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Penelope isn’t sure what she thought she’d find when she decided to look through Colin’s phone one night, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she scrolls aimlessly through the multitude of apps she has open. One hand holds the device, her thumb doing most of the work, while the other soothes the gentle swell of her pregnant belly, the babe inside kicking and nudging gently.
Maybe she expected a few likes on an instagram model’s pictures, a weird, flirtatious DM to a celebrity, a ‘u up’ text to an old spark, or a nude from some girl he used to meet up with. She prepared her heart for it all before she decided to unlock his phone. Prepared it for the cracks, for the inevitable shatter, for the all-knowing drop she always gets when her intuition is proven correct.
She’d felt an unmistakable distance from Colin these past two weeks, and though he says it’s because of work and the stress of his overbearing family, she can’t help but feel like there’s another reason for his recent absence. Another cause for the growing chasm between them that’s beginning to feel more and more expected as the days drag on.
She’s been searching for a little over half an hour now, the screen illuminating her pouting face in the dark of their bedroom. The clock reads 1:07am but it doesn’t feel like it is past midnight. Her heart is racing and her stomach is swarming with butterflies, anxiety taking root in her chest.
She feels crazy. Unworthy. Despicable. Shameful.
Why can’t she find anything? Why is there nothing here? Why hasn’t he spoken to anyone but her and his family in the past month? And why are the only recent photos he has saved ones of food, her, and the ultrasound from last week’s appointment?
It’s almost worse not finding anything than actually finding evidence of something. Because that would not only mean she’s wrong, but at some point, for some ungodly reason, she had lost faith in him. In Colin. In her loving, adoring, selfless husband.
The man she’s grown up with, the man she knows inside and out, the man who cherishes her more than he does his mothers strawberry shortcake—and that was saying something.
How could she doubt him? How could she betray his trust like this, searching through his phone secretly like some untrusting hookup expecting to find a wife and kids on the other side—only she is the wife. And she is having his kid.
She’s so pathetic. So stupid and paranoid and worthless—
“Pen?” She hears from her left side, her tear-filled eyes widening as she clutches the phone to her chest and swiftly turns it off.
“What’re you doing up?” He asks, his voice a raspy whisper as he rolls onto his side to face her. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fighting back a yawn but ultimately failing to conceal it.
“Nothing,” she says quickly, the word tumbling out faster than she intends. She shoves her hand under his pillow and drops his phone there before yanking it back as if she’d been burned. “I’m sleeping. Goodnight!” She shifts quickly and turns her back to him, lying down and squeezing her eyes shut. She hopes it somehow makes it harder to see her, harder to read her.
A heavy silence settles between them as he takes in her words, unmoving while he stares at her back. A few seconds pass til he decides to shift, the sheets rustling as he reaches underneath his pillow and fishes for whatever she’d shoved underneath it.
She curls into herself further, her heart shrinking into a small, irrelevant speck of nothingness. Should she run to get water and just sleep on the couch? Can she sneak out of here quick enough?
“Were you looking through my phone?” He asks, clicking it on and unlocking it with one hand. He scrolls through the many apps she’d opened, his frown evident in his tone. She pulls the covers tighter around her figure, feeling him sit up. “Why?”
“I-I was looking for our wedding pictures,” she whispers, flinching the moment it hits the open air.
She didn’t mean to say that. She didn’t mean to lie.
But…she also didn’t want to tell him the truth, so, what exactly was she going to say if not lie?
“…Why are my texts open then?”
“Oh, they are?”
She flinches again.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking shit this is not how this was supposed to go.
“Penelope, baby,” he exasperates, clearly too tired to play along with whatever she’s trying to get away with. He pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”
“I’m not shutting you out, I’m trying to sleep,” she explains, but he scoffs and lightly smacks her butt with the back of his hand.
“Pen. Come on, be real with me.”
She huffs and burrows into her pillow, remaining stubbornly avoidant. He sighs and sinks back into the mattress, silence taking over the room yet again.
She wants to say something to break this awkwardness between them, to somehow ease the transition into talking about it. Because they always talk about it, they never leave anything left unsaid anymore. Not since they married. Not since they promised to always be truthful and trusting of one another.
And yet, she’s betrayed both in a single night. In a single moment.
She feels him roll off the bed after a minute, the mattress dipping before bouncing back and settling once more. He opens the door and closes it behind him as he leaves, the harsh click resounding deep in her hollow chest and fracturing her heart in two.
She’s such a disgusting woman.
A horrid, no good, spineless woman that doesn’t know how to be happy with all that she’s been given. So what if he was cheating on her? Could she really blame him? Why wouldn’t he seek out comfort from another woman when all she seems to do is mess everything up? When she looks like this—acts like this—thinks like this.
The tears flood her pillow before she realizes she’s even crying, the cool, plush surface making her shiver as she sniffles and hides her face in it, trying to keep the single spot damp while the rest remains fluffy and dry.
Will he sleep on the couch? Will this be the beginning of their end? The first crack in their once unshakable foundation? How long does she have until he serves her the divorce papers? Will he wait until after Agatha is born? Why wouldn’t he do it before? Why wouldn’t he just get it over with?
The door opens a few minutes later, his feet shuffling as he returns into the room. She inhales sharply, her spiraling forced to come to a halt. She hiccups slightly as she rubs her face against the pillow, sniffling as she tries to stop the sobbing, stop the tears. She wishes she could suck them back up to save her from the embarrassment.
“Oh my god, Pen,” Colin rushes over before the door fully closes behind him, a glass of ice water in his hand. He sits at her side and puts a hand on her shoulder, but she flinches away and sniffles again, hiding herself under the covers. He sets the water down on the bedside table.
“Are you okay? What happened? Is it the baby?” He looks her body over with creased brows, panic in his tone. “What should I do? What do you need me to do?”
“Just leave,” she sobs, hiccuping pathetically. “Leave me alone, please.”
She can feel him stiffen beside her at her request, feel his body hesitate to obey. He clears his throat and taps her hip carefully, clearly wanting to hold her but unsure if she’d allow him to.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not leaving you. I can…I can sit away from you if you’d like, but I’m not going anywhere.”
That makes her cry harder, if only because her twisted little mind is telling her it’s simply because of the pregnancy, and nothing more. He’d be gone by now if it weren’t for that. He probably thinks she’s insane. Horrible, idiotic, delusional—
“Pen?” Colin swallows thickly, his nail scratching at the bedsheets impatiently. “Penelope, please, can I hold you? Will that help?”
She shakes her head furiously and burrows deeper into the blankets, half on Colin’s side at this point. He grumbles his disapproval but scoots closer, reaching for her again. “Please? You can stay in the blankets, I just need to hold you. I need to hold both of you.”
‘Both of you’ he says, but she’s sure he means only the baby. Their sweet little Agatha. His lovely little daughter.
He’s always wanted to be a girl dad. He’s said before that he’d be happy with whatever gender they have, but for some reason he really wants a girl. He wants the tea parties and nail polish, the frizzy hair days and to play dress up. He wants to be there for her ballet lessons and her first time trying on makeup. He wants to watch her leave the house with her date before prom and embarrass her by taking too many pictures. He wants to walk her down the aisle when it’s time for her to start her own family, and kiss her cheek goodbye before handing her off. (Though, he’s said he hated that term because he’d never ‘hand her off.’)
Penelope huffs and pushes her belly toward him in approval, assuming he’s going to shimmy down and cradle her there. Instead, he lifts both legs onto the bed and pulls her body close, his arms wrapping around her shoulders and head. He kisses the blankets beside her eyes, then kisses where she assumes he thinks her nose is (it was actually her cheek), and then he exhales heavily and sinks into the mattress with her.
“I love you,” he whispers near her forehead, pecking the blankets again. “I love you so much, Pen.”
She shakes her head petulantly, sniffling and trembling as she cries harder. He shushes her and strokes his hand up and down her spine. “I do. I love how brave you are, and how thoughtful. I love your smile and how perfectly you fit in my arms.” He kisses the blankets near her eyes again, her body curling closer to his, trying to calm down. “And I love your curiosity. Your intuition. Your need to know everything. You’re brilliant, Pen, you know that, right? The sweetest, smartest person I know. Truly.”
“Stop, Colin,” she says between muffled cries, but he doesn’t. He nuzzles closer to her and sighs.
“Talk to me,” he whispers, desperation laced in his voice. “Please, Pen, tell me what’s wrong.”
“You’ve been weird, lately,” she admits between sniffles, doing her best to breathe through her tears. “You’re always on your phone when you’re home. You're gone for hours when you leave, you’re staying late at Ben’s, you’re going over to Anthony’s, now and you never go over there unless—” she hiccups, rubbing at her nose as a shudder shoots through her. “…We-we used to go together… we used to do everything together…”
He hums in understanding, his hand soothing circles along her back. “I’m sorry,” he says without hesitation, pulling her closer to his chest so he can slot the top of her head under his chin. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’ve been asking them questions about the pregnancy and some other family stuff—“
“But I’m part of the family! I’m the one who’s pregnant! I should be involved!” She sobs, her arms struggling to wrap around him because of the blanket, so she settles for pressing her hands against his abdomen. “Why are you leaving me alone? Why are you acting distant?”
She feels him swallow and tighten his embrace. She squirms slightly and moves to pull the blanket off from her head. He releases her enough to allow her to do so, watching as she huffs and fixes her tangled mess of red curls. She wipes her eyes roughly, her gaze flitting between his and his bicep, but Colin continues to stare directly at her, his expression somber and thoughtful.
He’s slow when he lifts his hand to cup her cheek. Takes his time as his thumb caresses just under her eye, his nail grazing her wet lashes while she blinks, and waits.
“I’ve been feeling…off, lately,” he admits hesitantly, as if he’s worried to voice it aloud. “Like, depressed, I guess? But, grief related.”
Penelope’s brows furrows, her hand raising to his cupping her cheek. “Grief related?”
He nods, glancing down to her lips. Another exhale and he looks away, shaking his head. “It’s silly, really, and I didn’t want to mention anything that might upset you because of Agatha.”
She scoffs at that, her nose scrunching up unintentionally. “Right. So hiding your feelings from me was the right move, was it?”
“Sorry,” he shrinks with a nervous, obviously fake laugh, his hand moving down from her cheek to feel her tummy. “I didn’t think I was being that obvious. I thought I was managing just fine.”
“Well, you’re not,” she grumbles, irritation prickling at her skin even as she knows it shouldn’t. “Tell me what’s wrong. Why have you been depressed?”
A small silence settles over them, his hand rubbing over her belly idly while he stares down at it with a distinct expression, almost dazed. He clears his throat and closes his eyes, sinking further into the bed, and her.
“Dad didn’t get the chance to meet Edmund Jr…” he whispers like he’s ashamed to say it, a shudder leaving him that she knows he meant to restrain. “Or Miles, or Charles, and now he won’t meet Agatha, either. He never got to meet any of his grandchildren—children I know he would’ve adored, and cherished and spoiled. He would’ve loved them all so much, Pen, and he—” He shakes his head at himself and clears his throat, kissing her cheek shakily. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t want to upset you.”
“Upset me?” Penelope asks incredulously, pulling back just enough for their eyes to meet. “Colin, you are clearly the one upset here. Why do you keep apologizing?”
“You’re pregnant,” he says pointedly, attempting to match her tone but failing rather miserably at it. “Ben and Ant said I shouldn't cause you any unnecessary worry and I mean, it’s not like we can do anything about my dad being dead, you know? It just—it feels so ridiculous to feel like this when you are carrying our baby. When you have been doing all the heavy lifting, lately.”
She clicks her tongue with a roll of her eyes, patting his chest. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I can’t listen to my husband’s concerns. What if I told you I’ve been sad about the fact that my dad doesn’t get the chance to meet Aggie, huh? You’d be a little upset I didn’t share that with you, wouldn’t you?”
“Because you’re not supposed to bottle it in,” he grumbles, avoiding her eyes as he sinks back into her embrace. “You’re carrying a whole baby, Pen. I’m—…I’m supposed to be ‘the man’.”
“Oooh, right. And men are supposed to bottle it in. That’s what’s working for them nowadays, yeah?”
He chuckles at her sarcastic tone, nipping at her neck and making her giggle.
“I’m being serious! That works, right? Keeping it all inside and never sharing your feelings with your wife?”
“No,” he says begrudgingly, squeezing her form as he starts to stroke her belly once again. “It doesn’t work.”
She nods, eyeing him with playful sternness. “So, you’ll tell me when you’re feeling down so I don’t have to look through your phone thinking you cheated?”
He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back. “I knew that’s what you were doing! Baby, you know I could never—“
“So you’ll tell me when you’re feeling down so I don’t have to look through your phone thinking you cheated, right?” She repeats tersely, eyes narrowing as she waits for him to nod his head and say ‘yes ma’am’ like he always does after they have a small disagreement and he can’t help but be elated they made up again.
He does, of course, after chuckling boyishly and kissing her cheek in surrender.
“Yes ma’am,” he coos, melting into her embrace as her arms pull him back down to her. Her fingers thread through his hair, letting her nails graze his scalp the way she knows he likes. He muffles a pleased moan and kisses her cleavage.
“Seriously, though. Please know I could never cheat on you. The thought of it genuinely makes me sick to my stomach.”
She snorts slightly, unable to hide her smile. “I know. I’m sorry for thinking the worst. My hormones have been everywhere recently. I’ll work on it.”
He muffles a soft hum against her skin. “I’m sorry. And you don’t have to, I should've communicated better. Like you said, it doesn't work when I bottle it in. We don’t work if I bottle it in. So it wouldn’t be any better if you started doing it, instead.”
She exhales but nods all the same, digging her nose into the top of his head and inhaling deeply. “You’re right.”
They lay in silence for several minutes, neither bothering to move aside from the occasional kiss or nuzzle. After a moment, Penelope tilts her head back, petting his head for his attention.
“I know it wouldn’t be the same,” she begins, glancing off in thought. “But we could get the family and kids together at the grave sometime. Have a small picnic to welcome Agatha into the world? After a few weeks, of course. She would still need time to adjust and I'd want some recovery time before having to sit on a blanket.”
Colin’s eyes sparkle, his lips stretching into a wide, beaming smile. He chuckles a bit and strokes her stomach, shimmying and bending down to kiss where his hand is. “We can bring a lawn chair? I saw some really nice ones at Costco. You kick your feet up and it turns into a hammock.”
Penelope rolls her eyes with a laugh. “Are you sure we’d be getting it for me and not for you?”
He shrugs innocently, continuing to litter her stomach with affectionate kisses. “You can use it for the picnic and I can use it for everything after.”
She feigns offence and lightly slaps his back. “Oh, really? And what about soccer practices? Or pool parties, or fireworks? Or our second child?”
He sighs dramatically. “Fine. This picnic, and a few other exceptions.”
“Mhmm, thought so,” she says, returning her hand to his hair and closing her eyes once again. As she drifts to sleep, she hears Colin sing quietly to her belly, the lyrics muffled against her skin while his thumb strokes over her nightgown soothingly.
It’s the best sleep she's had in weeks.