seen him.
If she’d been out of breath before, the sight of him now stole the little she had left.
He was on stage, half-obscured at first by the people standing in front of her, but she could see enough. Dressed all in black, the way he moved as he played, the brief flash of his smile between lyrics - it was all so achingly familiar that it hit her in the gut before she had the chance to prepare for it.
For a moment, she could only stare.
Time had changed him obviously. He’d matured, looked more self-assured. His hair was still the same rich chestnut colour, but he wore it slightly longer now, the curls a little messier. Stubble lined his jaw, accentuating his full lips and lending him a sexier look, though she could still see traces of the boy she fell in love with beneath it all.
And, for a moment, she was back in that pub again. Watching him from across the room. Back before life had unravelled around her, when everything between them had still felt full of possibility.
How different everything was now.
He wasn’t alone on stage for a start. There was a drummer and a bassist with him too, the sound fuller and far more polished than those early pub gigs had ever been. But even with all of that around him, the music still felt unmistakably Colin.
Penelope hadn’t realised she’d stopped moving completely until someone bumped into her shoulder trying to get past. She barely noticed, steadying herself again without looking away from him.
The song ended, the final note hanging for a fraction of a second before Colin strummed his electric guitar sharply to finish. Applause erupted around the room immediately afterwards, cheers and whistles breaking out from every direction.
“Penelope?”
The voice came suddenly from beside her, loud enough over the crowd to make her jump.
She turned abruptly and gasped.
Eloise was standing there staring at her, eyes wide with disbelief.
“Penelope?” she repeated, almost shouting it this time over the noise around them. “Oh my God, it is you.”
For a second, Penelope could only stare back, a flicker of uncertainty twisting unexpectedly in her chest. She hadn’t let herself think this far ahead, to what seeing any of them again might actually be like.
“El,” she managed.
The brunette didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug before Penelope had the chance to properly react. The warmth of it caught her completely off guard. For half a second she froze, then hugged her back just as tightly.
“You’re here,” Eloise exclaimed, half-laughing as she finally drew back enough to look at her properly again. “Jesus Christ, it really is you.”
Penelope blinked quickly against the sudden sting in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she burst out. The words weren’t enough considering everything, but she needed to say them anyway.
“Yeah, well,” Eloise replied dryly, quickly brushing beneath one eye before catching herself. “I’m still cross with you, just for the record.”
A startled laugh escaped Penelope before she could stop it, though the guilt twisting in her chest remained.
Eloise’s expression softened slightly then, though it didn’t quite lose its edge as her attention shifted back towards the stage just as Colin’s voice carried over the mic.
“Alright, this next one’s probably why most of you are here.”
The reaction was immediate, a ripple of noise moving through the room, whistles and cheers cutting through the hum of conversation.
Eloise’s hand tightened slightly around Penelope’s arm as she glanced back at her, something knowing flickering briefly across her face.
“Come on,” she urged, grabbing her hand instead. “Let’s get you down the front.”
Penelope hesitated, her feet refusing to move, the nerves that had been building all evening hitting her all at once.
“Wait, I don’t know if I…”
Eloise cut her off with a look.
“He’s been waiting for years, Pen,” she told her pointedly. “Please don’t make him wait any longer.”
Penelope’s gaze flicked helplessly back towards the stage, her pulse suddenly hammering so hard she was sure Eloise must be able to feel it too.
Colin stood beneath the lights, one hand resting briefly against his guitar as he cast one last glance out across the crowd. For the first time she noticed the tension in him properly then, the strain in his expression, the slight tenseness through his shoulders before his attention finally dropped back to the instrument in his hands.
A second later his fingers moved across the strings, the opening notes of the song ringing out through the venue.
The sight of him tugged painfully at her chest and suddenly her own fear didn’t seem quite as important anymore.
Because despite everything, despite how exposed it must have made him feel, Colin had still been brave enough to put all of those feelings out into the world.
If he could do that, then surely she could walk a few steps closer to him.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
She glanced over at Genevieve who gave her an encouraging smile and gestured towards the bar.
“I’ll grab us a drink,” she called over the noise, “You go.”
Penelope barely managed a nod in return before Eloise started leading her through the crowd, determinedly weaving between people, not giving her the chance to change her mind. It got harder the closer they got to the front, but the brunette found a spot, not quite centre stage but off to one side, where there was just enough room to stand without being swallowed by the crowd entirely.
Eloise finally let go of her hand, though she stayed close, but Penelope hardly noticed. She only had eyes for the man she loved who was right there in front of her.
Completely unaware, up on stage, Colin continued to play. He was already deep into the song, performing more on instinct than conscious thought by now. He’d sung it enough times that the words came and his hands moved without him really needing to think about it.
That didn’t stop it affecting him though.
It always took him back eventually, to the same handful of memories that time had never quite managed to dull no matter how badly he’d wanted it to.
He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into the next line as the crowd noise faded into the background for a moment.
The way it had all felt so uncomplicated back then, as though it might always stay that way if neither of them questioned it too closely. He hadn’t realised then how much of it he would take with him. How much of it would stay.
He opened his eyes again on the next line, his gaze lifting out across the crowd.
“I wonder if we’ll meet again…”
And then everything in him jolted.
Because she was there.
Right there.
Not at the back. Not mistaken for somebody else in the low lighting. Not another face he’d looked twice at over the years only to feel stupid afterwards.
Her.
“Talk about life since then…”
The words came out, but his voice dipped slightly around them, the shock of seeing her hitting so hard he almost missed the next chord entirely. His fingers faltered for the briefest second before tightening again around the neck of the guitar as he forced himself back into rhythm.
It didn’t make sense.
He had spent years telling himself that whatever they’d had ended the night she never came back, that the silence afterwards had meant what it had meant, even if part of him had never stopped wondering why.
And yet she was still there when he looked again, still staring back at him with that small smile on her face that he remembered so well.
The shock of it hit him all over again, disbelief giving way to something he hadn’t let himself feel in years as his eyes flicked instinctively towards Eloise beside her. One look at his sister’s face told him everything before his brain had properly caught up with it.
This was real.
She was real.
“Talk about why did it end?”
His voice caught slightly on the line, unsteady enough that he knew the crowd would hear it too, and for a second, he genuinely thought he might not be able to finish the song at all.
But then the feeling shifted into something else entirely, something warmer and almost painfully overwhelming now that he knew she was actually there listening to him.
His eyes stayed fixed on her, and suddenly it no longer felt like he was singing to a room full of strangers.
Just her.
“You made me feel like the one,
Made me feel like the one
The one…”
The words came out rougher now, carrying everything he had spent years trying not to say out loud.
He didn’t look away.
Couldn’t.
Because some part of him was still terrified that if he did, she’d disappear again.
He finished the song with his eyes still locked on hers, the final note ringing out just long enough before the room erupted around him.
He didn’t even notice.
All he could feel was his heart thudding wildly in his chest, everything inside him struggling to catch up with the fact that she was really there.
“Sorry,” he said, the word sounding faintly breathless through the mic. “Just…” He stopped and glanced back at the guys behind him as though only just remembering they were there. “Take five for me, yeah?”
The drummer shot the bassist a confused look, but Colin had already slipped the guitar strap over his head, put the instrument down and started moving before either of them could respond.
The crowd reacted immediately, confused laughter and excited murmuring rippling through the room as he jumped down from the stage and headed straight for her. People parted for him as he strode towards her, chatter becoming louder as they turned to see what was happening.
She still hadn’t moved.
Neither had he looked away from her once.
And by the time he finally reached her, stopping only a breath away, his heart was beating so hard he was half surprised she couldn’t hear it.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
He just stared at her, trying to reconcile the woman standing in front of him with the version of her he had carried around in his head for years. Her hair was much longer now, her eyes still that extraordinary shade of blue he’d never seen on anyone else, and if it were possible she was somehow even more beautiful than he remembered
“Pen?” he said at last, even now faintly questioning.
“Colin.” She smiled, small and tentative, like she still wasn’t quite certain how this would go. “Sorry I’m late.”
The words were light, almost careful, but the familiar teasing note beneath them hit him so hard after all this time that for a second, he could only stare at her.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly, just a disbelieving, slightly relieved, huff of laughter as he shook his head. Because there she was. Older, yes, changed in all the ways time naturally changed people, but underneath it all she was still Penelope.
Still her.
“Better late than never, right?” he countered, the words coming out warmer and far more emotional than he intended.
This time her smile reached her eyes, and the sight of it hit him all over again. Before he could think too hard about it, he reached for her hand, his fingers closing around hers, needing the contact.
She held on immediately.
Colin glanced back towards the stage, already hearing the restless murmur of the crowd building behind him, but his attention kept dragging straight back to her.
“I’ll see you after the set?” he asked hopefully.
“I’d really like that,” she replied with a nod.
He held her hand for another second before giving a small tug, pulling her toward him because suddenly he couldn’t bear the distance between them anymore.
Then he wrapped his arms around her.
She melted into him instantly, and the feeling of finally having her there again after all this time very nearly undid him. He closed his eyes briefly, breathing her in as he held her even closer.
“I missed you,” he muttered against her hair. “So bloody much.”
Her fingers curled into the back of his shirt.
“I missed you too.”
They stayed like that for a few seconds longer, holding onto each other while the room buzzed noisily around them.
Eventually he pulled back, though only slightly, his hands lingering against her arms as he looked at her again like he still couldn’t quite believe this was real.
He needed to go.
He knew that.
The crowd was growing restless behind them now, voices beginning to rise as the pause in the set stretched longer than expected. But every part of him resisted the idea of walking away from her now that he’d found her again.
A hand touched lightly against his shoulder.
Colin turned to find Eloise there, nodding pointedly towards the stage. A reluctant smile tugged briefly at his mouth before his attention shifted straight back to Penelope.
He hesitated.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him quietly, like she understood exactly why he was struggling to walk away.
He let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding and nodded once before finally forcing himself to turn back towards the stage.
The energy in the room only seemed to lift as Colin picked up his guitar and slipped the strap over his head. The interruption had left the crowd louder and more animated than before.
But it didn’t feel the same to him. Everything still sat slightly out of place somehow, while he went through the motions, struggling to focus on anything except the fact Penelope was standing only a few feet away watching him.
“Right,” he began with a faint smile as he leaned back towards the mic. “Where were we?”
A few laughs rippled through the crowd before somebody suddenly shouted, “Who is she?”
More voices followed almost immediately after that.
“Yeah, who’s the girl?”
The calls spread quickly through the room as people started looking in Penelope’s direction, curiosity building the longer he didn’t answer.
It would have been easy to brush it off. To laugh and move on before any of it got out of hand. But his gaze had already drifted back to her where she stood beside Eloise, looking slightly overwhelmed by the sudden attention, but still watching him all the same.
He grinned then, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t quite believe they even had to ask.
“The one,” he said simply.
For half a second the room seemed to pause, the meaning landing a beat behind the words before whistles and cheers suddenly broke out from every direction at once.
Penelope ducked her head immediately, a startled laugh escaping her as colour rushed into her cheeks.
His grin widened then he looked away and strummed the first notes of his next song.
Later, he would barely remember the rest of the set beyond flashes of music and applause and the constant awareness of her standing just off to the side. The second the final song ended, he glanced towards her again before nodding briefly towards the back of the stage. He pulled at his sweat slicked t-shirt, indicating the need to change as the material plastered itself to his body again once he let go.
Penelope nodded immediately, and if he puffed out his chest a little because he saw her gaze roam over him, well, he was just a man, after all.
He was gone only long enough to strip off and towel himself down before throwing on a dry top. Shoving a hand through his hair a couple of times to try and tame it, he took the barrage of teasing thrown at him backstage with good humour then headed back out as quickly as possible.
When he returned, Penelope was still exactly where he had left her. Gen and Eloise stood each side of her as though on guard to ensure she didn’t disappear, though in his gut, Colin knew she wasn’t going to run again. Not tonight.
“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked the moment he reached her, not even pretending he wanted to stay. “Go somewhere quieter?”
Penelope looked slightly surprised but nodded. “Yeah, that’d be good.”
“There’s a place just round the corner,” he suggested. “Or my flat’s not far…if you want to?” Heat suddenly crept up the back of his neck. Christ. Of course she wouldn’t want to go back to his flat after all this time. Not when they’d barely spoken more than five words to each other yet. “Or not,” he added quickly. “Whatever you want.”
A wry smile tugged at her mouth then.
“I think your flat would be a good idea,” she decided. “You’re a big star now. It’ll give us a bit more privacy. I don’t really fancy fighting off groupies all evening.”
“I don’t have groupies,” Colin snorted dismissively.
Almost immediately, two young women in tight mini dresses and sparkly make-up appeared at his shoulder.
“Sorry,” one of them giggled excitedly, already holding out her phone. “Could we maybe get a photo?”
Colin closed his eyes briefly, feeling the heat creep further up his face.
Behind Penelope, Eloise made a strangled sound that she quickly covered with a cough.
“Oh my God,” Penelope murmured, visibly trying not to smile.
His embarrassment only deepened.
“Uh…yeah, alright.”
The girls thanked him profusely while one of them shoved a pen at him for an autograph as well, both of them talking over each other so quickly he barely caught half of what they were saying. He smiled politely, signed what he was handed, stood awkwardly for the photo, and then escaped back to Penelope the second he could.
“Told you,” she declared innocently.
Colin frowned when Eloise outright laughed this time and reached for Penelope’s hand. “Okay, let’s go before anybody else bothers us.”
Gen grinned and nodded towards something behind him. “Better be quick. I can see more adoring fans heading your way already, and they look very determined.”
Colin glanced over his shoulder, spotted a small group clearly making their way towards him and swore quietly under his breath.
“Right. Bye,” he said quickly to Eloise and Gen before tightening his grip on Penelope’s hand and starting towards the door.
Penelope barely had time to laugh and throw a hurried goodbye back over her shoulder before he was steering her out into the night air with obvious determination.
Once outside, neither of them spoke, the breathless excitement of the evening rapidly fading because this was the difficult part. This was where they had to actually talk to each other and neither of them seemed in any particular rush to start.
“My place is just up here,” Colin muttered finally, his thumb brushing absently against the back of her hand.
Not long later, he stopped outside a smart-looking block of flats and reached into his pocket for his keys. Once inside, they rode the lift up in silence. At one point Colin glanced across at her and Penelope gave a small, slightly nervous smile in return. The sheer enormity of the situation seemed to hit them both all over again, neither of them quite knowing what to say yet.
When they reached his floor, he led her down a short hallway before unlocking the door at the very end.
“Sorry,” he apologised automatically as he pushed it open and stepped aside to let her in first. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”
“It’s fine,” she assured him, and it was.
The flat was nice. Bigger than she’d imagined from the outside of the building, but comfortable rather than flashy. A large dark blue sofa sat in the middle of the open-plan room facing a television mounted on the wall. A coffee table was littered with magazines and sheet music. Books were stacked unevenly across shelves and a jacket was thrown over the back of one of the wooden chairs that belonged to a small dining table set.
Off to one side sat the kitchen, while an open door further down caught her attention. Inside she could just make out a music stand and an acoustic guitar that looked very much like the one he’d had all those years ago when she first met him. It made her smile.
Colin hovered for a second before heading towards the kitchen.
“Tea?” he asked. “Or something stronger?”
She smiled slightly.
“Tea’s good.”
“Yeah,” he replied, sounding faintly relieved. “Probably best.”
He busied himself filling the kettle while Penelope waited nearby, watching him reach for two mugs before pausing halfway through opening the fridge.
“Still too much milk and one sugar?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Yeah,” she replied, a little surprised he still remembered. “It’s the only way.”
A faint smile tugged briefly at his mouth, like he was resisting the urge to tell her she still drank tea horribly wrong before he turned back to the mugs again.
Penelope stayed where she was for a moment before finally crossing the room to join him, leaning lightly against the edge of the counter while he finished making the drinks.
The kettle clicked off with a soft snap, cutting through the quiet between them.
Colin poured the water into both mugs before immediately fishing the teabag out of hers and adding her milk and sugar. His own tea was left to steep a little longer beside it.
Some things, apparently, really hadn’t changed at all.
“Thanks,” she accepted gratefully as he handed it over.
Colin glanced down at the pale colour of her tea and gave a faint snort of amusement. “Can’t believe you still drink it like that.”
Penelope smiled sweetly at him. “You mean correctly?”
“It’s practically just warm milk,” he retorted in mild disgust. “Nothing correct about that at all. It’s an aberration against a great British institution, is what it is,” he continued as he removed his own teabag and added a dash of milk. No sugar.
“God forbid I prefer my tea drinkable,” she muttered with a roll of her eyes.
Colin chuckled and took a sip of his strong brew before looking back at her again. “You look good,” he complimented after a moment, his gaze lingering on her a little too openly to be casual.
Warmth crept unexpectedly into her cheeks at the sincerity in his voice and, judging by the way his expression softened slightly afterwards, he noticed that too.
“So do you.”
His brows rose at that. “Yeah?”
She nodded, head tilting slightly as she studied him over the rim of her mug. “You seem…” She hesitated briefly, searching for the right words. “More yourself, maybe.”
He looked at her in surprise. “That might genuinely be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.” His eyes held hers for a second longer before he glanced down at his mug again. “I think I probably am.”
Something about the honesty of that made her chest tighten unexpectedly.
“And your family?” she asked after a moment. “How are they?”
“Loud,” he replied dryly. “Still incapable of minding their own business. Eloise has apparently decided she’s my manager now.”
Penelope laughed and shook her head. “That sounds about right.”
“She threatened our bassist, Nick, with physical violence last week for suggesting we change part of the arrangement in my song,” he revealed, before adding with complete seriousness, “Apparently, I’m ‘protective of the artistic vision’ now.”
Penelope’s mouth twitched.
Colin paused, then grimaced faintly. “God, does that make me sound unbearable?”
“A little bit,” she admitted solemnly.
“You know, I heard myself halfway through that sentence and still kept going,” he groaned.
“Yes, but, it is also your song,” she pointed out more softly. “You worked hard for it. I think you’re allowed to care.”
For a second, he just looked at her, like hearing someone defend that part of him still wasn’t something he entirely knew how to handle.
“Yeah,” he admitted after a moment. “I suppose I am.”
He took another sip of tea and pondered on how unnervingly easy it was to fall back into talking like this with her, like some part of him had never really stopped.
“How about you?” he asked suddenly. “What does your life look like these days?”
Penelope smiled and gave a little shrug.
“I work for Gen now. Mostly helping in the office and sometimes with fittings and clients. And…” She hesitated briefly before adding, “I’m writing.”
His eyebrows lifted immediately. “You are?”
She nodded, suddenly a little shy beneath the intensity of his attention. “Well, trying to. It’s only my first attempt.”
The grin that spread across his face then was immediate and completely unguarded.
“Pen, that’s brilliant.”
Warmth crept unexpectedly into her cheeks at the sheer enthusiasm in his voice. “You really think so?”
“Of course I do,” he replied easily. “You always lit up whenever you talked about writing.”
She ducked her head, a faint smile tugging at her mouth despite herself.
“You remember that?” she asked, looking back at him.
“Pen,” he said gently, like the answer should have been obvious. “I remember everything about you.”
She stared at him wide-eyed then blinked rapidly as she felt the unwelcome sting of tears. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but nothing would come out.
Colin held her gaze, his own eyes suspiciously shiny as his jaw tensed a moment before he let out an unsteady breath.
“I looked for you, you know,” he confessed, his voice sounding hoarse now. “Afterwards. I didn’t really know where to start, but I tried.”
Penelope’s heart fairly broke as she looked at him in dismay, the ease that had settled between them moments before suddenly feeling far more fragile.
“Colin…”
His expression grew pained then, years of confusion and hurt visibly straining beneath the surface now that he’d finally let himself speak about it aloud. He looked away briefly and pressed his lips together, trying to steady himself before his eyes finally found hers again.
“Why did you leave, Penelope?” he asked finally.
And there it was at last.
The question that had been sitting quietly between them from the moment she’d walked through the door.
Penelope took a sip of her tea, buying herself a moments grace as she tried to work out where on earth to even begin.
“It’s a long story.”
A flicker of frustration crossed his face then, brief but impossible to miss.
“Pen,” he said quietly, “it’s been four years. I think I’ve got the time to hear whatever you have to tell me.”
The guilt hit hard enough that she had to look away.
Of course he deserved the truth. He deserved far more than the silence she had left him with.
“My dad died,” she stated flatly.
Colin went completely still.
She told him then. The whole thing. Not the redacted version she’d given Genevieve earlier that day, but all the sordid details, leaving nothing unsaid. At some point he stepped closer and laid his hand over hers, offering what little comfort he could.
“I’m so sorry, Pen,” he muttered when she’d paused in talking about the funeral and losing the house.
She sniffed and dashed away a few stray tears then noticed that he was in pretty much the same state as her. She desperately wanted to offer him comfort but she knew that if she stopped now, then she wouldn’t tell him the rest.
And she really didn’t want to stop until he understood all of it.
“I wanted to come back,” she told him urgently. “I thought about it constantly. But everything was such a mess and the more I looked at your life, the more I just…” She shook her head slightly, as she recalled that day. “You’re a Bridgerton, Colin. Your brother’s a Viscount, your sister married a Duke…your family matters. People pay attention to them for all the right reasons.” She fell quiet for a second before continuing more softly. “And mine - mine had suddenly become a scandal that everyone was talking about for all the wrong reasons. Debt, scams, blackmail for heaven’s sake! I just couldn’t be the reason any of that touched you. Or your family.”
Understanding slowly dawned across his face then.
“You thought you were protecting me?”
“I didn’t know how bad it would become,” she insisted. “Everything just kept getting worse and worse and I couldn’t bear the thought of your name being dragged into it because of me.”
He took his hand from hers and leaned back against the counter with a frustrated exhale as he dragged a hand through his hair.
“But that should’ve been my decision, Penelope,” he retorted, looking at her with a frown. “Whatever it was between us, whatever it could’ve been…you didn’t even give me that choice.”
The hurt in his voice made her ache to go to him.
“I know,” she agreed unhappily. “I’m sorry.”
The quiet that followed felt heavy in a different way now, the confusion between them finally gone and leaving behind only the sadness of everything they had lost in between.
Colin let out a frustrated breath and pushed himself away from the counter abruptly. Needing something to do with himself, he took his tea over to the sink and tipped it away before bracing his hands briefly against the edge of the counter, his head lowering for a second as he tried to get a grip on everything he was feeling before he said something unfair.
All these years.
And then another thought hit, one that made his stomach churn and have him spin around to face her again.
“So why did you come tonight?” he asked flatly. “Did you just want some kind of closure?”
She looked at him in confusion. “What?”
“Because from where I stand, I’m still me and you’re still you,” he continued as though she hadn’t spoken, “and what you decided was a problem for us four years ago, is still the same problem now. There’s no time expiration on the past, it doesn’t miraculously just go away.”
Penelope’s heart twisted painfully at the thought that he genuinely believed that she was there just to say goodbye.
“No,” she said immediately. “God, no, of course that’s not why I came.”
Some of the tension in him eased slightly at the answer, though he still watched her carefully. “Why then?”
There was a part of her that almost wanted to retreat back to safety again. Into careful explanations that wouldn’t reveal too much. Because despite everything that had passed between them all those years ago, neither of them had ever actually said it aloud.
But then she looked at him properly.
At the hurt written openly across his face despite how hard he was clearly trying to hide it. At the uncertainty in his eyes now, like some part of him was bracing himself for her to break his heart all over again.
And suddenly, the thought of giving him anything less than the complete truth just felt completely and utterly wrong.
She gave a small, unsteady smile, her eyes shining now as she looked back at him.
“Because I love you, Colin,” she confessed softly. “I did then and I do now and I probably always will. I just didn’t think you felt the same. But then I heard your song and I read your interview and I realised that…”
“I love you, too, Pen,” he finished for her.
Her breath caught as the most beautiful smile bloomed on his face and he closed the distance between them, coming to a stop just in front of her. For a few seconds they simply stood there looking at each other, eyes wet, both grinning in that same faintly disbelieving way, like neither of them could quite take in that their conversation had somehow ended here instead.
Then Colin reached for her hands and drew them gently into his, his fingers curling around hers before he let out a soft breath.
“So, this isn’t an ending?” he wanted to clarify, still needing that tiny bit of reassurance.
Penelope shook her head immediately, her eyes never leaving his.
“No,” she replied firmly. “I was hoping it could maybe be a…new beginning instead?”
To her surprise, a quiet laugh escaped him, and he shook his head slightly. “I don’t want a new beginning.”
Her stomach dropped so fast it almost hurt. “Oh.”
He squeezed her hands and smiled a little reminiscently, “I like the one we already have. Thought it was pretty perfect, actually.”
Relief swept through her so quickly she almost laughed. “Really?”
“Well, my chin didn’t,” he amended dryly, “but the rest of me had a wonderful time.”
She did laugh then and his expression softened instantly at the sound, a flicker of relief crossing his face.
“So did I,” she admitted softly.
His thumbs brushed lightly across the backs of her hands before he drew her a little closer then slid his arms around her waist.
“So, no, I don’t think we should start again,” he murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to her mouth before lifting back to her eyes. “I think maybe we could just carry on from where we left off.”
Warmth curled low in her stomach. “Oh? And where exactly was that?”
He leaned down slowly, giving her every chance to change her mind, but the moment his lips touched hers all the careful restraint between them seemed to melt away completely.
Penelope’s fingers curled instinctively into the front of his shirt as he drew her closer, one hand settling warmly against her waist while the other slid gently into her hair. The kiss deepened naturally, years of longing and unfinished feelings flaring between them with every passing second until she could barely remember why they had ever been apart in the first place.
Colin moaned and pulled her even closer, his brow furrowing like he still couldn’t quite believe she was really there in front of him again and she kissed him back just as desperately, rising slightly onto her toes to stay pressed against him.
When they finally pulled apart, neither of them moved very far, their heavy breaths still mingling, hands still holding tight.
“Before we go any further, there’s just one more thing I need to know,” he murmured, smiling faintly as he rested his forehead briefly against hers.
Her lips curved immediately. “What’s that?”
“Your surname.”
A surprised laugh escaped her.
“What?”
“I’m serious,” he insisted, grinning now. “Feels like useful information to have, you know, just in case.”
She blinked then pulled back a little more to gaze up at him. The smile was still there, but beneath it she could see something else too. A quiet vulnerability that he was trying to hide beneath humour.
The realisation filled her with such fierce affection she barely knew what to do with it.
“Featherington,” she told him softly.
“Penelope Featherington,” he tried out slowly, his gaze roaming over her face. Then he grinned, a memory resurfacing. “It suits you.”
“Thank you,” she replied pertly, immediately catching on.
He chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly against her waist as he looked back at her with open adoration.
“We can do this however you want, Pen,” he told her suddenly. “Slow. Fast. I don’t care. I just want you here.”
The tenderness in his voice made her heart stutter.
“I don’t want slow,” she whispered softly. “I just want you.”
The look that crossed his face then was so openly relieved and impossibly fond that it made her heart ache. He kissed her again then, deeper this time and surer somehow, like he had no interest in wasting another second they didn’t have to.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, Penelope thought again of that tiny pub all those years ago, of Colin Bridgerton with his guitar and a room full of strangers who hadn’t yet realised what she had known almost immediately.
SYNOPSIS: After years and years of hard work, musician, Colin Bridgerton, finally makes it to the big time when his new song becomes a huge success.
He should be happy, he really should.
It's everything he's dreamed of, except...he'd only written it in a last ditch attempt to move on from the past, and sending the demo had been a mistake, and now everyone keeps on and on asking him - just who is 'The One' he's singing about?
Songfic based on Dakota by Stereophonics
RATING: G
THE ONE
Four years ago…
“Summertime, think it was June”
The first thing Penelope noticed about the pub was the noise.
It wasn’t excessive, exactly, just loud in the way that came with balmy summer evenings and too many people squeezed into a space never meant to hold them. There was lots of laughter and chatter and somewhere in the back she heard a glass shatter followed by a very rowdy cheer.
She hovered in the doorway for a moment, already half-regretting letting her sister’s drag her along.
“It’s better than sitting in your room reading a stupid book,” Prudence had said.
Penelope wasn’t entirely convinced.
Still, she stepped inside, nervously straightening a strap of her lilac sundress and craned her neck to try and find her siblings. Which, in all honesty, was difficult when she was annoyingly short. Even with the extra two inches of added height from her wedge heeled sandals, the place seemed to be filled with nothing but giants.
And then, to make matters worse, almost immediately, she collided with someone.
It all happened so quickly. One second she was navigating her way toward the bar, the next a man turned abruptly, his beer slopping over the sides of his pint glass like a veritable tidal wave that was going to hit her full in the face.
Instinctively, she lurched away from him and jerked her head back, only to hear a rather sickening crack as she connected with something hard.
“Ow!”
A sharp pain shot through the back of her skull, followed by a startled exclamation from behind her and the scrape of a chair as if someone was steadying their balance.
Penelope’s heart lurched and she spun around, raising a hand to her head to rub gingerly at the sore spot.
“Oh my…I’m so sorry, I didn’t…”
She stopped and looked up. And up. And found herself gazing at the most stunning looking man she’d ever seen in her life.
True, she’d only just scraped past twenty-one, so not a great age, but still…
The man, who she’d just very nearly, probably, sent sprawling was staring back at her, one hand pressed to his chin. His eyes, which were the darkest shade of blue she’d ever encountered, were comically wide. Thankfully, it seemed to be more in surprise than annoyance and she cleared her suddenly dry throat, ready to offer another, far more coherent, apology.
“I…” she began, only to be cut off by Mr Blue Eyes letting out a loud bark of laughter.
Her mouth snapped shut and she frowned slightly when he did it again. Perhaps she’d hit him harder than she’d realised.
Or he was in shock and the anger would follow.
She took a small, involuntary step back then halted when he finally spoke.
“I think,” he started, a little breathless from his barely contained mirth, “that might be the best entrance I’ve seen all week.” His gaze flicked down, then slowly rose again, taking her in. “Nice moves. I’m Colin, by the way.”
Still smiling, he dropped his hand and held it out to her. Penelope blinked back at him and felt her cheeks begin to warm. She wasn’t used to men paying her attention. Particularly one that wouldn’t look out of place in some glossy magazine, modelling one high end brand or another.
She ran her gaze over his face, taking in his chestnut-coloured curls, those eyes and ridiculously full lips…then she noticed a small cut on his chin.
“Oh God! You’re bleeding,” she gasped in mortification.
His smiled faded slightly and he reached up to dab a finger on the affected area. When he pulled it away, his grin returned. There was hardly anything there.
“It’s fine,” he dismissed with an easy shrug. “I’ll survive. I’ve had worse.”
That did not make her feel better.
“I should get you something,” she insisted, glancing around as if a fully stocked first aid kit might magically appear. “A tissue, or…”
“Nah, I’m good,” he dismissed, then reached out to gently take her hand, bringing her attention snapping back to him. He bent his head slightly before adding reassuringly, “Really. It’s nothing.”
She could feel the heat returning to her cheeks and glanced down to where he still held her hand. It was warm and comforting, setting off a tingling sensation that skittered up her arm before blooming throughout her entire body until it gathered low in her stomach, like a kaleidoscope of butterflies that refused to still.
Good Lord, she was in trouble.
He let her go, his fingers lingering for a fraction too long against hers, and she felt a distinctly unhelpful pang of disappointment at the loss of it.
“Sorry, I promise I don’t usually go around injuring people,” she muttered, trying to compose herself.
“I should hope not,” he replied, amusement still threading through his voice. “Though I have to admit, it’s made for a memorable introduction.” He paused, a light frown suddenly creasing his brow. “Well, if I knew your name it would.”
Penelope’s eyes widened. Between embarrassment, guilt and a healthy dose of awareness of the man in front of her, she imagined that her face must be redder than her hair at this point.
“Oh, right, yes, of course,” she babbled, hopelessly failing at trying not to appear flustered. “It’s Penelope.”
“Penelope,” he repeated slowly, trying it out, and there was something in the way he said it that made her stomach flip. Again. “It suits you.”
She had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.
“Thank you,” she said finally, a little too primly, and immediately felt her pulse kick when his smile widened.
“You’re welcome.” There was a brief pause as they stared at each other, the silence threatening to become awkward until Colin straightened slightly and spoke again. “So, are you planning on staying, or was this just a hit-and-run situation?”
Penelope let out small laugh at that. “I was dragged here, actually.”
“Dragged?” he repeated, his face falling a little as he glanced at the crowd behind her. “Oh, well, I assume your…friend…is somewhere around here then?”
“My sisters,” she corrected with a roll of her eyes. “They promised me it’d be fun.”
His face visibly brightened again. “And you didn’t believe them?”
“I think their definition of fun and mine might differ slightly,” she told him wryly.
“Fair enough,” he conceded, then leaned forward and added in a conspiratorial tone, “Although, for what it’s worth, you’ve already improved my evening, loads.”
She stared at him for a second, certain she must have misheard. “I have?”
“Mhmm,” he nodded, a teasing glint in his eyes. “It was boring before you arrived. Now there’s a risk of bodily harm. Much more exciting.”
She laughed properly then, the sound slipping out before she could stop it and his expression softened in response.
“Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” she said, still smiling.
“Very much so.”
Before she could think of anything else to say, a voice called his name from somewhere behind.
“Colin! You’re up!”
He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her, reluctance flickering briefly across his expression.
“That’s my cue,” he said, nodding toward the raised dais opposite the bar.
Penelope followed his gaze and spotted a stool and microphone with a guitar case off to one side.
“You’re a singer?” she asked, a little surprised.
Colin’s mouth curved. “Don’t I look like one?”
She took a moment to look him up and down, noting his loose jeans and pristine trainers. His dark blue t-shirt, that fit him rather too well, and the cream jacket that completed his ensemble, gave him a wholesome, faintly boy next door air.
“Well…” she said slowly, tilting her head as she considered him, “that depends.”
“On what, exactly?” he asked, clearly amused now.
“On what you’re singing,” she replied, her gaze still assessing him in a way that she would later realise was perhaps a little too thorough. “If you told me you were about to start belting out Highway to Hell, I’d say no, absolutely not. You’d be wildly unconvincing.”
He chuckled. “Not got the heavy rock vibe, then?”
“Definitely not,” she said firmly. “I wouldn’t believe it for a second.”
“And what would I be convincing as?” he prompted.
“James Blunt,” she replied, far too quickly, then slapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened in shock that she’d said it aloud.
Colin glanced down at himself and winced. “Ouch.”
Penelope let her hand fall slowly, her expression hovering somewhere between horror and resignation.
“That didn’t come out right,” she muttered unhappily.
“No?” Colin challenged, his tone far too innocent to be convincing.
“No,” she replied firmly. “I just meant that you look like you’d suit something…I don’t know…a bit more…”
“Blah?” he supplied helpfully.
“No,” she objected swiftly. “I was going to say…earnest.”
“Really?” he countered with a quirk of his brow. “Because that sounds so much better.”
“I’m sorry, he was the just first person that came to mind,” she grumbled defensively, then grimaced. “Which, admittedly, is not helping my case.”
“Not especially, no,” he agreed, though he was smiling now in a way that suggested he was enjoying this far more than he should.
Penelope groaned and ran a hand through her shoulder-length red hair, ruffling her curls.
“I’m really not having the best evening, am I?” she said on a dejected sigh.
Colin’s smile softened, the teasing edge melting into something a little warmer.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, eyes narrowing slightly as though considering it properly. “You’ve certainly made quite an impression.”
She shot him a sceptical look. “That sounds like a very kind way of saying I’ve embarrassed myself repeatedly.”
“I didn’t say it was a good impression,” he remarked dryly, and she let out a quiet laugh despite herself.
Before she could come up with a suitable retort, the voice called again from the stage, louder this time and with far less patience.
“Colin! We’re waiting!”
“Just a sec!” he snapped in frustration as he glanced back over his shoulder. He turned to Penelope once more and gave her a rueful smile. “Sorry, I’d better go,” he said, gesturing toward the stage.
She nodded quickly, pushing down the disappointment of their time ending.
“Yeah, of course,” she said. “I should probably find my sisters anyway.”
Colin dipped his head in agreement. “Right. Yeah, they’re probably wondering where you’ve disappeared to.”
“Doubtful,” she snorted derisively before she could stop herself.
Colin raised a brow at that, a faint question in his eyes which she refused to answer. There was no need to go down that dysfunctional rabbit hole.
Realising that she wasn’t going to expand further, he cleared his throat and shot her a faintly hesitant smile.
“Well…if you don’t find them, maybe you could hang around and listen to me instead?” he suggested hopefully.
Penelope caught the flicker of uncertainty in his expression and bit back a smile, something warm and giddy unfurling in her chest. It seemed, quite surprisingly, that she might not be the only one feeling a little off-balance.
“Maybe,” she finally allowed with a deliberately careless shrug.
Colin’s eyes narrowed as he took that in, his hesitation slipping away almost immediately as his confidence slid back into place. He smirked as he realised exactly what she was doing.
“Come on, Penelope. I mean, it’s only fair,” he reasoned matter-of-factly. “You can’t concuss a man and question his entire musical identity in the same evening and then leave before he’s had a chance to defend himself.”
She laughed before she could stop herself and shook her head.
“You haven’t got concussion,” she dismissed blithely.
“No?” he questioned. “I must be light-headed for another reason then.”
She drew in a breath. His words were teasing, but his eyes held a sudden heat in them that caught her completely off guard.
Her smile faltered just a fraction, suddenly far more aware of how close he was and for a moment, neither of them spoke.
But then…
“Colin!”
The call came again, louder this time, edged with impatience.
He closed his eyes briefly and sighed, the moment breaking as quickly as it had formed.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he called back, before looking at her again, an apology in his eyes now.
Penelope summoned a small smile, the tension easing just enough for her to find her voice again.
“Go,” she said, with a small nod toward the stage. “I’ll see if I can find a seat.”
For a second, he simply looked at her and then his expression changed entirely. His eyes lit up and a grin broke across his face that was warmer, brighter and far less restrained than anything she had seen from him so far.
“Great,” he enthused, clearly pleased. “And if you stay for the set, perhaps we can discuss my musical identity when I’m finished…if you want to, that is?”
“I do,” she replied, before she could think too much about it.
His expression softened again at that, though the grin didn’t fade.
“Good,” he said. That’s…good.”
He turned to go then and Penelope remained where she was for a moment, watching him.
He moved swiftly through the crowd, offering quick nods and half-smiles to those who called out to him. Clearly this was a regular gig for him and he was popular if the crowd gathered there was anything to go by.
He stopped briefly to speak to the man that been calling him and then he stepped up onto the small, raised dais, reaching instinctively for the guitar case waiting beside the stool.
Becoming aware of the fact that she was still standing exactly where he had left her, she glanced around and saw a small table off to the side. Luckily, a couple were just leaving and she hurried over to claim it.
As she sat down, she briefly regretted not having thought to get a drink first, though it was quickly forgotten when she looked back to the stage. Colin was adjusting the strap of his guitar, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on her, a small smile forming when he found her.
She smiled back then he turned to the crowd and reached for the microphone, tapping it lightly.
“Alright?” he said, his voice carrying just enough to cut through the surrounding noise.
A few voices answered back, someone letting out an enthusiastic cheer that drew another smile from him as he settled onto the stool and positioned the guitar in his lap. He strummed the strings a couple of times and adjusted his grip, then his gaze lifted to her again, just for a moment, before he looked away and returned his attention fully to the instrument.
There was a pause where the chatter died down and then he began to play.
He was good.
Better than she’d expected.
There was a roughness to his voice she hadn’t anticipated either, it was a little deeper, a little less polished - far from the James Blunt of it all she’d accused him of being.
The song came to an end, the last note lingering for a beat before the room broke into applause. She joined in enthusiastically, a huge grin spreading across her face as she clapped.
On the stage, Colin looked over at her and grinned back.
For a moment, it felt as though it was just the two of them.
Then he ducked his head slightly, still smiling to himself as he started his next song, the crowd quietening once more.
The rest of the set passed far too quickly after that. Each song seemed better than the last, until she lost track of time entirely, her attention fixed solely on him.
She loved his music.
She loved his voice.
She loved…
She shook her head. That was ridiculous, they’d only just met.
And yet…that didn’t seem to matter, because in her heart she just knew.
She was never, ever going to forget him.
Present Day…
“You made me feel like the one”
“Colin Bridgerton: The Overnight Sensation Years In The Making.”
“From Open Mics To The Charts: A Songwriter’s Quiet Persistence Pays Off”
“The One Everyone’s Talking About: Meet The Voice Behind The Year’s Biggest Song”
“Is The One Personal? Colin Bridgerton Says ‘People Can Take What They Want From It.”
“Singer Shuts Down Rumours Of Real-Life Inspiration Behind Hit Track”
The headlines blurred together after a while.
Colin stared at them, a thumb hovering over the screen as if one of them might suddenly say something different if he looked long enough. They all sounded certain. Neat. Packaged. Like the story had already been decided for him.
Overnight success.
Breakout hit.
Mystery muse.
He let out a quiet breath and dropped his phone onto the bedside table.
It was strange, really. Four years of playing to pubs and half-empty rooms, of sticky floors and borrowed mics, of people talking over him like he was just part of the background and now suddenly, everyone was listening.
All because of one song.
A song he hadn’t even meant to send to the music label.
He ran a hand through his hair, already feeling the familiar pull at the edges of his thoughts, the one that had been there since he woke. It had started small, just a flicker of something half-remembered, but it didn’t stay that way. It never did.
A laugh.
The warmth of sun on skin.
Grass, bright and impossibly green.
Her.
It hit him properly then, like it always did when he let it. Like no time had passed at all.
Penelope.
He closed his eyes briefly, the name settling somewhere deep in his chest, equal parts tender and painful.
Four years.
And still…
He let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Outside, the world carried on exactly as it had yesterday, and the day before that, and every day since she’d disappeared without a word.
He’d told himself, enough times to almost believe it, that it hadn’t meant the same to her. That it couldn’t have, not if she’d been able to leave like that. Not if she hadn’t even said goodbye.
That it had just been a summer.
A fleeting thing, nothing more.
His gaze flicked back to his phone, to the glowing screen still littered with headlines, all of them trying to turn that summer into something tidy.
Something finished.
But they didn’t know.
They didn’t know that he still remembered the exact way she’d smiled at him like he was someone worth choosing.
That he still heard her laugh sometimes, out of nowhere, making him turn to see if she was really there.
That every version of moving on had felt…slightly off. Like something hadn’t quite clicked into place since.
Because it wasn’t finished. Not really. Not in his head at least.
Certainly not in his heart.
He reached for his coffee, now gone lukewarm, and downed it anyway, grimacing faintly as he swallowed. He needed to get ready. Another interview. Another day of being asked the same questions. Another day of giving the same evasive answers.
Not for the first time he wished he hadn’t written the damn thing. It had simply been a catharsis. A way to get everything out so that he could try and move on properly. Maybe even forget.
Instead, because of his stupid mistake, it had done the opposite.
An alarm sounded on his phone reminding him to get going and he pushed himself to his feet with a grimace. Crossing the hotel room, he opened the curtains and looked out over the street below. People were already beginning their day, going about their business. His gaze drifted over them and beyond until it settled on the small park across the road.
A patch of green, half-hidden between buildings, bright in the morning light.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring, remembering another time…another place.
Four years ago…
“Laying back, head on the grass”
The long grass shifted softly beneath them as they both lay back, the warmth of the day still hanging in the air.
Colin stretched out beside Penelope, one arm tucked behind his head, but his attention didn’t stay there for long. It drifted, inevitably, back to her.
She looked a little uncertain at first, like she wasn’t entirely sure what to do with herself, one hand pressed flat against the ground, the other resting lightly on her stomach. It made him smile.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
She slowly turned her head toward him and gave him a considering look.
“Yeah,” she said, after a beat. “I think so.”
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
“I am,” she insisted, her own smile tugging at her mouth. “I just don’t usually lie in fields with near-strangers.”
“Near-strangers?” he repeated in mock indignance. “I think that’s a little unfair.”
She glanced at him. “Is it?”
“Yes! We’ve seen each other a few times this week,” he pointed out. “That has to count for something.”
“In the pub,” she retorted. “Where you’re technically working.”
“Not every time,” he replied. “Admit it, you came for the songs and stayed for my charming company.”
That made her smile, though she tried to hide it, her gaze drifting back up to the cloudless sky.
“Fine,” she said after a moment, “I suppose we’re…acquaintances then.”
“Acquaintances,” he repeated, testing the word and finding it lacking. “I think we can do better than that.”
“Oh?” she said, glancing back at him. “What would you suggest?”
He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly to where her hand rested in the grass beside her before he looked back up again.
“Friends,” he said, a little more carefully now. “At the very least.”
Penelope considered him for a moment, her expression softening just slightly.
“I think I like that.”
He hadn’t realised how much he’d wanted her to agree until she did, and his answering smile came readily. “Good,” he said.
For a moment, neither of them spoke again, as they simply lay there listening to the faint buzzing of a busy bee and melodic sounds of birds singing in nearby trees.
Her hand shifted slightly in the grass, brushing against his by accident and he felt a spark of awareness that made his breath catch slightly.
Neither of them moved away, but he couldn’t quite ignore her beside him. When she tipped her head back to look at the sky, he found himself watching her instead. The way her copper curls glowed in the late afternoon light, the dusting of freckles over her petite nose, the rounded curve of her cheek.
“It’s nice here,” she said.
He couldn’t agree more. “It is.”
“Do you come here often?”
“Sometimes.” He paused. “More, lately.”
She turned her head then, looking at him properly. “Why?”
He shrugged and looked up at the sky, keeping his tone light. “It’s quiet. No one expects anything of me here.”
He heard it as soon as he said it. That slight edge beneath the words, and he found he wasn’t surprised that she’d caught it too.
“And everywhere else they do?” she asked softly.
His laugh came out sharper than he intended. “Something like that.”
She studied him for a moment, like she was trying to make sense of him.
“Well,” she said eventually, “for what it’s worth, I don’t.”
His heart stuttered and he turned his head fully then, meeting her gaze. “No?”
“No,” she confirmed without hesitation.
He continued to stare at her, wondering if she had any idea how much he needed to hear that.
“Careful,” he finally murmured, “I might start believing you.”
She smiled at him as her cheeks pinkened slightly. “I don’t think that would be such a terrible thing.”
Colin smiled back slowly, watching as she shifted beside him and looked away first.
“Do you always bring girls here?” she asked suddenly, her tone light as she picked at a blade of grass between her fingers.
He blinked, taken by surprise at the unexpected question.
“No.” She glanced at him again, just in time to catch the smile that pulled at his mouth. “Just you, actually.”
He heard the way her breath caught at that, quick and sharp, before she covered it with a slightly forced laugh.
“Well,” she said, attempting composure and not entirely succeeding, “While I’m flattered, it’s an awful lot of pressure. What if I turn out to be terrible company?”
“I think I’m happy to take that risk,” he replied quietly.
She shook her head, smiling despite herself, though he could see the colour rising in her cheeks again.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Her hand was still there, fidgeting in the space between them. He hesitated a moment before letting his fingers shift slightly, brushing against hers.
When she didn’t pull away, he let his hand cover hers properly and laced their fingers loosely together.
He glanced at her then, checking to see if it was okay.
She didn’t look back at him; her gaze had lifted to the sky again. But the gentle squeeze of her hand, the soft smile still lingering at the corner of her mouth and the flush on her face told him all he needed to know.
And that was enough.
Present Day…
“So take a look at me now”
The room was quieter than most of the places Colin had been dragged through in the last few weeks, though not by much. There was still the low hum of equipment, the faint rustle of movement somewhere just out of sight, the careful, contained energy of people trying not to interrupt.
He sat opposite the interviewer with a cup of coffee he hadn’t touched, one hand resting loosely on the arm of the chair, the other curled around the edge of the mug.
“So,” she began, glancing briefly at her notes before looking back up at him, her expression open and curious in a way he had come to recognise, “I think we have to start with the obvious. Your new song, The One, is an astounding success. It’s everywhere. When you wrote it, did you have any idea what a hit you had on your hands?”
Colin smiled slightly and shook his head.
“No,” he replied honestly, because there was no point pretending otherwise. “Not really.”
“Not even a little?”
He shook his head again and shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat.
“I didn’t…” He hesitated, searching for words that didn’t immediately sound like a deflection. “It wasn’t written for that.”
“For what?”
“For all this,” he explained, gesturing vaguely, encompassing the room, the cameras, the attention.
The interviewer studied him for a second.
“Then what was it written for?” she asked curiously.
He shrugged, briefly considering giving her the usual answer he’d been trotting out. The one that kept things simple. Some rubbish about timing and inspiration. About writing what felt right in the moment.
But he was exhausted.
Not just physically, though that too. It was the rest of it. The noise. The attention. Being asked the same question over and over again and giving the same answer back, as if he said it enough times it might become true.
Keeping it separate. Keeping it contained. Acting like it hadn’t meant what it had.
He didn’t want to do that anymore.
“I think I just needed to get it out of my head,” he finally confessed with a sigh.
“Oh?” she queried, sitting up a little, clearly more interested now. “Something…specific?”
His mouth curved faintly, though there was very little humour in it.
“Someone,” he corrected.
Four Years Ago…
“Sleeping in the back of my car”
The road stretched out ahead of them, quiet and mostly empty at that time of evening, the last of the daylight long gone.
Penelope glanced out of the window, then back at him.
“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going, are you?”
Colin smiled, eyes still on the road.
“Nope. It’s a surprise.”
“How do you know if I like surprises?” she teased. “Maybe I’m like the Hulk and get all big and green and smash things up if I don’t like it.”
“First of all, when you say big, I think you mean normal sized,” he countered, earning a gasp of outrage that made him smile. “And second of all, green goes with your hair, so you’d still look gorgeous.”
Penelope stared at him, open-mouthed for a moment, then laughed, shaking her head.
“You’re impossible,” she muttered.
He glanced over at her, and even in the low glow of the dashboard lights he could see the colour in her cheeks. He found, not for the first time, that he rather enjoyed being the cause of it.
He slowed the car not long after, turning off the main road onto a long drive lined with tall trees. In the distance, lights glowed softly from a large house, though he turned away before they drew too close, steering instead down a narrower gravel lane.
Penelope straightened slightly, her attention shifting as the trees began to thin and the space ahead opened up.
A lake appeared before them, dark and still beneath the night sky, the surface catching the moonlight in soft, scattered glints.
The gravel crunched softly beneath the tyres before he brought it to a stop near the edge. He cut the engine and the quiet that followed settled around them almost instantly.
For a moment, she just stared.
“Where are we?” she asked, her voice quieter now, like the stillness of the place had seeped into it.
Colin glanced over at her, then out at the water again.
“One of my favourite places,” he said.
She shifted slightly in her seat, looking past him towards the darker outline of the house just visible through the trees in the distance.
“Are we allowed to be here?” she asked, a small note of uncertainty creeping in. “Or are we about to get chased off for trespassing?”
“No, we’re allowed,” he assured her with a brief smile. She looked back at him, waiting, and he let out a soft sigh before admitting a little reluctantly, “It…uh…belongs to my family.”
Her brows lifted at that, her gaze flicking once more towards the house, then back to the lake.
“Oh,” she said, taking it in with a slight frown. “Right.” She was quiet for a moment then glanced at him again and her expression lightened. “So, is this the surprise?”
Colin relaxed back in his seat, a relieved smile touching his lips. She didn’t seem fazed and the mild apprehension he’d been feeling, eased. There had been a part of him that had wondered whether bringing her here might make things feel different between them.
“Depends,” he replied. “Do you like it?”
Her eyes narrowed just a fraction, though there was a hint of amusement there.
“Should I be worried about answering that?”
“Only if you’re planning on turning normal sized and green,” he countered. “I’ve been warned.”
She laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet of the car.
“Bloody cheek,” she scolded lightly, then turned to face him more fully. “And if this is the part where you expect me to be impressed by a big house, then I should warn you, you’ll have to try a bit harder than that.”
He glanced at her, one brow lifting slightly in curiosity.
“Oh, really?”
“Yep,” she confirmed, clearly biting back a smile. “Although I have to admit that you have managed it once or twice already.”
That visibly caught him off guard.
“Have I?” he asked.
She nodded solemnly, then leaned toward him as though to impart a great secret.
“You ate four burgers in one sitting and didn’t even look uncomfortable,” she confided in a hushed tone. “I’m still thinking about it.”
Colin blinked, then threw back his head and laughed. He couldn’t remember ever meeting someone quite like her before.
“That’s your benchmark?”
“Well, it’s a very specific skill set,” she remarked wryly. “I respect it.”
He shook his head, still grinning.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She chuckled and turned her attention back to the tranquil scene beyond the windscreen. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured on a sigh.
Colin followed her gaze, then reached forward to pull the keys from the ignition.
“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the water. “There’s a better view.”
She glanced at him, curious, before pushing the door open and stepping out into the cool night air. He quickly followed, taking a moment to go to the boot of the car and pull out a blanket. He folded it over his arm before moving to her side, and as they started down toward the water, his hand found hers.
When her fingers laced with his, it sent a sudden rush through him, stronger than it had any right to be for mere hand holding. It was a feeling he was fast becoming familiar with whenever he was with her.
A feeling that, more and more, he never wanted to be without.
When they reached the bank, Colin reluctantly let her go then shook the blanket out and spread it over the grass. He stepped back slightly to let her sit first and she lowered herself onto it. Drawing her knees up, she wrapped her arms around her legs and stared out across the lake.
He joined her a moment later, close enough that their shoulders brushed as he mirrored her position.
They sat like that for a while, the peace around them only broken by the gentle lapping of water and rustle of leaves from the breeze that rolled across the lake.
After a time, Penelope tipped her head back and stared up at the inky sky.
“You ever think about what your life will be like?” she asked softly. “In the future I mean.”
“Sometimes,” he replied, matching her tone. “I want to carry on with my music. See how far I can go.” He turned his head then, his gaze settling on her. The breeze lifted strands of her copper hair, and the moonlight caught on her pale skin, lighting it just enough for him to see her face. He swallowed hard. “What about you?” he murmured huskily.
She was silent a moment and then, “I want to write. Properly. Not just for uni. A book. Something that’s mine.”
“Then you will,” he told her assuredly.
“It’s not that simple,” she scoffed lightly.
“Why not?”
She glanced at him and exhaled slowly. “Because sometimes you don’t get to choose what happens next.”
He was quiet for a moment, taking that in. She had alluded to things not being the best in her home life and he suspected those problems were behind her words now.
“Maybe not,” he began carefully, “But if you want to write, you will. You’ll find a way.”
Her brows rose. “You sound very sure.”
“I am,” he told her confidently.
She looked at him then, a little more searching. “How do you know?”
“Because it’s you,” he replied simply, willing her see herself as he did. “I believe you can do whatever you set that brilliant mind of yours to.” He shook his head slightly as a small wondrous smile lit up his face. “I think you’re amazing, Pen.”
He heard her breath catch at his words and, for a moment, she just looked at him, eyes wide.
Then she moved.
His heart stuttered in his chest, everything in him tightening as anticipation flooded his system so quickly it left him momentarily still. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just watched as she paused inches from him, her mouth slightly parted, pupils blown wide, a question burning in her eyes.
He answered it without hesitation, leaning in and closing the last of the distance between them, eyes sliding shut as his lips finally met hers for the first time.
Soft. That was his first thought. Her lips were even softer than he’d imagined. That was closely followed by the realisation that if he'd ever kissed anyone before, he couldn't remember it. There was only Penelope now. Nothing else could compare.
His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb settling tenderly against her cheek as their noses brushed, not quite lining up at first. He let out the faintest huff of laughter against her mouth when they both pulled back. Just a little. Just enough to smile at each other until Penelope shifted a fraction closer and kissed him again.
She placed a tentative hand against his chest before sliding higher, her nails catching lightly against his neck as her fingers curled into the collar of his t-shirt, drawing an involuntary shudder of desire from him.
Instinctively, he moved as well, his hand slipping from her cheek into her hair, fingers threading through her copper curls before settling at the back of her head, holding her there as he deepened their kiss.
Penelope’s grip tightened slightly, and he felt it again, another quiet shiver running through him, before he edged closer, angling his head, chasing the heat of her mouth when she moaned against him.
They broke apart only for a breath, foreheads brushing, neither of them willing to pull too far away.
Vaguely he registered that the air was cooler than before, the once faint breeze stirring around them.
His lips hovered there for a second, close enough to feel her breath, and then he leaned in again, just as a cold drop of water landed on his cheek.
He stilled.
Another splattered onto Penelope’s nose, and she flinched slightly, pulling back in surprise.
“Is that…?”
A second later, the skies opened up and rain began to fall.
Colin gasped at the sudden cold shower, glancing upward before looking back at her, still far too close, still holding her.
“Brilliant timing,” he grumbled.
Penelope grinned, but the rain was already catching in her hair now, dampening the curls at her temples, and he watched her eyes widen as a low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance.
“We’re going to get soaked,” she exclaimed.
“Yeah,” he agreed, though neither of them made a move to go.
Then a sudden flash of lightning split across the sky, lighting up the space around them, and this time he did pull back, catching her hand instead.
“Come on,” he urged, reaching for the blanket.
They made it back to the car just as the rain properly set in, drumming loudly on the roof. They climbed into the back and pulled the miraculously, relatively dry blanket around them in an attempt to stay warm.
It was tight in the back seat, not that they cared as they huddled up together in their own little world.
For a moment, they just looked at each other.
Penelope’s hair was wet now, her curls pulling tighter, her lips reddened from their kisses, her azure blue eyes sparkling.
He swallowed hard - she was breathtaking.
Unable to stop himself, he closed the distance between them. She met him halfway and soon their kisses grew more heated, their touches more intimate.
Penelope’s hand roamed over his chest and down to his waist, then slid around to his backside, fingers squeezing as she tried to press closer to him.
The contact pulled a low, involuntary groan from him, his grip tightening on her thigh as he moved suddenly and eased her down onto her back, the warmth of her body seeping through her damp clothes and straight into him.
He was in heaven. She was all plush curves writhing beneath him as he tore his mouth from hers and trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. His heart sang when her arms came around him and she arched up against him.
He traced the hem of her top then slipped his hand under, his body hardening even more when his fingers brushed against the softness of her stomach, then higher…
She inhaled sharply as his thumb grazed just beneath the edge of her bra, then again a bit firmer, enough to feel the shape of her, and draw a breathy moan out of her that nearly did him in.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he had to stop before they went much further. He wanted more than just a quick fumble in the back of a car. He needed to know if she felt as he did. That he wasn’t alone in this connection that they’d been building over the past couple of weeks. He would find it difficult enough to walk away now if she didn’t, but it’d be much worse if she allowed him to know her completely.
He stilled, his breathing uneven as he tried to rein in his emotions, and for a second - just a second - he let himself stay there. Let himself feel it, the way she pressed into him, the way her hand was clutching at his hair now, the way it would be so, so easy not to stop…
Reluctantly, he pulled back a little.
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, a slightly breathless laugh escaping him as took in her flushed cheeks and parted lips. “You’re not helping my self-control.”
For a second, she just looked at him and then she laughed, low and warm.
“I should hope not,” she murmured, lightly tugging on his hair.
That also didn’t help.
If anything, it made it worse.
He exhaled and shook his head slightly, still not quite able to put any real distance between them.
“I just…” he started, then stopped, an almost sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. “I like you, Pen,” he confessed, softly. “Really like you.” Her eyes widened a little and he glanced away quickly before meeting her eyes again, a touch of self-consciousness creeping in now as he rushed out, “And I don’t…I mean, we’re not doing it in the back of a car. Not like this.”
There was a beat where her eyes widened even more and then her mouth curved, just slightly, as though she was fighting back a smile.
“After touching my boob, you’re now trying to be a gentleman?” she blinked at him incredulously.
He gave a quiet, almost embarrassed laugh.
“I’m trying to do this properly, yes.”
She tilted her head slightly, the grin she’d been holding back blooming on her face.
“So, does that mean that you wish to court me, good Sir?” she teased, slipping into an overly refined accent and sounding for all the world like a debutante from another century.
That did something to him.
He squirmed a little and felt warmth flooding his cheeks.
“I thought I had been,” he retorted, a touch defensively, though it didn’t quite hide the way her words had affected him.
She giggled and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
“You have,” she assured him, gently running a hand through his hair. “And you’re doing a fantastic job…Mr. Bridgerton.”
Colin groaned and she full on laughed this time. She knew what she was doing. He pushed himself up off her and sat back, then reached for her hand.
“Come here, you,” he muttered as he helped her sit up, tugging the blanket back over them both.
She settled into his side without hesitation, and his arm came around her, pulling her in closer. With a soft sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder, her arm slipping about his waist.
They stayed like that, wrapped around each other as their breathing gradually slowed, little by little.
For a while they remained silent, simply staring out of the window, where the rain ran in soft rivulets down the glass, the lake beyond lit now and then by a distant flash of lightning.
“I really don’t want to go back yet,” she admitted after a moment, her voice quieter now.
He glanced down at her.
“You don’t have to.”
She smiled up at him and he captured her lips in a brief kiss before looking back outside at the summer storm drifting across the lake.
Every so often, Penelope would tilt her head up, brushing her mouth against his in soft, lingering kisses. He met her each time, his hand finding hers, or her hair, or simply holding her closer.
Eventually, though, her movements slowed.
He felt it first in the way her hand stilled against his chest, then in the quiet shift of her breathing as it deepened, evening out as sleep overtook her.
He smiled, his head resting lightly against hers and somewhere in the space between one breath and the next, as he drifted off himself, the thought came, simple and certain.
He was in love with her.
Present Day…
“Thinking back, thinking of you”
Colin took a sip of his coffee and savoured the bitter taste as it slid down his throat. Across from him the interviewer eyed him for a moment as though deciding what to ask next. He waited. He might have finally opened the door to his past but he still wasn’t in any great rush to step through it.
“Would you tell me her…or his, name if I asked?” she finally settled on.
Colin snorted and shook his head
“No.”
She nodded, a wry smile touching her lips, as though she’d expected that answer.
“Alright, then can I ask if it was recent?”
“It wasn’t,” he told her abruptly, then had another drink.
Her brows lifted slightly.
“So…how long?”
He didn’t answer immediately, not wanting to let her know the exact amount of time he’d wasted pining after a woman that clearly hadn’t felt the same.
“A while,” he admitted at last.
Her head tilted a little and he felt himself start to bristle under her sympathetic scrutiny.
“I see. And this person,” she ventured quietly, “were they aware? At the time?”
“Yes,” he said at first, almost reflexively. “No. Maybe.” He shook his head more to himself than to her. “I don’t know anymore.”
The honesty of it hung there, a little at odds with everything else he’d said so carefully until now.
The interviewer stared at him a moment, clearly not expecting that.
“That sounds…complicated,” she concluded wryly.
Colin’s mouth lifted up into a faintly derisive smile.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Four Years Ago…
“I don’t know where we are going now”
“What happens when I leave?”
Penelope hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the thought had been circling her mind for days now, growing louder the closer the end of her holiday crept.
Colin opened his eyes, looking up at her from where his head rested in her lap, his expression shifting in quiet surprise.
“What?”
She swallowed, her fingers stilling briefly in his hair before she forced herself to keep moving, smoothing it back from his forehead.
“Nothing. I just…this is ending soon. I’m going back to uni. You’re going back to London. We’re both going back to our real lives.”
“You don’t think this is real life?” he asked, frowning slightly.
She looked away, out across the stretch of field, the breeze moving softly through the grass around them and shook her head slightly before gazing back down at him.
“That’s not what I meant.” He didn’t say anything, just watched her. “This is real,” she assured him, “I just…it’s easy here. It’s just us. No expectations, no…complications.”
“And you think that changes when we’re not here anymore?” he asked.
She gave a small shrug, “Doesn’t it?”
“Not if we don’t want it to,” he replied, sitting up to face her.
She stared at him incredulously.
“But how would that even work, Colin?” she asked with a hint of frustration. “You’ll be concentrating on your music. Working gigs. It’s not something you can do halfway.”
“I know that,” he retorted, dampening down a flicker of irritation. It wouldn’t do to lose his temper.
“And I’ve got my final year,” she continued as though he’d not spoken. “It’s not like I can just ignore that either.”
He let out a breath, his gaze darting away for a second before returning to her, jaw tensing.
“So what then?” he asked tersely, already dreading the answer. “We just go our separate ways and never see each other again? Is that what you want?”
She blinked at that, the sharpness of it catching her off guard. “I never said that.”
“Then what are you saying, Penelope?” he pressed, his voice rising slightly.
She looked away this time, her fingers twisting together in her lap.
“I’m saying we haven’t known each other very long,” she replied matching his abrupt tone as she turned to face him again.
He let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“It’s been long enough for me,” he told her flatly.
Her eyes widened in surprise, then her expression softened.
“Colin…” she murmured, reaching for his hand…
“Pen! Colin!”
Eloise’s voice carried across the field, bright and unmistakable and Colin swore under his breath. He’d completely forgotten that they’d arranged to meet his sister for a walk. He’d introduced them the week before, when she and Benedict had turned up unannounced at the pub to watch his set.
Eloise had taken to Penelope immediately. Like she always did when she found someone she liked. No hesitation, no filter. Just instant, effortless connection. And he’d been pleased that Penelope liked her just as much too.
Now though, it was an annoyance he could well do without.
Penelope’s hand had stilled where it’d been halfway to his, faint exasperation flickering across her face before she smoothed it away.
He took some comfort from that at least. Perhaps she was as annoyed with the interruption as him.
“We’d better go,” he stated, pushing himself to his feet and holding out his hand to her.
She took it and let him pull her up, her free hand landing on his chest as she steadied herself. Looking up at him from under her lashes, she gave him a tentative smile.
He returned it, not quite as easily, but it helped release some of the tension in him all the same.
They still had time.
They could talk about it properly later.
Present day…
“Wake-up call, coffee and juice”
Colin tapped his thumb lightly against the side of his cup, the movement almost absent-minded, the soft clink of his ring against the ceramic loud in the silence. Across from him, the interviewer made a brief note, the scratch of her pen the only other sound between them.
It wasn’t until she paused and glanced up, her gaze dropping briefly to his hand, that he realised he was doing it.
“Sorry,” he muttered, stilling the movement and setting the mug down in front of him.
“Can I get you anything else?” someone asked as they passed. “Another coffee? Biscuits?”
He shook his head and gave them a brief smile.
“No, I’m good.”
The interviewer glanced up again, giving him a thoughtful look before setting her pen aside.
“So, was that how it ended? You went your separate ways after all?” she asked.
Colin leaned back in his chair, considering that for a moment.
“In a way, I suppose,” he replied slowly. “Although it didn’t really end. It just…stopped.”
The interviewer frowned.
“Stopped? So, you never talked?”
He grimaced and shook his head.
“Never had the chance.”
Four years ago…
“What happened to you?”
Colin missed his cue.
It was only by a second, barely enough for anyone else to notice, but he realised it immediately, his voice coming in slightly off beat before he fudged it over. Across the room, Benedict’s brows lifted in faint question, and Colin forced himself back into the song, his voice steady enough when he came in again.
He hadn’t been able to relax all day.
It wasn’t anything obvious at first, just a restlessness he couldn’t quite shake, a sense that something wasn’t right, though he couldn’t have said what. True, he hadn’t heard from Penelope at all, but that wasn’t completely unusual when they were meeting in the evening.
She hadn’t, however, gone and stood him up before.
Until now.
His gaze kept drifting toward the door between songs, pulled there almost obsessively, waiting for her to appear.
But she didn’t.
Penelope was never late. If anything, she made a point of being early. Her unhappy relationship with her family was the main reason for that, he knew. She didn’t want to be around them any longer than absolutely necessary.
Over the last few weeks, he’d grown used to it without really noticing. To walking in and finding her already there waiting, her face lighting up the moment she saw him.
He’d been expecting to find her there tonight.
They’d arranged to meet. She’d even confirmed it the evening before after she’d been out visiting relatives in the area with her sisters and mum. He knew she hadn’t been looking forward to spending so much time with them, but it hadn’t been too bad, she’d said. There had only been a couple of digs that’d really stung from what he’d gathered.
That was a couple too many as far as he was concerned.
He glanced over at the door again as he shifted his leg to prop his guitar a little higher.
Maybe she’d been delayed. Maybe something had come up. Maybe she’d appear halfway through his next song, slipping in quietly, offering him a smile that would make this ever-increasing vice around his heart, ease.
He kept hoping.
Even as the set went on. Even as the room filled and emptied around him. Even as his focus kept slipping, his stomach churning again and again until it became impossible to ignore.
By the time he finished, he felt physically sick.
He stepped back from the mic to generous applause, barely registering it, already reaching for his phone.
Nothing.
No message. No missed call.
He stared at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering before he typed out a quick message.
‘Everything okay?’
Sent.
He watched it deliver, waited a beat, then another, before locking the phone with a quiet exhale. He told himself that she wouldn’t be looking at it because she was probably already on her way.
He picked up his guitar and packed it away with practised ease, though his attention kept straying. Once done, he headed over to join Eloise and Benedict at their table.
“I thought Penelope was meant to be here?” his sister declared before he’d even sat down.
“She was,” he retorted, already pulling his phone back out. “We spoke last night.”
He didn’t hesitate this time and hit call. It rang once then went straight to voicemail. He frowned and pulled the phone away slightly, staring at it as if it had betrayed him.
He tried again, getting the same result and his swirling nausea kicked up a notch.
“Try yours,” he ordered, looking at his sister.
Usually, Eloise wasn’t one to do as she was told, but she must have seen something in his eyes because she picked up her phone and did as he bade without a word.
They listened as it went to voicemail and she glanced up at him, her expression tightening slightly.
“Maybe there’s a fault or something,” she suggested quietly.
“Or maybe there’s no signal?” Benedict offered reasonably.
Colin looked at his siblings and nodded.
“Yeah, maybe,” he muttered, although he didn’t believe it for one second.
Something was wrong, he knew it. Could feel it in his gut and in his heart.
He pushed to his feet before he’d even realised what he was doing, the movement abrupt enough that Eloise blinked up at him.
“I’m just going to…” He gestured vaguely toward the door searching for the right word. Was there one that didn’t make him sound completely ridiculous, given what he was actually thinking? He settled on, “…check.”
“I’ll come with you,” Eloise announced, already reaching for her coat.
He didn’t bother trying to dissuade her, he didn’t have time. The air outside was cooler than he expected, yet the shock of it did nothing to quell that horrible, uncomfortable feeling in his chest.
They didn’t speak as they walked to his car and the quiet left too much room for his thoughts, which kept circling the same points over and over. Each attempt at logic was met with the same answer…
If something had changed, she would have told him - wouldn’t she?
He drove without really registering the route, the familiar turns passing in a blur as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. Before he knew it, they arrived at her street and he slowed automatically, the habit so ingrained he didn’t even think about it.
He always stopped here, Penelope insisted on it. He’d objected to that at first. Didn’t like the idea of just dropping her off at the end of the road and leaving her, but she’d not wanted to have to answer to her family and so he’d eventually relented. Only on the proviso that he watched her walk the rest of the way and waited until she was safely inside, though.
Now, as he sat there like so many other nights before, engine idling, he frowned.
The house was dark.
No lights. No car. Nothing to suggest anyone was there at all.
For a minute, he just stared.
“Looks like no one’s home,” Eloise pointed out beside him.
“I can see that,” he replied tersely.
Silence followed as he felt panic begin to rise. The dread that he’d been desperately trying to keep at bay becoming harder to ignore.
He pressed his foot on the accelerator and carried on up the road until he reached the house, his eyes fixed on the front door as though looking long enough might change something. He turned off the engine.
“Colin…”
“I won’t be a sec,” he said, already reaching for the handle.
“Colin, it’s late…”
But he was already out, the gravel crunching under his feet as he marched across the driveway.
He knocked and waited.
Nothing.
He knocked again, harder this time, the sound echoing out into the stillness and coming back empty.
Still nothing.
He stepped back slightly, glancing up at the dark windows, his heart aching as a sinking realisation hit him that couldn’t be reasoned away anymore.
“Colin.” Eloise was beside him now, laying a hand on his arm. “There’s nothing we can do tonight.”
He didn’t move.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered more to himself than to her.
“I know,” Eloise said gently. “Look, we’ll come back in the morning. If something’s wrong, we’ll figure it out then.”
He stood there for another moment, staring at the door, waiting for something, anything, to break the stillness.
It didn’t.
The quiet pressed in around him, too complete, too final, and suddenly it was harder to breathe properly, his chest tightening without warning.
This wasn’t right.
It wasn’t.
His mind began to turn over itself, grasping for something that made sense, replaying the last few days in disjointed fragments.
He just didn’t understand.
Talking the night before she’d sounded normal. Nothing off. Nothing that should have led to this.
Had he missed something?
Had she tried to tell him and he hadn’t seen it?
A thought suddenly hit, sharp and unwelcome.
Or worse, had he imagined it? All of it?
The way she’d looked at him. The way she’d responded. Their laughter. Their friendship, even?
He’d thought…
He’d been so sure…
He closed his eyes and made himself draw in a breath, then let it out slowly.
Don’t.
“Yeah,” he finally agreed, though the word sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.
He forced himself to turn away, to step back from the door, but the feeling didn’t ease, didn’t lessen with distance.
How could it?
Not when is gut was telling him the one thing he didn’t want to believe.
That he might have lost her.
Present Day…
“Talk about life since then”
The interviewer’s pen hovered for a moment above the page before she looked back up at him, her gaze a little more searching now, like she was trying to decide whether to press or let it go.
“And you never saw them again?”
Colin shook his head.
“No.”
The word hung heavy in the air.
“Did you try and find them?”
He didn’t answer right away, just picked up his cup only to put it down again when he saw he’d finished it. He let out a long sigh, wishing that he’d not started down this road now they were getting to the questions that brought back memories he didn’t like to revisit.
“Yes,” he admitted at last. “At first.” She waited, and he found himself continuing, “I called. A few times.” His gaze dipped briefly before returning to her. “It went straight to voicemail.”
“And after that?”
His jaw tensed as he remembered the sickening feeling he’d had when the tiny sliver of hope he had left had vanished.
“The number stopped working.”
The interviewer’s brows lifted just a fraction.
“So did you try another way?”
Colin’s mouth twitched faintly and he shook his head.
“I didn’t have much to go on,” he admitted reluctantly. “She’d never told me her last name. Never told me much at all when I really thought about it. And when I went back the next day, I found out she and her family had gone.”
“Gone?”
He nodded once. “Family emergency, apparently. That’s what the neighbour said.” The explanation sounded thinner now than it had at the time. “Then I contacted the rental company, but they wouldn’t give me any details, obviously.”
“But at least you knew she was safe and with her family.”
“I suppose,” he replied with another nod. “Yeah.”
“I imagine that wasn’t enough, though.”
Colin shrugged, aiming for nonchalance but falling miserably short. His thoughts churning over the same old ground whenever he let them.
“It had to be,” he said at last.
The interviewer gazed him for a moment, her expression softer now.
“Were you hoping that she might come back?” she asked. “Or try to contact you?”
“Yeah. For a while.”
He didn’t need to say what happened after that.
“And when she didn’t?”
“I figured I had my answer,” he stated, hating the way his voice wavered a little.
“What answer was that?”
He held her gaze, though when he spoke, it still broke whatever was left of his heart a little more to admit.
“That I’d got it wrong. That it hadn’t meant as much to her as it did to me.”
He didn’t feel any bitterness anymore. That had worn away a long time ago. What remained was something else. An emptiness he’d never quite managed to fill.
“And how do you feel now, after all this time?”
“I think my song answers that question,” he scoffed lightly.
That earned a small, knowing smile from her.
“So are you hoping that maybe something will come of it then, if she hears it?”
His stomach dipped. He’d wondered that himself more times than he cared to admit. That one day she might contact him again, because she’d have to know the song was about her, right?
Or perhaps that was exactly why she hadn’t reached out yet.
“I think my only real hope is she knows she mattered,” he told her, a sad smile touching his lips.
She did then. She still does.
And maybe that was enough.
Maybe…he did have his ending after all.
Four Years Ago…
‘Talk about why did it end?’
Penelope had only just fallen asleep when she was jolted awake by a someone shaking her roughly on the shoulder.
“Penelope. Up. Now.”
It took her a second to understand what was going on, caught halfway between sleep and waking, but when she did, she quickly pushed herself up onto her elbows.
“What’s going on?” she gasped, blinking into the dim light.
Portia, her mother, was already moving away. She crossed the room with quick, purposeful strides, pulling open drawers and gathering things without any real care for what they were.
“We’re leaving.”
The words didn’t make sense.
“Leaving?” Penelope repeated in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Now, Penelope.” Her mother didn’t look at her. “Get dressed and pack. Hurry.”
Something in her tone cut through the last of the haze.
Penelope sat up properly, her heart beginning to beat faster without her understanding why.
“What’s happened?”
Portia paused, just for a moment, then drew in a harsh breath and turned to face her.
“Your father is dead.”
Penelope stared at the older woman, her mind completely rejecting her words.
“What?” It came out smaller than she meant it to. “No, he-he was fine, he…”
“There’s been an accident,” her mother cut in abruptly. “We have to go. Tonight.”
Penelope shook her head, the words not sinking in, her mind struggling to piece them together into something that made sense.
Her father was dead.
They were leaving.
Tonight.
“No,” she repeated, the protest automatic, instinctive. “I can’t…I have to…”
“Have to what?” Portia sharply.
Penelope opened her mouth.
Colin.
His name sat right there, but it wouldn’t come out. She’d never spoken about him to her mother and sisters. Not in any meaningful way that made him part of this life instead of something separate, something that only existed outside of it.
He meant too much to her to be dragged into all this.
“I…nothing,” she muttered, looking down.
Her felt her mother’s gaze on her for a second, like she didn’t quite believe it, but thankfully she didn’t press.
“Get dressed,” she ordered her again. “Your sisters are already packing.”
Penelope could hear them now, moving somewhere down the hall, wardrobes opening and closing, voices low and tense.
It made everything feel suddenly real.
Too real.
“I need to send a message,” she said, reaching for her phone without really thinking about it. “Just a minute, I can…”
“There’s no time.”
“I only need…”
“I said no!”
Portia knocked her hand aside, the movement sharp with impatience. The phone jerked from Penelope’s grip, smacking against the corner of the bedside table with a loud crack, before hitting the wooden floor with a dull thud.
Penelope flinched.
For a second, she just stared at it.
Then she quickly scrambled out of bed and grabbed it, pressing the button.
Nothing.
The screen stayed black, a spiderweb of cracks radiating out from one corner where it had struck, spreading further than she’d expected.
“No…” she whispered, pressing it again, harder this time, as if that might bring it back to life.
It didn’t.
“Leave it,” her mother told her, completely unapologetic. “We have to go.”
Penelope stayed there for a moment longer, the broken phone still in her hand, her thoughts caught in a loop she couldn’t seem to break free from.
Then, almost without realising, she pushed herself to her feet.
A strange numbness had already begun to settle in, dulling everything just enough that she could move, even if she didn’t feel like she was fully there.
Her body worked ahead of her mind, reaching for clothes, folding them, putting them into her case with quick, automatic movements, as though that might somehow help her catch up.
It didn’t.
The words kept circling anyway, refusing to stop, refusing to make sense.
And beneath it all, quieter but no less insistent, was the awareness that the one person she really wanted to speak to, she couldn’t.
It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes later when there was a sharp knock at her door.
“Penelope. We’re going.”
“I’m coming,” she said, though her voice felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.
She grabbed her case and stepped out into the hallway. Her sisters were already there, pale and quiet in the low light, their own bags clutched tightly.
No one spoke as they moved toward the front door and went outside. The street was empty save for a neighbour standing under a flickering lamplight across the road, walking their dog.
“Everything alright?” the man called out quietly, his gaze flicking to their luggage.
“Family emergency,” Portia told him, pasting a sad smile on her face.
The neighbour nodded, sympathy quick and automatic.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
Penelope barely registered any of it.
None of it felt real.
They reached the car in silence, her mother moving quickly, directing her sisters to put their cases in the boot. Penelope followed without thinking, setting hers down where she was told before climbing into the back seat.
The doors shut one by one.
The engine started.
Then the car pulled out of the drive and headed down the road, the house disappearing out of view almost immediately.
And that was when it hit.
Her throat tightened, her chest ached and before she could do anything about it, the tears began to fall.
She turned her face toward the window, pressing her hand against her mouth, trying to stay silent, trying to keep it contained, but it didn’t matter.
