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The music was too loud, but not enough to ruin the party, unfortunately. Just enough to fill every room of the flat with evidence of happiness.
Eloise leaned against the kitchen counter with a glass of wine in her hand and watched Penelope laugh from across the room, her head was tipped back slightly, eyes bright, one hand still curled around Colin’s wrist like she touched him without thinking now. Like it had already become instinct.
The flat itself looked unmistakably theirs in a way Eloise hadn’t been prepared for.
There were half-unpacked boxes near the hall, books stacked unevenly beneath the television, one of Colin’s jackets thrown carelessly over the back of a chair beside Penelope’s cardigan. A framed photograph sat crookedly on a shelf, clearly placed there in a hurry.
Eloise hated how intimate it felt.
It was ridiculous, really. Penelope had spent years in Bridgerton House, practically living there already. Eloise should have been used to sharing space with her.
But this was different.
This wasn’t Penelope staying late after tea or falling asleep beside her during family gatherings, whispering secrets in Eloise’s bed at two in the morning.
This was Penelope building something somewhere else.
Across the room, Colin said something that made Penelope grin unconsciously, like her happiness now existed permanently just beneath the surface.
She took another sip of wine instead.
The kitchen island was cluttered with snacks Hyacinth had apparently attempted to arrange aesthetically before giving up halfway through. Benedict was passionately explaining something incomprehensible about artistic integrity to two poor strangers trapped beside the record player. Gregory had already spilled beer on someone’s shirt.
Everything about the evening should have felt familiar, but Eloise couldn’t stop noticing the tiny changes.
The way Colin moved around the flat like he already knew where everything belonged and Penelope absentmindedly fixed his collar while talking to someone else.
The way they kept drifting back toward each other even after separating, like gravity.
Like home.
Penelope looked happy in a way Eloise had always wanted for her. She deserved to be adored and entirely certain of her place in someone’s life.
Penelope had always been the person Eloise searched for first in crowded rooms. The one she saved stories for and who understood her silences as well as her endless talking.
And now Colin did too.
She knew that Penelope falling in love was not a personal attack. Still, when her brother crossed the room carrying another box toward the bedroom and Penelope followed behind him laughing softly at something he whispered, Eloise felt strangely stranded watching them disappear down the hall together.
As though everyone else had received instructions for how to keep moving forward except her.
“More wine?” Eloise blinked, startled from her thoughts.
Hyacinth stood beside her holding the bottle with the expression of someone already fully aware the answer would be disastrous.
“Yes,” Eloise said immediately and held out her glass anyway.
By the time Benedict began loudly debating experimental cinema with increasingly alarmed guests in the living room, Eloise felt pleasantly warm and slightly detached from her own better judgment.
Which was probably why she eventually found herself sitting beside Phillip Crane near the balcony doors, talking far more honestly than she normally allowed herself to.
“I just think,” she said, gesturing vaguely with her wine glass, “that when your best friend starts dating your brother, there should be regulations.”
“Regulations.” Phillip glanced at her over the rim of his beer.
“Yes. Visitation schedules. Emotional compensation. Shared custody arrangements.”
He looked quiet in a way that suggested awkwardness, but he wasn’t awkward at all. He simply listened more than most people did. And once he actually spoke, it was usually something annoyingly thoughtful.
“You think I’m being dramatic,” she accused.
“No,” Phillip said calmly. “I think you miss your friend.”
Eloise looked away first. Outside, rain pressed softly against the balcony windows, blurring the city lights into watercolor smudges.
“I know I sound ridiculous.”
“You sound lonely.” She laughed quietly, though there wasn’t much humor in it.
“You know, most people hear me talk this much and eventually try to escape.”
“I hadn’t planned on it.”
Eloise swallowed hard and took another sip of wine.
Across the flat, Colin just leaned down to kiss Penelope’s temple absentmindedly as they disappeared toward the bedroom.
Phillip must have noticed her expression change.
“You alright?”
She stared toward the hall a second too long before answering.
“Do you know,” she said lightly, “I think I’ve officially been replaced.”
“I don’t think anyone could replace you.” Phillip’s brow furrowed immediately.
For one terrifying moment, she had the distinct feeling that Phillip Crane had been seeing her far more clearly than she’d ever realized.
“So,” she said lightly, because changing the subject suddenly felt necessary for her continued survival, “how dreadful is it working with Colin, actually?”
“Less dreadful than you’d think.” Phillip’s quiet laugh slipped easily between them.
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
“He’s surprisingly competent.”
The party blurred onward around them in warm, noisy fragments after that. By midnight, guests had started leaving in uneven waves, the flat finally softening into post-party exhaustion.
Colin was stacking empty glasses in the kitchen and Penelope was barefoot now, leaning sleepily against the counter while talking to Sophie.
Eloise was definitely drunk enough that standing up too quickly felt like a tactical error.
“Oh,” she muttered, catching herself against the arm of the sofa.
Phillip looked up immediately from where he’d been helping gather discarded plates.
“You alright?”
“Yes,” she lied.
He studied her for exactly long enough to make it clear he didn’t believe her at all.
“I think,” he said carefully, “you should probably not go home alone.”
“I go home alone all the time.”
“Not usually after…” His eyes flicked meaningfully toward the nearly empty wine bottle beside her.
“In my defense,” she said, “this evening emotionally ambushed me.” He looked amused.
“I can drive you.”
Before she could answer, Colin appeared beside them carrying another stack of dishes.
“Phillip, you’re a saint,” he said immediately. “I was about to suggest the same thing.”
“Traitor,” Eloise informed her brother.
“You are visibly swaying.”
“I am sophisticatedly balancing.”
Penelope appeared a second later, concern softening her features as she touched Eloise’s arm.
“Text me when you get home?”
“Of course,” she said lightly.
Phillip grabbed his coat from the chair near the door a few minutes later, waiting patiently while Eloise struggled into hers with significantly less coordination than she would have preferred.
The night air outside was cool enough to clear her head slightly.
The drive across the city settled into an easy quiet at first, filled mostly by the low hum of the radio and passing headlights streaking silver across the windshield.
Eloise watched rainwater slide along the glass.
“You didn’t have to rescue me, you know.”
“I wasn’t aware I was rescuing you.” Phillip kept his eyes on the road.
“You definitely were.”
“I’m just making sure you got home safely.”
“Very noble of you.”
“I try.” She smiled despite herself.
The alcohol had softened something in her tonight. Usually her thoughts moved too quickly, too defensively, every feeling immediately hidden beneath wit before anyone could touch it.
“You’re very quiet,” she said eventually.
“So I’ve been told.”
“No, but intentionally quiet. Like you’re always thinking about something you don’t say.” That finally made him glance at her briefly.
“And you say almost every thought immediately.”
Eloise laughed, a real laughter this time, sudden enough that it startled both of them. He smiled again automatically at the sound.
The hall light cast warm gold across the sharp lines of his face. His tie sat slightly loosened now, sleeves rolled once past his wrists, hair a little messy from the rain outside.
Eloise became abruptly, overwhelmingly aware that they were alone.
“I should probably…” Phillip hesitated near the door.
“Do you want to come in?” The question escaped before she fully examined it.
“Eloise,” he said slowly, “you’ve been drinking.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want you deciding something tonight you wouldn’t want tomorrow.”
“I know what I’m doing,” she said quietly. “I’m not confused.”
Phillip looked at her like he was trying very hard to remember how breathing worked.
“And if I come inside?” The question settled between them heavier than it should have.
Eloise stepped closer before she could overthink it.
“You’ll have to trust me.”
For one suspended moment, neither of them moved. Phillip exhaled softly, almost defeated.
“Right,” he murmured.
And Eloise kissed him a little clumsily from wine and nerves. But the second his hands found her waist, everything sharpened at once.
Phillip kissed her like a man who had spent entirely too long trying not to, restrained enough that she could feel him holding himself back, until Eloise pulled him closer with impatient fingers tangled in his coat.
His other hand slid up to cradle her jaw, kiss deepening with a quiet sound against her mouth that nearly melted her where she stood.
He rested his forehead briefly against hers when they finally pulled apart, breathing unevenly.
“We should slow down,” he said, sounding like the suggestion physically pained him.
Eloise kissed him again immediately.
“Terrible timing for self-control,” she whispered against his mouth.
His eyes closed for half a second like she’d just tested the limits of his sanity.
Then he kissed her back hard enough to leave no doubt whatsoever that he was done pretending he didn’t want this.
Eloise woke slowly, not because the room was bright, the rain from the night before still lingered against the windows in soft gray light, but because something warm was wrapped around her waist.
For one disorienting second, she stayed perfectly still.
Then the memory arrived all at once.
Phillip’s hands on her, his voice against her skin, the way he’d kissed her like restraint had finally snapped somewhere deep inside him…
She stared at the ceiling, suddenly very aware of the fact that Phillip Crane was asleep in her bed, his arm still tightened slightly around her in his sleep, pulling her instinctively closer against him.
She felt a traitorous flutter in her chest that nearly made her furious, because this was exactly the sort of thing she avoided.
Beside her, Phillip shifted awake gradually, breathing slightly when he realized she was already awake too.
“Morning,” he said quietly, voice rough with sleep. It did deeply unfortunate things to her nervous system.
“You’re still here.” Eloise cleared her throat.
“You sound surprised.”
“I mostly expected you to disappear mysteriously into the night like a regency scandal.”
“I considered climbing out the window.”
“That would’ve been dramatic. I would’ve respected it.” His sleepy laugh settled warmly through the room.
Phillip didn’t feel uncomfortable this morning. Or regretful. He looked content.
She sat up too quickly, immediately regretting it as a dull headache pulsed behind her eyes
“Careful,” Phillip said automatically, pushing himself upright beside her. “You drank enough wine last night to legally qualify as a vineyard.”
Eloise pulled the blanket tighter around herself and stared toward the window, trying to organize her thoughts into something manageable. Because the truth was: she didn’t regret last night. Not even a little…
She regretted how much she didn’t regret it.
The flat suddenly felt too intimate, Phillip sitting shirtless beside her in tangled sheets, morning rain tapping softly against the glass, the lingering warmth of him still everywhere around her.
Relationships only complicate things, it creates expectations and dependency and vulnerability and all the awful terrifying things she preferred to avoid at all costs.
But selfishly, horribly selfishly, she didn’t want to lose it already. Didn’t want to lose him already.
“So,” she said finally, aiming for casualness and missing by several miles, “I think we should perhaps acknowledge that this happened.”
Phillip leaned back slightly against the headboard, watching her carefully now.
“That seems reasonable.”
“And,” Eloise continued quickly before she could lose momentum, “I don’t think it needs to become… a thing.”
A flicker crossed his face too quickly for her to fully read, wasn’t it hurt exactly, but she couldn't name it.
“Alright.” he nodded once.
“I just mean that I’m not looking for a relationship.” Eloise pressed forward anyway, nerves making her words faster. “I don’t particularly want emotional complications.”
She sighed, still trying to understand the quiet feeling in his expression and continually failing.
“But,” she added, unable to stop herself, “I did enjoy last night.”
Phillip’s expression softened with something dangerously close to fondness.
“I enjoyed it too.”
“And,” she rushed onward, “we clearly get along well, and we’re both adults, and I simply think it’s possible to continue doing this without making everything unbearably serious.”
Phillip looked at her for a long moment, thoughtful and calm in that infuriating way he always did.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
Something in Eloise’s chest tightened painfully.
“You’re being suspiciously agreeable,” she muttered.
A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“You did just attempt to pitch sleeping with you as a logically efficient arrangement.”
“It is logically efficient.”
“Mm.”
“And mutually beneficial.”
“Very thoughtful.”
“Are you mocking me?” Eloise narrowed her eyes.
“I would never.”
The arrangement, as Eloise insisted on calling it inside her own head, became surprisingly easy after that.
Within two weeks, Phillip had somehow threaded himself quietly into the shape of her life without either of them acknowledging exactly how it happened.
They didn’t go on dates. No candlelit dinners. No romantic outings. No relationship-adjacent activities Eloise could point at and panic over later.
Instead, they existed in the spaces around everything else.
He usually came over after work sometimes, still wearing rolled sleeves and exhaustion beneath his eyes, and Eloise would let him into her flat while pretending she hadn’t been waiting for the sound of his knock all evening.
On other nights, she would end up at his place, sharing takeaway on the sofa while they criticized terrible documentaries, and they would end the night in his bed, sometime after midnight, warm and breathless, trying not to think too much about how natural it already seemed to fall asleep there.
She tried not to notice how he always made coffee before she woke up and remembered tiny details from conversations weeks ago, how he listened to her ramble through half-formed thoughts like they genuinely mattered and how instinctively she started reaching for him
But some things became impossible not to notice. Like the fact that she no longer dreaded visiting Colin and Penelope’s flat, because now, when she watched her best friend curl automatically against her brother’s side on the sofa, Eloise no longer felt quite so stranded outside of everyone else’s happiness.
Because later that night, she would probably end up tangled in Phillip’s sheets while he traced lazy circles against her spine and listened to her complain about her day.
He matched her without trying to overpower her. Never treated her opinions like quirks to be tolerated. Never made her feel too loud or too much or difficult.
If anything, he seemed quietly fascinated by her.
Everything between them developed almost naturally and imperceptibly, in the same way that they didn't need to communicate aloud. They just knew they could see each other, without making a big deal of it. Suddenly they started messaging every day, even when they couldn't meet in person.
It started innocently enough.
Phillip: You forgot your book here.
Eloise: It was a tragically conscious choice; I wouldn't have been able to take it to work today.
Phillip: I’m really sorry about it.
Eloise: You could read, if you want. Educate yourself a little.
Phillip: I opened it and immediately found three pages of aggressive annotations.
Eloise: Those are the most important reading material.
Phillip: One of them just says “men are exhausting” in all caps.
Eloise: Again important.
Sometimes Phillip sent her photos of catastrophically dying office plants with captions like: Is this salvageable or should I notify its family?
Eloise replied with blurry pictures of one of her siblings doing something absurd at family dinner.
He quietly informed her whenever Colin said something particularly embarrassing at work.
She complained about strangers in cafés with increasingly dramatic levels of outrage.
Sometimes the conversations lasted hours. Others only minutes. But they never really stopped.
One Tuesday afternoon, Eloise found herself trapped in an endless meeting with publishers while a woman named Margaret explained market trends in a voice that sounded specifically engineered to remove joy from the human experience.
Her phone buzzed beneath the table.
Phillip: Colin just used the phrase “synergy opportunity” unironically.
Eloise: I’m so sorry you had to experience that.
Phillip: I may never recover.
Eloise: You should be compensated financially.
Phillip: Emotional damages minimum.
Eloise: If he starts using corporate buzzwords regularly, you’re legally allowed to put him down.
Phillip: Like a horse?
Eloise: Exactly like a horse.
She bit back a laugh so suddenly violent she nearly embarrassed herself in front of the entire conference room.
The emotional intimacy was absolutely not supposed to become part of the arrangement. The physical side had simple rules: no expectations. No jealousy. No discussions about feelings.
But no one had apparently considered what to do when Eloise started instinctively searching for Phillip’s name in her notifications.
Or when he began learning exactly which days she usually forgot to eat and started texting: Have you had lunch or are you surviving entirely on caffeine and spite again?
Later that night, long after they’d ended up tangled together in his bed, Eloise lay half-asleep against him while his fingers moved lazily along her spine.
“You know,” Eloise murmured drowsily, “for two people allegedly avoiding emotional complications, we text each other an alarming amount.”
Phillip hummed softly somewhere above her.
“We do.”
“That feels bad.”
“A little.”
Eloise tilted her head just enough to look at him.
“Are we bad at casual?”
Phillip looked down at her for a long moment, something warm and unreadable flickering behind his eyes. With absolutely no urgency whatsoever, he brushed her hair back from her face.
“Catastrophically,” and just kiss her again.
By the third month of whatever this was, she had stopped thinking of Phillip’s flat as unfamiliar.
Which was precisely why she found herself wandering barefoot through his kitchen on a rainy Sunday morning wearing one of his shirts and absolutely no sense of self-preservation while he was still asleep, when she slipped carefully out of bed in search of coffee.
The flat sat wrapped in quiet gray light, rain tapping softly against the windows while the city blurred beyond the glass.
She was halfway through waiting for the kettle to boil when her attention drifted toward the papers scattered across his desk nearby.
Normally she wouldn’t snoop. But these weren’t hidden papers. They were spread openly across the desk beside an uncapped pen and one of Phillip’s notebooks, as though he’d been working there late into the night before finally coming to bed.
At first, the notes didn’t fully register.
Peonies — happy marriage, romance, prosperity
Pink roses — admiration, gratitude, affection
Camellias — longing
Violets — faithfulness, devotion
Slowly, she picked up one of the pages. More notes covered the margins in Phillip’s handwriting, arrows connecting flowers together, combinations crossed out and rewritten.
Lilacs — first love
Jasmine — deep affection
Ranunculus — dazzled by your charm
Eloise stared at the papers like they might physically attack her, because there was only one possible explanation for this: Phillip caught feelings for her. Romantic feelings.
Panic rose sharp and immediate beneath her ribs. Because this was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid.
And now apparently Phillip was over here researching the symbolic meaning of flowers like a man preparing to emotionally devastate them both.
Of course he would fall in love in the most deeply earnest way imaginable. Of course Phillip wanted something real and serious and eventually he would realize she was terrible at this sort of thing.
The thought of losing him made something twist painfully in her chest.
Behind her, the floorboards creaked softly, causing Eloise to jump so violently that she almost dropped the papers..
Phillip stood in the hall, hair messy from sleep, confusion flickering across his face before his gaze landed on the notes in her hands.
“Why would you be researching flowers that apparently all mean eternal devotion?” Her grip tightened defensively around the papers.
Phillip opened his mouth, for the first time since she’d known him, he looked genuinely caught off guard.
“I…”
“No, actually,” Eloise said quickly, panic already outrunning logic, “don’t answer that.”
Because if Phillip confirmed it, if he said yes, of course they were about her, of course he’d developed feelings, then everything would change.
Phillip cared about her. She felt it every time he looked at her for too long, every time he remembered tiny details about her day, every time he touched her like she was something precious instead of temporary.
Eloise thrust the papers back onto the desk too quickly and stepped away from him before he could say another word.
“I should probably go.”
“Eloise…”
She grabbed her bag and coat from the sofa with far more force than necessary, completely ignoring the fact that she was still only wearing his shirt.
Before he could say something, Eloise was already moving toward the door because staying suddenly felt impossible.
The problem with attempting to create emotional distance from Phillip was that she had not realized how thoroughly he’d embedded himself into her daily life until she tried removing him from it.
It started with delayed replies. Not fully ignoring him. Just trying to take distance enough to restore balance, to remind both of them what this was supposed to be.
Phillip: Did Colin survive the dinner party or did someone finally kill him with a decorative candlestick?
Eloise: Unfortunately he survived.
Phillip: Are you alright?
Eloise: Fine.
Without Phillip, the loneliness came back. Enough that she kept instinctively reaching for her phone to text him before remembering she was trying not to and the nights in her flat suddenly felt quieter than they used to.
She missed him constantly in stupid, unbearable ways, that realization terrified her almost as much as the flower notes had.
Phillip showed up at her flat unannounced. Eloise opened the door still wearing socks and one of her old uni jumpers, immediately freezing at the sight of him standing there.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said gently, straight to the point.
She looked away and he sighed softly and stepped inside after she moved automatically to let him.
“Tell me what happened.”
“It’s nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, that sounds like a personal problem.”
“Eloise.” He looked worried.
“You left those flower notes out on purpose?” she asked abruptly.
“What?” Phillip blinked.
“The ones on your desk.”
“Oh.” Understanding flickered faintly across his face.
“I saw all the meanings, Phillip. Devotion, admiration, longing” she swallowed hard “and I thought…”
“They weren’t about you.” The words landed harder than she expected, something inside her seemed to go very still.
Phillip continued carefully, clearly realizing too late what this sounded like.
“Colin asked me for help,” he explained. “He wants to surprise Penelope with a bouquet for their anniversary, and he knows absolutely nothing about flowers.”
Eloise stared at him, the room suddenly felt distant around the edges.
“Colin,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“For Penelope.”
“Yes.”
The disappointment hit so hard it nearly stole her breath.
She hadn’t been panicking because Phillip caught feelings, but because she had. And now she was standing in her flat trying to survive the fact that she’d built an entire emotional catastrophe around wanting those flowers to mean her.
And even if she wanted to, there was no way to go back to what they had been before, because she no longer wanted to continue with the same agreement as before.
At first, the changes were small enough that she almost didn’t notice them herself. She started touching Phillip more. Her fingers brushed through his hair absentmindedly when they sat together on the sofa. Her legs tangled with his beneath blankets without thought.
After months of carefully respecting the boundaries Eloise had built around herself, she suddenly started behaving like someone who wanted to be adored openly.
One morning, she woke half-sprawled across his chest while pale sunlight spilled across the bed. Phillip had been awake for several minutes already, trying very hard not to think about how dangerously content he felt with her sleeping against him like this.
“I adore waking up with you like this,” she murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss against his collarbone. “You’re annoyingly comfortable.”
Phillip stared at the ceiling in silence, wondering whether human beings could actually die from emotional restraint. Casual arrangements did not involve Eloise Bridgerton nuzzling sleepily into his chest while confessing affection before coffee.
“Your standards for comfort seem concerningly low.”
She laughed softly against his skin.
Eloise: This meeting should have been an email.
Phillip: You say that about every meeting.
Eloise: Because I’m consistently right.
Phillip: Difficult to argue with that.
Eloise: Also I miss you.
Phillip: You saw me this morning.
Eloise: Both can be true.
He sat motionless at his desk while Colin continued explaining quarterly reports completely unaware that the man beside him was currently experiencing psychological collapse over his sister's messages.
When Phillip arrived at her flat, she opened the door smiling automatically at the sight of him.
“There you are,” she said immediately.
“You said you missed me,” he observed carefully.
“So much it hurts.” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but pushed back whatever could make her regret it.
Instead of backing away like she normally would have, she stepped closer.
Because she wanted everything now: Phillip buying her flowers because he wanted to, introducing her as his girlfriend, reaching for her in public without having to pretend it meant nothing.
He knew better than to push her toward realizations she wasn’t ready to face on her own, so he stayed quiet. Even if the waiting was beginning to kill him softly.
They were lying together in bed that night, before they had another round of the best sex of their lives, Eloise half asleep beside him while Phillip read something on his phone with one hand absentmindedly stroking along her bare shoulder.
“I couldn’t wait to see you today.” She suddenly spoke. “I had the most irritating day, and all I could think about was getting here.” She smiled faintly against his chest.
“You can’t just say things like that casually,” he said quietly.
“Why not?” She tilted her head up slightly.
Because I’m in love with you, he thought immediately.
“Because you don’t always realize what you sound like.”
Eloise frowned faintly, studying him in the dim light.
“Maybe I do.”
Phillip genuinely did not know what to do with that.
Eloise noticed the flowers immediately. Which, considering the emotional damage flowers had caused her recently, felt deeply unfair.
She had barely stepped into Colin and Penelope’s flat before her gaze landed on the enormous bouquet arranged across the dining table in a glass vase.
Soft pink roses, white camellias, lilacs and jasmine woven delicately between the greenery.
Her stomach betrayed her instantly.
“They’re gorgeous, aren’t they?”
Eloise looked up when Penelope emerged from the kitchen carrying two mugs of tea, smiling in that warm, glowing way she seemed to do constantly these days.
“They’re very romantic,” Eloise said carefully.
“Colin apparently spent days making sure every flower meant something specific.” Penelope’s smile softened immediately as she glanced toward the bouquet.
“Did he tell you all the meanings?”
“Extensively. I think Phillip may have accidentally created a monster.” Penelope laughed softly and Eloise nearly choked on air.
“Oh?”
“Colin spent an hour explaining symbolic devotion through nineteenth-century floristry while I tried not to cry into dinner.”
That sounded exactly like something Colin would become aggressively invested in once given enough information.
Eloise could picture it too clearly Phillip patiently explaining flower meanings while her brother took mental notes like a man preparing for battle.
Penelope studied her quietly over the rim of her mug.
“You alright?”
“Yes,” she lied automatically.
Eloise sighed dramatically and dropped into one of the dining chairs beside the flowers.
“Does this emotional crisis have a name?”
“You make that sound very targeted.” Eloise narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“Eloise.”
Rain tapped softly against the flat windows while somewhere down the hall Colin sang badly to himself, completely unaware his girlfriend and sister were currently having a life-altering emotional conversation near his expensive flowers.
“I don’t know how you did it,” Eloise admitted quietly after a moment.
“Did what?” Penelope tilted her head.
“This.” Eloise gestured vaguely around the flat. “All of this.”
Penelope’s expression softened immediately.
“It wasn’t exactly graceful.”
“No, but you knew eventually, didn’t you?” Eloise asked. “You knew Colin loved you.”
Penelope laughed softly in disbelief.
“Oh, Eloise. I absolutely did not.”
“What?” That startled her enough to look up again.
“For a very long time, I was entirely convinced Colin would never look at me that way.”
“But he adored you!”
“Yes,” Penelope said gently. “And I still didn’t know.”
Eloise stared down at the flowers again.
“How did you tell him, then?”
“Very badly.” Penelope smiled faintly into her tea.
“That’s not helpful.”
“I’m serious.” She laughed softly. “I didn’t have certainty when I told him how I felt. I just… reached a point where hiding it hurt more than the possibility of his rejection.”
“And him?” Penelope’s smile changed then.
“He was honest too.” She looked toward the hall instinctively, toward wherever Colin was still humming to himself in the distance. “That was really all it was in the end. Two people finally admitting what had already been true for a long time.”
Something twisted sharply inside Eloise’s chest, because suddenly it seemed possible that Phillip had been honest with her all along, not in words, but in every careful thing he did.
Penelope watched realization slowly unfold across her face.
“You love him.” she said, very quietly.
Eloise closed her eyes immediately, which was enough for her best friend.
Phillip opened the door before Eloise could knock a second time.
“You came,” he said softly.
Eloise leaned against the doorway for one suspended moment, simply looking at him. How had she spent so long pretending this wasn’t love?
Phillip’s sleeves were rolled up, as usual, his glasses slightly crooked like he’d been reading, the warm light spilled from the flat behind him, carrying the scent of tea and home.
“I missed you,” she said quietly.
Something in her expression must have shifted because Phillip’s brow furrowed immediately.
“Are you alright?” He stepped aside automatically to let her in and she only nodded.
The flat glowed softly around them while rain streaked the windows outside. Two mugs waited already prepared on the coffee table beside the sofa.
Phillip handed her one of the mugs once they sat down.
“How was dinner?”
Eloise curled both hands around the tea for a moment before answering.
“It was good.”
Eloise looked down at the tea briefly, gathering courage she had absolutely not possessed this morning.
“I saw the bouquet.”
“How did Penelope like them?” Phillip leaned back slightly into the sofa, careful again now.
“She loved them.” Eloise smiled softly despite herself. “Colin gave her an hour speech about symbolic devotion.”
“I created a monster.” Phillip groaned quietly.
“You really did.”
Eloise looked at him then, properly.
“I found the bouquet was beautiful,” she said quietly.
“I’m glad.” Phillip’s gaze softened immediately.
“And they were very happy.”
Something in her voice made his expression shift slightly more serious.
“I was happy too,” she admitted. “Being there with them.”
“That’s good.” Phillip nodded slowly.
“But,” she added softly, “it felt like something was missing.” Eloise’s heartbeat stumbled hard against her ribs. “You.”
Phillip stared at her, visibly stunned.
“I spent months being upset that Penelope wasn’t mine anymore,” she said quietly. “And then somehow, without realizing it, I started building a life where I couldn’t wait to tell you about my day first.”
He inhaled slowly, like even breathing too suddenly might scare her away.
She set her mug down with trembling fingers, reached over, took his from his hands too before he could protest, and placed it beside hers on the table.
Phillip watched her with undisguised confusion now.
“Eloise…” She climbed directly into his lap, his hands found her waist automatically on instinct alone.
She cupped his face gently between her hands and kissed him before she could lose courage.
He made a quiet sound low in his throat and pulled her closer immediately, kissing her back like restraint had finally abandoned him completely.
Eloise kissed him again and again, smiling shakily against his mouth.
“I love you,” she whispered suddenly.
The words hung suspended between them, her heart pounding wildly now but forced herself to keep looking at him.
“I know I started this whole thing wanting casual,” she admitted softly. “And maybe part of me really believed that at first. But I can’t keep pretending you’re not the most important person in my life.”
Phillip’s expression had gone heartbreakingly open and she brushed trembling fingers through his hair.
“I love you,” she repeated. “And if you love me too… I want this properly. I want you.”
For one suspended second, Phillip simply looked at her, and then he kissed her again.
His forehead rested against hers afterward, both of them breathing unevenly.
“You have been driving me crazy,” he murmured shakily.
“Why?” Eloise laughed through the sudden sting of tears.
“Because I’ve been trying not to say that for months.” Her breath caught. “I love you too,” he said quietly. “God, Eloise.. I think I loved you almost from the beginning.”
He brushed his thumb softly along her waist.
“I just wanted to have you however you’d let me,” he admitted. “Even if it wasn’t everything.”
Eloise’s chest ached painfully with affection.
“You know,” she said weakly, “I was genuinely devastated when I found out the bouquet wasn’t secretly a declaration of love for me.”
“You were?” He laughed softly in disbelief.
“I was furious about it.”
“That explains… honestly, quite a lot.”
She buried her face briefly against his shoulder, embarrassed now that the truth existed out loud between them.
“I hated how disappointed I felt,” she admitted. “Because it meant I had to finally admit what I wanted.”
Phillip’s arms tightened around her immediately.
“And what do you want?”
Eloise pulled back just enough to look at him.
“You,” she said simply.
He kissed her forehead with unbearable tenderness.
“If it helps, I fully intend to spend the rest of our lives giving you flowers.”
“Romantic flowers?” Eloise smiled helplessly.
“The most romantic flowers available.” She laughed wetly against another kiss.
Phillip brushed his nose gently against hers, eyes impossibly warm behind his glasses.
“I’ll give you bouquets until we’re both ancient and insufferable,” he promised.
“That sounds perfect!”