Chapter Text
Michael: hey, I heard about what happened with John. are you
Written from Michael to Francesca one day after Francesca and John’s breakup. Not sent.
Frannie: Hi! Did you still want to study together?
Written from Francesca to Michael three days after Francesca and John’s breakup. Sent.
Francesca: Coffee?
Written from Francesca to Michael eight days after Francesca and John’s breakup. Sent.
Francesca: Are you ever going to speak to me again?
Written from Francesca to Michael two weeks after Francesca and John’s breakup. Not sent.
Francesca: I can’t believe you left without saying good-bye
Written from Francesca to Michael five weeks after Francesca and John’s breakup. Not sent.
Michael: India is amazing! think you'd really like it
Written from Michael to Francesca one month after Michael's departure. Sent.
Michael: janet told me she ran into you and that you were great as ever, glad to hear it
Written from Michael to Francesca four months after Michael's departure. Sent.
Michael: I'm back in town for a bit, any chance you want to
Written from Michael to Francesca six months after Michael's departure. Not sent.
Michael: good-bye, Frannie
Written from Michael to Francesca eleven months after Michael's departure. Not sent.
.
..
...
Day 1, December 22nd
It had been a day for Francesca Bridgerton.
First off, the train she usually took to work got delayed, and then shifted to a new route, and then got delayed again, which forced her to have to take a taxi instead, just to have to sit in forty minutes of traffic and then pay four times what her train ticket would have cost.
Secondly, about fifteen minutes after she’d gotten into work, the new intern spilled an iced mocha all over her blouse, which, in turn, assured that every single person in her office could see right through the now-ruined silk.
Thirdly, it had only taken ten seconds of riffling through her bag to realize that she’d left her lunch on the counter and, unable to get away, would have to survive off the vending machines all afternoon.
And lastly, she’d had no choice but to break it off with her boyfriend (er, ex-boyfriend), who had then proceeded to begin weeping as soon as she began to explain why they needed to part ways.
It had been an exhausting ordeal, truly, and she hadn’t wanted to do it, but the man had told her he loved her (after only several weeks, for God’s sake), and she certainly didn’t feel the same way.
Now, she might as well have added a fifth reason for her awful day, because she was currently sitting in a bar wondering what the hell she had been thinking showing up to surprise Eloise and Penelope.
“Why are you here?” Eloise had asked as soon as she caught sight of her. “I’m almost sure I didn’t invite you.”
Francesca let out a little scoff as she shook her coat onto the back of the chair. “Yeah, Hyacinth told me. And you didn’t, thanks for that.”
Penelope at least had the civility to give her a sheepish shrug, but Eloise just answered (in that ever matter-of-fact tone she had), “This was meant to be a night out for single girls, which you’re not.”
There was a tiny lurch in Francesca’s stomach as she looked back at them. She had a prickling feeling for how her friends would react to her news. With as much indifference as she could muster (slightly lowered brows, casual pick up of a bar menu to glance at), she simply replied, “I am single.”
Penelope, without missing a beat, gave her a small frown. “What happened with Nate?”
“You dumped him?” Eloise asked, without even an ounce of the faux disinterest Francesca had perfected.
Still pretending to inspect her menu, Francesca mumbled, “We wanted different things.”
Eloise snorted, “I suppose that means that he wanted to continue dating, and you didn’t.”
“As if you’re one to talk,” Francesca pointed out, finally turning towards her. “You refuse to give anyone a chance. At least I try.”
Eloise made no attempt at subtlety as she rolled her eyes, “No one’s worth wasting my time over.”
“You mean like the guy whose nostrils were too large?” Penelope ventured, wearing an exceptionally straight face. Francesca almost snorted.
Eloise gave her a look of utter betrayal before glaring at her sister. “Don’t act like you both didn’t agree with me about the nostrils.” Crossing her arms, she gave Francesca a pointed look. “So… what was it this time?”
Suddenly, Francesca wished that she’d been smart enough to stop at the bar before joining the table- her throat felt far too dry.
The problem wasn’t that she minded talking about her relationships, it was just that there was a bit of a certain… pattern when it came to them.
Or, more accurately, a certain pattern when it came to the breakups. One that her friends didn't hesitate to call her out on.
“Nothing really,” she said after a second too long. Eloise and Penelope just stared at her in an ominous silence that clearly read, Just save us the time and spill. She almost let out a groan. “He told me he loved me.”
“And what’s wrong-” Penelope started, the slight downturn on her lips serving as a guilty reminder of how grateful Francesca knew she should have been to be loved.
“Because we were only together for two weeks,” she rushed out. “It was ridiculous.”
“Because you didn’t love him?” Eloise asked, suspicion clear on her face.
Francesca glanced between the two of them before letting out a small sigh. “I just wasn’t going to get there.”
No one talked for a few seconds before their waiter seemed to finally take pity on them and took their orders. As soon as his back was to them, however, Eloise's mouth formed a smug smile. “Well, I can’t say that I’m surprised.”
Francesca frowned. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
Eloise turned towards her fully. "Do you know what your problem is?" Next to her, Penelope's eyes widened a bit and she looked like she was about to say something, but her best friend plowed through. “Your problem is that every man you date falls in love with you." She paused, glancing towards the bar. "Well, all the eligible ones, that is."
Francesca blinked, eyes darting between the two. "What?"
Neither Eloise nor Penelope said anything, only looked at her as if Eloise hadn’t just said the most preposterous thing she’d ever heard. Finally, with the slightest bit of hesitation, Penelope answered, “Fran… It does seem like every guy you’ve dated has fallen really hard for you, and usually rather quickly as well.”
Francesca quickly shook her head, forcing an amused smile on her lips, “That’s not true.”
“It is absolutely true,” Eloise said with a nod. “Literally every guy- honestly, most people you meet fall for you.”
“You make me sound like I’m some irresistible enchantress or something,” Francesca let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t even date that much.”
“Not the point. I can pretty much guarantee that you could make anyone fall in love with you.”
“I don’t make- you’re ridiculous,” Francesca whispered, faking a smile as the waiter dropped off their drinks. She took a long sip before looking towards Penelope. “She’s being ridiculous, right?”
There was no way that Penelope would go along with this crazy charade, she was far too sensible for-
But then she bit her lip as if trying to stop herself from smiling. “Well…”
Before any more arguments could be made, Eloise put down her drink so forcefully that some managed to spill out onto the table. “Do you really not believe us?”
There was a gleam in her eye- a bit of excitement that was unnerving, but Francesca wasn’t about to admit to being wrong to any of her siblings. “No, I don’t, because you are categorically wrong.”
“… Are you willing to prove it?”
Damn. She swallowed. “Of course, I am.”
“Good, because I guarantee that almost any person in this bar would fall in love with you given the chance.” Eloise glanced around at the other patrons. “In fact, I even challenge you to it.”
“Pardon me?” Francesca asked, now most certainly regretting her choice in coming out tonight.
Although clearly intrigued, Penelope jumped in with a little, “Are we sure this the best idea?”
Eloise flashed her a smile, “It’s just a little bet. Francesca doesn’t believe that everyone falls in love with her, we do- I want to prove her wrong.”
A bet?
“What are we? Ten years old?” Francesca asked, quickly taking Eloise’s drink and holding it out in the other direction. “You can’t goad me into this.”
Her sister unsuccessfully reached towards the glass in her hand. “Don’t you want me to stop bringing it up? Or are you too scared of what you might learn along the way?”
Francesca narrowed her eyes. She’d spent her entire childhood following Eloise around- going along with her plans, taking part in what she deemed fun. And a good portion of that was playing a role in her pranks, and shows, and bets, never having the willpower to say no. But she had nothing to prove anymore, no reason why she had to do it. And yet…
Maybe it was Eloise needling her, those childhood tendencies that never truly went away. The need to prove herself to her older sister.
Or… Maybe it was her, her own inner self that wondered about whether it was all actually her fault. The hurt feelings, the severed ties. Whether she chose not to open her own heart while leaving broken ones behind.
And before she knew what she was doing, Francesca heard a voice that sounded remarkably like her own. “Fine. Pick anyone in here that’s reasonable, and I can promise you that they won’t fall in love with me.”
She could do this. She could prove this to them- and to herself.
Somehow, it barely took Eloise a few seconds of scanning the crowd until her eyes seemed to focus on a target, a wide grin on her lips as Francesca downed the rest of her drink. “Dark hair, leather jacket at the bar. That’s your man.”
They all looked at her choice, but there was nothing but a set of strong shoulders and a mess of black hair facing them. The only thing Francesca could tell was that he was very much not her type. She scoffed, “You didn’t even look at his face.”
Eloise shrugged, ‘Don’t need to. He’s my pick.”
Francesca’s nose scrunched as she inspected the choice from across the room. She was almost positive that he was handsome (there was always a sense about this sort of thing), but a leather jacket? Eloise might as well had picked a guy holding a sign that read “Try-Hard Bad Boy” on it. “He’s not even remotely my type.”
“Does that matter?” Eloise blinked at her. “All the better, isn’t it? Since you’ve stated that you don’t want him falling for you.”
Francesca opened her mouth to argue, and then promptly closed it, just barely managing to stop herself before playing into whatever Eloise was pushing her into. She frowned, “What exactly do I get if I win?”
“The value of knowing that I was wrong, and you were right?”
Francesca gave her a look.
Eloise rolled her eyes, “Fine, if that man isn’t in love with you by New Year's, then I’ll… Give you my apartment.”
“... Seriously?”
It was a known point of contention within Bridgerton circles that ever since moving into the same building as each other, Francesca had wanted Eloise's apartment, which was nearly twice as large and still somehow rent-controlled.
Eloise nodded, “Seriously. You bring him to Daphne and Simon's New Year’s party, and then we’ll decide.”
“New Year’s?” Francesca asked, brows furrowed. That was less than two weeks away, but she wasn't going to complain about that fact. “How do I know you won’t just say he’s in love with me when he’s not?”
Eloise shrugged, “Pen can make the call, along with whichever sibling you want.”
Francesca looked at Penelope, who gave her an uneasy smile, before turning back towards her sister. “And if you win?”
Eloise’s face softened just slightly, “Maybe you try to love him back.”
Although she’d already gotten out of her seat, Francesca faltered for a minute, feeling a bit stupid. “Now, that was a line straight out of a romantic comedy,” she said, attempting a laugh despite the now very prominent beating in her chest. “I’m not sure what you’re really up to, El, but I know that I’m going to prove you wrong.” And with all the boldness she could manage, Francesca took a large step toward the bar.
And then immediately spun back around.
“Shit,” she muttered, hopping onto her seat and deliberately facing away from the man that had just glanced in her direction.
“Mate, is that…” Gareth cut off, squinting his eyes in the direction towards the middle of the bar. “Damn, they really do all look the same.”
Michael let out a sigh before lazily turning around in his seat, looking for whatever Gareth was referring to. It all seemed pretty standard- a group of Uni kids, some middle-aged mums, a young couple, a trio of women, a-
A trio of women.
Two of whom looked eerily similar.
And one of whom looked painfully familiar.
“Christ,” he muttered before spinning back towards the bar.
Gareth raised a brow as he looked between his friend and the girls, the corner of his mouth lifting. “What’s that about?”
Michael forced himself to look at the bartender, taking care not to steal another glance at the table. “Long story.”
“You didn’t…” he could Gareth looking between them in his peripheral vision. “Oh God, you didn’t break one of their hearts or something, right? Colin would have killed you, right?”
Fuck- Colin.
They were meant to be meeting Colin at this damned bar.
“First off, Colin wouldn’t kill me even if I broke his heart. And second,” he glared at Gareth, “No. One of them dated my cousin.”
Gareth, who Michael had met through work and luckily hadn’t attended Uni with them, gave him an uncomfortably long, searching look. “Bad break up, I guess?”
Michael just grunted in response, attempting to catch the bartender’s eye and make a quick getaway. Unfortunately for him, the bartender was very much male and evidently straight as a needle.
“Their sister, Hyacinth, is actually in law school with…” Gareth began, at which point Michael pointedly tuned out.
Until his companion’s suddenly cracked a grin, and Michael heard the two potentially worst words in the English language come from his mouth.
“Oi, Colin!”
He truly considered showing the bartender a certain finger of his as Gareth grabbed his drink and left his seat.
He could leave- just walk straight out of the door without a second’s thought. Potentially lose Colin as a friend, but that could be worth it…
Reluctantly, he turned around, just to see Colin looking straight at him around Francesca’s shoulder, wearing a ginormous grin and waving him over.
He should have just lost him as a friend.
He forced a half-smile as he made his way to the table, where Colin was just finishing introductions for Gareth.
“Mike, I’m not sure if you remember- these are my sisters, Eloise and Francesca, and their friend, Penelope.”
He gave them what he knew was a lazy, charming nod, attempting to focus on the only face that didn’t scream Bridgerton.
Eloise, as Michael had just been reminded, turned to Gareth, “You know our sister, Hyacinth, right?”
Gareth nodded, “I do, actually, she and I used to go at it in debate club.”
“Oh, yeah, she’s certainly complained about you enough,” he heard Eloise reply.
Colin then laughed and added something else, but Michael couldn’t seem to focus on the conversation at hand. He was desperately trying not to stare directly at Francesca, whose eyes seemed to pierce him even in the dimly lit bar.
She was wearing blue, for God's sake. And she always looked so damned good in blue.
“Who’s willing to go fetch us a round?” Colin asked, throwing a hand on Michael’s shoulder and forcing his attention.
“Me,” Michael offered at the same time Francesca hopped out of her seat and said, “I will.”
“Bartender’s a guy, Francesca will probably have better luck,” Gareth said, earning a laugh from someone.
“She’s got to carry six drinks though,” Penelope piped up.
“You’re right, Pen,” Colin said, looking between Michael and Francesca for a moment longer than comfortable. Michael clenched his fist as his friend’s mouth slowly formed a smile. “Well, then, both of you go. Fran can order, and Michael can help her carry it all back.”
He tried to think of any argument he could make, but Michael knew that it’d just make him seem like an ass. And by the way he could feel Francesca standing stiffly next to him, he was almost positive she felt the same way.
With a nod, Michael just tucked his hands into his pockets and followed her to the bar.
It hardly surprised him when Francesca's order got taken mere seconds after their arrival, but it certainly did irritate him. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, but he managed a glance at her profile. As casually as possible, he nodded, "Frannie."
“Michael,” she replied, not looking at him. “It feels like it’s been ages.”
Though there wasn’t any change in her voice, Michael knew Francesca well enough to recognize her kind of sarcasm. The "Probably because it has" hanging in the air between them. “I haven’t been to London in a while.”
He caught her eyes widen for a moment before glancing at him. “Oh, I hadn’t realized that there was some law that said we could only speak to each other in London.”
He almost rolled his eyes. Almost. Instead, he forced a smirk. “Pretty sure talking involves two people.”
It would have been a great line... had Francesca not caught his eyes unintentionally roaming the neckline of her shirt. She crossed her arms, turning fully towards him. “Pretty sure you made it clear that you didn’t want to talk to me.”
Michael forced himself to look at the bartender instead. “I didn’t want to get in the middle.”
“So, you decided that never speaking to me was the right solution?”
He looked back at her. “Frannie-”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.
Michael sighed, eyes moving to find any spot on her face that didn’t make him feel like he was getting punched in the gut. “It was a weird situation for all of us, okay? I never expected you guys to break up and I didn’t know what to do. And then the study abroad thing happened and…” He shrugged.
She opened her mouth, still glaring, but looking decidedly less angry as she did so. “I know he’s your cousin, but you were my friend too.”
He hated himself for how much the word “friend” stung. “I’m sorry for how it all went down. I was younger and stupider, and I just didn’t know what to you.”
She stared up at him with those ridiculous eyes again, mouth parting in a way that stole his attention. He looked back towards the bartender who was thankfully filling up what looked to be Michael’s water.
“I…” But Francesca cut herself off as their drink tray was being handed to them. Without another word, they both headed back to the table.
Between Colin, Eloise, and Gareth, neither Michael nor Francesca really had to try to speak up. The talkative trio filled in the group on how everyone knew each other, what jobs they had, how funny it was that they had all ended up at the same bar together.
He avoided looking at her as well as he could- tried not to let any of those past feelings come rushing back.
But then her knee bumped his under the table, or the sleeve of her shirt fell just enough to reveal a strap on her shoulder, or he caught her still mesmerizing eyes. And then it was suddenly like he was years younger, watching the girl of his dreams be completely unavailable to him.
Gareth had had an excuse to leave a bit earlier, but Michael had already promised Colin earlier that day that he could stay till last call- unfortunately for him, midnight.
Somehow though, he managed not to make a drooling fool out of himself, and it felt like soon enough, all three women had disappeared to go to the loo as he paid out of the tab.
It was fine, the evening had gone without too much of a hitch.
“You should just ask her out.”
Michael blinked very hard for a few seconds, wondering if there was any possible way he might wake up to this all being a dream. When nothing happened, he looked at Colin, “Excuse me?”
Colin plucked an olive (he had somehow swindled a waiter into bringing him half a jar’s worth for no cost) into his mouth. “Francesca- you should ask her out.”
Michael let out a snort that would have impressively camouflaged the panic within him to anyone but Colin, who was, unfortunately, more like himself than he’d ever wanted to admit. “Usually, brothers tell me the opposite.”
Colin smiled, throwing the last bits of olive into his mouth. After an agonizing wait of chewing and swallowing, “I know you’d never hurt Fran. Not intentionally, at least.”
There was a small moment of hesitation. “And why not?”
Colin shrugged, using his napkin to dab at his mouth several times. “We never want to hurt the ones we love.”
Love? Michael clicked his tongue, focusing on putting his card back into his wallet, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mmm,” Colin hummed, his head tilting casually. “Don’t I?”
Michael fumbled with his keys- sober, but completely on edge. “We’re not even friends.”
“And why is that?” He didn’t look at Colin. “Fine, no feelings. But I know that she misses you, so why not spend some time together? At least then you’ll know there aren’t any feelings there, and then you’ll never have to worry about it again.”
“The bet is off,” Francesca said as soon they were in the loo. “I don’t know if you knew whether that was Michael or not, but there’s no way.”
Eloise just looked at her innocently, “And why not?”
“Weren’t you and Michael friends?” Penelope asked, “Or, at least, friendly?”
Francesca sighed, running a sweaty palm over her jeans. “It doesn’t matter, what matters is that the bet is off.”
“Why? Because you’re afraid he’ll fall in love with you?” Eloise asked, her head tilting.
“No!” Francesca said a bit too quickly before biting her tongue and lowering her voice. “No, of course, not.”
“Then all the better. You spend some time with him, he doesn’t fall in love, you both go back to being friends.”
Francesca opened her mouth but couldn’t manage any words.
“You do miss him, right?” Penelope asked, putting a hand on her elbow.
“I…”
“And anyway, you both clearly-” Eloise clamped her mouth shut as Penelope began not-so-subtly shaking her head. She cleared her throat. “He’s friends with Colin, so you’re going to have to see him anyway. I think Mum even said she was inviting him to the Christmas party.”
The Christmas and New Year’s party? Was she really living in a movie?
“I’m not… No, it’s not happening,” Francesca finally said, giving a firm shake of her head before washing her hands. “Drop it, both of you.”
She took a deep breath as she made her way back to the table, ready to say her goodnights and leave this mess of a day behind.
But messes of a day never made themselves neat by midnight. Because Michael and Colin were waiting by the doors. And Michael was turning to smile at her.
“Do you want a ride home, Francesca?”