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“I had sex with Colin.”
Penelope's not-so-quiet confession garnered attention from more than the three people sitting at the table with her.
(A few of the lads behind the falafel counter clapped their tongs together briefly while one shouted a hearty ‘atta girl!’)
Penelope's cheeks pinked and she turned her attention back to the hummus and beets left in her bowl.
“My brother Colin?” Eloise asked first, her fork suspended in front of her mouth. “Colin Bridgerton?”
Penelope sighed. “Yes.”
“My brother-in-law,” Kate asked next. “The famous, if somewhat wayward, chef? The newly Michelin-starred, just-catered-Frannie’s-wedding Colin?”
Pen huffed out a laugh and nodded.
“Colin-can’t-choose-between-this-blonde-or-that-brunette, Colin?” Eloise chided. “Could charm his way out of a murder charge most likely, Colin?”
“Haha. Very funny,” Penelope rolled her eyes. “Have your laughs—”
“The Colin you've been in love with for years?” Daphne interrupted softly.
Penelope's mouth snapped shut. Damn, Daphne and her too-keen observations. Penelope felt tears gather in her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She’d spent too many days over the past week crying because of this man.
Penelope turned to Eloise who didn't look shocked at all. “El, I…I should’ve told you. I mean, I know I should’ve said something, but–”
“I'm your best friend, Pen.” Eloise shook her head. “And of course, I knew, but you never said anything, so I didn't bother with it. I love my brother, but he's an idiot and frankly, you can do better. Heaps better. Miles and miles better than the commitment-phobic, light skirt known as Colin Bridgerton.”
“Eloise, please,” Daphne replied. “Our brother isn't all bad, and wouldn't it be lovely to have Penelope as a sister?”
Pen must have let out a manic sound for the looks it produced on the other three women's faces.
“So…” Eloise began. “Tell us what happened, er, how it happened, or…what's going on that made you make that dying cow sound.”
Kate gasped and snapped her fingers. “Is that why Colin's been so short with everyone lately? He's been in an absolutely foul mood. Anthony’s about ready to ship him back to New York or wherever he was. Did you put it on him that good, Penelope?”
“You and my brother are made for one another,” Eloise hissed at Kate. “Can you not see this is serious? Can you not wait until later for the horny details? Preferably when I'm either not around or too deep in my cups to remember anything.”
Eloise added a dramatic shiver at the end.
Kate rolled her eyes and motioned for Eloise to continue. “Fine, but I will pry it out of you one way or another, Pen. Might as well tell us if it was good or not at the beginning.”
“Penelope,” Daphne reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “When did this happen?
Penelope flicked at the beets before she stabbed a few on the end of her fork. “After Frannie’s wedding… during the reception.”
“A whole week ago and I'm just learning about it?” Eloise exclaimed
“Now we really need details,” Kate added. “A whole week without knowing this?”
“Are you okay?” Daphne asked with another squeeze of her hand. “Did…well. Kate's right, Colin has been in a dreadful mood and unwilling to talk to any of us about it. Everything was…I mean, we love you to pieces so I will gladly kill my brother if he—”
“Oh no, no, I mean—yes! I mean.” Penelope took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Everything was one hundred percent consensual and remained so throughout, but it still was a huge mistake which became very clear afterward and in the week that's passed, so I just have to get over it.”
“What did my idiot brother do or not do rather?” Eloise asked. Her fork was still lifted in the air but wielded more like a dagger now. “And don't think for one moment Penelope Anne Featherington that this very public confession is going to save you from an interrogation later.”
“Eloise,” Daphne started, “at least give Pen a chance to tell us what happened—”
“With details, please,” Kate said.
“Before we pass more judgment on our idiot brother,” Daphne continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. “But do remember that two of his sisters are at the table so, go sparingly on the very intense details.”
“Do not go sparingly,” Kate reiterated. “I've been a married lady for so long and I'm desperate for the details of the still single and horny.”
Eloise muttered under her breath. “You and Anthony are the worst.”
“Well, what about her?” Kate said, shaking a thumb towards Daphne. “She and Simon aren't exactly chaste.”
“None of the family has ever walked in on us having sex in the family room,” replied Daphne primly. “Anyway, this isn't about us. It's about Pen and Colin and why on earth we're just now learning about the two of them having sex and why our sweet Pen thinks it was a mistake. I mean…surely Colin finally owned up to his feelings for you?”
Penelope’s eyes met Daphne’s briefly before they fell back to her remaining hummus.
“Colin most definitely does not have feelings for me and I know that now, so, at least I can move on.”
“See,” Eloise said wryly. “I knew our idiot brother did something stupid.”
One week earlier
“You didn't have to steal the bottle, Colin,” Penelope huffed as she struggled to keep up with Colin's much longer stride. “I'm literally in charge of the bar orders and your mother will not miss one bottle of Perrier Jouet.”
“Have your legs always been this little?” Colin threw over his shoulder. “Hurry up!”
“The dock isn't going anywhere. Colin! At least let me take off my heels.” Penelope managed to wrench her hand from Colin's grip and take off the strappy gold heels she borrowed from Daphne.
Colin barely waited until she had them looped through her fingers to grab her free hand in his once more and march them hurriedly to the pier at the very edge of the Bridgerton Lake House.
“It's just too much in there,” he said as they made it to the end of the deck. The large marquee tent was brightly lit with strobe lights and booming noughties music as the bride and groom led an extremely lively dance party to end the evening.
Colin set the unopened bottle of champagne down on the deck before he shed his suit jacket, spread it out on one side, and sat on the other. He gave a gentle pat as he tugged at the end of his bowtie. “Sit, let's drink. You haven't relaxed all night.”
“Well, yeah, we're supposed to be making sure everything runs smoothly for Fran and Michael.” Penelope lowered herself to Colin's jacket as daintily as she could given the restrictions of her emerald green dress. It wasn't overly tight, but it also wasn't meant for a late-night sojourn on a boat deck either.
“That's why we have assistants, Pen,” Colin replied as he popped the top two tiny buttons at the top of his tuxedo shirt. He lifted the bottle of PJ and pointed it out toward the water to unleash the cork with a hearty ‘pop!’
“Besides,” he continued. “No more food is coming out of that kitchen tonight. If folks continue to get drunk, they'll have to eat cake.”
“How very Marie Antoinette of you.”
He took a swig of the champagne, wiped the back of his hand across his lips, and passed the bottle to Penelope. “Cheers.”
Pen rolled her eyes but took the sweating bottleneck from his fingers and took a much daintier sip than he did. “To a job well done. Fran and Michael seem pleased. And happy.”
“Mmm,” he nodded. “They deserve to be. Although, they'd probably be much happier without so much press around.”
“I bet if you asked,” she started. “Frannie would take all the press in the world if it meant having you home. And not just because you made an incredible dinner.”
Colin tipped his head. “It was all you, Pen. As usual. Party planner extraordinaire. Saved the whole reception by sourcing that sea bass at the last moment. How did you manage to make that happen?”
Penelope shrugged. “I can't reveal all my secrets. Besides you're the celebrity chef. I did nothing.”
“Stop that,” Colin said as he peeled the bottle of champagne from her fingers. Penelope's belly fluttered at the contact. “You're exceptional.”
Penelope's face flooded with color against her will. She scooted to the edge of the dock to let her legs dangle and avoid making eye contact with him.
It'd been just over a month since she'd seen him last and just in passing. The opening of his latest London restaurant hadn't kept him in town for long, and she hadn't stayed for longer than she needed to manage the red carpet arrivals and grab a to-go bag of delicious fare.
“I see you brought a date tonight,” Colin said, sliding in beside her. He pressed the cold, sweat-dimpled bottle to her arm.
It made her shiver and it made him chuckle softly.
“He seems…nice. What's his name? Nick? Nate? Neal?”
She turned her face up to his and caught his smirk. “It’s Nigel, and yes, he is very nice. Thanks.”
(“Oh god,” Kate interjected. “That's right. Nigel. You had a date. And you slept with Colin!
“Hush,” Daphne scolded. “Nigel spent all night leering at various women's breasts, including Frannie's so frankly I don't feel bad for him. Pen can do better. Anyways, keep going, I'd like to hear the rest of the story, please.”)
Colin snorted. “He hasn't been near you all night.”
“I've been working!”
“That's not an excuse,” he said as he slid the bottle down her wrist to the tips of her fingers then back again. “If you were my date, I wouldn't let you out of my sight.”
Penelope barely managed not to roll her eyes. “Yes, you're famously attentive to your dates. They've never been seen wandering off alone or getting into cabs with mascara running down their faces.”
Colin sent her a wicked grin that Penelope just knew got him out of as much trouble as it got him into. He shrugged and said, “Maybe, but they're not you. You're Penelope.”
Instead of asking what he could mean and be disappointed by the answer—again—she took the bottle from his fingers and brought it to her lips for a deep pull.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, the cool breeze off the water created ripples and ruffled the loose curls around Penelope's face.
“Do you think Fran and Michael will be happy?” Colin asked into the swirl of the wind.
Penelope glanced at him. “Yes,” she answered simply.
He scoffed. “That's it. Just yes?”
Penelope nodded.
“How can you be so sure? Frannie went through…well, she went through hell and she's so young. Already buried a man she loved, but she's—they’re—such a different couple and seem to love one another.”
“Well that's it, isn't it?” Penelope replied. “We can't possibly know for sure from the outside, but the way Fran and Michael are together it's…special. Something your whole family seems to find, to be honest.”
“Only some of us,” Colin muttered.
Penelope laughed. “I don't know how many times you've said it, loudly and frequently, that marriage and settling down are not for you. Don't tell me you've suddenly changed your mind?”
“What if I have?” he asked, sitting up straighter. He reached for the bottle but didn't take it from her fingers, just folded his own over hers.
Penelope had done this dance with Colin before—or at least something similar—gotten her hopes up, believed that Colin saw her—really saw her. It always turned out the same. She feared that her heart would never fully be her own—he’d always own a piece of hers even if he didn't want it—but she was tired of letting herself feel false hope.
She slid her hand out from beneath his gently. “I'm sure as soon as you let your mother know she'll be over the moon and have several dates lined up for you.”
Colin sighed and turned his gaze to the half-full bottle of champagne. He brushed his thumb across the anemone flowers with studied reverence.
“I think Fran and Michael work because they were friends for so long. They're so comfortable together, and isn't that…isn't that what the point is? Saying yes to spending more time with your best friend?”
“If it were that easy, I'd marry Eloise.”
(“I'd marry you in a heartbeat, Pen.”
“I’m positive Pippa would disapprove,” Penelope grinned. “But thank you, anyways.
“Pip would understand, I'm sure.” Eloise shook her head.)
Colin shook his head. “I think my family would adore that. They'd probably kick me out and find a way to adopt Pippa so as not to lose her.”
Penelope frowned. “Your family loves you, dearly. And they miss you when you're not around.”
“Hmm,” he replied, the skepticism in his voice clear.
“I don't know what this mood is that's come over you,” Penelope said with a frown. “But I want no part of it on this happy day.” She gathered her shoes and got her feet with considerable effort considering the restrictions of her dress.
Colin was up beside her in a flash, his eyes seeking hers, his body moving into her space. “I don't mean to be a downer, Pen, I swear. I'm just…a little tired of my life as it is and being home and seeing everyone so happy? It makes me want…it just makes me want.”
Penelope shrugged and turned back toward the marquee in the distance. “I don't see what's stopping you. The entire world is at your disposal. You're talented, you're sought-after, you're handsome. Getting what you want shouldn’t be—”
He grabbed her elbow, stopping her progress toward the marquee, and redirecting them to the boathouse at the other side of the dock.
“Colin, please I'm not a ragdoll, quit dragging me—”
All the lights were on in the tiny (by Bridgerton standards), but well-appointed boathouse when they made it inside. Penelope had little chance to appreciate the charm of the muted grays, black, and white in Violet’s French-inspired design before she found her face cupped between Colin's hands.
“Are you really into the guy you came here with, Pen?” Colin brushed his thumbs across the top of her cheeks.
Her eyes darted back and forth between his. “Colin, what’s—”
“Answer me, please,” he pleaded.
“No,” she shook her hand as much as his grip would allow. “No, I’m not, but Colin—”
“Good,” he sighed. “Because I need to kiss you. Can I kiss you, Pen?”
Her lips fell open with a whoosh of air. “What?”
“Please let me kiss you.”
(“Okay wait,” Kate interrupted. “This all seems pretty swoony and perfect so far. And the boathouse is a truly magnificent sex locale, so—”
“Gross,” Eloise said and mock threw up. “But, Kate's right about the first part. This is all very un-Colin-like. So how'd he mess this up?”
“Let her finish!” Daphne hissed. “I want to hear about this kiss. You said yes, didn't you? Please say you said yes?”)
Penelope had dreamed of a variation of those words for longer than she could articulate. Her hands trembled beside her and her heart, well it screamed yes while her head told her no. It'd been too many years of misread signals and dashed hopes. No matter what her heart yearned for, her mind told her—Colin told her—that friendship was all that was on offer. So why did he want to kiss her now? Did she even want to risk interrupting her chance at this one memory for an answer?
She bit her bottom lip and nodded, but Colin shook his head. “Say it, Pen. Say yes.”
“Yes,” she whispered. And as soon as the sound left her mouth, his lips descended on hers.
Colin's mouth was tender but urgent on hers. He tasted like the tang of champagne and the sweetness of icing from Fran’s carrot wedding cake.
Penelope moaned as he nipped her mouth and sent his tongue after his teeth to soothe the hurt.
“Pen. Pen,” he spoke against her lips before he took them again—harder this time. More purposeful.
Penelope's head spun and her feet felt like they left the ground. When she landed in Colin's lap on the incredibly plush gray couch, she realized she had been lifted off the ground.
His lips brushed her chin and down her neck. He worked his way across her decolletage to her exposed shoulders.
Colin worked his hands up her waist and brushed lightly over her breasts before settling on the wisps of her sleeves. “Can I take this off you?” He asked as he nipped her chin.
(“Okay, okay!” Eloise interrupted waving her hands. “Let's skip over this part—”
“No…” Kate whined. “This is just what I want. That couch has seen a lot of action.”
“For the love of God, Kate, please,” Eloise begged. “Pen, just tell Kate later, as for me and Daph, please skip to where everything fell apart.”
“I'm getting you drunk and you're telling me everything, Penelope Featherington,” Kate pointed at her. “But fine, spare these two wimps and tell us what happened after the good stuff.”)
Colin was warm beside her on the wide, soft couch in the boathouse—warm and utterly silent.
Penelope had a blanket tucked around her chest, staring up at the ceiling. Their bodies were pressed together—side-by-side—his right leg tangled loosely below her left. His arms rested below his head and his eyes were closed, face relaxed.
Penelope fought the urge to fidget as she listened to a clock she hadn't noticed before ticking loudly in the distance. The silence grew thicker and louder until finally she sat up and reached across Colin’s still form for her dress on the ground.
“I've got to get back,” she said quietly.
“Why?” Colin sat up and let the blanket slide off him. Penelope averted her eyes, and hurried back into her underwear, standing to slide the now wrinkled green dress back on.
“I've been gone too long and I don't have my phone on me. My assistant is probably freaking out. There's still the send-off to go and—”
“You can use mine—”
“No, it's fine. Thank you.”
Penelope struggled to zip her dress and froze as she felt Colin’s hands take over and smooth her dress the rest of the way. She murmured her thanks but didn't turn around to look at him.
“Give me a minute, I'll come with you,” Colin said.
Penelope ran her fingers through her frazzled hair. “Don't worry, Col. I'll see you up there. I just want to catch Tina before she panics.”
“Pen—”
“See you later.”
“And then I left.”
Daphne, Eloise, and Kate were silent for a beat.
Daphne cleared her throat before she began. “Okay, so maybe you're going to have to go back and fill in some blanks because I'm confused.”
“You know I'm keen to agree,” Kate said. “But seeing as how Colin's still living in my house and just a ball of anger, I think I understand this.”
Eloise sighed. “Please explain because I'm stumped. You left the boathouse, but I know you also left the party and left Tina in charge. You at least said goodbye to me. Did you—did you sleep with Colin and just go home?!”
“What else was I supposed to do? It was so awkward!” Penelope exclaimed. “It was obviously a huge mistake and rather than hear him say that, I just.” She shrugged. “Yes, it was probably the wrong thing to do—”
“Undoubtedly the wrong thing to do,” Kate interjected.
“But we made a mistake and I don't know what he was going to do or say next so—”
“You took that choice away?” Eloise asked.
Penelope's jaw dropped as she looked at her best friend.
Eloise raised her hands. “Far be it from me to defend Colin in normal circumstances, but in this case, I think both of you missed a chance to talk like adults.”
“And,” Daphne continued. “Our brother clearly feels something for you or he wouldn't be so upset right now.”
Penelope frowned and shook her head. “Colin sees me as a friend. He said it more times than I can remember, and we may have slept together, but that doesn't change anything. It just makes things more complicated.”
“I don't see why being Colin's friend can't make you more now,” Daphne shrugged. “Simon was my friend before we got together.”
“Did Simon ever say—in front of all of his friends and two of his brothers—that there's no way he could ever see you as more than a friend? That the idea of the two of you together was something he could never imagine?”
Daphne frowned and turned to Kate who for once didn't look like she had a good answer.
“Well I call bullshit,” Eloise said, turning to face Penelope. “He may have said those things, but again, he's an idiot. And I've seen the way you are together—the way he is around you, Pen. He's absolute shit at chatting about how he feels, but—”
Penelope laughed but it held no humor. “You don't have to tell me that, El, but he had no trouble saying what he did.”
“When was this?” Kate asked.
“A while ago now. Several years.”
“And you don't think he could've changed his mind since then?” said Daphne.
“I may be a lot of things,” Penelope began. “But my naivete about sex meaning anything more than sex has long passed.”
“How will you ever know unless you talk to each other about it?” Kate shrugged. “Anyways, you still owe me the entire story with very explicit details so you're coming over on Tuesday and I'm getting you drunk.”
Penelope started to shake her head, no, but Kate intervened. “Don't worry, it's my kid-free, husband-free night of the week. I’ll make Anthony drag Colin along wherever he takes the kids, so we'll order tacos and I'll make margaritas and you'll tell me whether or not I need to dry clean those couch cushions.”
///////
Colin loved making fresh pasta dough. In addition to being one of the first things he ever learned to make with his father, there was something incredibly cathartic about kneading the tough dough and feeling it give way under your fingers.
It was precisely the distraction he needed.
It'd been ten days, eight hours, and forty-three minutes since he'd last seen or spoken to Penelope. Since she'd walked out of the boathouse and all but disappeared, effectively answering a slew of unasked questions.
Colin grunted and kneaded the dough that would become mezzelune stuffed with cheese and spinach for dinner for Anthony's family.
Coming back home for Frannie had been an easy decision for Colin; wanting to stay after seeing how much of his family he'd missed—his nieces and nephews; his brothers and their wives; his sisters and their partners… Penelope—it’d left him wanting more than his travels, more than his restaurants, and more than the transitory life he'd set up for himself.
Colin put more force into the final three minutes of kneading the egg-yolk-colored dough than necessary and slapped the dough against Kate's marble counters.
“You better not be ruining my countertops, Colin Bridgerton.”
He grunted but didn't stop his work as Kate walked into the kitchen.
“Still in a foul mood, I see?”
Colin sighed and grabbed the box of cling wrap. “I'm not in a foul mood, I just like to focus in the kitchen.”
“It's only your family you're cooking for, Colin,” Kate quipped. “Not the Queen. The boys think whatever you make is just the coolest, and Lottie barely has enough teeth at this point to care.”
A smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he wrapped the dough up and left it to rest on the counter. He picked up the bench scraper and set to clean the area of flour and leftover dough.
“Did you make enough for another person? I invited a guest for dinner.”
“Yeah,” he said and he dumped crumbs into the sink and brushed off his hands. “Who is it? Do they have any food allergies, cause there's a lot of stuff—”
Kate interrupted with a wave of a hand. “I asked Penelope and she said no. She's fine to eat whatever.”
Colin’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Penelope?” he asked as he turned his full attention to Kate. “Penelope Featherington?”
“Do you know another?” she replied with a tilt of her head. “We had lunch the other day—me, Daph, Eloise, and Pen. She seemed sad so I invited her over.” Kate shrugged. “I'll make her hold onto Lottie. It's impossible to be sad with a baby in your lap.”
“Sad?” Colin whispered.
Kate arched a brow and nodded. “Yeah, you don't mind, do you? You and Pen seem to get along like a house on fire.”
Colin shook his head. “It's fine.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Kate began to say more but stopped as Edmund and Miles came tumbling into the kitchen claiming they were starving after spending time outside with their dad.
Colin swept in and put together two hearty sandwiches for the boys as he teased them over Anthony's apparent lack of athleticism.
When all that was left on their plates were crumbs, they thanked their uncle and let their mother sweep them out of the kitchen with commands to take a bath.
Colin turned back to his work on dinner, grateful for the minor reprieve of his nephews from the news that he'd be seeing Penelope tonight—feeding her, sitting at a table with her, watching her interact with his family—as if she hadn't walked out on him and the possibility of them.
Colin thought he'd been clear or at the very least obvious with his intentions.
He was tired of being surrounded by people who only wanted to enter his spotlight. He'd missed too much of his family at the cost of his success. And while he'd had dates aplenty and women ready to throw themselves at him, he had nothing real—nothing that resembled what Anthony and Kate or Benedict and Sophie or any of his siblings had.
He wanted that. And he wanted it with Penelope.
Who’d run away from him at the first chance.
Colin tried to clear his head as he grated gruyere, Gouda, and cheddar for the bechamel he planned to make. He'd planned an easy family meal for Anthony, Kate, and their brood—but now that he knew to expect Penelope, he wanted the meal to be exceptional. Needed it to be.
Colin was saving the guanciale for a carbonara he promised to Kate, but he'd cure another one and redirect Kate’s ask for another time.
He took extreme care to chop the meat precisely before adding it to a hot pan with a bit of extra virgin olive oil. He kept an eye on the pan while he started on the roux for the bechamel.
Colin was familiar with this dance, he lived his life in the ordered chaos of the kitchen. To his roux and his guanciale, he added a pot of boiling water with a healthy measure of kosher salt.
He added the milk to his smooth flour and butter mixture, whisking briskly as he eyed the popping, browning meat in the pan on the next eye of the stove.
“My children will never eat my food again,” Anthony said, breaking into the rhythm Colin had set for himself.
“I don’t blame them, Ant,” Colin smirked. “I remember your attempts at cooking for Kate when you were trying to convince her to marry you. Right dog’s dinner.”
Anthony frowned. “I have other skills to recommend me.”
Colin rolled his eyes, but he knew the love his elder brother had for his wife. He’d, unfortunately, walked in on said love more times than he cared to recall.
“So,” Anthony began as he swiped some gouda from the bowl beside the stove. “Are you and Penelope going to talk about what you two did in the boathouse, or are you planning to wait another ten years to finally tell her you love her?”
“What!” Colin’s head snapped toward his brother. “First of all, stop eating all the cheese, and secondly, how did you –”
“My wife and I don’t have any secrets,” Anthony replied with a smug smile on his face. “She came home from lunch practically vibrating with excitement to tell me about how my baby brother used our boathouse for–”
“Pen told her?”
“Mhmm.” Anthony ignored his brother’s glare and funneled more shredded cheese into his mouth.
Colin picked up the bowl and dumped the cheese into the saucepan, ignoring Anthony’s weak protest.
It had to mean something that she’d told Kate, right? And Kate…
“Is that why Kate invited her tonight? Does Pen know I’ll be here? What is she planning? How am I–”
“Stop, please,” Anthony waved his hands. “Was I this bad when Kate and I were trying to figure it out?”
“You were way worse,” Kate’s voice cut in.
Anthony turned toward his wife like she was the moon and he was the tide set to do her bidding. No matter how many times Colin saw Anthony and Kate together, it never grew old.
Kate brushed a brief kiss across her husband’s cheek before she turned her attention to Colin. “Yes, Penelope told us about your night together and I was going to let this all play out in its way, but my husband disagreed with me, and for a change, he’s right.”
“Hold on,” Anthony said. He turned to search kitchen drawers. “I need to find a pen and paper and write down the date. She just admitted I’m right, and I have a witness!”
Kate rolled her eyes and continued. “Penelope thinks you regret what happened in the boathouse and has no idea how you feel about her.”
Colin frowned. He turned off the bechamel and guanciale and faced Kate. “How is that possible?”
“Well,” Kate crossed her arms. “Have you told her how you feel about her? With words? Not by having sex with her after Frannie’s wedding?”
Colin and Penelope hadn’t said much of anything to one another that night. He’d asked to kiss her, she’d said yes, and then had enthusiastically consented to everything else they’d done that night as well. But he hadn’t actually…
“Christ,” Colin said.
Anthony returned with a pad of Post-it notes and a pen, shoving them into his wife’s hands. “Write it down, Anthony was right, on this day of our Lord–”
“In a minute, Anthony.” She laughed. “I’m trying to impart to your brother, who is more like you than either of you realize, that simply having sex with the woman you love, but never actually saying the words is not the way to go about getting her to understand what you feel.”
“But before all of…that, we—we talked! I told her that I was ready to settle down, that—”
“And you specified that it was her—Penelope—that wanted to settle down with?” Anthony asked. He grabbed the pad and pen from his wife, scribbled her words down, and added the date. “Just so you don’t forget, my darling.”
“I…think so.”
“So, you didn’t,” Kate nodded. “If you’re not sure you said ‘Penelope, I want to make a life with you,’ then you probably didn’t. And having the knowledge of thirteen years of Bridgerton men in my head, you probably spoke in vague enough terms to get by. But Colin, if Penelope is what you want, you need to do this correctly: say it to her— loudly, emphatically, and with no room for misinterpretation. Otherwise, this really will go on for another ten years.”
///////
Penelope shifted from one foot to the other as she waited on the doorstep of Bridgerton Manor. It had been many years since she’d run through the halls with Eloise or hid in corners spying on Colin and his perfect hair, but it remained her favorite home in the world.
The door swung open and revealed Kate, who had Lottie on her hip and a bright smile on her face.
Penelope immediately reached out for the baby who happily tipped into her Auntie Pen’s arms.
“Little Lottie thought am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?” Penelope sang. Lottie rewarded her with a toothy giggle and a clap of her hands.
“My child is going to grow up and beg to listen to Andrew Lloyd Weber and that’s the point where I’ll have to send her to her Auntie Pen’s for a sleepover.” Kate smiled and bussed a kiss across Penelope’s cheek. “Come in, the madhouse has been waiting for you.”
Penelope was about to ask why it was mad when she heard the pounding of feet heading toward her.
“Aunt Pen!” Miles yelled. He held up a drawing that he nearly tripped on due to its length relative to the size of his little body. “Look what I’ve done!! Uncle Ben helped me!”
Penelope adjusted Lottie on her hip as she reached for the long piece of drawing paper whose quality was unmistakable and so clearly Benedict.
“Wow!” Penelope said as she looked at the overly done stick figures at the top. ‘Mum and Dad’ were hilarious figures – Dad with literal heart eyes and mum with baby Lottie on her hip. The picture was complete with Edmund and Miles, hand-in-hand, beside the two.
Her eyes followed the page down to Benedict and Sophie, and Sophie’s baby bump, Daphne and Simon and their four kids, Eloise and Pippa, and Mr. Mistoffelees, Frannie and Michael, Gareth and Hyacinth, Greg and Lucy, until her eyes alighted on…
“Oh! Is that–”
“You and Uncle Colin!” Miles said proudly. He’d created a top hat instead of a chef’s hat for Colin and drawn Penelope with a piece of pie.
“He doesn't really know what you do,” Kate whispered. “Just knows that there's usually pudding involved.”
Penelope giggled and ignored the way her stomach tightened at her inclusion next to Colin. She handed the paper back to Miles. “This is so impressive! Thank you for including me.”
Miles frowned. “I had to draw my family, Auntie Pen. I couldn't leave you out.”
“You almost left me out,” Colin’s voice rang out from the hall.
Penelope tensed, her hold on Lottie tightening ever so slightly before she relaxed and slid her gaze to Kate's.
She shrugged and smiled beautifully at Penelope. “Change of plans. Colin's making a killer dinner.”
“Hello Pen,” he smiled and walked toward her.
It took all of her willpower to stay put as he reached her, his arms outstretched for Lottie, who, traitor that she was, gleefully fell into her uncle's arms.
It was a disarming sight. Penelope bit back a sigh as she watched Colin drop a kiss on Lottie's forehead.
“I hope you don’t mind pasta,” Colin grinned down at her. “It’s nothing too fancy. I promised the boys I’d make them ravioli.”
“Sounds perfect,” she nodded. And truthfully, it did. At one of Colin’s London eateries, her favorite dish was the homemade ravioli. It was simple, but hearty and quickly became her go-to meal.
Colin’s smile broadened and Penelope's heart beat a little harder.
Kate's arm looped through hers and pulled her toward the kitchen. “Let's get a glass of wine while we wait for dinner.”
Penelope welcomed the brief reprieve, taking the opportunity to ask Kate “I thought you said it was your kid-free night?”
Kate smiled. “And miss the opportunity to meddle? Come now, Penelope, I’ve been a Bridgerton too long to miss such an ample opportunity.”
Penelope groaned and gladly accepted the glass of white wine.
//////
Dinner was a delicious if a slightly awkward affair for Penelope.
Colin served them all, having made a slightly different dish for the boys than for the adults, but still giving them an exceptional plate of ravioli as requested. Where the adults got asparagus and thin, crispy pieces of guanciale, the boys got peas and smaller bits of thick cured bacon.
Penelope liked the thoughtfulness of Colin's gesture as did the boys.
She thanked Colin as he set her plate down in front of her, tipping her head back to meet his gaze.
“You're welcome, Pen.” He lightly touched her shoulder before he headed back to the kitchen to grab Kate and Anthony’s plates.
He settled in the only open seat at the table—the one to her right, no doubt set up this way by Kate.
The dinner was delicious, not that Penelope had doubted it would be, and the conversation was filled with the chatter of Ed and Miles with happy babbling from Lottie.
It wasn't until after pudding, when the boys and Lottie were ushered upstairs by their mother, that things grew a bit tense. Colin worked to clear the plates from the table leaving Penelope and Anthony as the table’s only occupants.
While Penelope knew Anthony well enough, he wasn't a Bridgerton she talked to with any regularity. He sat across from her at the table, the remnants of an espresso in the cup before him.
“I know we’re not close, Penelope,” Anthony began with a smile, mirroring her own thoughts. “But my wife and sisters adore you, and as you know they’re never wrong––don’t tell them I said that.”
“They already know that,” Penelope teased, happy to watch Anthony’s smile grow wider.
“True,” he chuckled. “I can, however, speak for the Bridgerton men and tell you we’re absolutely stunted in our growth when it comes to love.”
Anthony’s composure took on a sad mein. “For a group of children so lucky and so surrounded by love, you would think it’d be easy, but it wasn’t. Our father’s loss affected us in many ways, pushed us to different escapes and feelings about love.”
He shrugged and the smile was back on his face. “Anyway, my idiot brother cares for you, deeply. I hope you’ll give him a chance to explain.”
Penelope felt heat creep into her cheeks, but she nodded. “Thank you, Anthony.”
He pushed away from the table and tipped his head toward the kitchen. “I think you’re just what he needs and he’s finally seeing that, too.” A little louder he said, “I’m off to help Kate with bedtime, thanks for dinner, Col.”
He winked at Penelope, whistling as he left the room.
Penelope took a deep breath, gathered up their empty espresso cups, and walked into the kitchen.
///////
Colin was drying the pots he’d used for dinner when Penelope came into the kitchen with the empty espresso cups and saucers.
“Is there anything else I can do to help? Should’ve asked that earlier, sorry.”
Colin shook his head, taking the saucers from her hands. “It’s no problem. I enjoy cleaning the kitchen now. Comes with the territory.”
“Surely you have other people to do that now for you?” she teased. “Executive chefs don’t actually do grunt work, right?”
“Good executive chefs do,” he replied with a smirk. “Can’t ask my staff to do something I wouldn’t. Doesn’t exactly build trust in a kitchen.”
Penelope nodded and wiped her palms down the front of her skirt. Colin tracked the movement noting the hint of the top of her knees just below the hem of her skirt.
“Thank you for dinner,” she spoke, drawing Colin’s attention back to her face. It was so lovely: big blue eyes and a smudgy fringe of lashes, round cheeks that held the slightest bit of color, lips he was dying to kiss again. How’d he miss her for so long?
“I’m sorry,” he breathed out.
Penelope frowned. “What for? An excellent dinner?”
“No,” Colin shook his head. “For taking so long to see you and then utterly screwing it up once I did.”
“Oh.” Penelope swallowed hard.
Colin took a deep breath and began. “I thought kissing you and making love to you would be enough to make you understand how I feel about you, but Kate and Anthony were right when they said I needed to tell you how I feel and not just assume you knew. So, I'm saying it now: I love you, Penelope, and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to say it.”
Penelope took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you for your apology, Colin, and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t know how to respond to what you just said.”
Colin frowned. “If the obvious answer doesn’t come to you, then–”
“Please,” Penelope held up a hand. “I have spent what feels like the majority of my life pining for you and loving you from afar while you didn’t even realize I was around. So, forgive me if I’m not quite sure how to believe you suddenly feel this way.”
“It’s not sudden to me.”
“It is to me,” Penelope replied in a rush. “It is when suddenly you’re kissing me and we’re having amazing sex during your sister’s wedding reception and then you just go…silent. Colin we laid there for what felt like forever and you didn’t say anything, and I was supposed to know that you’d developed feelings?”
Colin grabbed the dish towel and dried his hands. “I wouldn’t have just slept with you and risked everything without having feelings for you, Pen. You’re special to me…you’re Pen.”
“You’ve said that to me before,” she said. She shook her head, “those exact words, Colin, and then told everyone around you would never date me. What was I supposed to think?”
“I’m sorry, Pen. I’m so sorry.” Colin pulled at the towel in his hands. “I should’ve…I thought I did tell you. I talked about how I wanted more.”
“You never said you wanted it with me!”
Colin set the towel down and moved closer to her. “Can I say it to you now? Will you believe me? I love you, Penelope. I’m not lying about that.”
“I don’t think you’re lying, Colin, but I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”
Colin swallowed hard. It felt like his world was shattering, but he couldn’t fall apart right now. “So, what does that mean for us?”
“It means I need time. I put you on a pedestal for so long and my feelings for you, they’re real, but they’re also wrapped up in a version of you that probably doesn’t exist.”
“So, does that mean time together or…”
“I’m hoping it means time together, Colin. See this is why talking is not only a good thing, but necessary. I love you, too, Colin, but we need to spend some time figuring this new relationship out.”
Colin moved slowly and grabbed her hand, pulling her into him, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I like the way that sounds.”
“Mhmm,” Penelope said, her ear pressed against his chest. “I can’t help but agree.”
Colin leaned back and trailed his hands up her side until they cupped her face. “I’m happy to prove to you, every day if you let me, just how much I love you.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Penelope whispered just before Colin’s lips descended onto hers.
One and a half years later
“Hurry up, Pen!” Colin led Penelope by the hand away from the marquee and down the slope of the lawn towards the boathouse of the Bridgerton Lake House.
“Colin, honestly! We can’t just leave in the middle of –”
“Oh yes we can, Mrs. Bridgerton. As a matter of fact,” Colin stopped and brought Penelope around to face him. Her face was flushed, smile wide as she shook her head at him. “We can do whatever we want. It’s our wedding reception.”
“Uh huh,” she laughed. “It is, so don’t you think we should be there and not outside of where that’s happening?”
Colin shook his head. “I think what I need, Mrs. Bridgerton, is to see what’s beneath this tease of a dress.”
Penelope looked down at the designer slip dress she’d changed into for the reception then back up to Colin with an arch of her eyebrow. “Colin Bridgerton,” she began. “You will not ruin this dress. Your sister will absolutely maim you if anything happens to this.”
”You should’ve thought of that before you teased me, Mrs. Bridgeton.”
She laughed. “Are you going to call me Penelope ever again? Or am I relegated to Mrs. Bridgerton for the rest of my life?”
“Oh, did you forget already? You just promised to be Mrs. Bridgerton until death do us part, and I mean that, but maybe you can do that thing with your tongue to see how many times you can make me say your name.”
The prettiest flush move down Penelope’s face to settle along the tops of her breasts. “Let’s go, Mr. Bridgerton. We have some new upholstery to ruin.”
Fin