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Slamming the door to her bedroom, Penelope kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto her bed. Pressing the heels of her hands into her burning eyes, she tried to hold off the tears.
Fucking Cressida Cowper. Penelope told herself she didn’t care about the opinion of someone so vein and shallow and mean spirited. Normally, she wouldn’t. Cressida had never been kind to her, always throwing veiled insults in her direction. Tonight’s barb just came on the heels of a horrific early Christmas dinner with her mother and her own insults, so it hit a little harder.
Her mother had made several snide comments about the tightness of Penelope’s dress and how she would be willing to pay for a gym membership, or one of those sculpting wraps, and how she should take it easy on the potatoes and how she might want to skip dessert. Penelope had left dinner feeling awfully down on herself, and when she met Eloise at the bar for a drink, she had intended to wash her reemerged self-confidence issues down with several glasses of wine and a few shots. Only it wasn’t just Eloise that was there. Francesca was back from Scotland for Christmas and most of the Bridgerton clan was out. Penelope had pasted on a false smile of happiness, and sat at the edge of the bar, sipping her wine.
Colin was there, of course. He was looking just as handsome and perfect as always. She was still a little bitter at him after overhearing his comments to his brothers about the impossibility of him ever wanting to date her. Which, to be fair, Penelope knew, but hearing it was another thing altogether. She had called him out then and there since she’d been spotted, and she was quite proud of herself for putting him firmly in his place and he had been so genuinely apologetic that she couldn’t stay mad at him. It wasn’t like she could hold it against him for not returning her feelings anyway. That had been almost six months ago, and he’d left shortly after for another trip to Cyprus. They’d stayed in regular contact, like always, but seeing him when she felt so bad about herself only put her in a lower mood.
And then Cressida had come in. Cressida with her perfectly toned and tanned body, her stylish clothes, and her salon perfect hair. She had tried to schmooze each of the Bridgerton brothers, but Anthony and Benedict’s wives quickly put a stop to any of that. Not that Anthony or Benedict seemed remotely interested, or ever had for that matter. She had moved on to Colin, and though Penelope wasn’t close enough to hear what was said, Colin had kept a kind smile on his face while maintaining space between them. After a while, Cressida had seemed to give up and headed to the bar herself, pouting just a little. Where she spotted Penelope.
“Oh, Penelope.” She smiled like she smelled something nasty. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Here I am.” Penelope lifted her wineglass in hello.
“It’s been a while.” Cressida tipped her head and scanned Penelope’s body with her eyes. “I see you never quite grew out of the chubby phase. Too bad girls with such a short stature can’t carry the weight better.”
Penelope gaped at her, looking around to see if anyone else had heard but Eloise was currently chatting up another girl at the other end of the bar and everyone else was having some sort of ridiculous battle at karaoke. So, she slipped from the stool, tossed a few bills on the bar for her tab, and leveled Cressida with a stare.
“And it’s too bad that you never managed to get that stick out of your ass. Perhaps then you’d actually have friends to come to the bar with. But don’t worry Cressida, a few more cleanses and intermittent fasting might make you a likeable person.”
With that, Penelope left the bar, shooting off a text to Eloise that she had a headache and not to worry.
Lifting herself off the bed, Penelope went to the full-length mirror she had propped in the corner of her room. For most of her childhood, because of her mother and mean-spirited children like Cressida, she had never been happy with her body. She went on fad diets and did extreme workouts and even went so far as to force herself to throw up a few times after binge eating. Then she became an adult, found the body positivity movement, got counseling, and began to love herself and her body. Nowadays she ate to fuel her body, was healthy, and happy with her body. She liked the roundness of her tummy and thought it looked cute in tight dresses and high waisted pants. Her boobs were full, and Penelope was quite fond of the cleavage they gave her. Her hips were wider set, and her butt was more than a handful, but she actually liked the curves.
Society, on the other hand, told her she was disgusting. Fat and unhealthy and unappealing.
Reaching behind her, she pulled down the zipper of her dress and kicked the garment to the side. She tipped her head to the side, eyeing her body critically. She adjusted the band of her high waisted French cut panties and tugged the cups of her bra up. She turned side to side, finding all the flaws in her skin, all the stretch marks and cellulite and rolls. All the little things she’d come to accept and love about herself suddenly looked gross and ugly again.
Grabbing the Polaroid camera Felicity had bought her last Christmas from her dresser, she took a selfie in the mirror, being sure to turn a little to the side so the picture captured the curve of her stomach and the thickness of her thigh and butt. With tears in her eyes, she went to her desk and pulled out her diary. Flipping to the next empty page, she taped the polaroid to the back of the left page and started writing.
Date: December 23.
Current weight: too depressed to check.
New Year’s Resolutions-
Resolution 1: lose two stone. Obviously.
Resolution 2: find a boyfriend who adores me.
Resolution 3: this should probably be number one since it’s the most important. Get over Colin Bridgerton. It’s a hopeless dream. He’ll never want you. Never love you. Time to move on.
Maybe my mother is right. Maybe Cressida is too.
Slapping the journal shut, realizing that she’d been crying hard enough that there were tear stains on the page, she pushed away from the desk and found her biggest sweater and oversized sweats. Curling up on her bed, she squeezed her eyes shut and cried herself to sleep.
The next morning, Christmas Eve, Penelope woke up with a headache and when she looked in her bathroom mirror, she saw that her eyes were swollen from crying all night. Sighing, she pulled her clothes off and took a shower, hoping the hot water would ease the headache. Once she got out, she dried her hair and put on a little makeup but didn’t feel like doing herself up too much. Her family had done Christmas dinner last night, like they always did now that Prudence and Philippa were married with their own children to do Christmas with. Since then, Violet Bridgerton had began insisting that Penelope join them for the extended Bridgerton Christmas at Aubrey Hall. It was always a huge all-day affair, with the whole Bridgerton clan and their friends and extended family members. Normally, Penelope loved it, but today she just felt…blah.
She had bought a gorgeous green velvet dress for the occasion, but today she didn’t feel like wearing it. Instead, she dug out a red cowl neck sweater tunic and paired it with black leggings and knee-high black boots. It didn’t hug her figure like the dress would have, and she felt like maybe she could hide in the fabric. A spritz of perfume, and she called it good, especially since Eloise was yelling from the living room that it was time to go. Grabbing her purse from her desk, she shoved in her lipstick and a hair clip in case she wanted her hair up later, and then her journal. She never went anywhere without it.
By the time she, Eloise, and Francesca who was crashing with them while she was home, made it to Aubrey Hall, most everyone else was there. Cheerful Christmas music was playing, the sounds of multiple conversations going on almost drowning it out. It smelled like cinnamon and rosemary and everything seasonal and for the first time since last night, Penelope smiled.
After greeting and being greeted by what felt like a ton of people, Penelope found any empty spot on one of the sofas in the main family room with Edwina and Francesca. They were getting caught up on Edwina’s latest semester at university when Colin unceremoniously dropped onto the sofa, wedging himself between her and Edwina. He dropped his messenger bag to the floor next to her purse. He was always carrying it since it had his laptop and travel journals and book drafts.
“Excuse you.” Penelope scootched over as much as she could, and Edwina did the same with a laugh.
“You have a very poor sense of spatial awareness, Colin.” Edwina teased.
“Possibly.” Colin shrugged, then looked over at Penelope. “Where’d you get off to last night? I wanted you to sing Barbie Girl with me.”
“Just tired.” She shrugged.
“Did Cressida say something to you?” Francesca asked, and both Colin and Penelope looked over at her in the chair across from them. “I saw her talking to you before you left.”
“Cressida?” Edwina asked. “Is she that awful blonde girl who is always so mean?”
“One in the same.” Colin said, then looked at Penelope with a concerned expression. “Did she say something to you?”
“It’s Cressida.” Penelope tried to sound like it wasn’t a big deal. “When does she not say something?”
“But was she rude?” Colin pressed, beginning to sound angry. “I swear, Pen, if she…”
“I handled it.” Penelope assured him. “It’s not like it was anything I’ve never heard before.”
“Eloise said you had dinner with your mum before you came to the pub.” Francesca said gently. All the Bridgerton’s knew that Penelope didn’t have the best relationship with her mother, but only Eloise and Colin had first had experience.
“Shit, Pen, I forgot about that.” Colin put his hand on her knee and squeezed gently. “I would have gone with you if you’d asked. Surely, it’s better when you aren’t alone.”
“I wasn’t alone. Felicity was there.”
Colin frowned, his jaw muscle working like he was grinding his teeth. It wasn't a secret that Colin didn’t like her mother. She placed a hand over his on her knee.
“It’s fine, Colin. I’m fine.”
His eyes met hers and while he was still frowning, he did nod.
“Now, I’m going to get a mimosa.” She stood. “Does anyone want anything from the kitchen?”
“Some of those little sausage pinwheels.” Colin grumbled, still looking rather put out, but never one to turn down food.
The rest of the day went wonderfully. They played games, the kids did crafts, they baked and drank and ate, and after dinner the eight Bridgerton siblings did their traditional music session. Each of them was musically talented in their own ways. Most all of them could sing well, though Colin and Eloise had the best voices. They could all play several instruments, though Daphne and Francesca handled the piano while Hyacinth played the violin, Gregory and Benedict played acoustic guitars, and Anthony acted as conductor. While they all played and sang several different Christmas songs, everyone else danced or simply watched on, like Penelope did.
Her eyes stung as she watched Colin singing. He was painfully handsome, and his voice was beautiful. She loved him so very much, and now that she’d made up her mind to really move on, to put those feelings in the past, it almost hurt looking at him.
“Pen, darling.” Edwina touched her shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“Fine.” Penelope put on a smile. “It is rather warm in here, though. I think I’m going to step outside.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, really. Stay and watch the show.”
Once Edwina was assured that Penelope was fine by herself, she made her way out the back doors and onto the patio. It was bitterly cold, but there was no wind, and the sky was crystal clear. Penelope inhaled deeply before letting her breath out slowly, watching the steam it created drift up towards the sky.
“Pen?” Colin’s voice came from behind her, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second before turning to look at him. He tipped his head to the side, concern etched onto his face. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been…off today. And you haven’t eaten a thing. Are you sick?”
“I’m fine, Colin.” She snapped, irritated that she couldn’t get away from him for a second, that he looked at her with such concern and worry when he would never care for her the way she wanted. “Please, stop asking.”
“O…kay.” He frowned at her outburst. “I’m just worried about you, is all.”
“Well, don’t be. I’m fine. I’m always fine. I have to be. I was fine this morning and I’m fine now and I’ll be fine when you run off across the world yet again. I’m just fucking fine!”
“Penelope?” Eloise stepped outside at just that moment, looking from Penelope to Colin. “What the hell did you do, Colin?”
“Nothing!” he threw his hands up.
“He didn’t do anything.” Penelope inhaled deeply. “I’m just…drunk. And tired. I’m going to call an Uber and head home.”
Eloise tried to talk to her, but when Penelope made it clear she didn’t want to talk, her friend let it go. Colin on the other hand, stood awkwardly back and simply looked at her with such a mixture of emotion that Penelope wasn’t willing to try and decipher. Instead, she rang for an Uber and went onto the front porch to wait for it. Just before it arrived, Colin stepped outside. Penelope almost rolled her eyes when she saw her purse in his hand.
“You forgot this.” He held it out to her. “Greg kicked it over, but I think Eloise got everything put back into it.”
“Thanks.” She took it from him, hoisting it over her shoulder, nearly sighing in relief when her Uber pulled up the drive.
“I…” Colin started, then seemed to think better about whatever it was he was about to say. “Happy Christmas, Pen.”
“Happy Christmas.” She said back before sliding into the backseat.
The Bridgerton’s had several Christmas traditions. One of which was all the children stayed at Aubrey Hall on Christmas Eve night and they had their immediate family Christmas on Christmas Day. No extended family, no friends, just the eight children and their spouses and kids. Penelope had her own tradition. She stayed in her pyjamas all day and binge watched all the Jane Austen movie adaptations. It was well after six in the evening, and she was halfway through the 2007 version of Persuasion when she decided she should find something for dinner. Standing in the kitchen, mixing up some veggies in a bowl for a salad, someone knocked on the door. Curious, Penelope pushed the bowl away and went to the door. A peek through the peephole showed it was Colin.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at your mothers?” she asked once she pulled the door open, but her smile slid off her face when she realized he looked rather angry.
“What is it?” she asked, confused when he pushed his way inside. He turned to her, holding up a journal. Her journal.
“What the hell, Col!” she nearly yelled. “You went through my purse? You read my journal?”
“No.” he snapped. “I didn’t go through your purse. Greg kicked it and my bag over and both our things spilled out. Eloise gathered your stuff back into your purse while I did mine and we must have mixed up journals.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Did you…did you read it?”
“Not all of it. Not once I realized it wasn’t mine.” He flipped the journal open, and Penelope winced when he held up the last page, the photo of her in her underwear staring back at her. “But what the hell is this about?”
“It’s…it’s nothing. I mean, I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable with my feelings. I know you don’t see me the same way. It doesn’t have to change anything between us.”
“Not that, Pen.” He sighed. “This shit about losing weight and how your mother and Cressida are right.” He snapped the journal closed, tossing over the back of the sofa. “That’s all bullshit. Your mother, I’m sorry, is an insecure old bitch that puts her own misgivings onto you. And Cressida…Penelope, Cressida is just a sad, lonely, bitter girl who tries to make herself feel better by putting others down. She targets you because she’s always wanted to be a Bridgerton, and my brothers and I clearly favor you over her and that pisses her off. Nothing either of those women say should hold any baring on how you see yourself.”
Taking a step forward, he took hold of her face so that she was forced to look up at him.
“You don’t need to lose weight. There is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong with your body. You are beautiful, Pen. Beautiful and adorable and that picture you put in that book? That only shows me what I already assumed. You are a fucking bombshell and sexy as hell. Tell me you know that?”
“I…yeah. I know that, but it’s not always been the feedback I’ve received from others. Including you, Colin.”
Colin sighed, dropping his hands from her face, but staying close. “I said some stupid things before I left for Cyprus. Things I only said because my brothers were being antagonistic and annoying, but I never said anything about you not being beautiful. I might not have told you, and maybe that was self-preservation on my part because if I let myself think it, let myself say it, then I would have to grow up and I wasn’t ready, but Penelope. I’ve always thought you were gorgeous.”
“Colin.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her mind racing and her emotions swirling. Opening them again, forcing all the hopeless blooming hope in her chest down. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say. and you’re right. I shouldn’t hold stock in what my mother or Cressida thinks of me.”
“Good.” He nodded. “I’m glad we got that nonsense out of the way. Because now we need to talk about those other two resolutions.”
“Please, don’t.” she winced, a blush heating her cheeks. “It’s embarrassing enough that you know now. We really don’t have to talk about it. I told you I wouldn’t make it uncomfortable for you.”
“And that is why we need to talk, because it doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”
Penelope blinked up at him. “It doesn’t?”
“No.” he smiled. “I think it did, before, and that was because I was an idiot, to use Eloise’s distinction. And because I was immature and scared and didn’t think I was worth those feelings or ready, but then I went to Cyprus and literally all I could think about was you. You and your smile and your wit and that biting ferocity that you used to put me in my place. And I deserved it because what I said was the dumbest, falsest thing that’s ever left my mouth. I adore you, Penelope. The past I have with you, the smiles you get from me, the smiles you give me, the future I can’t imagine without you.”
Stunned and at a loss for words, Penelope just stood there staring up at him. He didn’t look at all confident in himself, none of that self-assuredness that seemed to ooze from him. Instead, he looked nervous, vulnerable. She needed to say something, because as the seconds ticked past, he was starting to look downright panicked.
“Kiss me.” Is what came out when she opened her mouth, which wasn’t what she had planned on saying but is what she wanted more than anything in that moment. “Please, Colin. Kiss me.”
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t even pause. Instead, he stepped forward, one hand going to her cheek and the other to her waist, and he pulled her into him as he dipped his head down to meet her lips. Any misgivings she might have had, any worries that this was all some cruel joke melted away with the heat of his kiss, the need and passion with which he held her. He kissed her like he was starving for her, like he never wanted to stop. Like her lips were the only thing that would bring air into his lungs.
Kissing Colin Bridgerton was like coming home. It was finding a long-lost tressure, a relief and euphoria wrapped into one.
When they finally parted, Penelope had both of her hands shoved up the back of his sweater, her fingers digging into the muscles on either side of his spine. Colin’s fingers were tangled into her hair and his other hand was curved rather possessively over her butt.
“You don’t have to get over me, Penelope.” He whispered, keeping her lips close to his so that she could feel it when his curled up into a grin. “But I wouldn’t mind you getting under me.”
“Dirty.” She giggled a little breathlessly.
“When it comes to you and this body of a goddess you have, yeah.” He nipped her bottom lip gently. “You drive me mad with want, Pen. And…and I love you. I love every inch of you, and I’ll gladly worship at your feet until you believe me. That picture in your journal, in front of that mirror…one day I’ll show you how much I love you in front of that mirror.”
Despite how hot those words made her, hot and aching and positively soaking, Penelope pushed him away enough that she could look up at him.
“You love me?” she asked.
“Maybe it’s too early to say that since I haven’t even asked you out properly, but yeah. I do.”
“You were planning on asking me out?” she grinned, unable to contain just how happy she was.
“I actually had this plan. I’d come over here tomorrow, the excuse of wanting to spend Boxing Day with Franky before she left for Scotland, and I’d mention Benedicts New Year’s Eve party and ask you to come with me. I was going to wait to kiss you until midnight New Year’s.”
“That was a good plan.”
“And I was going to tell you my resolution was to be the biggest Penelope Featherington simp in the world. Still is, by the way.” He smiled, tucking some hair behind her ear. “Since two of your three resolutions were shit, I figured I could help you with the other. I’d fit the part of adoring boyfriend rather well, if I do say so myself.”
“I could give you a trial run, I suppose.” She teased. “At least until you leave for your next trip, and then we’ll see how things go.”
“No more trips, Penelope.” He kissed her nose. “Not for a while. Signed a lease, got an Oyster card, and I even filled out an application to adopt this sweet little tabby cat that I saw on Facebook.”
“You are really making this the best Christmas ever.” She sniffed, not wanting to cry and spoil it all.
“Good, because holding you is the best gift I’ve ever received.”
Before Penelope could respond, her belly growled very loudly, causing Colin to lean back away from her, one of his brows shooting up towards his hairline.
“Sorry.” She giggled. “I was making dinner when you knocked.”
“What are you having?” he glanced back into the kitchen, still holding her waist. “I could eat.”
“Um…a salad?”
Colin’s head whipped around; eyes narrowed. “And I’ll make spaghetti to go along with that salad. Good?”
“Perfect.” She smiled, because yeah. This was perfect.
“You know.” He stepped away from her but took her hand to lead her into the kitchen. “There is another thing that would be an even better gift.”
“What is that?” she asked, bending over to get the sauce pot from the cabinet.
“That picture in your journal.” He smiled when she looked back at him. “What? I wouldn’t show it to anyone. It’d be just for me, and I’d keep it secure in my wallet. I already have a ‘this is her’ picture on my phone to show everyone anyway.”
“A what picture?”
“A ‘this is her’ picture.” He repeated. “You know, the picture I show everyone when they ask about you after I talk about you.”
“You have one of those?” she asked, blushing a little.
“I do.” He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. He scrolled for just a second, then turned the screen so she could see. It was a picture of her from the side, the sunset just over her shoulder. Her head was tilted to the side, and she was laughing.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been laughing at or where they were even, but for the first time, she saw herself the way Colin saw her. And she was beautiful.