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On June 7th Penelope received the type of correspondence she never thought she would; it was a postcard from Brussels. Of course, the postcard, nor its city of origin, was what excited her; she had gotten dozens of postcards in her life. This one was unique because it borrowed words from a poet and the sender was unknown; her first and only secret admirer. Two days later, the post delivered another card, this time from Antwerp.
And so they came. Each postcard from a different city in Europe. Each one coinciding with the date and place one Colin Bridgerton had been with his brothers. It could be a coincidence, but that would be highly unlikely. Right? Especially given their conversation a few weeks earlier…
June 2nd
Penelope was sitting crossed-legged on the well-loved couch, a bowl of crisps balancing on top of the fluffy pillow in her lap.
Eloise, who shared the flat and the sofa with her, reached over to grab a handful of Quavers before saying, “I don’t see the appeal really. I mean, she’s objectively attractive—”
“Who is attractive?” Colin called from the kitchen, still constructing his tower of snacks for the movie.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Eloise rolled her eyes.
“Some girl named Jess,” Gregory said absentmindedly as he did something on his phone.
“Oh, the blonde with the short hair, right?” Colin asked as he walked into the room balancing a very heavy tray of food.
“That’s the one,” Penelope confirmed.
“I would say she’s definitely more than objectively attractive, Eloise. She’s objectively hot.”
Eloise frowned, “All she has is a cute face and a nice ass. She has literally nothing else going on. She’s not very nice and she’s is incredibly dull—and by dull I mean both boring and stupid."
“Eloise!” Penelope scolded.
“My dear sister,” he said placing his tray down on the coffee table, “when you look like that, you don’t have to have a personality.” She threw a pillow at him; it made contact just above his left eye. He caught it and tossed it back in her direction.
“Even I know that was a stupid thing to say, Colin,” Gregory said, not breaking eye contact with his cell.
“And yet, truthful.”
“No one asked you your opinion,” Eloise snapped. “Ignore him, Pen. He’s an idiot.”
“He has a point,” Penelope said with a sad smile. “I’ve been alive in the world for 28 years and I have never been sent flowers, let alone a bouquet or an email from a secret admirer. In fact, I can’t recall a time I’ve been given flowers in the last ten years. The only flowers I remember getting from male human were in the corsage Jacques Lorel gave me at the formal sixth year—and I’m pretty sure that was just an excuse to touch my tit.”
“I brought you home flowers last month!” Eloise protested. “And I write you little notes all the time.”
Penelope sighed, “You know what I mean, El.”
Gregory looked up, surprised, “Surely some other bloke brought you flowers in the past decade.”
“Afraid not.”
“Cheer up, Pen,” Colin said, plopping down on the couch beside her, swiping some crisps from her bowl and tossing them in his mouth. “I’m sure there’s some nice gent out there simping over you, writing love letters and planning all the flower arrangements he will send you.”
“He certainly has been taking his time,” she mumbled.
“Probably just faffing around,” Colin smiled. “Cheese?” He held out a piece of cheddar for Penelope, who popped it into her mouth.
“I hate to agree with Colin,” Eloise began, “but he’s right. There is a great guy somewhere who already knows how amazing you are and is just waiting for the perfect moment to tell you.”
“As interesting as this conversation is, will we be starting the movie soon? Greg and I have to get up really early for our flight.”
Eloise growled, “I hate that you four take trips without the rest of us.”
“Well, we have to celebrate little Gregory graduating from uni,” Colin reached over and rubbed his brother’s head, causing him to recoil.
“We did that a year ago when he actually graduated,” Eloise pointed out.
“Can I help it that someone went out and got a job spoiling our plans for the Bridgerton Brothers trip last year?”
“Well, we can’t all be charming dossers,” Gregory said dryly.
“Ouch!” Colin put a hand to his chest as if wounded. “I’ll have you know that I enjoy sleeping on this couch. The springs are broken in the exact right places to cradle my back.” He took a huge bite from a sandwich he made. “Besides,” his voice muffled and mouth full of food, “Eloise and Penelope would miss me.”
“We would not,” Eloise insisted. “I would like to regain the ability to snog on my couch.”
“Fine. You might not miss me, but Pen would,” he grinned at her widely, putting the uneaten portion of the sandwich back on the tray. “Wouldn’t you, Pen?”
“I, too, would like to be able to fool around on the couch, if the opportunity presented itself,” she joked.
“No time like the present!” Colin then launched himself onto Penelope, knocking the bowl of crisps to the floor, and began to tickle her.
“Stop! Stop!” she squealed between giggles as Colin squeezed her sides.
“Colin! Look at the mess you made!” Eloise reprimanded.
Paying no attention to his sister, he continued moving his fingers nimbly on Penelope’s neck, under her armpits, behind her knees, causing her to wildly flail about laughing. His hand had absentmindedly made its way to the back of her thigh, causing her to squeak loudly, when Gregory hit him over the head with a pillow several times and said, “Leave Penelope alone. We have to start the movie if we are going to watch it.”
Colin’s hands left Penelope, who was gasping for air, and he pounced on top of his younger brother, wrestling with him on the floor.
“Get off me! You are too old for this shit!” Gregory yelled as they tussled.
“I’ll show you old!” Colin laughed as he pinned Greg to the floor.
“Enough!” Eloise bellowed, taking out a spray bottle, aiming for, and hitting Colin.
It had the desired effect as Colin stopped his horseplay. “What are you doing?”
“I’m spraying you with water to get you to stop. We have to do the same thing to Fuzz when he starts clawing the furniture.”
“Fine, fine.” Colin said, giving Gregory’s once-perfectly coiffed hair a last tousle. “I’ll stop; let’s watch the movie.”
“As soon as you pick up all the Quavers from the floor,” Eloise insisted.
He groaned, “You’re no fun tonight.”
“I would be more fun,” Eloise said, irritated, “if I was going on an all-paid holiday tomorrow, too.”
“Too bad you’re a Bridgerton sister and not a Bridgerton brother,” he said smugly. Then she threw another pillow at him hitting him squarely in the face.
Perhaps he is making some sort of point, Penelope thought to herself as she looked at the latest postcard, this one from Amsterdam. Or maybe he thinks that he is being kind. Or maybe… Maybe he does fancy you and was too shy to say. She frowned. Too shy? Colin Bridgerton? Highly unlikely. No, it was much more likely he was taking pity on her or teasing her—though Penelope had to admit if it were a joke, it would be a very hurtful one.
Eloise entered the room and glanced at the paper in Pen’s hand. “Another postcard?” she asked.
“Yes,” Penelope affirmed.
“What does this one say?”
“I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,” Penelope read, “or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:,” Eloise nodded, “I love you as one loves certain obscure things,” she sighed, “secretly, between the shadow and the soul.”
“Neruda is the patron saint of pining love. Your admirer certainly has excellent taste,” Eloise smiled.
Penelope hummed a noncommittal reply and looked at the back of the card. She couldn’t trust it to be real, not really. It just wasn’t Colin’s style to be anonymous.
July 9th
Penelope opened the door to her flat with her hip, balancing her work bag, the post, her afternoon tea, a package for Eloise, and a scone precariously. As soon as she entered, she placed the tea and scone, the two obviously most precious items, on the small table by the door with the mail, dropped her bag and the package on the floor, and bent over to unbuckle the straps of the complicated heels she had, for some reason, chosen to wear to work. No more heels. Ever. There was a new man in her department at the magazine and she had hoped to turn his eye with her choice of uncomfortable footwear and dress, which was low cut, but tastefully so, and short enough to make her shapely legs look longer than they actually were. A day of sweating in her knock-off Spanx and he hadn’t glanced her way once. Chub rub for nothing, she thought as she pried the tiny strap through the obnoxiously small buckle.
Once both of her feet were out of her shoes, she carefully set them in the pile she and Eloise had constructed near the door, stood at full height, and readjusted the top of her dress, as her boobs had practically tumbled out after the extended time spent bent over working to take off the heels.
“That was quite a nice view,” a cheeky male voice chuckled.
Penelope jumped about a foot in the air, only just noticing Colin Bridgerton sitting at the table eating an impossibly large slice of cake.
Her face turned beet red, “Did we know you were back?”
“I told Eloise,” he grinned, taking a huge bite before continuing. “But I assume she didn’t tell you. If she had I wouldn’t have gotten such an exciting show.”
“Glad to entertain you,” she said sarcastically.
“Mmmm hmmm,” he wagged his eyebrows suggestively.
She half-grunted and half-snored, that sound people made when they were annoyed, and rolled her eyes. Then her shoulders fell and she looked up at the ceiling, as if praying, “Please tell me that is not the cake from the fridge.”
Colin stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Why?” he asked carefully.
“Colin!” she groaned. “That cake was for my office party tomorrow!”
“How was I to know? It was just sitting in the refrigerator seducing me with its beautiful icing and perfectly round form. Calling out ‘Colin, hi Colin. I’m so delicious; don’t you want a taste?’ You know I’m a weak man.”
She walked to the fridge and opened the door to see the damage. “Fuck, Colin! You’ve eaten almost half!” She slammed it shut.
He smiled at her sheepishly, adorably sheepishly, “I was hungry and it is amazing. Carrot cake is my favorite, you know that. How come you never made it for me before?”
“Because if I made it for you, you’d want me to make it all the time and it is a lot of work.”
He pouted, “But it’s my favorite. It’s unfair for you to keep it from me. We are soulmates, this cake and me.”
“What am I going to do now? I’ve been bragging about this thing for days. Now I’m going to have to stay up half the night making another,” she whined.
“I’ll help,” Colin offered.
“You bet you will,” she grumbled.
“Then I will have the rest of the first cake all to myself,” he let out an evil cackle.
She shook her head as she padded back to the entry hall to look through the mail. “And you will go to the market to shop.”
“Of course,” he had returned to eating.
She thumbed through the papers. Junk, bills. A postcard. From Stockholm.
“Is that a postcard?” he asked curiously.
“You know it is.”
He crinkled his eyes in confusion, “It looks like a postcard, but I can’t see it well from here.”
She let out a little huff of air. “Colin, I think we both know you’ve seen this postcard before.” She walked it over to him.
“Pen, I have never seen this before in my life,” he said earnestly.
“Who else would it be from? You were in Stockholm on June 30th, were you not?”
He was confused, “Yes, but I didn’t write this.”
“Who else do I know in Stockholm?”
“I don’t know all the people you know. Someone I’m sure,” he read it again. “It’s from an admirer.”
“Yes, just like the rest.” She was starting to get annoyed. Honestly. She wasn’t an idiot.
“What rest?” he inquired.
She walked into the kitchen and pulled out a stack of postcards from the small drawer she and Eloise kept random bits of rubbish in. “This rest,” then she crossed over and dropped them on the table beside him.
He shoveled another bite of cake into his mouth before leafing through the pile. “I swear I have never seen these.”
“Every single one matches a date and place from your trip.”
“I can see that,” his brows knitted together as he read.
“And they even are in your own handwriting!”
“It does look like my handwriting,” he pointed to a spot on the back of one, “Here the a—mine are different.”
“Well, if you didn’t write them, who the hell did?”
Colin shrugged, “I have no idea. Maybe there was another bloke you know on the same tour or something, I don’t know.”
“At the exact same place and at the exact same time? What a coincidence!” she replied with heavy sarcasm.
“Something tells me you don’t believe me.”
“Colin, if you wrote them to me to prove some sort of point or as a joke, I promise I won’t get angry. But I’d rather you just be honest with me.”
“I am being honest with you. I’ve never seen these. I swear.”
“Right,” she was irritated.
“Pen, I would never—," he was interrupted by a knock at the door.
She marched to the door and swung it open as the person was mid-second knock.
“Oh, hi… Hello!” There standing in front of her was Gregory Bridgerton, with a large bouquet of the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen, white peonies, orange poppies, pink ruffled roses, and, her favorite, ranunculus in the colors of the sunrise.
“Gregory,” she said more surprised than she meant. “Have you come by to see Eloise? She’s not here at the moment, but—”
“No,” he cut her off. “I came to bring these to you.” He passed her the arrangement.
“That’s so sweet of you,” she smiled brightly.
“You said no one had, so I thought… you know,” his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.
“You didn’t need to bring me flowers because of that—not that I don’t love them; they’re beautiful.”
“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl.” Now it was Penelope who blushed.
“Would you like to come in?” she offered, stepping aside. “I should put these in water.”
“I don’t want to take up much of your time,” he said stepping inside. “I just had a quick question, really.”
“Of course,” she walked the flowers to the kitchen. “What was it you wanted to ask?”
“Gregory,” Colin said, mouth full of the last of his cake slice, “what are you doing here?”
“I came to see Penelope,” he replied simply.
“He brought me the loveliest flowers,” she gushed, pulling out a large white vase and filling it with water.
“He did?” Colin said quizzically. “Why?”
“Because someone should,” Greg answered.
“So sweet,” Penelope smiled, starting her work clipping each stem and placing them in the vase.
“Yes, so sweet of wittle Gwegowy,” Colin said in a baby voice.
“What are you doing here again?” Gregory asked his brother. “I thought you were staying with Mother.”
“I am. I just popped by to have something to eat.”
“You know, there are places called restaurants for that,” Pen quipped, adding two blooms to the growing bouquet in the vase.
“But you have to pay for the food at restaurants. I never have to pay for the food here.”
“You should, with as much as you eat.”
“I pay you with my company,” Colin allowed a lazy grin to spread across his face.
“I’d prefer money,” Penelope retorted, placing the last stem and starting the clean-up.
“You look really nice today, Penelope,” Gregory complimented. “That dress looks great on you.”
“Thank you, Gregory,” she blushed again.
“You should see the view when she bends over,” Colin teased.
“Colin!” she hissed, the pink from her cheeks traveling to her chest.
Colin watched as Gregory tentatively took a few steps closer to their friend. “So you came to visit Penelope…. Not Eloise?”
“No, not Eloise,” Greg returned.
Colin raised eyebrows in question, “Why?”
“It’s not really any of your business,” he replied coolly.
“Well, excuse me for being curious,” Colin retorted. “I didn’t know it was a secret.”
Penelope brought the vase of flowers over and set it on the table. “They really are gorgeous, Gregory.” She looked at the flowers with appreciation before turning her gaze to the youngest Bridgerton brother. “You said you had a question you needed to ask me?”
“Yes,” he took a deep breath, “I was wondering if you would have dinner with me.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Dinner? Like—”
“A date, yes.”
“What?!” Colin cried from the table.
“With me?” Penelope confirmed, taken aback by the question.
Gregory walked to her, “Yes. I mean, if you say yes.”
“I don’t understand,” Penelope’s brows furrowed in confusion.
“Didn’t you get all my postcards?”
Her mouth fell open and for a minute she was sure she looked like a fish. “Those were from you?”
“Of course, who else?”
Penelope shook her head a little to clear it of confusion, “So, you want to go on a date with me?”
He licked his lips and nodded.
“Absolutely not!” Colin said emphatically.
“No one asked you,” Gregory snapped.
“Obviously you’ve lost your mind.” Colin rejoined.
“So someone would only ask me out if they’ve gone crazy?” Penelope questioned.
“That is not what I meant—”
She frowned. “It’s what you said.”
“I meant that he is crazy to think you would go on a date with him.”
She stared at Colin for a second and then turned to Gregory, “Of course I’ll go to dinner with you.”
“You can’t be serious!” Colin was now standing and pacing.
Gregory beamed, “Excellent!”
“He’s an infant!”
“I’m 23. Hardly an infant.”
“Penelope is much too old for you.”
“Excuse me?” Penelope asked offended.
“He is five years younger than you! You can’t honestly want to go out with him.”
“Anthony is nine years older than Kate; Benedict is eight years older than Sophie; Simon is eight years older than Daphne. I don’t see the problem,” Gregory crossed his arms.
“It’s different!”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?” Penelope asked.
“That’s misogynistic, Colin,” Gregory said matter-of-factly.
“No, it’s not because of that. It’s because of Gregory! He just graduated from uni!”
“A year ago,” Gregory reminded him.
“He still lives with roommates!”
“I still have a roommate,” Penelope replied, wondering if Colin was intent on insulting her.
“It’s just one roommate, though,” Colin clarified.
“I moved out after graduation a year ago. I do quite well for myself; I don’t need a roommate. And at least I have a flat. If I remember correctly, you are still just rambling around Europe and sleeping on couches.”
Colin let out a frustrated sound, half-scream, half-grunt. “Pen, he’s a child! You can’t really want someone that young!”
“For fucksake, it’s just dinner, Colin!”
“He’s used to dating college girls! He won’t know what to do with a real woman!”
“For your information, I’ve dated quite a few older women.”
Colin rolled his eyes, obviously not buying it, “Sure you have.”
“I dated my supervisor at Cambridge. She’s actually six years older than me; still texts me from time to time.”
“And why would she trail after a child?” Colin grunted.
“You’re not the only Bridgerton good at eating things,” Gregory quipped. Penelope gaped at him and Colin was momentarily speechless.
“Well now I’m definitely going on this date,” Penelope laughed.
“This can’t really be happening,” Colin mumbled to himself.
“What about dinner at mine? I can cook for you,” Gregory said suavely.
“There is no way that you are having Penelope for dinner!”
“Well, we probably would have pasta for dinner. Penelope would be dessert,” Gregory said with a sly smile.
Colin gave him an incredulous look. “I cannot believe you just said that!”
“Dinner out will be better, I think. Best not to be too tempted on the first date,” Penelope joked.
“So, Friday at 7?”
“It’s a date,” she agreed.
“Have a been sent to a parallel universe and not realized it?” Colin said dramatically.
“Until then,” Gregory bent down and kissed her hand.
“You have GOT to be kidding me,” Colin complained. “Move,” he pushed through them, though there was plenty of space to walk around, “I’m leaving.” He stomped toward the door.
“The hell you are!” Penelope replied. “You have to help me bake a cake!” He opened the door, allowing it to slam into the wall behind it. “Don’t you dare leave!” He turned around, looked at Gregory’s smug face, grunted, and left, leaving the door wide open behind him.
It was Friday, 6:45 p.m. and Colin was sulking on his favorite place to sleep—the couch in Eloise’s and Penelope’s flat. Much to his chagrin, his sister thought Penelope going on a date with their younger brother was hilarious.
“If this is what it takes for Penelope to become my sister, then I suppose I will just have to support it,” she told him before leaving to paint her best friends’ nails and get ready for her own date later that evening.
Colin still couldn’t fathom why Penelope had said yes. He glanced over at the massive bouquet of flowers on the table. Fine. He supposed that Gregory was romantic and handsome, he did look an awful lot like Colin, after all, but he was still Gregory. Greg and Pen together? Revolting. He thought he might be sick.
“She’s still not out?” Eloise flopped down beside him. Her face was fully made and her hair styled into a complicated braid, but she was still wearing her joggers.
“No,” Colin grumbled.
“Someone is in a pissy mood today. And yesterday. And the day before…You might want to look into that. It could be a sign of low testosterone,” Eloise teased.
“I can’t believe she’s actually going through with this.”
“I’m just glad someone finally realizes how amazing Penelope is besides me.”
“Everyone knows Pen is amazing,” he mumbled.
“If you know it, you never say it,” Eloise reprimanded. “You really should tell her occasionally.”
Before Colin could say something snappy in return, Penelope’s bedroom door opened and captured their attention.
All in all, Penelope felt pretty good about how she looked. She walked out in a white bohemian dress with a wide, plunging neckline and long bell sleeves, the hem of the tiered skirt brushed two inches above her knees, and Grecian sandals, whose strings wound around her ankles and lower calves. She was wearing her best bra, the one that pushed the ladies up to an impossible height, and had remembered to use garment tape, so she wouldn’t come spilling out if she sneezed. Her curly hair was down and long, cascading over one shoulder. “Well? What do you think?” she asked, tongue darting out as she nervously licked her lips.
Colin’s eyes grew large as he gaped at her. Eloise, never a loss for words, said, “Penelope! Go and change his instant!”
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“If Gregory sees you like that he will burst into flames and I will have one less brother.”
Penelope rolled her eyes, “Good, then?”
“Pen, I am about to burst into flames! You look gorgeous! Doesn't she look gorgeous, Colin?” Eloise batted her brother in the arm, prompting him to agree, but he just continued to stare at Penelope, biting his bottom lip as his eyes raked over her form. She swallowed hard, uncomfortable with the way Colin’s eyes lingered on her body before his eyes met hers with intensity. Then he abruptly broke eye contact with her and turned his attention to his cell phone, furiously typing away as if nothing happened.
At that moment all Colin could think to do was pull Penelope into her bedroom and cover her with a blanket. Or cover her himself. If he had thought the sight of her bending over a few days ago was hot, then the sight of her in this dress was like looking at the sun; his corneas practically melted from the heat. He actually had to bite his lip, and hard, to keep himself from getting aroused. She can’t go out with Greg. She just can’t. It might actually kill him.
So, he did the only thing he could think to do. He texted his brother.
There was a knock at the door. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Colin cursed in his mind.
“Allow me,” Eloise jumped up and rushed to the entrance. She looked over at Penelope, who shook her head at her friend's silliness and then nodded her permission to let in her date. She opened the door all the way, then leaned against its side casually, “Brother.”
“Eloise,” Gregory said, stepping in with another breathtaking bouquet of flowers, all lilac roses, purple peonies, and irises.
“You’re going to spoil me if you keep bring me such beautiful flowers,” Penelope said, picking up her clutch and walking to meet her date.
Gregory froze when he saw her, arms falling limp by his side, a huskily whispered, “Fuuuuck,” escaping his lips.
Eloise chuckled. “I’ll just take these to put them in water,” she reached down and took the stems from his hand. “Pen, your date is befuddled. Give him a second to return to consciousness."
Colin looked from his idiot brother, who was practically drooling, to Penelope, who was definitely smoking. “Have her back at a reasonable hour, young man,” Colin said, attempting lightness, but achieving the demeanor of a particularly surly older brother.
“What’s a reasonable hour to me might not be to you, old man,” Greg replied, irking his brother.
“Shall we?” Penelope interrupted, ready to go and leave behind the awkward tension.
“Absolutely,” he said eagerly, placing a hand on her back as she came closer. Colin growled and Gregory smiled at his brother in response. “You look incredible, by the way. Sorry I didn’t say earlier, I was trying to remember how to form words.”
She giggled and thanked him as they stepped out in the hall. As the door closed and Colin saw Gregory drop his arm over her shoulders, his stomach turned violently and he felt nauseous.
The date had been lovely. Gregory was charming and sweet and very attentive. Maybe a little too attentive? Penelope thought. She had never talked about herself so much; even she was tired of hearing her own voice. Every time she asked Gregory a question, he steered the discussion back to her. Now the date was over and Penelope honestly didn’t know what to do. Gregory was walking her back to her flat. Would he expect to come up? Oh god. I did not think this through. She liked Greg, she really did, but if she was honest with herself, she really said yes because Colin had insisted so emphatically she say no.
They stopped in front of the building. “Do you want me to walk you up?” he asked sweetly.
“Nah,” she smiled. “I had a lot of fun.”
“Me, too,” he smiled. Then he leaned in. Oh no. Oh no! she was panicking. Before she could react, his lips were gently massaging hers. He nipped at the corner of her mouth trying to gain access. When her lips parted slightly and his tongue darted in, she tensed. He pulled away and looked at her. “That was…”
Her eyebrows worried together and her mouth formed a grimace. “Oh god, Greg, I am so sorry.”
“I thought… Well, I thought you might…”
She took his hands in hers, “I thought that, too. Really. But then…”
“Do I even want to know?”
“It was like kissing a cousin—not like the sweet Mansfield-Park-1800s kind of way, like the gross 21st-century kind of way.”
“Ouch,” he chuckled.
“You must hate me,” she shook her head, “I hate me.”
“Penelope, of course I don’t hate you,” he gave her a reassuring smile.
“It’s just… I’m in love with someone else. And I thought maybe I was over them, but I’m not. I agreed to go out with you when I wasn’t sure and that wasn’t fair to you. It turns out I am so far gone I can’t even enjoy kissing a fit guy.”
He sighed, resigned, “Well, if I’m honest, part of the reason I asked you out was to drive Colin crazy.”
“It was part of the reason I said yes too,” she admitted.
“What was the other part?”
“Cause you’re cute and sweet. And you brought me flowers.”
He grinned, “You forgot dead sexy. I’m also that.”
“How could I forget?” she laughed.
“I think I’m going to scoot off. Friends?”
“Friends.” They hugged their agreement.
He hailed a hackney and climbed in the cab. Before he shut the door, he said, “I hope things work out with Colin.”
“Wait. How did you…” the question died on her lips. He had already shut the door and the hack pulled away from the curb.
Penelope clicked the lock open and shut the door behind her, placing her keys and clutch on the table by the door. She bent over, untying each sandal string, and tossed the footwear at the top of the pile, which was getting a little too tall. She stretched toward the ceiling, then combed her hair with her fingers, tossing it lightly.
“Pen,” she jumped upon hearing the familiar male voice.
“You know, you don’t have to sit in the dark, Colin,” she flipped on the lights. “One of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“How was your date?” he asked quietly.
“Nice.”
“You enjoyed yourself?”
“Of course, Gregory’s a sweetheart.”
“This is not what was supposed to happen,” he grumbled.
“What does that mean?” Penelope questioned.
“You are not supposed to go out with my brother.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
He ran his hands through his hair. “Just… because.”
“Well, as illuminating as this conversation has been, I’m going to bed.” She started to walk to her room, but he caught her arm as she passed and pulled her back toward him.
“Wait,” he whispered.
“Colin, I—”
“Wait,” he whispered again and pulled something from the pocket of his trackies. It was one of the postcards. Penelope’s eyes widened as he began reading. “And my share of time has been nothing…but your name outrunning my ever saying it clearly…. Your face fleeing my ever… kissing it firmly on the mouth.” Then his green eyes met hers and he continued, not looking away. He had memorized this poem a few years ago, when reading Lee’s words led him to understand what he felt for her. “In longing, I am most myself, rapt… my lamp mortal, my light... hidden and singing.” He took a shallow breath before finishing. “I give you my blank heart. Please write on it…what you wish.”
Her heart beat in time with each word. When he finished, she couldn’t stop herself from pressing her palms to his cheeks, drawing him towards her, and kissing him.
“Finally,” he sighed into her, pulling her as close as he could, pressing her to him, and deepening their kiss.
Then they stumbled into her bedroom where Colin whispered poetry in her ear as created their own.