Penelope has got used to loving Colin in secret. To yearn for him when his work takes him around the globe and to hide her heart away when he is near. But a weekend together at a writing conference brings to the surface what has been buried for far too long. Will Penelope finally dare to embrace her ambitions as a writer and confess her feelings to her best friend?
Warnings: angst
Chapter word count: ~1300
MASTERLIST
Here's your sickly sweet epilogue, folks - hope you enjoy ♥️
A Year Later
“Oh my God, you actually booked us the exact same room?”
Penelope breaks into a smile when they stop in front of their door.
“Obviously,” Colin grins as he lets them in. “I asked them to push the beds together though.”
“Presumptuous, Bridgerton.”
“Well, it is our wedding night.”
“Nevertheless.”
Their eyes outsparkle each other. She will never tire of him looking at her like this.
“It’s still crazy, isn’t it?” she whispers, looping her arms around his neck. “How that one weekend changed everything?”
“The weekend didn’t. We did,” he says softly as he pulls her closer by the waist. “Masters of our own fates and all that.”
“I see my husband is in a poetic mood.”
She smirks up at him.
“Now that is crazy.”
“Not really, I’m used to your grand musings.”
“I meant you calling me that.”
His eyes sink into hers and her heart flutters slightly. She runs her fingers through the hair at his nape.
“Well, I hope we don’t get used to it too quickly.”
“I for one won’t, my darling wife.”
Penelope smiles into their kiss.
“Why don’t you pick out something for dinner while I nip into the bathroom?”
“Done.”
He releases her with a peck to her forehead and she starts looking for the room service menu. Once the order is placed, she wanders over to the window, looking out at the lush, green landscape sprawling around the hotel. She lets out a long exhale. There is something wonderfully grounding about standing here, where so little has changed, when her entire life has been upended over the past twelve months.
Just like a year ago in this same spot, Colin comes up behind her and encloses her in his arms with a soft sigh. But this time she melts into him, the way she craved back then, gently holding his wrist against her collarbone. Their golden wedding bands shimmer in the glow of the setting sun.
He asked her on their trip to Norway, a few months into the relationship. Penelope had been too mesmerised by the swirling Northern Lights above to notice him getting down on one knee beside her. Despite crying more than she did, he somehow managed to bring out the most heartfelt proposal she could have ever hoped for. It was fast, sure, but no one amongst their family and friends questioned their decision. While the romantic part of their relationship was new, everything else between them had been growing for two decades. They had already been part of each other’s families, had already shared so much of their lives together. And even after the initial enchantment had faded a little, everything about this decision felt right.
This morning they finally had an intimate ceremony at Bridgerton House, with only their closest loved ones present. Afterwards they held a wedding breakfast, a beautiful mix of raucous Bridgerton shenanigans and heartfelt speeches from their mothers and siblings. Even Eloise said a few words, declaring that she would choose her best friend over her third-favourite brother any day, so he better be good to Penelope. As if he needed that reminder. Colin is everything she could once only dream of. A little messy and impulsive sometimes, a little too concerned with her safety. But he has brought so much excitement and vibrancy into her life while being a steady, ever-encouraging constant by her side through the fraught querying and publishing process of her book. She always thought it silly when people said they loved their partners more with every passing day. But now she truly understands.
Penelope submitted her manuscripts to agents under a false name so that she wouldn’t get favoured by any of her colleagues. Thus, she was all the more floored when she ended up with five offers of representation. And even more shocked when she secured a publishing deal within a couple of months. Colin of course prided himself endlessly in having “a nose for these things”. With a life as an author on the horizon, Penelope has reduced her hours at the agency to work more seriously on this and other writing projects — whenever she’s not travelling with Colin. New York was quickly off the table, marked as a ‘maybe in the future’. She has enough adventure in her life as is. Instead, the two of them share her cosy flat in Richmond and are looking for a little house outside of London.
Most mornings, Penelope still needs a moment to realise that the life she keeps waking up to is real. That there is a book contract in one of her desk drawers, that the warm body pressed to her back belongs to Colin Bridgerton. That there is so much more still to come.
“Oh, I almost forgot!”
She hastily untangles herself from Colin, much to his chagrin, and bounces over to her briefcase. From there she produces a plain mock-up book.
“Your advanced copy?” he asks with an excitement that almost exceeds hers. God, she loves him.
“I haven’t had the chance to look at it yet.”
She sits down at the foot of the bed, her fingertips ghosting across her name on the preliminary cover. While she did take the Bridgerton name this morning, she will publish under Penelope Featherington. She owes that to the little girl who dreamed of this day. Colin settles in beside her.
“Does it have the blurbs yet?”
She opens the book and gasps.
“I actually got one from Ben Masoumi. I can’t believe he gave me second chance after that workshop.”
“I may have pestered him a little for that.”
“Colin!”
He shrugs, a crooked grin on his lips.
“He thanked me after he’d actually read it.”
“Still,” she chides, blushing a little.
“So, what has he written?”
Penelope looks back down.
“Deeply haunting and yet the cracks let in unexpected light. Rich with scathing social commentary that evokes Austen and Atwood at their best. A modern masterpiece.”
Her hand flies to her mouth as tears fill her eyes. Colin puts a gentle arm around her.
“Am I forgiven?”
She nods furiously, her gaze flicking across the other blurbs, full of equal praise. Unfiltered joy rushes through her veins.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers into her ear before brushing a kiss to her temple.
“Thank you, Col.” Penelope wipes at her cheeks as she beams up at him. “Oh. Speaking of you.”
She flips a couple of pages until she arrives at the dedication and slides the book into his lap.
His entire face starts glowing as he takes in the words before him.
To Colin. Best partner in all things.
It’s the greatest wonder to see myself and the world through your eyes.
He turns towards her with the softest of smiles.
“Right back at you, Featherington.”
“You’re gonna keep calling me that?” she grins.
“I’d miss it.”
“So, when will you call me Mrs. Bridgerton?”
Colin’s eyes twinkle with mirth.
“Are you trying to turn this into the final scene of Pride and Prejudice 2005, US version?”
“That is so absurdly specific and yet exactly what I was going for,” she admits with a chuckle.
“That’s what you get for marrying your best friend.”
He carefully sets aside the book to pull Penelope onto his lap until she straddles him. With a happy sigh he intertwines her fingers behind his neck.
“Well, if this is the price I must pay, I suppose I shall learn to bear it.”
“A heavy cross indeed.”
“Will you shut up and kiss me now?”
“Gladly,” he murmurs, coaxing her lips closer to his, “Mrs. Bridgerton.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Likes, reblogs and comments are more than welcome ♥️
Penelope has got used to loving Colin in secret. To yearn for him when his work takes him around the globe and to hide her heart away when he is near. But a weekend together at a writing conference brings to the surface what has been buried for far too long. Will Penelope finally dare to embrace her ambitions as a writer and confess her feelings to her best friend?
Warnings: angst
Chapter word count: ~2500
MASTERLIST
The angst is finally coming to an end - in favour of tooth-rotting fluff, mind you 😅
Day 4
Colin is gone. She can feel it before she even opens her eyes. His bed is empty and the door to the silent bathroom stands open. She quickly checks her phone. 7:35 and a message from him, sent just half an hour ago.
I’m taking the train home to give you some space.
Please come see me whenever you’re ready to talk this through. I’ll be at Bridgerton House til Friday.
I’m really sorry, Pen.
Penelope stares at the text for several minutes. An icy fist closes around her throat. Although he does not love her in the way she longs for, he is so willing to put her comfort above his own. It must be killing him to leave like this after their fight. And all her foolish heart can do is to love him even more — when that is the very thing that escalated things last night.
She bites back the tears and heaves herself out of bed, her conscience weighing her entire body down like lead. Mechanically, she gets herself ready for the day. One last farewell event at nine, check-out at ten and then the two-hour-drive home. She wonders whether coffee would help her bone-deep exhaustion or further aggravate her churning stomach as she packs up her things. When Penelope finally turns to the desk, she stops dead in her tracks. Her manuscript lies out in the open, arranged in a neat stack. Clipped to the top page is a note. She can’t help but stalk closer as the hairs on her neck bristle. It’s written in Colin’s best cursive, the one usually reserved for her birthday cards and the post-its for their book exchange. She touches the note with trembling fingers.
And you ask "What if I fall?"
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?
An Erin Hanson quote she once wrote in a notebook that she gifted him when he was just starting out as a travel writer. She had forgotten about it completely but now the memory pierces through her.
Beneath, a few more words.
Go to New York if that’s what your heart is telling you.
But, Pen — this is probably the best thing you’ve ever written. Please don’t keep it from the world.
Her chest is flooded with a myriad of emotions. Elation that he remembered her gift from all those years ago, embarrassment that he has read her work, affection and melancholy and pride and anxiety. Everything swirls in a jumbled mess, stealing her breath and squeezing her insides.
She starts pacing around the room. The seal has been broken. Someone else has read her novel. And he thought it was good. She thinks back to last night when she herself got lost in her story, a faint inkling of hope blooming in her chest that this could really be something. Penelope likes her job, she truly does. Seeing that expression of utter joy on someone’s face when they hear that she would like to represent them, even brighter when a publishing house shows interest. There is something beautiful to helping others live their dreams. But Colin is right, it does not compare to going after your own. And she’s been worried about falling for so long that she has forgotten the possibility she might fly. Her fingertips glide over the smooth paper of the title page, then Colin’s note. A strangely determined feeling settles in her bones. It’s time.
And of course, he is the first person she wants to tell. But as soon as his image appears before her mind’s eye her head starts reeling again. If she finally dares to give her writing ambitions a fair chance, should she not give one to him as well? Not because she expects him to reciprocate her feelings, but simply to clear the air between them after all these years of secrecy and dancing on a cliff’s edge? Once she confesses, once he knows, they can move on from this. He can let her down gently, like she knows he will, and she can have a fresh start in New York. Without having to push him away and hurt his feelings at every turn.
Penelope feels dizzy from her sudden resolutions. After so many years of wallowing and doubting, could this really be the day her entire life will start to change? Something teetering between panic and excitement rushes through her veins. All she knows is that she wants to see Colin, has to see him. Maybe she can still catch him at the train station. And if not, she will race back to London and wait for him at Bridgerton House. She hastily throws the last of her belongings into her suitcase, then zips it up with a flourish. All of a sudden she feels so alive, so full of possibility. She dashes to the door, an incandescent smile creeping onto her lips, but when she rips it open a cry of surprise slips from her throat. Colin stands there, flushed and breathless, his hand with the key card suspended in mid-air. Dark shadows under his eyes enhance the fire within them.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she whispers back.
After a moment of hesitation she takes a step back and drops her luggage to the floor.
“Come in.”
He gingerly steps over the threshold, letting the door fall shut behind him as he places his bag beside hers. They stand awkwardly for a while, simply staring at each other. It’s Colin who finally finds his voice.
“I really meant to give you space. And I will, I promise. I just couldn’t leave without talking to you again, I—“
“I know you can’t stand parting in anger,” she blurts out. “I should have never shut you out like that, it was awful of me. And I’m so sorry about what I said last night. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m sorry, too,” he rasps. “I pushed you too hard and I was patronising. It’s your life, Pen. Do whatever feels right for you.”
“You feel right for me.”
“What?”
Oh God, she has not planned for it to just slip out. And she can feel herself losing her nerve again, so she barrels ahead.
“I love you, Colin. I’m in love with you. Have been since the day we met.”
He gapes at her in utter shock. Penelope’s pounding heart stutters.
“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting anything from you,” she says hastily. “I just… I’ve been trying so hard not to ruin our friendship because it means everything to me, but in keeping this from you I’ve nearly ruined it anyway. Fuck, maybe this entire speech is ruining it, I don’t know. And it’s okay that you don’t feel the same but it wasn’t fair to hold this in any longer. Not when I’ve been horrible to you because the idea of you spending more time at home terrified me. I mean, I can barely hold this in the few weeks a year I get to see you. But now that you know, we can work through this, right? I promise I’ll—“
Colin takes her face in his hands, immediately silencing her with his gentle touch.
“Penelope, can you take a breath for one second so I can tell you I’m in love with you, too?”
She freezes.
“You’re what?”
“Why do you think I haven’t dated in like two years?”
“You’ve been in love with me for two years?”
He releases her, shrugging sheepishly.
“Much longer really, but that’s when I stopped lying to myself about it.”
Her entire world is crumbling around her. Nothing makes sense anymore, a few words from him have shattered the reality she has been painfully tied to for most of her life.
“Why haven’t you told me?” she croaks.
“Same as you. The idea of losing what we have was just…” He swallows heavily. “Plus, you were pretty much always seeing someone.”
“Yes, to at least try to get you out of my system.”
“And whenever I tried to be brave, you pulled away. At least five times over the past couple of days alone.”
“You were actually… God, I thought I was imagining that.”
He gapes at her.
“Pen, I was being so obvious.”
“Well, you’re a very touchy person, it’s a Bridgerton thing.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Colin breaks into an exasperated laugh and Penelope can’t help but join in. He runs a hand through his hair, messing up his curls, and she wishes desperately she could do that herself. Actually… can she now? Her pulse is pounding through her veins, every sensation heightened and intense. Suddenly the ground starts swaying beneath her feet and Colin quickly takes hold of her arms, steadying her.
“Hey, you alright?”
“It’s just….” She inhales deeply, focusing on the green linen fabric of his shirt for a moment to calm herself. He smells so impossibly good. “This is all a bit much.”
“Yes. It’s a lot.”
He guides her to the foot of his bed and she gratefully sits down as he falls to his knees before her, pushing himself up until their faces are at the same level. He is so beautiful. So close. She gingerly raises a hand to his temple and cards her fingers through his dark locks. Colin’s jaw drops a little, his eyes falling shut in pleasure. When he opens them again they’re alight with something she finally recognises for what it is. How could she have been in love with him for all those years and never seen the same longing in him?
His gaze melts into hers, both of them holding their breath.
“Is this it?” he finally murmurs. “Do you really want this?”
The vulnerability in his voice brings tears to her eyes and his start to glisten as well when she softly says, “I want everything with you, Colin Bridgerton.”
She doesn’t know who’s moved first. All she knows is that his lips are silken and perfect against hers, that he tastes of butterscotch and home. That the sparks she expected are actually gentle flames warming her from the inside. That nothing she has ever experienced compares to kissing him.
When they finally part for air, they still can’t stop touching each other. Gentle swipes across brows and jaws, cheeks and necks. Staring at each other in a daze.
“God,” he breathes. “That was…”
She can’t help but smile at him.
“Incredible?”
“I just… I never knew it could feel like this. That anything could feel like this.”
Tears prick at her eyes once more as she gets lost in his, so filled with pure mesmerisation.
“God, Pen. Why have we wasted so much time?”
She slides a hand around his neck, her other one firmly on his heart.
“Not a single day of being your friend was wasted, Colin. I’d rather spend another two decades not kissing you than not having you in my life.”
“Really?” A corner of his mouth quirks up. “‘Cause I can’t imagine even another minute without kissing you.”
She slaps his chest, trying to stifle a laugh.
“I was trying to be romantic here.”
“So was I!” he grins. “I’ve been dreaming about this for years, cut this poor man some slack.”
She does reward him with another kiss, if only because she is aching for it as well. Her fingers slide through his hair and he moans into her mouth, sending goosebumps down her spine. How is any of this real? It feels like every second in his arms flushes out the hurt and yearning that has been calcifying in her veins ever since she can remember. Leaving nothing but a tingling warmth and perfect peace.
When he pulls away, he touches her forehead to hers.
“As much as I would have loved to do that for ages… I have also loved being your friend, Pen. I would have walked you down the aisle into someone else’s arms, just to see you happy.”
She gazes at him in wonder for a long spell before her lips slowly curve into a smirk.
“I would have made you my Maid of Honour.”
He chuckles.
“Like Patrick Dempsey in that silly rom-com you made watch at least five times when we were teens?”
“Yep.”
“Wait. Doesn’t she end up marrying Dempsey instead of her fiancé?”
“Exactly.”
Colin stares at her in feigned shock.
“Miss Featherington, was that a proposal?”
“You’re the one on your knees, Mister Bridgerton.”
“Believe me, I know,” he groans, pushing himself to his feet with some difficulty. “We really should have done this when I was still in my prime.”
She grins up at him, elated by how easy this is with him. How she could ever doubt that it would be?
“True. At this point, Gregory might be the better option.”
“You wound me,” he laments, clutching at his chest dramatically. “So quick to give me up?”
Penelope rises onto her tip-toes to pull his face back to hers.
“Never.”
Just before their lips touch, however, she draws back.
“Actually, I still have a bone to pick with you.”
Colin’s brows furrow in confusion. Then the realisation dawns on him, rearranging his features into something rueful.
“Your manuscript.”
“My manuscript.”
Her hands slide down to his chest and he carefully places his own on them, as if scared she might break their connection entirely. Penelope can feel his heartbeat quicken under her palm.
“I couldn’t sleep and I know light doesn’t usually wake you. So I went to turn on the desk lamp to read my novel for a bit and then I saw it peeking out under your laptop case and I just… I’m so sorry but I couldn’t resist. I only wanted to read the first couple of pages but I simply couldn’t stop, it was so addictive. And suddenly dawn was breaking and I had finished the entire thing. I haven’t devoured a book like that in ages.” He grimaces guiltily. “That was such an invasion of your privacy, I know. But Pen, it was so incredibly good. Please forgive me.”
She takes a moment before she relieves his agony.
“Under one condition.”
“Anything.”
“You owe me a detailed critique, so I can give it another good polish before I send it out to agents.”
His jaw drops.
“You’re really going to do that?”
Excitement once more flutters in her stomach as she nods gingerly. And suddenly the ground beneath her is gone and she lets out a surprised squeal while Colin spins her around in the air. He’s laughing and she joins in, giddy and slightly delirious. She cannot fathom that any of this is real and at the same time she can practically sense everything slotting into place. Like this is exactly how it’s always been meant to be.
And when Colin sets her down to once more bring his lips to hers, she realises that falling for him can actually feel like flying.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
CHAPTER 5
Likes, reblogs and comments are more than welcome ♥️
Penelope has got used to loving Colin in secret. To yearn for him when his work takes him around the globe and to hide her heart away when he is near. But a weekend together at a writing conference brings to the surface what has been buried for far too long. Will Penelope finally dare to embrace her ambitions as a writer and confess her feelings to her best friend?
Warnings: angst
Chapter word count: ~2450
MASTERLIST
The angst is really angsting in this one - but it'll get better soon, I promise 🙈
Day 3
The next morning Penelope and Colin attend a discussion titled “The Human Essence in Writing During the Rise of Generative AI”. The panellists and the audience go back and forth about authenticity, lived experience, intellectual labour. About the age-old need to tell stories. And Penelope is thriving. She is so glued to the panel that she barely notices Colin’s gaze on her.
“You really loved that, huh?” he grins after.
“Obviously. Didn’t you?”
“Of course. But I don’t create worlds and characters.” He shrugs. “I just tell other peoples’ stories.”
Penelope gapes at him.
“That’s not true. You collect all these precious pieces and then craft them into something that feels whole and coherent and yet so… alive. They might be other peoples’ stories but you make them shine.”
Colin’s eyes shimmer as he stares at her for a long moment, speechless.
“Thank you,” he finally whispers.
She feels herself blush under his gaze and averts her own. The room empties out around them and just when she moves to get up he reaches for her arm.
“Listen, I know you didn’t want to come to the workshop yesterday and I understand why you panicked under that pressure. But you relished it, didn’t you? You were glowing the entire time. Just like now.”
“Col…”
“You’re a writer, Pen. You’ve always been a writer. I simply don’t understand why you’re still helping other people live their dreams instead of working on your own.”
Penelope glances around at the new group of people trickling into the room. She lowers her voice to just above a whisper.
“We’ve had this discussion. I’m over it.”
“You’re clearly not. Any idiot can see you’re not happy with your career choices.”
“Oh and throwing my heart on the line is going to solve that?” she hisses.
“It might.”
“Exactly, it might. But what if I put myself out there and receive nothing but rejections? What if my dream gets killed before I ever get the chance to live it? When I have nothing left, what the hell do I do then?”
Colin’s eyes are coloured in sympathy and confusion.
“Why on earth do you think you would fail?”
“Because there are two big things I want in life and one of them has already become a disaster.”
She snaps her mouth shut. Fuck.
“What?” he asks, suddenly strained.
“Just leave it. You’re late for your workshop.”
Despite her best efforts her voice is shaking and she quickly rises to her feet to get out of his orbit. But Colin is on her heels, following her out into the hallway.
“What are you talking about? What disaster?”
“I swear to God, Bridgerton, if you don’t give me some space right now, I’m gonna put you out on the street for the night.”
“Pen—“
“Colin, please.” When she whips around, her eyes are filled with tears and he winces. “Just let it go.”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. Then he slowly raises a hand to her face and trails it along her cheek. Penelope suppresses a shiver.
“Is a dream killed really worse than one never lived?” he whispers.
She stares at him for a long spell, a storm raging through her head.
“I’ve got to go,” she eventually rasps. “Client meetings.”
Without giving him a chance to reply she rushes down the corridor, almost suspecting him to pursue her even further. Thankfully, he does not.
A few hours later, Penelope has lunch out on the patio with a few other agents she started chatting with between meetings. The easy conversation has helped her find her footing again after the way she had left things with Colin. He has always tried to encourage her in her writing pursuits but never has he been so strangely intense about it. Maybe it was a mistake to come here with him. She is still haunted by the desperation in his eyes. By his agonising question that finally voiced what has been clawing at her heart for years — both about him and her career. The ever-looming scales weighing risk against regret.
“Here you are.”
She inhales deeply before looking up at Colin with a tight smile that is mirrored on his face. He gives everyone else a friendly nod, then squats down beside her.
“Why don’t you sit?” she murmurs, the offer only half-sincere.
“I’ve got a call scheduled in a couple of minutes. Just wanted to tell you that I’ve made dinner plans with a colleague who’s in the area. Would you like to join us?”
“Oh.” Penelope hesitates. “Thanks, but I think I’d rather stay in.”
Tension is still simmering between them, as plain in Colin’s features as it probably is in hers.
“Okay.” He pushes himself up. “I’ll see you after then.”
No more attempts at inviting her along to his workshops. She wonders whether he just doesn’t want to push her any further right now or whether he has given up on changing her mind at last.
“Yes. Have a good time.”
“You too.”
Despite everything he leans down to brush a kiss to her hair and it tugs at her heartstrings. Ever the sweet, caring man she knows. Making it infinitely difficult to let him go.
Except that she might have a way out now — if she’s brave enough to take it. Once he has left, she pulls out her phone, staring down at the e-mail from her boss. Have you thought about New York? She recalls the clarity that suddenly came over her last night. It would be good for her not to see him every time he returns to London, right? It has to be. It has to.
No matter how vehemently she pushed back against Colin earlier, Penelope can’t stop thinking about her manuscripts. Could they really be something more than secret files on her computer? Could she be something more than a bystander cheering other people on from the sidelines? She’s distracted throughout all her afternoon events. When she looks down at her notes after, they’re mostly unintelligible. At the end of the day she finds herself hurrying towards the copy station set up in one of the seminar rooms. And before she knows it she’s holding a printout of the novel she was too scared to read from at the workshop. She doesn’t remember the last time she has held any of her work on paper. It’s so different. So… real.
Penelope feels strangely secretive when she carries it up to their room, holding it close to her chest. Like she’s smuggling something illegal. When the door clicks closed behind her, her excitement only intensifies. She toes off her shoes, quickly pulls on some comfortable clothes, then settles at the small desk. There is something magical about lifting that first page. About diving into the world she herself has created. It fades a few sentences in when her brain starts catching on all the stylistic and structural flaws and her heart sinks. She is just about to admonish herself when her stomach does it for her by letting out a resonant grumble.
“Okay, okay,” she mutters. “Let’s make this good.”
She calls the reception to have pumpkin risotto and red wine delivered. Then she goes to wash and moisturise her face, ties her hair up in a bun and lights the electric fireplace. When she sits back down with her food her writing music is playing softly in the background. She takes a deep breath. And begins.
Penelope is so engrossed in her manuscript that she doesn’t hear Colin come in until he calls out, “Honey, I’m home”, making her jump out of her skin. She haphazardly shoves the papers underneath her laptop case and leaps to her feet with a too bright smile.
“Hey, how was dinner?”
“Good. What are you reading?” he grins. “Is it scandalous?”
“What? No!” She feels a blush creep up her neck. “Just a draft from a potential client.”
“Uh huh.”
There’s a sparkle in his eyes and she notices with relief that their earlier half-fight seems to no longer stand between them. Still, her heart is hammering in her chest.
“I’m knackered,” Colin yawns. “Gonna get ready for bed.”
“Yeah, sure. Take your time, I’ll go after.”
“Did you have a nice evening?” he asks while hanging his jacket over one of the armchairs.
“Yeah, it was good. Ordered up food and just worked for a bit.”
“Only you would consider work ‘nice’,” he chuckles.
“That’s rich coming from the guy who lives and breathes his job.”
“Fair.” He sends her a smirk on his way to the en-suite. “Carry on, fellow grafter.”
A long exhale leaves her when he closes the door behind him. Then she starts circling the room to walk off some of the adrenaline. She feels ripped out of a different reality, utterly confused to find that her own still exists. And that she still has a million questions to confront in it.
“You alright?”
Colin’s brows are furrowed when he steps back into the room. Her pulse starts racing again.
“Yeah. No. I— I’ve been meaning to tell you something. I had a meeting with my bosses this week.” She chews on her lips for a moment, then pushes the words out in one fluid motion. “They’ve offered me to transfer to the New York office.”
“Oh.” His mouth falls open before he manages to chisel a half-smile onto it. “That’s great. They must be very impressed with you. Have you declined yet?”
She pushes up her chin in false bravado.
“Why should I?”
“Because— What?” He stares at her in utter confusion. “Of course you can’t go, that’s…”
“Not something anxious little Penelope would do? You’re not the only one who wants to see the world, Colin.”
“So travel! Come with me, I’ve got trips to Slovenia and Norway planned and—“
“I’ve already decided to take the job.”
“What?”
“It’s… It’s just what I need.”
“Since when? When have you ever wanted to live in New York? Most days you can’t even stand London and now you’re telling me you want to move to a city that’s double the size and even more obnoxious? And with everything that’s currently going on in the States? Fuck, Pen, they might arrest you at the border or some shit.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“And you’re being impulsive. That’s not the kind of decision you just make without thinking it through.”
“Right, because the great Colin Bridgerton is known for being oh so steady and prudent. You’ve been gallivanting around the planet for a decade, but sure, go ahead and lecture me on the dangers of taking a risk for once in my life.”
“So, that’s a risk you’re easily willing to take but you won’t even try to get your writing published?”
“Christ, not that again.”
“Yes, that again. What are you not telling me, Pen?”
“Nothing.”
“Stop lying.”
“Then stop pestering me.”
“Not when you are clearly trying to avoid—“
“It’s too much, okay? You are too much, Colin.”
He stares at her as if she’s slapped him across the face. Neither of them remembers how to breathe.
“I was just trying to be a good friend.”
His voice unravels at the seams.
“A good friend wouldn’t treat me like a fucking child,” she presses out.
Then she turns on her heel and flees to the bathroom, slamming the door like a shot through the night.
Penelope couldn’t say how long she sits on the toilet lid, her face buried in her hands. She hates herself for putting her own heart before his this time. For making him doubt his tender soul. All because she cannot tell him her true reasons. That he can no longer be her oxygen, no matter how much she craves him. That she prays this exact craving will pass once she has created a life that is not entangled with his.
He’s right, most days London drives her mad. But maybe New York could be the first adventure of many, the first real adventure of her own, instead of living vicariously through Colin. She’s barely travelled outside the country, never outside the continent. Once the initial hurt has passed, she might finally become more than the shy, despondent girl still hung up on her first love. She only wishes she didn’t have to hurt Colin as well. Hadn’t already hurt him with her accusation. It’s true, he is too much for her, but the only blame falls to her own foolish heart.
When she returns to the room, it’s dark, save for the small lamp by her bed. Colin is curled up under his blanket, turned to the wall and completely silent. The tension in the air makes her sick. Her body instinctively gravitates towards his form, desperate to touch him, to apologise. But as much as she is threatening to crumble, her mind holds fast. She can’t play this game anymore. Maybe this for the best. Create some distance between them, break up the painful mess they’ve been caught in for so long.
Penelope slips into her own bed, switching off the light. The sudden cloak of darkness adds further weight to the already suffocating silence. She turns her back to him and tries to slow her breathing despite her heavy pulse. It will be fine. She can’t imagine how yet, but somehow she will learn to live without him, at least for a while. Until her heart can let go of Colin Bridgerton at last.
Minute after minute passes at an agonising pace. Then, suddenly, a whisper cuts through the pitch black.
“Pen?”
She lies perfectly still.
“I’m sorry. Truly. My fears shouldn’t hold you back when you’re finally daring to do something that big. I didn’t mean to be overbearing. I just… I will really miss having you at home. I can’t picture it without you.”
A sob nearly breaks from her lips. She bites down on her fist instead and lets the hot tears soak into her pillow. Her love for him burns through her chest with ferocity. But she says nothing.
His sheets rustle as he turns to face her. He calls out her name again, even more quietly. A delicate, fragile plea to forgive him. He’s never been the type to let a wound fester, always desperate to restore the peace. Once, when he and Eloise had a horrible fight, he did not sleep for three days because it ate him up inside. She knows all this and yet she can’t bring her throat to produce a single sound. All she can do is weep silently and ache for him until exhaustion finally pulls her under.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
CHAPTER 4
Likes, reblogs and comments are more than welcome ♥️
Penelope has got used to loving Colin in secret. To yearn for him when his work takes him around the globe and to hide her heart away when he is near. But a weekend together at a writing conference brings to the surface what has been buried for far too long. Will Penelope finally dare to embrace her ambitions as a writer and confess her feelings to her best friend?
Warnings: angst
Chapter word count: ~3100
MASTERLIST
Your girl is seriously in the writing zone at the moment, so we're merrily marching on with this story 😄
Day 2
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Colin asks as he digs into his porridge.
Penelope glances at the itinerary beside her plate of toast.
“After the opening event I’ve got a panel on TikTok marketing strategies, then one on new publishing models. Lunch. An editing workshop for agents. After that I’ve got a few meetings with prospective clients scheduled. Then hopefully a breather before dinner and cocktail hour.”
“No writing events at all?”
“You know I’m not here as a writer,” she says quietly, spreading the Marmite on her toast with a little too much force.
“But they have all these great events. Surely you could make room for a couple.”
“Colin—“
“Please, Pen. For me?”
He does his puppy eyes and she sighs in half-defeat.
“You’re insufferable.”
“I’m just a man who’s obsessed with his best friend’s literary fiction.”
“You haven’t read anything of mine in ages.”
“Not for a lack of asking.”
Penelope takes a bite of bread. It tastes like ashes.
“I know you’re working on something, Pen, you always are. There’s a workshop at five where everyone reads something from their current project and the others offer critique. It’ll be fun.”
She looks down at her laptop. Her latest manuscript, currently on its third draft, is sitting safely in there. Back in the day she still occasionally shared her work with Colin and even Eloise. But the more serious she got about writing, the more protective of it she became. Typing away in the dark while her current Colin stand-in snores beside her, stealing even the smallest moments at work, spending entire weekends at the library. Every word clutched closely to her chest. And now he’s asking her to just whip it out in front of some strangers? Potential clients? Her palms grow clammy.
“I can’t.”
A long beat.
Then Colin reaches out to take her hand, not flinching at the cold sweat.
“I will always be grateful that you encouraged me to send my work to magazines all those years ago. Without you I wouldn’t be able to do any of this. And all I’m asking is that you dip your pinky toe in the water here. Everything will stay in the room, there are no repercussions.”
She lets out a humourless laugh. No repercussions, right.
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
His lips curl into a soft smile.
“Thank you.”
Penelope can barely focus for the rest of the day. Her mind constantly wanders to the workshop. She avoids Colin at lunch, using meeting prep as an excuse to pick at a sandwich alone in a corner while pretending to pour over manuscripts. Still, he stops by to set down a plate of warm apple crumble in front of her.
“Probably not as good as mine but I thought you could use the pick-me-up,” he winks.
“Thanks.” She smiles up at him. “And one day I’m going to make you tell me what your secret crumble ingredient is.”
He dramatically lays his hand over his heart.
“Why, Miss Penelope — it’s love.”
“Alright, Bridgerton, bugger off into the Hallmark movie you just escaped from.”
“Oh, who do you think I’d be? The rugged Christmas tree farmer? The grieving husband who needs a nanny for his children? The struggling artist who has lost his passion for—“
“The annoying sidekick who’s there for like two scenes to further the plot. Bye, Colin.”
He sticks his tongue out at her but his eyes are still sparkling.
“Fine, I’ll see you at five. Room three.”
Penelope sighs and rubs her temple.
“Col, I don’t know if I’m—“
But he’s already gone. She tries to calm the butterflies in her stomach, which are for once barely his doing.
When she slinks into the workshop room a few hours later, Colin spots her immediately and waves her over with a dazzling smile. She carefully lowers herself onto the chair beside him, eyes flying over the other attendees. Her fingers tighten around her laptop.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Colin takes one of her hands in his. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
Her reply gets stuck in her throat. There’s a hum of excitement in the air, all those people ready to share their stories, chatting and laughing with each other. A couple of writers she met with this afternoon greet her in surprise and she gives them nervous smiles in return. Penelope flinches when the instructor claps his hands.
“Alright, folks, ready to begin?”
Everyone quiets down and settles into their seats, flipping their laptops and notebooks open.
“Hi everyone, I’m Ben Masoumi, novelist and essayist. I’ll be leading this workshop today but I’d prefer to let you do most of the talking. Each one of you will give a brief introduction to the project you’d like to present and the specifics you would like feedback on, then read a couple of paragraphs. No longer than a minute, please. After, you’ll get short critiques from two to three people. Keep it kind but honest, specific but brief, okay?” He looks around at the nodding heads with a smile. “Great. We’ll start here on my right.”
Penelope is the second to last to present, so she leans back, trying to just take it all in for a while. The atmosphere reminds her of literature classes back at uni and with every passing minute she lets herself sink further into it. Of course she works with aspiring writers all the time, but the sheer amount of passion and talent in the room is staggering. She is delighted to give feedback, despite the heat crawling up at her neck when everyone’s looking at her.
But the closer to her turn it gets, the more her pulse is rushing in her ears. She stares down at her half-opened laptop, the screen angled down so that not even Colin beside her can catch a glimpse. This has been her own little hideaway for so long. A safe place she can return to, playing around with characters whose lives are infinitely more interesting than hers. Of course there has always been that quiet promise that she would try to get her work published one day. After all, she’s been harbouring this dream ever since she found out as a little girl that normal people like her had created these magical portals on her shelf that allowed her to escape reality for a while. That she, too, could create magic. But to actually unleash it is something else entirely.
“Alright then, Penelope.“ Ben smiles expectantly at her. “What have you got for us?”
“I…” She gnaws on her lip, her sweaty fingers gripping her screen, but not moving it an inch. “I have a novel project about, um… three old friends who reunite at medical school where they slowly find out about the traumatic experiences that once drove them apart and have now brought them to this path.”
Years of perfecting summaries have the words rushing from her lips. Although her eyes are glued to her laptop, she can feel everyone else’s on hers, most of all Colin’s which seem to burn right through her skull. Heat envelops her, her breathing shallow and rapid.
“Sounds very interesting. Which aspects would you like feedback on?”
Penelope swallows harshly, even though her mouth is bone dry. Colin places a gentle hand on her knee and she can sense rather than see the encouraging look on his face. With shaking fingers she lifts the screen a little, inhaling deeply. Then she snaps it shut.
“I’m sorry,” she rasps. “I can’t.”
“It’s alright if it’s not perfect yet,” Ben says kindly, “that’s why—“
“I just really can’t. Sorry.”
Her face is on fire and she stares longingly at the door.
“I’ll go next.” Colin lets his open gaze sweep across the room. “I’ve brought a journalistic piece I wrote on a recent trip to Guatemala. The metaphors seem a bit stale to me and I haven’t quite cracked the atmosphere I tried to capture here.”
His hand remains firmly on her leg, squeezing comfortingly while he reads out the introduction of his article. She tries to let his voice soothe her. But all she can hear is the echo of her own failure.
Dinner consists of Penelope stirring aimlessly in her soup and barely replying to Colin’s questions until he pushes back his chair with a slightly strained smile.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
She furrows her brow. The only thing she wants to do is curl up in bed and tune out the world.
“Come on, Featherington.” He carefully pulls her up, then slings an arm around her shoulder. “We’re in the famous Cotswolds, let’s enjoy the place.”
“Fine,” she moans.
They make their way through the foyer and out into another gorgeous countryside evening. Immediately, Penelope breathes more deeply, her stiff muscles relaxing a little. A tender wind swirls around them, carrying a few bird songs and the smell of fading summer.
“Listen, Pen, about the workshop…“
“I really don’t want to talk about it.”
She finally winds herself out of his arm, the relief of it mingling with regret.
“You can sleep on it and give it another go tomorrow.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But—“
“Col, can we please just enjoy this for a bit? Please.”
He bites his bottom lip, his head bowed in defeat.
“Sure.”
Tension hangs between them as they stroll across fields, but it dissipates in the peacefulness of their surroundings. Penelope is grateful he’s dragged her out here. Being under an open sky puts her struggles into perspective — today was not the end of the world.
Colin jumps up onto a stone wall, balancing for a few steps before folding himself into a seat, dangling his feet with that air of ease that often clings to him. In that moment he bears a striking resemblance to the lanky boy she fell in love with all those years ago and her heart stutters briefly.
"Come up here," he smiles. "We can watch the sunset."
She climbs up with a little less grace but he supports her until she is seated beside him. Then he drops his head onto hers and she tries to ignore the swoop in her stomach. They sit in silence for a while as the sun bleeds into the horizon in shades of pink and orange, turning the cloud formations into exquisite art.
"Do you ever miss England when you're away?" she whispers.
"Sometimes. I mostly miss my family. A good cup of tea.” He pauses, his next words so quiet she might be imagining them. “And I always miss you."
She lets his confession hang in the air for a while. The familiar blend of delight and hurt scratches at her lungs.
“But we talk all the time,” she finally says.
“It’s not the same though, is it?”
He lifts his head to look at her. She doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s easier for her not to have him near. And yet agony at the same time. Colin pulls a wrapped sweet from his pocket, turning it around in his fingers. Butterscotch. He always carries some in his pocket and eats one when he’s nervous or simply low on blood sugar. It also makes him a favourite amongst his nieces and nephews. He now offers it to her and when she shakes her head unwraps it and pops it into his own mouth.
“I’ve actually been thinking about spending more time here.”
“In the Cotswolds?”
He chuckles.
“England, silly. I don’t want to be that guy anymore that mostly sees his family and friends through a screen. And I think I might like to settle somewhere.”
Heat rushes through Penelope.
“Somewhere? Like London?”
“Maybe. But I’d prefer something on the outskirts. A little more peace and quiet.”
“Huh, that’s… that’s great,” she stammers. “Have you told your family yet?”
“You’re the first.” He pushes the sweet around in his mouth, his eyes fixed on the grass beneath their feet. “But you don’t seem too excited at the prospect.”
“No, I am, it’s just…”
She helplessly rifles through her brain for words that neither betray her true feelings nor make her seem like the most horrible friend. Colin looks at her, something wounded in his gaze. She reaches for his hand without thinking, a small electric shock making them both flinch, then grin a little.
“It’s quite the change of heart for you,” she finally says. “I’m just wondering what’s suddenly brought this about.”
His thumb strokes gently along her palm.
“Actually, it’s been a few years in the making.”
The dying sunlight tints his eyes in a warm glow and for the briefest of moments Penelope imagines something more in them. Something she’s been craving for so long. Then she shakes herself out of her stupor, willing her racing heart to slow as she slips down from the stone wall. She has to stop doing this to herself. Reading something into their relationship that has never existed on his side.
“We should go back before it gets dark.”
“Right,” he murmurs.
“There’s that cocktail thing tonight. We should socialise a little.”
“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing all day?”
He trudges down the path behind her, mild irritation in his voice.
“Don’t be a grump, Bridgerton. It doesn’t suit you.”
Penelope tries her best to sound like the prospect of chit-chatting with inebriated strangers isn’t exhausting. Like she won’t mind seeing the people from their workshop when the embarrassment is still smouldering in her stomach. She just doesn’t think her heart could stand another cuddly movie night. Especially after Colin’s revelation. She’s got used to only having him in small doses, to pull herself together for a few hours or a couple of days at at time. Always in the knowledge that he’d leave again soon. Outside of Christmas he’s never home for even a week. So the idea of him ‘settling somewhere’ is foreign and frightening. How long would she be able to keep up her guard?
Penelope has been floating from person to person for hours, weaving herself in and out of conversations with other agents, editors, authors. Her gin and tonic is an accessory more than anything else, she certainly doesn’t want to worsen the headache that’s already thumping behind her temples. When she takes out her phone to check if she can excuse herself for bed yet, a new e-mail has popped up.
Hi Penelope,
Hope you’re having a good time at the conference.
Have you thought about New York? We’re excited to hear from you.
- Lisa
She glances up at Colin who is laughing with a group of people from the workshop. His eyes briefly catch hers and he flashes her a warm smile that burns through her chest, along with a sudden certainty. She looks back down at her phone and types out a reply.
I have. Let’s talk Monday, okay? I’m excited as well.
- Penelope
“So, why exactly did you insist on doing that?” Colin asks as they walk back to their room.
“Don’t complain, you had some good conversations.”
“It was okay, but I saw you escape to the loo like five times.”
“Sorry for having to pee.”
“You had half a drink.”
“Were you spying on me?”
They’ve reached their door and he lets them in with a sigh.
“Can you please just answer my question?”
“You know my job involves a lot of cajolery, even when I don’t feel like it.”
Colin eyes her carefully for a moment. Then he bites his lower lip and turns away to take off his shoes. She wonders whether he’s caught her half-lie or is simply frustrated once again because he feels she’s stuck in a career that’s not right for her. Either way, she decides to hold her tongue as well. They get ready for bed in silence and just when Penelope can’t stand the awkwardness anymore, she remembers a ready peace offering in her suitcase.
She is clutching it in her hands when Colin turns off the bathroom light behind him.
“Ready for the quarterly book exchange?”
Her voice is laced with tentativeness and forced enthusiasm. But Colin barely takes a beat before meeting her attempt at smoothing the waters with a small smile.
“Always.”
He retrieves a couple of books from his bag and they ceremoniously hand their little stacks to each other. She’s given him a cerebral Sci-Fi novel and a non-fiction work about regenerative farming. In return she’s received an essay collection by Margaret Atwood she’s been meaning to read for years. The other book is a contemporary romance novel. Her stomach sinks. Colin loves a good romance, so they often make their way into the exchange ritual. It would be sweet if they didn’t always painfully emphasise what she can’t have with him. She flips to the customary note stuck to the title page.
The heroine reminded me of you. Smart, kind, and talented.
I hope you’ll see yourself in her as well.
x C.
Her eyes flick up and find him looking at her but he quickly glances down at his own books, then lifts up the Sci-Fi story with a crooked smirk.
“That one sounds fun. Will you read the beginning to me?”
Penelope hesitates for a second before swallowing her mixed feelings.
“Of course. It’s a bit creepy though, so don’t blame me if you can’t sleep after,” she grins.
“You know that hearing you read never fails to put me to sleep.”
“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
“Believe me, it is.”
He gives her a soft smile and she hopes he can’t see her blush in the dim light.
“Alright then, Bridgerton, hand it over and buckle up.”
“You mean snuggle up,” he winks, eliciting a groan from her as she snatches the book from his hands.
“I swear, your dad jokes are worse than Anthony’s.”
He gasps.
“You take that back.”
Penelope just chuckles to herself while she climbs under the duvet, relieved they’re back to their normal banter. After a few more seconds of fake pouting Colin gets comfortable as well, his eyes expectantly on hers. And for just a moment a reel of memories flash through her head. Of reading to him in their tree house, in a torch-lit tent, in his childhood bedroom, in her first own flat. Of having him hang on her every word until sleep finally claims him. Despite everything — how lucky is she to have loved this boy for most of her life.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
CHAPTER 3
Likes, reblogs and comments are more than welcome ♥️
Penelope has got used to loving Colin in secret. To yearn for him when his work takes him around the globe and to hide her heart away when he is near. But a weekend together at a writing conference brings to the surface what has been buried for far too long. Will Penelope finally dare to embrace her ambitions as a writer and confess her feelings to her best friend?
Warnings: angst
Chapter word count: ~1850
MASTERLIST
I was in such a Polin rush after my last story that I immediately dove into the next one 🙈 This one has much less heavy themes though and will be a lot shorter as well. Hope you enjoy! 😊
Day 1
“This is going to be such fun, don’t you think?”
Colin flashes her a smile as he drops his bag in front of the reception desk. Penelope returns it with a little less brightness, nervousness gnawing at her stomach. He rings the silver bell, then quickly pulls out his phone to check the messages he’s received during their drive here. She uses the time to study him carefully. His dark hair has grown out a little over his two-month trip to India and curls beautifully around his face. A five o’clock shadow accentuates the sharp line of his jaw. His tanned skin is contrasted against the crisp white t-shirt collar peaking out of his navy jumper. She could swear he looks more stunning with every passing year. But underneath he is still that charming, carefree boy she once fell for, still brimming with curiosity and a zest for life.
“Hi, we have a reservation under Colin Bridgerton.”
Penelope curses her heart for fluttering whenever she hears these words. Whether it’s a restaurant, a car rental or — in this case — a hotel room, she can’t help but swoon at the sound of them. Like she and Colin belong together.
“Yes, I’ve got you right here, Mister Bridgerton. A double room with two beds, is that correct?”
And the illusion shatters.
She turns away from the desk to take in the foyer while he handles the formalities. It’s spacious but cosy, the wooden features and plush sofas bathed in the glow of the setting September sun filtering through lattice windows. The last hints of summer hang in the air that’s streaming in through the open French doors. A beautiful historic hotel in the Cotswolds — quite perfect for a romantic getaway.
“Are you here for the writing conference, Mister Bridgerton?”
“We are. I’m a freelance travel writer.”
“Lovely and may I get your name, Miss?”
Penelope turns back to the receptionist.
“Penelope Featherington. I’m with Green Lit Agency.”
The elderly woman checks off both their names on a list, then hands them their badges and itineraries.
“You’ll find all the panels and workshops for the next couple of days on here. Wear your badges at all times, please, to be granted access to the events and catering. The opening event will take place at nine a.m. in the room at the end of that hall. Breakfast is available from seven to ten, just through there.”
“Perfect, thank you,” Colin smiles.
“Enjoy your stay.”
“We will.”
Penelope wishes she could believe her own words.
The room is just as lovely as the foyer promised. Inviting armchairs by the small fireplace, beautifully carved wooden furniture, ancient beams adorning the slanted ceiling. The prospect of spending three nights here with the love of her life should be bliss. Instead, she feels suffocated by his presence beside her and strides over to the window to rip it open. The fist around her throat loosens a little as she inhales the balmy evening air.
Ever since Penelope found out that the oxygen we need to breathe is the very thing killing us by deteriorating our cells over the years, she cannot help but compare it to loving Colin Bridgerton. Inevitable, instinctual, sometimes painful, sometimes grounding. And slowly killing her.
He appears behind her, sliding his arms around her shoulders and pulling her back against his chest.
“Hey.”
His incredible smell of cologne, fresh soap and something intrinsically Colin engulfs her, along with the warmth radiating through their layers of clothing, and she wonders for the millionth time whether he enjoys torturing her like this. He doesn’t, he would never do anything to hurt her on purpose, but in moments like these it feels like he’s revelling in slicing her heart open. He is so close and yet so utterly out of reach.
She stiffens in his arms, painfully aware that if she allowed herself to melt into him, she might give away what she’s been hiding so desperately for as long as she can remember. It’s only every now and then that she indulges in the physical affection he’s always heaped on her in abundance. So much so, that people constantly assume they’re a couple. But Colin is simply the softest person, even among the sensitive bunch of Bridgertons. So no matter how much she wants to feel special, she knows better. And protecting her heart at least a little means fighting the urge to fall into him completely whenever he offers her the slightest touch.
Colin notices her discomfort and releases her, then busies himself with unpacking.
“You want to order up some food and watch a film?” he asks without looking at her.
“Sounds perfect.”
Penelope finds the menu and scans through it.
“Truffle Mac’n’Cheese and a garden salad?”
“Great.”
She calls the reception to place the order, then wanders into the bathroom for a quick shower and her skincare routine. Colin has already placed his toiletries neatly on the shelf above the sink. Her stomach clenches with both joy and pain as she arranges her own things next to his.
It was sweet once. The infatuation of a ten-year-old girl with the slightly older neighbour boy. Harmless and almost fun with its dramatic journal entries in glitter pen and the wistful staring across the street to never miss the moment he left or entered Bridgerton House. Almost twenty years later it is far from fun and certainly not harmless. The yearning has carved itself into her bones, never stilled by romantic endeavours or resolute vows to embrace life as a single, independent woman. Not as long as he remains available, no matter how absurd the notion of him suddenly falling head over heels for her.
And possibly the worst thing about all this is that she can’t really share this burden with anyone else. Not when one of her best friends is the very man she is so miserably bound to and the other his sister, who would rather shoot herself in the foot than discuss how devastatingly attractive her brother is. Penelope once poured her heart out to a lovely woman in a club bathroom after way too many tequilas, who promptly tried to scam her with some sketchy astrology session to open Colin’s eyes to her through the power of the stars or whatever. She has been suffering in silence ever since.
At least the yearning has become familiar over the years. A constant ache she can mostly tune out, sometimes forget entirely. Missing him has become part of her DNA, whether he is halfway across the world or right next to her. But having him close always hurt more. So it is almost lucky that his job takes him around the globe for most of every year. That’s when they text and talk on the phone for hours, when she can savour every word of his latest article about the most wondrous things he has encountered. He weaves his stories together so effortlessly. Detailing the horrific destruction of the rain forest, then fondly recalling children playing with homemade dolls in the ashes. She adores his writing. His family had thought it a frivolous hobby at first but ever since Colin first entrusted her with his travel journals she knew they could change minds and hearts. They’ve allowed her to see the world through his eyes, to lead a life of adventure, of a constantly broadening horizon.
With a sigh she steps out of her clothes and into the shower to wash off the London grime. She’s going to try to focus on the good this weekend will bring. New insights and connections, a change of pace from her hectic city life. Time with her very favourite person. Time to soak in everything sweet without letting it get coated in bitterness.
When she emerges from the bathroom in her flannel pyjamas half an hour later, Colin has piled all the cushions and blankets onto one of the beds and is just arranging their plates and some wine glasses on two trays. He glances up at her, his features melting into a radiant smile.
“Perfect timing.”
She can’t help but smile back. He looks so cosy in his soft jumper and joggers, bathed in the warm light from their bedside lamps. All she wants in the world is to dive into him and never come up for air.
“I was thinking Midnight in Paris?” she says instead, nodding towards his laptop. “You know, for the writerly vibes.”
“Love it,” he grins, then makes himself comfortable up against the headboard and pats the space beside him.
The bed is definitely too narrow to fit two people at any kind of respectable distance. Penelope gulps, then swiftly straightens her spine in defiance. Sweet, not bitter. She climbs in next to Colin and leans back into the pillows, the sides of her arm and leg unavoidably fused to his. He seems entirely unfazed, just hands her a tray and pulls up the film on his notebook. Once the first images of Paris flicker across the screen he balances the laptop precariously on both their thighs.
“No more moving now,” he chuckles.
They do move, but only closer. When their food is finished, they set the trays on the floor and before Penelope can catch a thought Colin has slid an arm around her, pulling her into his chest with a sigh. She is completely still for a moment, her mind whirring at breakneck speed. And then… she gives in. Just for tonight she’ll pretend, even if the crash down to earth will bruise. Just for tonight she can make believe that this is real. Her hand curls against his rib cage, breath in tune with his. For once there is a strange serenity in surrender.
When the credits roll Colin doesn’t stir. His fingers continue drawing circles on her arm, his other hand warm and steady on hers. She yearns to breathe a kiss into his neck, to inhale him deep into her lungs. But it’s time to break the spell. Her heart is rubbed raw enough for one evening.
“We should get some sleep.” She disentangles herself with an enormous amount of willpower. “Long day tomorrow.”
“Y-yes. Sure.”
Colin seems befuddled, clearly he had already drifted halfway off to dreamland. She can’t help but laugh a little at his expression. His hand shoots to his head.
“What? Do I have bed hair?”
“No,” she grins. “You’re perfect.”
His gaze softens.
It does strange things to her pulse, so she quickly gets up, ignoring the dizzy spell as she once more goes to open a window. A gentle wisp of night air cools her heated cheeks. She stands there for a moment, letting her eyes wander over the dark woods and fields while her heartbeat slows. Then the sound of Colin rising to his feet snaps her out of her reverie and she hurries off to brush her teeth.
When she settles under her blanket in the dark, her pillow still smells faintly of him. She conjures up the feeling of his body wrapped around hers. A familiar torture. And even though she can hear his steady breathing merely two yards from her, he seems a million miles away.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
CHAPTER 2
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Colin has made it: He’s a famous pop star, touring the world, adored to extremes. If only he wasn’t drowning his loneliness and anxiety in too many drinks, missing home and yet incapable of going back.
But when Violet falls ill and he reluctantly returns he has to face the mess he has made - not only with his family but also the woman who might have always been the one.
We were just kids when we fell in love
Not knowin' what it was
I will not give you up this time
- Perfect
Lush wisteria frames the facade of Bridgerton House, infusing the air with sweetness and the buzzing of nectar-drunk bees, as Colin and Penelope stroll up to the front door. He pauses for a minute to take in the scene. The familiar home, the warm sun on his face. Penelope looks back at him.
“Everything okay?”
He nods.
“Yeah. It’s just… Sometimes I still can’t believe this is my life again.”
“In a good way?”
He catches up to her and cups her face in his palm, studying her like a portrait. Finally, he captures her lips in a soft kiss.
“In the best way.”
These past few months have been a whirlwind. The label executives were less than amused when he shared his plans, especially after the whole PR fiasco they’d had to clean up. But with Colin finally standing up for himself and some intense pressure from his legal team they eventually released him from his contract, once he agreed to do an extra ten concerts as a ridiculously overpriced farewell tour. He played the last one just two weeks ago — his first proper show in Britain and possibly his best one yet. Maybe because his family was there to support him, maybe because he felt much more at home, maybe because the nostalgia of this era finally ending hit him, no matter how difficult and painful it had been. All the while he has been working on new songs and setting up his own small label with Mei's invaluable assistance. His first EP is already doing better than he had dared to hope. Ditching the sugary pop in favour of a fresh take on his earlier style is actually welcomed by some old and new fans alike. He also has plans to re-record his first album, now under the simple name Colin B. No more pretence, no more unresolved bitterness about his past.
And just as she had promised, Penelope has been there every step of this rewarding but exhausting journey. A quiet reassurance, a bright light on dark days. Once more his closest friend. He's been trying his very best to be all this for her as well, through paparazzi hunts and wild rumours and the strain it all took on her own work and private life. But after sharing hotel rooms and stardom insanity for three months and still remaining mad about each other, Colin was finally certain their love could withstand anything. So when she returned to England to compile her research into a manuscript while he played the rest of his tour, he no longer doubted whether they were truly meant to be. And luckily, most of the press and his fans eventually agreed. But he was revelling in the hopes that all those opinions would soon matter less and less. That he would breathe easier with every day he could spend at the studio instead of dragging himself into the harsh spotlight. That he could focus on the things and people that actually mattered.
He has also been lucky enough to find the perfect therapist in London and sees her in person whenever he can, with video calls tiding him over in between. Penelope has even accompanied him a couple of times. With their help and tireless work on himself he is now completely sober and panic attacks have become a rare occasion.
So the Colin who stands in front of his childhood home, the love of his life in his arms and surprising calm in his head, is one he could never have imagined on that fateful night ten months ago.
Penelope suddenly smiles, a blush dusting her cheeks.
“What is it?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Well, now you have to tell me.”
She glances at her mother’s house across the street.
“I was just thinking about the many hours I spent by that window, looking over here and daydreaming about this.”
“This?” he chuckles softly.
She pokes him in the chest.
“You, dummy. Us.”
“Aww, you were pining after me, like in some regency romance novel.”
“Please, in a good regency romance it’s the men who do the pining.”
“And I did.”
Penelope sighs.
“God, we were idiots.”
“We were kids.” He pushes a stray lock behind her ear and leans down to kiss her again. “But we’re here now.”
“Are you just gonna keep snogging or will you actually come in?”
Greg and Hyacinth stand on the threshold, matching smirks on their faces.
“Always a pleasure to see you little goblins.”
“Isn’t it just?”
They all hug, exchanging more quips as they step into the house. Eddie comes running towards them, Miles toddling after him with Newton by his side.
“Uncle Colin!”
"Hey, buddy!"
He throws Eddie into the air and spins him around until they’re both dizzy and giggling. Then he reaches down to pick up his other nephew who is clinging to his leg.
"At some point you've got to tell me what kind of magic you're using on these two," Kate laughs as she walks up to them and plants a kiss on Colin's cheek.
"Says the woman who managed to charm Anthony Bridgerton," he teases.
"Believe me, that was easier than handling his sons."
When they enter the dining room, he releases the boys onto the floor and stops in front of Violet’s portrait on the side table. He gently touches the frame.
“Happy Birthday, Mum."
Penelope caresses his back, her head on his shoulder. Although it’s become much easier, he’s still infinitely glad to have her by his side. They smile softly at each other before diving back into the chaos that is their family.
Many hugs and greetings later Colin stands in front of the high chair that holds ‘Mini-Sophie’ — who turned out to be a boy after all and is now beaming gleefully up at him.
“Hey there, Charlie-Barley.”
“I hate it so much when you do that,” Benedict groans.
“Oh please, his name is begging to be rhymed with something silly,” Colin grins, wiggling a finger in front of the baby’s face who tries grabbing it with a happy squeal. “Isn’t that right, Charlie-Gnarly?”
“Don’t listen to your uncle. He’s the worst.”
“I’m your dad’s favourite,” Colin murmurs conspiratorially.
“That would actually be me,” Eloise intervenes as she bumps her hip into her brother’s and leans down to look Charles in the eyes. “So I better be your favourite aunt.”
“For Christ’s sake, can you stop pestering my son?”
“He’s a Bridgerton, Ben.”
“If we don’t start him now, he’ll never survive in this family.”
Colin and Eloise high-five each other.
“Leave them be,” Sophie chuckles as she wraps an arm around her husband’s waist. “He’ll be just fine.”
“Come on, you’re his mother.”
“And that’s why I know exactly how loved my little guy is.”
Benedict huffs but can’t hold back the grin spreading across his face at the sight of his siblings cooing over tiny Charles.
“Speaking of love, I adore that song you’ve written about Pen,” Daphne says, bringing her hands to her chest. “So heartfelt.”
“It almost killed us on the way here,” Simon chimes in. “Daph was crying so much she could barely see the road.”
“Oh wow, which one was that?”
“Your EP only has the one love song on it.”
Colin shrugs.
“True, but every love song I’ve ever written has been about Pen.”
“What?” Penelope stares up at him, wide-eyed and blushing.
“Took me a while to figure that out myself,” he smiles, pulling her into his side and pressing a kiss into her hair.
“God, you guys are gonna give me a fucking cavity with all that sweet talk,” Eloise moans. “Why did I ever encourage this?”
“Because you wanted us to be happy, dearest sister.”
“That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
“She’s lying, El always bawls at that song about your family,” Philip says with a wink.
Eloise hurriedly presses her finger to his lips but everyone is already looking at her with fond expressions. She slaps her hands over her face.
“I love that one, too,” Francesca murmurs to Colin.
“Thank you. I was hoping you’d come in to record a piano version of it for the album.”
“Really? That sounds wonderful!”
They beam at each other.
Colin’s music once more being a source of happiness for him and others is still incredible to him. Even though the right lyrics and melody for Violet’s song keep eluding him. He’ll get there someday.
Anthony calls out that lunch is ready and everyone finds their seats around the massive dining table. It’s beautifully decorated with forget-me-not flowers and daisies that Kate and the boys have picked in the garden. The chatter continues while they all fill their glasses and plates. Colin lets his gaze wander over his family, bathed in sunlight and warmth. A safe haven he can always return to.
He thinks of the day Mei came to him with that horrible message no longer as the day his world fell apart, but the day it was tilted back into the right direction. Allowing him to grow and heal in ways he hadn’t thought possible. And maybe tonight he will finally be ready for his mother’s last letter.
Anthony rises to his feet at the head of the table.
“Thank you all for coming. I’m sure she is very happy to see us together like this.” He swallows heavily but smiles at them, raising his glass. “To Mum. And to love.”
They all echo his toast with glistening eyes. Colin glances over at Penelope to find her already looking at him. She intertwines her fingers with his.
“You alright, darling?”
He raises her hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to it.
“I know that I will be.”
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
This is it, folks 😭 Thank you so much to everyone who's been along for this ride ♥️
While this is the end of this story, I'm itching to write another one about these two (although I've been planning one about my beloved Benedict for ages 😬) but I'm still lacking a decent idea. So, if any of you have any inspiration or favourite tropes, I'd love to hear them! 🥰
Look, I love a good chapter plan as much as the next writer, but, man, there’s just something special about the scenes that happen organically as you write. It’s like, hey, this wasn’t meant to be here, but it was meant to be here. Those scenes just hit different.
I'd truly be the worst person to stick into a timeloop because I'd really just spend the first 5 years catching up on my book tbr, the next 7 on all the movies and shows that've Been On My List for ages, and then another decade on ao3. like sure nothing may stick but my memories will and i can just go into a supermarket to get snacks and wine each day, and i have art to indulge in. like thanks for the hints on how to get out but respectfully, I am busy
Colin has made it: He’s a famous pop star, touring the world, adored to extremes. If only he wasn’t drowning his loneliness and anxiety in too many drinks, missing home and yet incapable of going back.
But when Violet falls ill and he reluctantly returns he has to face the mess he has made - not only with his family but also the woman who might have always been the one.
Oh, I'm in pieces, it's tearing me up
But I know
A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved
- Supermarket Flowers
Benedict leads them down the hallway where they stumble into the scene in front of Violet’s room. Michaela and Philip are sitting on the floor, talking quietly. Simon is leaning against the wall and staring into space. Sophie is crying softly into Kate’s shoulder.
“Colin.” Kate gazes at him with deep sympathy.
“Are we too…“
He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.
“No, no. Go in there, they’re all waiting for you.”
Benedict quietly opens the door and Colin follows him until he realises that Penelope is staying behind. He turns to her.
“Are you not coming?”
“It’s just your siblings, right? Everyone else is out here…”
“We’ve already said our goodbyes,” Sophie says gently. “Go, Pen. She’ll want to see you.”
Colin holds out his hand and after a beat Penelope takes it.
As they walk in, all eyes fall to them, then to their linked hands. Wobbly smiles appear on tear-stained cheeks. Anthony is sitting on the bed, caressing their mother’s arm.
“Here they are,” he whispers and rises to his feet.
Violet seems to need all her strength to open her eyes. But when she does, the morphine fog has cleared from them.
“My darlings,” she croaks.
Colin sits down by her side, never letting go of Penelope. His other hand reaches for Violet.
“Have you finally told her?”
“I have. But she had already made her decision.”
He looks adoringly up at Penelope.
“Well, you’ve always been a clever girl,” his mother smiles. “And you’ve always been family.”
“Thank you, Violet.”
Penelope’s voice is breaking into pieces.
“No, thank you for taking care of my boy. You’ve always been there for him and I hope you will keep leaning on each other.”
They both nod, unable to speak anymore.
“Just promise me one thing, love,” she murmurs. “Don’t leave your siblings again. Not for long. They need you, just like you need them.”
“I promise,” he chokes out, clutching her weak fingers.
“That goes for all of you.” Violet glances around the room. “Hold onto each other, always.”
When Colin looks up, he finds them with intertwined hands, hugging, all clinging to each other in some way. A tidal wave of love washes over him and he cannot imagine a world in which he would ever leave them behind again. His gaze wanders back to his mother and he finally releases Penelope to gently push a strand of hair from Violet’s face. He barely feels the tears rolling down his cheeks, too caught up in her kind eyes. The first pair of eyes he saw when he came into this world.
“I’m going to miss you so much, Mum.”
“My sweet Colin,” she smiles sadly. “You have made me very proud. And I wish I could witness how your life unfolds but I have no doubt it will be wonderful. As long as you listen more to your heart than your head.”
Penelope lays a palm on his back, her warmth tethering him to reality. To the future that still awaits him, sparkling tentatively in the distance. Yet a future in which he will no longer be anyone’s child. The thought suddenly cuts through his chest, forcing the air from his lungs.
“Thank you for everything,” he whispers. “I was so lost and I know you still worry about me but… things will get better, I’ll be better. I’m just so glad I could come home. That you’ve always given me a home. All of us. Even after Dad, even when things were so awful. And yes, maybe you were stretched a little too thin at times but you did your best, Mum. I’m so sorry that I ever made you feel like you didn’t.”
He tenderly wipes the tears from her face.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, darling. So much.”
Her words are slurring slightly and when Colin plants a soft kiss on her forehead, he feels her pinch her brows together. He pulls back to study her anxiously.
“Mum, are you in pain?”
Marcia quietly steps out of the corner where he hasn’t noticed her.
“You mother has been rejecting her morphine all day, love. But I think it’s time for it now. Right, Violet?”
A long beat, then Violet nods almost imperceptibly. Colin brushes his lips to her knuckles, then releases her and stands up to give Marcia space. His hand finds Penelope’s again and their fingers link tightly. She leans into his side, her other hand closing gently around his arm. Without her hold on him he might just float away.
It’s another hour, countless goodbyes and tears later, when Violet finally lets out her last breath. All the siblings have piled onto the bed, holding her, holding each other. A long, weighted silence settles over them.
Then Gregory whispers, “We’re orphans now.”
A sob rips from his throat and Colin quickly pulls him into his embrace. His brother is shaking against his chest while he tries his best not to break down himself. But Gregory and Hyacinth have not experienced the loss of a parent yet, both of them too young to remember the gaping hole their father’s death once tore into their world. So they are at the centre of every hug while their brothers and sisters have their old scars sliced wide open.
In the days after, no Bridgerton is ever found alone. They seek the company of their partners and siblings at every turn — even Hyacinth drags her mattress into Gregory’s room because “his stupid snoring is still better than the quiet”. Colin would not sleep for a second if he couldn’t curl around Penelope every night.
Kate becomes their rock in the storm, organising and preparing everything for the funeral when even the ever-responsible Anthony keeps falling apart. They are more than thankful that Violet has arranged for all the details, from the urn to the music and decorations. And then there’s the letters. She has written one for each of them, carefully sealed in crisp ivory envelopes. Colin stares at his name for an hour before deciding that he’s not yet ready for his mother’s final words to him. It also feels wrong to open it before he has read all her other letters that never reached him. He prays that Mei has kept them over the years but has an inkling they will await him in his next hotel room, no questions asked.
On the day of the funeral the sun stands high and bright in the sky, not a single cloud in sight. It’s exactly the weather Violet had wished for. The church is adorned with lilies, sunflowers and peonies, all colour and life. Just like the guests filling the space. Every single seat is taken, the walls lined with even more people standing. And by Violet’s ardent request not a hint of black can be spotted. While the murmurs are hushed, there is joy and love in the air, accompanied by rich notes from a string quartet. They are not here to mourn their loss in silence, but to celebrate the life of someone they all adored in their own way. The delicately crafted urn stands beside a watercolour portrait of Violet — perhaps Benedict’s loveliest work. All the siblings are wearing light pastels, each with a Bridgerton blue accessory.
Colin can’t help but smile at the scene before him when he enters, Penelope’s arm linked with his. It’s everything his mother wanted. It even makes him forget the extra security they had to hire for the paparazzi surrounding the churchyard, trying to capture his photo. None of it matters now. He quietly greets everyone he recognises as they make their way down the aisle and finds so much affection in everyone’s eyes that his chest nearly bursts with it. When they settle into the first row, Penelope squeezes his hand and he rests his cheek on top of her head.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.
“It really is.”
Francesca beside him reaches for his other hand.
“We’ll be on after Anthony’s speech,” she murmurs, “about fifteen minutes into the ceremony.”
Colin nods, his eyes lingering on the grand piano and the old guitar that has once more become his cherished companion. While he is still struggling to write a song for Violet, Francesca has effortlessly composed a piece that captures their mother’s essence perfectly. They have been practising for days, polishing the harmonies until they started shining. And despite having played to thousands of people in sold-out stadiums, this feels like the most monumental performance of his life.
Anthony doesn’t speak for long — not because he has so little to say about his mother but because his emotions overwhelm him a few seconds in. His siblings regard him with endless pride and sympathy. None of them even dared to try walking up to that lectern. Not when their hearts are barely holding themselves together.
Colin’s eyes are on Francesca as he picks up his instrument. She takes a deep breath and he does the same, sending her a gentle smile. And when her fingers start dancing across the piano keys the world falls away. It’s just the two of them, flowing through the melody, honouring Violet in the best way they know how. He’s glad that for once he doesn’t have to sing but can let the music speak for itself. When the last note fades into the air, there’s not a dry eye in the room. Colin sets his guitar back on the stand, then walks over to his sister to envelop her in a hug.
“Thank you so much for this.”
“Thank you for being my duet partner.”
“Always.”
Penelope and Michaela welcome them back to their seats with an outstretched hand each and they take them gratefully.
“That was perfect, you two,” Penelope murmurs, wiping at her eyes.
Colin presses a kiss into her hair. Even on this day, when his anxiety about no longer having a parent to guide him keeps flaring up, she is his anchor and he could not be more thankful.
The ceremony continues with kind words that stir both tears and laughter. He is surprised by how wonderful this dreaded day actually feels. Then suddenly Penelope releases his hand and rises to her feet. He looks up at her in surprise but she just gives him a small smile before making her way to the lectern.
“Violet and I both have always loved this poem by Clare Harner, so she asked me to read it at her… today.”
She clears her throat, blinking rapidly. Her gaze finds Colin and she seems to find something in his face that calms her. She looks down at the paper.
“Do not stand by my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep. I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints in snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. As you awake with morning’s hush, I am the swift, up-flinging rush of quiet birds in circling flight, I am the day transcending night. Do not stand by my grave, and cry — I am not there, I did not die.”
Her voice cracks on the last sentence. But she chuckles softly at the irony of it, accompanied by a hundred sniffles and smiles. This time it’s Colin who reaches for her and pulls her into his side. His eyes sink into hers as she caresses his jaw. Pure adoration floods his chest. And because words fail him, he simply lifts her hand to his lips and presses a lingering kiss to it, knowing she understands.
When everyone finally settles into the sitting room at the end of a long day, something like closure lightens hearts a little. The first step on a very long journey. They have lost their mother but she has found peace today.
“We did good, right?” Benedict asks.
“Well, it was everything on her list and more,” Kate says warmly. “Even the sun came through for her.”
Anthony draws her close and leans into her shoulder.
“I can’t thank you enough for today, darling. For the past few weeks.”
They all echo their brother’s gratitude and she blushes, overwhelmed by the amount of affection directed at her. Anthony presses a kiss to her temple.
“I just wish she could have met her third grandchild,” Sophie murmurs, choked up. Benedict hugs her to his chest with glistening eyes. Everyone’s gaze wanders between Sophie, her belly, and little Miles sleeping in Kate’s arms.
“We will all give her an extra portion of love from Mum,” Daphne whispers.
Silence settles over the room as they all get lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly Eloise sits up.
“Pen, that poem you read… I thought we could maybe print it out and hang it somewhere in the house. As a reminder.”
“Actually,” Penelope says, getting up from the sofa, “just give me a minute.”
She returns to the room a few minutes later, balancing a stack of carefully wrapped parcels in her arms. Every sibling receives one. Each of them quietly reveals the poem, elegant calligraphy framed in oak wood.
“I’ve already left one in her room as well. But maybe you’ll find a better place for it.”
They look up at her with teary eyes. Eloise wraps her in a tight hug, mumbling her thanks, and Colin is once again amazed by Penelope’s kind heart. When he gathers her up in his embrace, he can scarcely believe his luck.
“I love you so much,” he murmurs in her ear and feels her smile against his cheek.
Meanwhile Hyacinth slips into Anthony’s lap.
“I feel awful that you and Pen were the only ones brave enough to say a few words today.”
“I barely said anything,” he chuckles woefully, holding her close.
“That’s not true.”
“How about we make up for it now?” Francesca suggests.
And they do. For hours they reminisce about Violet, about all the different ways she shaped and touched their lives. How she encouraged them to trust unconditionally in love and in themselves. How she was the good soul of the company, charming investors and keeping track of every employee in ways Anthony has never been able to. How she saw beauty and promise in everything, no matter how broken.
When Colin slips under the covers that night, he feels like a small part of him has been healed. And that if he tries hard enough, he can truly learn to feel his mother’s gentle presence in in the wind and the sun and the quiet. But more importantly, he has seen a million fragments of her light sparkle in each of his siblings today. In himself. So, for the first time, he doesn’t cling to Penelope like a life raft. He simply cradles her to his chest until her calming scent and steady breath lull him to sleep.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
CHAPTER 16
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