Archive of Our Own

It was always raining in London, but October was particularly wet. It was perfect for staying in and cozying up with a cup of tea and a worn-out hardcover novel Penelope had read at least 22 times—though those relaxing evenings were few and far between for her.

“That thing is going to kill you one day, you know.” Penelope sighed, rolling her eyes as she watched her colleague crack open his third energy drink of the shift.

Granted, their workdays were longer than what most people considered typical. Twelve-hour night shifts on a rotating schedule were not for the faint of heart—and neither was that amount of caffeine and taurine. But he proceeded to chug down his drink, ignoring his partner’s warning.

“Too late.” Colin smirked. “I’m already dead inside.”

“Gosh, you’re so dramatic.” She let out a dry chuckle.

“Anything to keep you entertained, Featherington,” Colin replied, elbowing her lightly.

Penelope rolled her eyes again, shoving her hands into the pockets of her forest-green polyester jacket as she took a seat beside him in the back of their rig.

She was surprised her eyes weren’t permanently stuck at the back of her head at this point, after working side by side with Colin for over a decade.

Colin was the first of the two to join the London Ambulance Service. He could have followed practically any career path in the world, thanks to whatever the first Viscount Bridgerton had done hundreds of years earlier to be granted a title and a ridiculous amount of land. But for better or worse, he chose to ride an ambulance and file reports for a living.

To the outside world, it sounded insane.

To him, it was the only thing that had ever made sense.

Because a teenager tragically losing his dad to a sudden allergic reaction certainly did not make any. He spent years blaming the paramedics for not arriving sooner. It wasn’t fair, but grief is not known to be considerate. It made him bitter and difficult at first—getting into trouble, acting out at school, letting out everything he held back at home for the sake of his mum and younger siblings.

So he made it his life’s mission to spare someone that kind of pain.

Penelope’s reason for joining the service had not been nearly as altruistic. When she came to it in her mid-twenties, it was supposed to be temporary—nothing more than a stepping stone toward a shiny career in medicine, a way to get as close as she could to real-life experience before becoming a doctor.

But somewhere along the way, she stayed.

Half the time, she wasn’t sure why.

The other half insisted she had become addicted to the immediacy of it.

For someone who had unfinished crochet projects celebrating their sixth birthday inside the wicker basket in her living room, collecting dust—and a draft for a novel she started when she still had a Macintosh—having a job she could do from start to finish almost immediately brought her a unique kind of satisfaction.

Helping people while doing it was nice, too.

Over the years, Penelope had gone back and forth about her decision, waiting for the perfect circumstances to take the next step—circumstances that never came. Then, when she turned forty, it was as though she had finally hit some invisible personal threshold. Weirdly, all it took was waking up one morning with pain in her elbow and having no idea where it had come from to realize she did not want to turn her life upside down. 

She was actually fine with how things were.

“Your phone’s been buzzing nonstop tonight,” Penelope teased, glancing over at whatever Colin was typing. “I thought you said you were done with dating apps.”

“I am,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s Amanda.”

“Is she alright?” Penelope asked, instantly concerned. “It’s not like her to text in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah, but I asked her to check in. She’s at a college party.” Colin sighed. “It’s supposed to get easier when they grow up and move out, right?”

“Well… At least you’re already awake for work anyway,” Penelope offered with a small smile.

“I guess the one good thing about this party is that it’s happening during our shift.”

“And if there’s any emergency, it’ll be us on the scene,” Penelope said, trying to cheer him up. “But there won’t be one. Trust me, the most noteworthy thing happening tonight is the chili Remington’s making from scratch for dinner.”

“Mm. Is it still considered cooking if he’s just dumping all the ingredients into a slow cooker?” Colin raised an eyebrow, a small grin tugging at his lips.

“Of course it is cooking! It’s all about the combination of ingredients, the right quantities. It’s not just carelessly throwing things in a pot and hoping for the best,” Penelope defended, a bit too fiercely.

Colin chuckled and put his phone away. He braced one hand behind him, leaning back slightly, while the other lifted the can of energy drink to his mouth every so often.

“What is so funny?” Penelope asked when he stayed quiet for far too long—or more precisely, about three-quarters of a minute.

“I knew you’d get all worked up about it. It’s cute.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, pushing him away playfully. “And don’t call me cute.”

“Objection—I said your reaction was cute,” he countered with a teasing grin.

“And my face is an integral part of my reaction. Inevitable. Unignorable.” She grinned back.

“Maybe. But why can’t I call you cute in the first place?”

“Is that an admission?”

“Simply a question. How am I supposed to know if I’m breaking the law if I don’t know what the law is?”

“I am the law,” Penelope said in her best deep, Sylvester Stallone voice—which honestly, was not very good.

“Judge Dredd, 1995,” Colin replied smugly.

“Ugh, I hate you.” She looked up, pretending to be more frustrated than she was.

“Pay up, Featherington.”

Colin handed her the plastic jar they kept in the ambulance. It was a sort of swear jar, but for pop culture references. They slipped trivia into their conversations for the other to guess without context, and whoever missed the reference had to add money to the jar—or, in this case, if the other guessed correctly, the one who made the reference had to pay. 

It was one of many silly things Colin and Penelope took far too seriously. They started it a few years back to pass the time, after all there was only so much to talk about when you spent more one-on-one time with your coworker than anyone else. Each year they picked a different theme, and this one was movies.

“You have way too much space in your head to remember movie lines from thirty years ago,” Penelope sighed dramatically, dropping coins from her pocket into the jar.

“Pfft. First, 1995 was not thirty years ago. Second, you practically handed it to me on a silver platter with your Stallone impression. And third, we won’t even be able to buy a sausage roll if you keep contributing only pocket change.”

“First, it both astounds and terrifies me that you can’t do math, because it was thirty years ago,” she shot back in the same teasing tone. “Second, it was an awful impression. And third, who carries cash anymore?”

Before Colin could properly argue any of her points, his phone buzzed again. He reached for it quickly, not expecting another check-in text from Amanda so soon. His eyes scanned the screen and he went quiet.

Penelope got anxious. “Is it Amanda again?”

“No… it’s, uh, a friend of mine from college. He works crazy hours too, but at the hospital.”

She blinked. “Wow, all this time working together and I had no idea you had friends outside of your family.”

“Ouch. Of course I have friends outside of my family.”

“How come you haven’t mentioned him before, then?”

“He’s been away…” Colin shrugged. “He just moved back to London.”

“Even more suspicious.” Penelope crossed her arms, tapping her chin lightly with her finger. “Where did he move from? Is he running away from someone? Or from the government? Which government?”

Colin laughed—fully and openly. Penelope always knew exactly what to say to cut his tension.

“He’s a doctor, Featherington. Not a malfunctioning, thirty-million-dollar weapon.”

“Ha! The Bourne Identity!” Penelope said brightly, then scrunched her nose. “Two thousand… two?”

“2002,” Colin confirmed, adding a couple of bills to the jar, ones that looked suspiciously like fifty-pound notes.

“Are you mad? Why do you have that much on you? Do you forget we work out in the streets in the middle of the night?”

“The rig is bulletproof, is it not?” He raised his brow, pretending to be serious for a second, but then grinned.

“Very funny. This is not a combat zone, Bridgerton. At most, we get a stab-proof vest.”

“See? So we’re fine. Now we can at least afford a proper lunch date.” Colin closed the jar and gave it a small shake for emphasis.

Just as every year the trivia theme changed, so did the purpose of the money they collected. The first year, they’d decided to donate it to charity—but since they already gave regularly, they started using the jar for things they would not normally spend money on, but still wanted to try. Or at least should.

The London Eye.

The Mail Rail at the Postal Museum.

Bungee jumping from Tower Bridge.

And more recently, a date.

A double date, to be precise.

One where they would set each other up.

Penelope couldn’t quite remember how they had come up with the idea. She wanted to say it had been a drunken decision at happy hour, but she suspected it was some stupid resolution they’d made while working New Year’s.

Their shift that night had been wild between all the parties and reckless behavior—but somewhere between all that chaos, they helped a woman give birth in an alley behind a pub. For a brief moment, it had filled them with a strange kind of hope. A sense of enthusiasm for the unexpected that had somehow turned into “we should start dating again.”

Before, it wasn’t something either of them would have eagerly—or even willingly—signed up for. After Colin’s divorce from hell and Penelope’s divorce from just a few blocks down from it, the last thing they wanted was to bring a significant other into their already chaotic lives.

It was far too complicated.

No one ever seemed to understand the nature of their jobs—or the nature of their relationship, for that matter.

Penelope absolutely hated it when Alfred called Colin her “work husband.” She wasn’t naïve, she knew why people used the term. But when it came from her own husband, it felt offensive. Passive-aggressive. As if she had deliberately chosen to spend time with Colin instead of him.

She met Alfred early in her paramedic career, after bringing in a patient. He was a consultant psychiatrist at the hospital at the time, and they hit it off almost instantly after he made a turnip joke. She casually mentioned she was considering becoming a doctor, and the next thing she knew, they were sharing a flat.

And when she kept postponing that plan, things had started to crumble.

Now, in hindsight, she sometimes wondered if all she had been to him was a failed pet project. The kind you abandon halfway through. One where the hamster doesn’t make it back to the classroom for show-and-tell.

Not that he would ever admit it. 

It was simply easier to blame Colin.

“A proper lunch date,” Penelope exhaled, finally replying to Colin’s remark. “That’s not an awful idea. Casual enough. You know what would be even more casual? A coffee shop date.”

“Are you intimidated by dinner dates?” Colin asked, genuinely curious.

“We work at night, remember?”

“Not every night.”

“Yeah, but when we’re off, I just want the night to myself to decompress. Which my loving ex-husband took as a personal attack—me wanting alone time.” She said it with a self-deprecating edge, looking down at her foot as she nudged at an imaginary rock. “Ugh. I don’t want to date anyone. Why are we trying to date again?”

“Because I delivered a baby and your hormones went into overdrive?” Colin teased, earning a swat to his arm that landed more on the painful side than playful.

“Do I have to recite the entire Yellow Ambulance Code of Conduct to you tonight? No calling me cute, and no talking about my hormones. I still can’t believe we need a rule for that one, honestly.”

“I was just answering your question.” He raised his hands in surrender. “And it’s not my fault your period tracker syncs with my calendar for some reason.”

“You could always choose not to comment on it.”

“I don’t… I just bring you dark chocolate and peppermint tea.”

Penelope smiled. Colin always made it impossible to stay mad at him for long. But she could never miss an opportunity to mess with him, either.

“One could argue that doing that is a type of commentary. Commentary through… exhibits.”

“Wow. You really missed your calling as a barrister.”

“Maybe. But you wouldn’t survive one day in this job without me.” She said it lightly, but Colin’s expression didn’t shift.

“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t survive without you. Period.”

Penelope was caught off guard by that, but she believed him. She knew it was true, because it was exactly how she felt about him.

Lovers could come and go.

But she and Colin were meant to be in each other’s lives forever.

“And before you hit me again, that was not a period comment. It was an actual period. As in, a punctuation mark,” Colin added in a mock-serious tone, making Penelope laugh.

“I appreciate the clarification.”

“I’m a good boy. I can follow your instructions.”

“Sure you can. So, does that mean you’re good with a coffee shop date?”

“Whatever makes you happy, Featherington.”

“Now you’re asking for too much. Happy is… a lot. I’m just trying to follow through on that one thing my ovaries got excited about back in January.”

“Hey, you follow through on a lot of things. It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind since then.”

“I follow through on work things. Mostly because there are hard, cold consequences if I don’t. Personal things? I’m a professional procrastinator.”

“A professional nonetheless,” he grinned. “But don’t talk about my favorite person like that.”

Penelope smiled to herself and shifted a little closer, resting her head on his shoulder.

Every once in a while, they had quiet moments like this where they didn’t need to say anything to feel understood.

At least until the next radio call pulled them back to reality.

—

Colin knew he had to seriously dial back his energy drink consumption. When it wasn’t Penelope keeping tabs on how many cans he went through in a shift, now he had Amanda sending him articles about the health risks. It was sweet, really. He was more than grateful she was still close to him after his divorce from Marina—even if it meant being reprimanded via the British Medical Journal every now and then.

He thought it was funny how kids these days were so much more health-conscious than he had ever been at their age. He supposed he should be thankful for that, too.

When he met Marina, Amanda and Oliver were almost two years old. Their father and her former fiancé had died in a car crash shortly after they were born, and Marina had never quite recovered from it. Colin couldn’t blame her for that, and he never had. He knew first hand what his mum went through when his dad passed away unexpectedly. 

So he showed up for Marina. For the kids. Raised them as his own.

He accepted it, and they had a good thing going on for a while. 

He drew the line when she accused him of being the one who wasn’t fully committed to their marriage because of his demanding career.

And his “work wife,” Penelope.

He laughed every time she said it. Not to her face, obviously—he wasn’t that insensitive. Growing up in a house full of women had taught him when to simply nod and not to get dragged into the weeds. But Marina’s jealousy had pushed him over the edge.

Yes, he and Penelope were close—but no more than any partners working under constant pressure and trauma. They showed up, did their job, and went home.

Penelope and Alfred had even attended the twins’ birthday parties over the years, which had led to Penelope striking up a friendship with his siblings. And if he was being honest, that was probably where half of Marina’s jealousy came from. She had never quite connected with his family in the same way. Not that his family had ever treated her poorly. Amanda and Oliver had always been thoroughly spoiled by his mum and siblings alike.

Eventually, they stopped pretending there was anything left to salvage. When the twins went off to university, they decided it was time to go their separate ways as well. 

Amanda stayed in touch. Oliver, less so. He had taken Marina’s side—which felt ridiculous, as if there were “sides” to begin with, but that was how it had felt.

Now, a few years into the divorce, Colin had settled into something like a comfortable rhythm.

And it was on the verge of being disrupted.

All because of Penelope.

Or her hormones, which he was absolutely not supposed to mention under any circumstance.

“Who had the idea to schedule this coffee thing right after a shift?” Penelope complained as they stood in the locker room, gathering their things before heading to the showers.

“You said you didn’t want to do it on your day off. So it had to be after a shift,” Colin pointed out.

“People go to coffee shops in the afternoon too. It’s a concept,” she shot back.

“Your friend couldn’t do the afternoon, remember? Next time, you try coordinating the schedule of a doctor, a nurse, and two EMTs.”

“Just when I thought I was over the fact you were setting me up with a doctor of all people,” she sighed, shutting her locker.

“He’s a good guy, okay? You can’t let your douche ex ruin the entire species for you. He was barely a doctor anyway.”

“That is so disrespectful,” Penelope gasped, half-laughing. “I’ll be sure to mention to Dr. Baek-Bridgerton that you don’t think psychiatrists are real doctors.”

“Mm. I think you’re the one with the bias here.” He bopped her nose lightly with his finger. “I wasn’t dissing all psychiatrists—I was offending Dr. Alfalfa specifically.”

“Nice save, Bridgerton. But I know you too well.” She smirked, bopping his nose back.

Colin chuckled, planting his hands on his hips and shaking his head. “You know what? I’m going to take a shower. You should do the same so we’re not late.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a classic case of deflection.”

“Meet you on the other side.” 

—

Colin and Penelope arrived at the coffee shop first. They got a table by the window and sat side by side after a lengthy back-and-forth about what would be ideal—sitting across or next to their date. Penelope argued that sitting across would allow for better eye contact, while Colin claimed he’d read in a study that couples who sit next to each other at restaurants have more successful relationships.

As usual, Penelope won the argument.

Made sense. He knew she wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship.

Unless she was looking for one with him, since she had chosen to sit next to him. But he didn’t dare let his thoughts wander too far down that path.

This was just how they were.

She was his longest relationship anyway—and vice versa. They’d already been working together for a year before either of them met their now ex-spouses.

Penelope was the constant in his life. Like the sun rising in the morning and setting in the afternoon. And it was scientifically proven that life without the sun was impossible.

“£12 for a cup of coffee?!” Penelope exclaimed, scanning the menu. “What’s in it, gold leaf?”

“That would be £33, actually,” Colin said, amused, resting his arm along the back of her chair.

She scoffed. “I know the goal of the trivia jar is to spend money on things we wouldn’t normally splurge on, but this is… excessive. How did you even find this place?”

“It’s not excessive, it’s Colombian. Everything’s imported, that’s the point.” Colin shrugged. “Amanda saw it on TikitiTok and sent it to me.”

Penelope snorted. “TikitiTok. Every day you sound more like Anthony, and not in a flattering way.”

“That’s what it’s called, isn’t it?”

Before she could reply, Penelope spotted her friend entering the shop.

“Eddy! It’s so good to see you, it’s been way too long.” She stood and pulled her into a hug. “This is Colin. Colin, this is Edwina.”

“Hi, pleasure to meet you,” Colin said, shaking her hand lightly.

“Nice to meet you too. Wow, you’re taller than I imagined,” Edwina replied, taking a seat across from Penelope.

Colin found it strange that she hadn’t sat across from him instead. Maybe she was put off by his height. Or maybe she had simply missed her friend and was more interested in catching up with Penelope than listening to him and his dumb food jokes.

He was fine with that, actually.

He had no idea what he was supposed to talk about. Meeting someone new felt exhausting. If only there were a way to skip straight past demographics, education, work history, and immunizations, and get to the part where you already knew each other.

He wasn’t as opposed to dating as Penelope was. He did miss having someone to share life with outside of work. He just didn’t have the energy to start from zero—building trust, building intimacy, all over again.

But he and Penelope had agreed to this. And Penelope knew him better than anyone. If she thought he and Edwina would get along, maybe she was right.

He got lost in his thoughts and didn’t notice his friend Thomas Dorset standing next to him.

“Bridgerton to Earth?” Dorset said, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Hi—hey. You made it.” Colin blinked, then stood to greet him with a handshake that turned into a quick hug. “Sorry, we just got off shift, and this is usually sleeping time.”

“I get it. No worries,” Dorset said, then turned to Penelope. “You must be the famous Penelope.”

“Famous?” she smiled, darting her eyes between them.

“Well, yes. This guy doesn’t shut up about you,” Dorset said, taking his seat.

“I was going to say he’s exaggerating, but it actually might be true,” Colin added as he sat back down.

“Only good things, I hope. Although I’m not sure I have that much newsworthy content,” Penelope joked, then gestured beside her. “This is my friend Edwina Sharma, she’s a nurse.”

They exchanged greetings, and the table settled into an easy, surface-level conversation as they looked over the menu.

“Alright, make your choices and I’ll go order at the counter,” Colin said, scanning the options.

“A martini. Shaken, not stirred,” Penelope replied with a slight grin, not looking up from the menu.

Dorset and Edwina exchanged a confused glance. “Like… an espresso martini?” Edwina asked, unsure.

“No, I know this one…” Colin bit his lower lip. “Wait—”

“Snooze, you lose, Bridgerton,” Penelope cut in. “Ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…”

“Goldfinger! 1960—no, 64!” Colin said, brightening.

Penelope grunted and leaned her head back in defeat, reaching for her purse, while Colin rubbed his hands together victoriously. “Well. Everyone gets an extra pastry.”

Penelope and Colin laughed together, while Dorset and Edwina still looked thoroughly confused.

“Wait. Why is Penelope paying for everyone’s order?” Edwina asked, crossing her arms.

“Oh, I’m not—we are. It’s a long story. But it’s our treat. For you,” Penelope reassured her.

“We have a… system,” Colin added with a small, almost shy smile.

It wasn’t that the trivia jar was a secret.

But it was theirs, and it felt a little too personal to explain on a first date. 

He also wasn’t sure how Dorset and Edwina would feel knowing they were only there because of a New Year’s resolution. Probably not great, so he kept it vague.

“Okay… that’s very nice of you. Thank you,” Dorset said. “I’ll come with you, Colin—help carry everything.”

Colin and Dorset headed to the counter, and Edwina waited until they were far enough away before leaning in.

“Mm, yeah… that was a bit weird. But he’s so cute.”

“You like him, then?” Penelope asked, a touch more tentative than she intended.

She hadn’t gone into much detail when she’d called Edwina, just that she had someone to introduce her to. Edwina was one of her best friends, and so was Colin, so… in her head, the math had mathed. Of course they would get along.

Suddenly, the thought left her feeling a little hollow.

“I mean, it’s too early to tell. But I think I might.”

“He really is a sweetheart.”

Edwina smiled. “Well, your date doesn’t seem that bad either.”

“I guess. I’ll admit I was reluctant at first, but… I’m glad we came.”

“Why reluctant? You two seem completely in sync. Your chemistry is so strong it’s practically exploding,” Edwina said, giving her a knowing look.

Penelope shook her head, narrowing her eyes. Sure, Dorset seemed nice—and not nearly as awful as her biased mind had painted him—but Edwina was definitely seeing things.

There was no way they were vibing that hard.

“Okay, that’s a bit much,” Penelope laughed softly.

“It’s true. I can’t believe you haven’t tapped that yet.”

“Oh my gosh! We just got here?!”

“So?”

“Shh. They’re coming back,” Penelope whispered, and Edwina giggled.

“Ladies.” Colin and Dorset returned, setting cups and plates down on the table. “Breakfast is served.”

“Thank you, kind sirs,” Edwina said with a smile, adjusting in her chair.

“What did you get?” Penelope leaned over to look at Colin’s plate.

“It’s a Dubai chocolate croissant.”

“Hey, that was not on the menu.”

“It’s today’s special. They had a sign up there.”

“I’m taking a bite either way, excuse me.” Penelope speared the croissant with her fork and took a bite.

Colin’s eyes followed the fork to her lips—his own mouth parting slightly, as if he might take a bite from the same fork.

“That is heavenly.”

“It’s yours, actually. I knew you’d want that instead of the muffin.”

“But you got the muffin too.”

“In case you didn’t like it, you had something to fall back on.”

“You don’t even like muffins, though.”

“Lies.” Colin narrowed his eyes. “I like everything. But mostly you—I mean, your taste in muffins.”

Dorset cleared his throat lightly, breaking the moment.

“This Colombian coffee is really good. Although no hot drink beats Indian tea.”

“You’ve been to India?” Edwina lit up.

“I just got back, actually. I was there working and doing a specialization.”

“That’s really cool, Tom,” Penelope said, shaking herself out of her brief daze. “Can I call you Tom?”

“Sure.”

“Now I want to hear everything about that. I haven’t been back in such a long time,” Edwina added.

“You grew up there?” Colin asked.

“Yeah. We moved to London when I was ten.”

“You moved here when you were ten too, right?” Colin turned to Penelope.

“Moved from Ireland, which is not nearly the same thing,” Penelope chuckled. “Definitely not famous for its tea. But hey, the beer is good.”

“Hear, hear. It basically keeps us in business,” Colin remarked with a smirk, drawing a soft laugh from the table.

“It sure does. I miss Dove Don sometimes,” Penelope added with a teasing sigh.

“Dove Don!” Colin clapped once, tilting his head back as he stifled a laugh. “Wow—that’s a throwback. One of our VIP patients.”

“Do I dare ask why he’s called Dove Don?” Edwina raised a brow.

“He believed he could fly,” Penelope explained in simple words.

“He thought he was a pigeon,” Colin added with flair. “But Pigeon Don didn’t quite roll off the tongue, so—Dove Don.”

“That’s a lot better than the emergency room horror story my mind went to,” Dorset said, visibly relieved. “What happened to him?”

“We’re not sure. She broke his heart and he never called again,” Colin said with an elbow propped on the table and pointing at Penelope.

“I did not break his heart!” Penelope shot back.

“He wanted a life with you. Training racing pigeons,” Colin said, trying hard to stay serious.

“And he thought he was one of them.” Penelope added, covering her face at the absurdity.

“He really did,” Colin lost it completely, laughing again. “Ah, Dove Don. Gone from our lives, but never from our hearts.”

They turned to each other and pressed their hands to their chests in mock sincerity, lips puckered in exaggerated pouts—then dissolved into laughter again. They had a general sense that anyone watching them would think they were ridiculous.

They didn’t care, though. They lived to make each other laugh.

“I’m sure you two see all sorts of crazy things as well,” Penelope said after clearing her throat, trying to bring Dorset and Edwina back into the conversation.

“I’ve been proposed to a few times by patients,” Edwina shrugged playfully. “But never with such a promising future.”

The four of them laughed and carried on, swapping peculiar stories from their lines of work. And somewhere between the first and second pastry, Colin and Penelope slipped back into their own little world—as if they didn’t already talk nearly every day.

Eventually, Dorset and Edwina left for their respective hospitals and shifts, leaving Colin and Penelope alone at the table again.

“This was actually fun. I think we did… okay,” Colin said, with more confidence than he actually felt.

“We did not,” Penelope sighed, slumping in her seat. “Edwina just texted me.”

“What did she say? Is me being tall really a problem?”

“She said she had a lovely time…”

“That’s good…”

“... And that she would love to see Tom again.” Penelope grimaced. “Just Tom.”

“Seriously? Tom?” Colin said, a little too indignant. “I mean, I like the guy—I was setting you up with him—but… she chose Tom over me?”

“I don’t think she knew you were even on the table,” Penelope said, still reading her text messages.

“I was right here the whole time!”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “I mean I don’t think she knew you were an option. Or, you know—her date in the first place.”

Colin frowned, then pulled out his phone and opened his chat with Dorset.

“Apparently Tom had a great time too,” Colin muttered. “And said I should have mentioned Edwina was from India. He’s asking for her phone number.”

“What?!” Now it was Penelope’s turn to bristle. “I can’t believe they thought they were on a date with each other the whole time.”

“You have to admit—it’s kind of funny. Hurtful, but funny.”

“I guess…”

“So… do you want to correct them?” Colin asked, a hint of nerves slipping through.

“No, no. Obviously they hit it off. I’m not messing with that.”

“Then why the face?” He asked more gently, folding the arm that had been resting along the back of her chair so he could brush his thumb against her cheek.

“She, uh…” Penelope hesitated, suddenly shy. “She also said I have explosive chemistry with my date, which I didn’t really understand at the time but now it kind of makes sense… since she thought you were my date.”

Colin’s thumb drifted lower, pausing just at the edge of her lips.

His gaze followed, flickering between her mouth and her eyes. A quiet intensity settled in his expression and Penelope felt that shift along with a shiver.

It was obvious.

She would be lying if she said that the thought had never crossed her mind after her divorce. As much as she had no interest in dating, if there was one person she could see herself with—someone who could handle her, all her quirks, insecurities, rules, and contradictions—it was Colin.

But loving him meant risking losing him in the one place they had always been solid—at work.

And that was the part she couldn’t face.

Except now, with the way he was looking at her and how his hand felt warm against her face, none of that seemed to matter.

“You know what’s funny?” He murmured. 

“I know everything about you.”

His thumb pressed just slightly over her lips.

“Except the way you taste.”

Penelope gasped softly, her nerves taking over as she replied, a little breathless, “I… I don’t know that movie.”

Colin smirked, drawing her closer until their noses brushed. “It’s not a movie.”

And then he closed the distance, capturing her mouth in a kiss that would change everything.