Chapter Text
“Charlie’s here!” Penelope’s daughter Hazel exclaimed as she caught sight of her best friend. Seconds later, Pen found herself being towed across the parking lot of Hazel’s preschool. It was a nature-based curriculum, which meant lots of time outdoors and learning in a more natural environment. Eloise called it an ‘overpriced crunchy-granola school for rich wannabe hippies’ but Hazel loved it, therefore it was worth every penny.
The crisp fall air bit her cheeks, but she welcomed the chill and the smell in the air that just felt like Fall. Out of habit, she glanced at Hazel’s mouth and noted her lips were slightly blue.
The same old anxiety spiked in her before she could tamp it down. It was cold outside; of course Hazel’s lips were blue. It happened every time the temperature started to drop. The fact that the preschooler refused to wear her heavy coat, insisting her teddy-bear hoodie was warm enough, didn’t help matters.
It’s good for her, Penelope reminded herself as she allowed Hazel to lead her to the door of the school. She needs to feel like a normal kid.
Normal.
Hazel would never know what it was like to run and play like ‘normal’ kids. She would always bring up the rear in any physical activity, always need more rest breaks than her peers. Hazel’s heart would never function normally. And yet, Penelope had to set all that aside.
Hazel deserved as normal a childhood as possible. She deserved to take dance classes or gymnastics or soccer, whatever she chose to do, for as long as she felt able to do it.
And so, Penelope brought her fragile, medically compromised little girl to a school full of two dozen other germ-laden children, in the name of normalcy.
She was still reminding herself of the overall benefit of her decision when Hazel’s friend Charlie approached, towing her father just as Hazel had done to Penelope.
“Charlie!” Hazel excitedly exclaimed, throwing her arms around her dearest friend.
“Hazel!” Charlie returned, hugging her back with equal enthusiasm. Anyone looking at them would have thought they’d been separated for months instead of just the weekend.
The teacher was just unlocking the front door for the children to enter.
“Let’s go check on the guinea pig!” Charlie suggested as she took Hazel’s hand and led her inside. Hazel struggled to keep up but didn’t seem overly bothered by it, so Penelope tried not to be either.
She busied herself hanging up Hazel’s coat and backpack and digging her lunchbox out to stick in the fridge.
“How’s Hazel doing with this cold snap?” Audrey, one of the teachers, asked.
Penelope shrugged a shoulder. “Same as usual. Her lips are bluer than I’d like.”
“Anything we need to be concerned with?”
“If she’s been running around or isn’t warm enough, it’s normal. If she’s been sitting quietly and is warm and she’s still blue, call me.”
Audrey nodded. “Will do. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Pen sighed. “Just…try not to let her know you’re doing it. She gets angry enough when I do it. School is supposed to be her safe place where her mom isn’t watching her every moment of the day.”
Audrey saluted. “Covert mission. Got it.”
Pen was laughing to herself and straightening Hazel’s coat when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Covert mission? Is this a spy school now?”
It was Charlie’s father, as well as Penelope’s friend Eloise’s oldest brother, Anthony Bridgerton. They’d gotten into the habit of chatting at drop-off in the mornings. Though she and Eloise were best friends growing up, the ten-year age gap combined with Anthony’s responsibilities with his media company meant they spent very little time in each other’s company.
It had been quite the surprise when Penelope showed up on the first day of the school year and found Anthony dropping off his youngest, Charlotte (called Charlie by nearly everyone but her parents).
“Uh…something like that,” Pen said, ignoring the way her stomach did a little flip when he gave her his usual crooked smile. “It’s called the Blue Lip Patrol.”
Anthony leaned against the cubby shelves, arms folded. “Is that like the Paw Patrol, but with more anxiety and fewer adorable vehicles?”
“Pretty much,” Penelope said, zipping Hazel’s backpack with slightly more force than necessary. “Minus the catchy theme song and pricey merch. Though I wouldn’t turn down a special appearance from Dr. Shenanigans, the cardiologist dog.”
Anthony grinned, pushing a hand through his neatly arranged dark brown hair. “If you’re not writing children's books in your spare time, you’ve missed your calling.”
“Tempting,” she said with a smile, “but I think Hazel’s medical file could already qualify as a novel–and not a short one.”
His smile dimmed just a fraction, something behind his eyes softening. “El said she was doing well. Has something come up?”
Penelope hesitated, unsure how much to say. They were friendly—sure. Drop-off allies, playground banter buddies, vaguely connected through Eloise. But sharing the full weight of her morning calculations—the color of Hazel’s lips, the quality of her breath, the stubborn refusal of a coat—felt too intimate for a hallway conversation.
“She’s okay,” she said at last. “Just tired. The cold never helps.”
Anthony nodded like he understood more than she expected. “Charlotte used to get nosebleeds in the winter. Not the same thing, obviously, but it made her terrified of going outside for a while. She thought the cold air was trying to kill her.”
Penelope gave a small, surprised laugh. “Poor kid.”
“She’s dramatic. Gets it from her mother.”
No way was Penelope stepping on that conversational land-mine. She glanced at him sidelong. “And what does she get from you?”
Anthony smirked. “The winning smile. And an unshakable belief that breakfast should include at least one chocolate-based food group and as much sugar as possible.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.”
They stood there for a moment in the quiet hum of post-drop-off lull. The kids’ laughter echoed faintly from down the hall, and the smell of instant coffee and dry erase markers filled the air.
Anthony shifted his weight. “My morning schedule is pretty light, so I’m heading to the café on Maple for an espresso. Can I treat you to something? Muffin? Tea? Scone that wishes it were a muffin?”
She blinked. That flutter again. “You’re offering me caffeine?”
“I’m offering you a ten-minute reprieve from worrying,” he said, softer now. “Wrapped in a paper cup and possibly too much sugar.”
Her mouth curved before she could stop it. “Then yes. Coffee sounds nice. And if they have the pumpkin cream cheese muffins, I won’t say no.”
He gave her a salute that somehow didn’t feel ridiculous on him. “Your wish is my breakfast command. It’s just around the corner, across from that fancy wine store that just went in last month.”
“I know it,” she assured him. “I’ll meet you there.”
He nodded and reached into his pocket for his keys. “See you soon then,” he said before making his exit.
She turned quickly away from the window, pretending to reorganize Hazel’s cubby, trying to calm the blush creeping up her neck.
It was just coffee, she told herself. Friendly muffins.
No big deal.
Except for how it kind of was.
It wasn’t until Penelope got back in her car that she realized she’d managed to spend a whole half hour not thinking about the very positive pregnancy test sitting in the back of the drawer in her bathroom vanity.
The drawer that always stuck.
She blinked at the steering wheel, the weight of that realization chilling her mood like a dousing of ice-cold water.
It was one last parting gift from Alfred, her ex-husband (official as of six weeks ago). The break-up sex had sounded like such a good idea at the time. And now she was paying for it. Penelope put her hand on her lower belly automatically, protecting the tiny life that she already wanted and loved, despite the fact that it threw a monkey-wrench into everything.
What the hell was she thinking, going to coffee with a nice man like Anthony when everything around her was in such upheaval? Between Hazel’s medical issues and this pregnancy, any man in his right mind would run away as fast as he could. Anthony was kind and patient and funny–at least with her (from what Eloise said, this was not common behavior). He was the kind of man who deserved a woman without added complications.
And yet, she still turned on her car, pulled out of the parking lot, and headed to that little coffee shop on Maple. She was a junkie, chasing her next high, except it wasn’t drugs; it was the chance to forget, just for a few minutes, what a mess she’d made of her life.