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Here were the facts as Scott understood them. Admittedly, aforementioned facts were all second-hand information, but they had been presented to him by John, which tended to add some weight to their validity, so he was willing to trust them as the truth. Anyway. There were four main facts:
Penelope had started seeing – or at least been on several dates with – a guy named James. John – after an hour of internet stalking – disliked James and therefore Scott also disliked James by default because he tended to trust his brother’s judgement on these sorts of matters. Unfortunately, Penelope was a force of nature who could not and would not be told how to live her own life. Scott presumed John had tried to dissuade her from continuing to see James and had been shot down in flames as his brother had been sulking for the past week and Penelope’s calls had dwindled significantly.
Scott, personally, was concerned about Penelope but wasn’t worried – and yes there was a distinct difference – because he didn’t want her to get hurt but he was also fully aware that she was more than capable of handling herself and had proved as much on multiple occasions. If James tried to cross her, he would come unstuck and while Scott would usually avoid kicking a guy when he was already down, he would make an exception for any asshole who dared to upset Penelope.
The point was that no one liked James other than Penelope, but there wasn’t anything they could do except hope it all worked out. Well, Parker was considering arranging an ‘accident’ and John was contemplating blackmail, but Scott didn’t think those were real threats, although no one could be sure when it came to those two.
And then Penelope descended out of the blue for an impromptu visit and set up residence on an old, battered yet bafflingly comfortable sofa in the Den, where she remained for a solid two hours until Scott finally made it home from a mudslide in New Zealand.
“Penny?”
Penelope was mostly buried beneath a variety of faux-fur throws and a lopsided quilt blanket which had been the product of Grandma’s sole attempt at knitting. She poked her head over the top and eyed him dubiously.
“Scott.” She looked pointedly at the mud smothering his uniform. “You’re getting the carpet dirty.”
“So? We have cleaning bots.”
“Take a shower then come back.”
“Are you ordering me around in my own home?”
“Yes.”
Penelope glowered at him. Usually that was an intimidating experience, but right now she just looked uncharacteristically pitiful, like a cat that had been caught out in the rain. She curled back into the corner of the sofa and disappeared beneath the blanket. Scott hovered in the doorway a moment longer, uncertain as to whether he should actually leave or not when Penelope seemed genuinely upset. This was usually John’s area. It dawned on him that he couldn’t offer much comfort while he was wearing most of earlier’s mudslide, and so, with some reluctance, he backed out of the room and made a beeline for the shower.
He returned to an empty room. Instinct drew him to the kitchen. The sounds of rustling packets and a clatter of cutlery was audible even in the corridor. He approached cautiously, still unsure of how to play this. He could really have done with giving John a call, only his pride couldn’t take a hit like that. Because it was ridiculous, wasn’t it? He could cope with running headfirst into a burning building, but the idea of dealing with an upset Penelope filled him with terror. And worry, of course. But mostly terror.
Penelope whirled away from the open freezer door. “Scott. Why do you have no cookie dough ice cream?”
“Uh…” Scott lowered the spoon she had jabbed in his face. “Probably because Alan ate it all.”
Alan had not, in fact, eaten it all. That had been Scott himself, but the prospect of admitting that to Penelope seemed akin to signing his own death sentence. Besides, Alan was halfway to Saturn and so could be thrown under the bus without fear of ramifications.
Penelope tossed up her hands with a hiss. “Why did you not replace it?”
“We have…” Scott gently moved her aside to examine the contents of the freezer. It was depressingly empty. He made a mental note to add ice cream to the weekend shopping list. “Okay, we don’t have a lot. But there’s some of Virgil’s weirdly healthy frozen yoghurt?”
Penelope stared at him. “Do I look like I want healthy food right now? No. I want ice cream. Or chocolate. Or biscuits.”
“We might have those.”
“Not your weird American biscuits, I mean cookies.” She hopped onto the countertop and deflated, suddenly looking dangerously close to tears.
Scott was struck by a jolt of panic. No, no, no, please don’t cry. “So… anything sugary?”
“Sugar is a cure for sadness,” Penelope informed him.
“Okay, we’ll come back to that later, but right now… Would hot chocolate help?”
Penelope ducked her head to examine the chipped nail varnish on her toes – yet another sign that she was truly upset, because her appearance was always immaculate. She took a deep breath and confessed, in a very small voice, “Maybe.”
Scott hid his smile, pretending to search the cupboards for ingredients, as if hot chocolate were some sort of gourmet recipe requiring intensive skills. He retrieved the powder from the top shelf where it had been placed out of Gordon’s reach – because the guy was a menace even without sugary drinks – and motioned for Penelope to hop down from the counter so that he could reach the mugs in the cupboard behind her. She was still wearing one of the blankets and it was draped around her shoulders like a cape, drawn close to her chin so that she could try to conceal her expression in the faux fur.
“This isn’t going to be as good as John’s secret recipe,” he warned her.
Penelope shrugged. “I don’t care.”
For a moment, silence settled. It was less tense this time. Scott tried to sneak a glance at her out of the corner of his eye without being too obvious. Penelope sidled closer, staring into the swirling chocolate powder as if it held the secrets of the universe.
“It needs vanilla.”
“Really?”
“Do you have vanilla extract?”
“Somewhere, yeah.” He tried to recall the exact location. “Try that cupboard over there.”
Vanilla extract discovered and added to the mix, there was very little left to say. Penelope tugged the blanket closer, tightening her hands to fists in the fabric while Scott tried to guess at her thoughts. He concentrated on not burning their drinks – because his lack of skills in the kitchen were almost as legendary as Grandma’s at this point – and tried to figure out the right thing to say. Emotional conversations were like a game of chess and he had yet to work out which moves would lead to catastrophe.
Penelope led the way back to the Den. Her nest of blankets was now strewn over the floor, but she scooped them up and dumped them back onto the sofa, snuggling under the quilt and warming her hands on her mug of hot chocolate.
She took an experimental sip. “Not bad.”
Scott repressed a laugh. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She tipped her head back against the couch cushions with a sigh. “I should have listened to John.”
“That’s usually my line.” He caught her gaze and something warm and protective ignited in his heart at the sight of tears in her eyes. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened. He just… had opposing opinions to me, so I ended it. But I thought… He seemed like a nice person. Do you know how rare it is to find a genuinely kind person in the sorts of circles I mix in? Almost all of them are social climbers, only out for themselves. I thought he was different, but I was wrong and I’m sure John will be very happy that he can say he told me so.”
“John won’t say that.”
“Not for a while, but in a couple of weeks.” She tilted sideways to curl up against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. “I feel like such an idiot.”
“You’re one of the smartest people I know.”
“Hmm.”
“Would you like me to kill this asshole for you?” he offered, as if murder was a perfectly reasonable response to a breakup.
Penelope giggled. “No, Scott. I’m perfectly capable of killing him myself.” She wiped her eyes and took a long drink of hot chocolate to fill the ache in her heart with sugar. “I just want to watch a movie and forget everything.”
“We can do that. Any ideas?”
“You can pick.”
“We could watch Top Gun? You get shirtless guys and I get planes?”
“Fantastic plan. This is why we’re friends.” Penelope lifted the blanket so that he could share it with her. He wrapped an arm around her to pull her close. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Just… being here, I suppose.”
“Pen, don’t be ridiculous. You’re my friend. I love you. I’ll always be here, you know that.”
Penelope stared intently at the screen. “Don’t make me cry again.”
“Okay, let’s think about something else. Hey, how long do you think it’ll take before John ruins that creep’s life?”
“I can guarantee he’s already teamed up with Parker. James should start running. Anyway. Movie?”
“Movie.”