Chapter Text
Chapter 1: cool about it
–
Once, I took your medication to know what it's like
And now I have to act like I can't read your mind
I ask you how you're doing and I let you lie
But we don't have to talk about it
I can walk you home and practice method acting
I'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning
Tellin' you it's nice to see how good you're doing
Even though we know it isn't true
–
Penelope’s POV…
–
She had always thought the word ‘cottage’ was a touch euphemistic.
Penelope shut the heavy, wooden door behind her, the late morning sun bleeding through the stained-glass pane - sharp and angular, like a Frank Lloyd Wright design - and dropped her bags on the herringbone wood floors. The entryway provided a clear view to the lake on the other side of the house, glittering in soft waves, grazing the sandy shoreline that nearly abutted the back porch. A grand staircase to her right led up to the second and third floors where the family’s bedrooms and guest rooms sat, empty. To her left was the imposing den, complete with dark green walls and an elegantly placed oil portrait of the family, recently redone to include the newest editions. She often wondered at what point the painting would expand to cover the entire back wall, far beyond the fireplace mantle. At the end of the foyer sat the large kitchen, a breakfast nook that sat ten, and a dining room that sat twenty.
So yes, she always thought ‘cottage’ undersold the home.
She dropped her bag and rested her suitcase at the foot of the stairs. Penelope had told Eloise she could take a guest room, but Eloise had insisted she stay in her room, “for old time’s sake.” To which Penelope reminded her that Eloise would not be with her like she had growing up.
“Oh, just let me be sentimental for once!”
Eventually, Penelope relented and promised to stay in Eloise’s room. But after a five hour drive, she was content to leave her luggage for a while and relax on the back porch with her book. At some point she would have to venture into town and buy groceries; however, that was later Penelope’s problem. She swiped her book from her backpack and padded across the floor to her favorite spot in the entire world - the back porch swing.
This time away would be a good thing, she thought to herself as she tucked her legs underneath her, getting comfortable on the cushioned wooden swing. Even in early May, northern Michigan was chilly, and Penelope wrapped the worn, knit blanket around her shoulders, cracking the spine of her well-loved mass market paperback romance. The swing rocked in the serene breeze off the lake and Penelope tumbled like Alice back into a world unfamiliar to her own, full of scandalous masquerades and flowing ballgowns, the day passing around her in peace.
Her first day of peace in months.
–
After several hours of pure escapism, Penelope left her cozy spot and drove into town for groceries. While there was some food in the large pantry, potentially expired canned soup and old crackers were not particularly appealing choices for dinner. She was, of course, motivated in part by hunger but more importantly, a desire to not have to leave again until the end of the week to repeat the cycle over once more.
Upon her return, Penelope made herself a sandwich with a few salt and vinegar chips on the side - ideal lake food - and returned to her spot on the swing. The air had grown crisp in the late spring evening and she threw on her U Chicago sweatshirt before falling back into her story.
The reformed rake had been about to declare himself to the wallflower’s family just as her childhood best friend and first love appeared in the drawing room. It didn’t matter how many times she read it, that moment made Penelope’s stomach drop and flutter when the wallflower chose the rake in the pouring rain. Fans of the series thought she should have chosen the childhood friend, but Penelope always thought otherwise. The childhood friend didn’t know the wallflower anymore, not really. They had simply grown into different people who were no longer well suited, a tragedy in its own right.
A tragedy she had become all too familiar with - two people who were no longer suited.
“It’s better this way,” he had said before closing her car door and walking into the check in area of O’Hare.
The sun had set, temporarily blinding her with its golden hour rays before winking goodbye and plunging her into darkness. She could take a hint; it was indeed time for bed. Penelope unwound her body and stretched as she emerged from her tight cocoon of blankets before padding back into the cottage, regretting her former laziness at the thought of hauling her luggage up a flight of stairs.
“Oh, I didn’t think anyone was here.”
Penelope leapt back with a squeal, clutching her chest as she panicked, looking for anything that could be a weapon. The foyer was barren and she remained defenseless in the (absent) face of her potential assailant. In an adrenaline-laden fog, she clasped a picture frame and held it above her head, ready to strike the mysterious intruder. She spun around and threw the 4x4 picture frame in the general direction of the low, yet familiar, voice.
“Whoa! Hey!” The picture frame landed with a clatter, the glass shattering on the hardwood. “No need to get violent, you’re the one in my family’s house.”
Her would-be attacker appeared from the shadows, his handsome face highlighted under the glow of the hallway light he just flicked on. Penelope’s hands fell to her side as her eyes widened, comprehension flooding her system.
“Hi,” she squeaked with a little wave. “Sorry about that.”
His eyes flicked to the shattered glass several feet away from him where he stood, hands in his jeans pockets and evidently unharmed.
“Still have bad aim, I see.”
Her lips formed a flat line as she shrugged, “Yeah, Eloise tried to teach me, but she’ll always be a better shot.”
His mouth quirked up into a half-smile and he took his hands from his pocket as he sauntered to the hallway closet.
“What are you doing?”
He held up a broom and dust pan with green eyes that said, What does it look like I’m doing?
“Oh, it’s fine. I can take care of it. I’m the one that attempted assault with a deadly weapon,” she crossed the hallway and reached for the pan.
He held them out of her reach and walked over to the shattered glass, sweeping it away. “At most you’ll get attempted assault. I don’t think courts consider picture frames deadly weapons, especially not when thrown with such bad aim.”
“Hey!” she said with a surprised laugh. “I’m a woman who was trying to protect herself against a potential assailant.”
He shook his head, mirth dancing in his captivating stare. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Pen.”
The old, long unused nickname slipped out from him and they both froze, as if it meant something more than it did. As if it wasn’t just a silly nickname for a silly young girl who had a measly crush on her best friend’s older brother. As if it signaled any deeper relationship than congenial acquaintances who occasionally gossiped at his family’s functions. As if it meant anything at all.
He cleared his throat and looked down at the bright red plastic pan full of glass. “At the risk of sounding rude, why are you here, Penelope?”
She blinked away the tears from a past life, a past version of herself that would have been crushed. “Uh, El said I could use the cottage for a couple of weeks until everyone arrives for Memorial Day.”
“Oh, cool. Of course. That’s totally fine.”
Penelope stepped back, put off by his surprised and permissive tone. “I didn’t realize I needed you to sign off on it, too.”
He stood, holding the broom and pan aloft. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to say it.” A dull thrum knocked against her forehead. The day had been too pleasant to let someone she didn’t really know ruin it. She walked past him and reached for her luggage, still waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase.
“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m here?”
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath before turning back to him. “No, Colin, I’m not. I’m going to bed.”
As Penelope gripped the bannister, she caught a glimpse of the picture now loose from the damaged frame. It was one of her and Eloise as kids on the beach, taken by him.
Surely there was some overplayed metaphor in there, somewhere.
–
For a split second, Penelope forgot where she was. She sprung upright and glanced around the room, painted a soft lilac and decorated primarily with books.
Oh, right.
She flopped back down on the bed and pulled the white comforter over her face, unwilling to leave and face the unexpected occupant that was likely already in the kitchen. It wasn’t as though she was unhappy to see him. The two of them had always gotten along, the rare times they had been together. It was more so that the idea of being in the same space as him while she was in such a vulnerable space gave her pause.
But, she reasoned with herself as her caffeine headache bloomed, he might not stay for long. She hadn’t exactly inquired about his plans.
With a groan, Penelope threw back the comforter and took her bag of toiletries to the bathroom, readying herself for the day.
She scrubbed her fist over her eye as she let out a yawn, trudging down the stairs. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, warm and electrifying, hit her when she landed on the first floor. Penelope looked to the ground where the picture had been last night and saw that it was gone. She didn’t know what to make of it.
“Good morning,” Colin said cheerily, standing in the kitchen clad in only a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants.
Fucking kryptonite.
Penelope rubbed her eyes again and waved, walking around him to grab a mug. She tried to ignore the fresh scent of his soap, bright and earthy, like the forest around them. The sound of coffee pouring into her mug brought her back to reality, a homing device that lit her neurons. He stood near her, hands braced against the marble island, and she had to squeeze past him a second time to pluck the creamer out of the fridge.
“You seem to know where everything is,” he observed quietly, and Penelope knew it wasn’t passive aggressive but it in that moment, cramped together in that vast kitchen, it certainly felt passive aggressive.
She poured the creamer into her coffee and slid onto one of the barstools on the other side of the island, facing him. “I bought it yesterday.”
Colin’s eyes widened and the tips of his ears went red. “Oh, right. That would account for the food in the fridge.”
“Yup.”
Penelope sipped her coffee and traced the lines of the countertop with her eyes. It was uncomfortable, the air suddenly stale with lingering unasked questions and unearned answers. She was, however curious about why he was here, unwilling to break their silence.
“Your hair looks different,” he commented after a prolonged moment. It wasn’t an explicit compliment but rather a clinical observation and one she didn’t quite know how to respond to. They hadn’t seen each other in person in at least two years and he followed her on social media, but she didn’t harbor any expectation that he actually paid attention to her posts.
Where had the charming flirt gone? And who was this stiff man in his place?
“The post-breakup haircut stereotype exists for a reason,” Penelope admitted as she attempted a nonchalant shrug that came out more like a wiggle. She was still adjusting to the bangs but figured it was fairly tame all things considered.
Colin set his cup on the island and blinked. “I didn’t realize you and the professor guy had broken up. It seemed pretty serious.”
Heat rushed to her cheeks and she took a sip of coffee to swallow away the sudden emotion in her throat. “Yeah, it was a couple of months ago. We uh, went our separate ways you could say.”
“I’m sorry, Penelope. You just grew apart?”
She let out a sardonic chuckle, “You could say that. He took a three-year research sabbatical in Antarctica and was both shocked and offended when I told him I didn’t want to come.”
Colin laughed as surprise flickered in his eyes. “That’s not funny, I’m sorry.”
“No, it is.” Penelope tapped her fingers on the ceramic mug, sighing. “We wanted different things. He wanted to study the impact of climate change on penguin migration patterns and I wanted to experience warmth.”
“As fascinating as that sounds, I think I’d have to agree with you.”
She lifted her cup in cheers and took another sip. “Eloise told me about Marina. That really sucks. I’m sorry, Colin.”
He pursed his lips and glanced at the ceiling. “Did you know she’s pregnant?”
“You’re having a baby?”
“Ha!” Colin’s laughter took a hard edge. “I’m not. George,” he sneered, “and Marina are having a baby.”
“Oh, shit.”
Suddenly, it seemed like the anger that rose to the surface disappeared and was replaced with a resigned, profound sadness.
“It’s not even as if I’m mad about the pregnancy itself. We weren’t right for each other and there was always a part of me that knew it.”
Penelope placed her cup on the island and covered his hand with her own. “You’re still allowed to mourn the betrayal. Regardless, it was wrong of her to do that.”
A crooked, half-smile formed on Colin’s lips and he nodded, but didn’t pull his hand away. “Thank you, Penelope.”
They remained there for a minute, Colin staring at her like she was a test question he couldn’t quite parse through. The heavy weight of his gaze was unusual; his attention was normally like a sun ray peeking through rushing clouds - brief but charitable. When their paths crossed fleetingly as adults at Bridgerton parties or gatherings, on the rare chance he was in the same hemisphere, Colin would drop in and bless the attendants with his evergreen charm and kindness. He found her unfailingly in the darkest or most sheltered corners and reveled in the latest gossip or story she had to share while he would regale her with the most outlandish tale from his recent travels. She was a blade of glass thawing from winter and he was a droplet of sun on a blustery spring day. It was funny, perhaps a bit flirty, but fleeting. It made them both feel valued, made them both feel seen for those spare moments they had.
But that was all.
They were party pals, close acquaintances, family friends.
He did not look at her with a hint of longing, he had never looked at her for that long.
So, Penelope looked away first.
“I’m going to write on the back porch.” She scooted off of the barstool without another word and went back upstairs, ready for a day away from his gaze.
–
Penelope paced the metal dock, not yet hot from the rising sun as she furiously whispered into her phone.
“Why is Colin here?”
A beat of silence passed before a familiar voice spoke. “I don’t know! Why does it matter?”
“El! You promised I’d have three weeks of privacy and last night, Colin showed up and now he’s saying Violet guaranteed him the same thing.”
Her friend sighed and she could picture Eloise rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Okay, well, it’s Colin. If you tell him that you need space to write, he’ll respect that - especially if he’s there to write too.”
She sat on the edge of the dock, her bare feet skimming the clear lake water. “I just didn’t expect anyone else here.”
“I know, and I am sorry about that,” Eloise’s voice took on a gentler, more placating tone reserved almost exclusively for Penelope. “I know you wanted this time after…everything. Truthfully, I was a little worried about you being up there entirely alone. And Colin might bore you to tears with another story of that time he went backpacking on the Gold Coast, but he’s going through all of that with stuff with Marina. It might be good for you both to have each other.”
Penelope scoffed, “We don’t have each other, we hardly know each other.”
“Your weird insistence that you don’t know him is bordering on Mariah Carey and JLo levels, okay? He’s my brother and is absolutely annoying, but he’s a nice guy who will respect whatever boundaries you put out.”
She kicked a bit of water with her big toe, the splash rippling all around her. For all of her friend’s idiosyncrasies and passion, she was more astute than people gave her credit for. “Fine. I’m really fine, El. I’ll get to know him a little better. You’re right, it might be nice to talk with someone else going through it.”
“The sooner everyone realizes that I’m never wrong, the closer we’ll all get to fixing this hellscape.”
“Glad to hear that’s the takeaway you got from this, El.” They shared their goodbyes and promises to talk soon, making plans for their usual Memorial Day hijinks with the other Bridgerton siblings until they finally hung up. Penelope remained on the edge of the dock, unable to get what Eloise said out of her mind. She hadn’t intended to be so transparent about her distancing from Colin. It had been her practice for as long as she had known him, for as long as the barest hint of friendship threatened to bloom between them. It was easier that way, he was her best friend’s brother and unattainable - always had and always would be. She had kept him firmly in that column to protect herself from the inevitable disappointment she would face if she gave him more than a peek into her soul.
He had already moved out of the house by the time Penelope’s family moved across the street from Eloise’s. Colin was only home for moments at a time and she had never known him to be anything but constantly on the move.
Why would that change if she gave him anymore of herself?
Scarier, what if it did and it still wasn’t enough?
She had been 16, just learning to drive her sister’s old yellow VW Bug. Anthony promised to teach her and made her drive to the empty Aldi’s parking lot that they would often practice in. Penelope had been an anxious, shaky mess as she flipped down her turn signal and inched out just as a blue Jeep Wrangler turned in. It was half a second of pure, unadulterated terror as she slammed on the brakes and Anthony’s arm flung out to stop her chest from hitting the steering wheel. The whine of the tires rang in her ears over the blood thudding in her head. Penelope squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the crumbling crush of metal but none came.
A beat of trepidatious silence passed between Anthony and Penelope as he slowly lowered his arm and she opened her eyes.
“Are you alright?” he asked, using his soft voice typically reserved for Francesca and Hyacinth. Penelope swallowed and nodded, blinking back the tears that flooded her waterline as her adrenaline receded from her veins. “I’ll get out and talk to the other driver, okay? Just breathe, you’re doing great.”
His voice had been so fatherly for someone so young. “Okay,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
She heard the click of his seatbelt and watched as Anthony climbed out of the passenger side that was too small for his imposing frame. Within seconds, her head snapped up as shouting erupted.
“What the hell were you thinking, Colin? Not paying attention, were you?”
Penelope looked out the windshield to see Anthony pointing at a younger man who resembled him and the other Bridgertons.
The sibling she hadn’t met.
And he was getting chastised for her mistake.
Without another thought, Penelope put the car in park and clambered out. She raced to Anthony’s side as Colin opened his mouth to respond.
“It was my fault!” Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head. “I’m so sorry, it was my fault.”
Anthony placed a placating hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t, Colin was looking at his phone. I’m sure he was.”
She shook her head, “No, I didn’t look before starting to turn.”
Penelope hadn’t been brave enough to look at Colin yet, not really look at him. If she did, she would surely see the disdain for her, thus ending the only bright spot of her life - her relationship with the Bridgertons. Her family life was unpleasant to say the least, but the kindness and support she found with the Bridgertons made up for her home life. She felt so stupid to risk it all, to take advantage of Anthony’s kind offer, to hurt his relationship with Colin.
She had just opened her mouth to begin another round of apologies in a desperate attempt to salvage this, when Colin surprised her.
“Hey, Ant is right. It was completely on me and I’m sorry that I made you so worried. I should have been paying more attention. I’m the one with the license and several years of driving experience, right?” He turned to look at her, not with disdain, but empathy, with kindness. It would be an understatement to say that he was beautiful. Colin was handsome in a disarming way, he had a boyish smile and curly locks of dark hair that swooped over his forehead and emerald green eyes. He looked like an actor on those teen shows her sisters watched without her. She was quite certain, even in the haze of nearly hitting him with her car, that she would never meet another man as beautiful as he was. And she had soured it almost immediately.
Penelope glanced between the two much taller men, unsure of what to say. So she said nothing.
“Very good, Colin.” Anthony answered, instead. “We will have a discussion later. Penelope and I were on the way to practice parking.”
Colin’s eyes widened with recognition. “Oh, Eloise’s friend! I’ll be sure to get an earful from her later. I’m sorry again, Pen.”
The nickname came out of nowhere but seemed to fit all the same. “Thank you, I hope she doesn’t bother you too much. But I should get home anyway, Mom will be looking for me.”
Colin leaned forward, as if he wanted to say more.
“I’ll drive the car back to your house, okay, Penelope?” Anthony offered, cutting the conversation off. “We can try again tomorrow and I’m sure we’ll get parallel parking down in no time.”
“Thanks, Anthony.” She handed him the keys and he walked back over to the driver’s seat, leaving the two of them alone for a moment. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Colin blinked, “Do what, exactly?”
“Take the blame, for me?”
He shrugged and flashed her a small smirk, “It wasn’t very well done of me. Imagine Eloise’s ire if something had actually happened.”
“Well, thanks anyway, I guess.”
“No one got hurt.” Colin started back towards his car and plucked something from the dashboard of his car. He walked towards her, a small rubber ducky wearing a yellow bonnet in the palm of his hand. “Technically this is a Jeep thing, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”
She nodded and accepted the little duck, because what was she supposed to do? All she had ever known was that love and warmth were conditional. She would do whatever it took to stay in the Bridgertons’ good graces. Even if it meant staying away from Colin.
Especially if it meant staying away from Colin.
And if that same rubber ducky lived in her center console to this day, that was no one else’s business.
–
The sun had reached the point in its slow, early summer descent where it sat just atop the trees and glared directly into her eyeline. Penelope splashed her toes in the water and glanced down at her phone next to her on the dock. She hadn’t heard from Eloise since their call ended and truthfully, she hadn’t expected to. Eloise was right. Perhaps it was time to let go of her hesitation around Colin after over a decade of intentionally keeping him at arms length. At first, it was easy, she was just a kid and he was off flying around the world. Then, she went to college in Chicago with Eloise, helpfully avoiding him even more. But eventually, when she learned just how enduring and unconditional Bridgerton love was, Penelope would see him at holidays and parties. They would share an occasional dance or quip from the corner of the room, but she would pull back at any hint of something more. At a certain point, she no longer needed a reason - it was a habit. Once Alfie entered the picture and Colin was with Marina, Penelope doubled down on her efforts to keep a respectable distance from him. She was happy to maintain a close relationship with all of the Bridgertons, but Colin was different. Their circumstances had always been different.
Now? She tapped the screen on her phone, 3:16 PM.
She could admit she had been a little unfair. Or, perhaps she hadn’t been unfair, but it would be to continue in this way. She had no reason to keep her distance any longer. They could be…friends, even. Penelope sighed and shoved her phone in her pocket as she stood at the end of the dock. Three weeks. The two of them could be friends for three weeks and it would be perfectly fine. She knew her relationship with the Bridgertons could withstand some minor changes with Colin - nay, minor improvements. In fact, Violet would be delighted to see them become better friends.
Perfectly fine, she thought as she dusted some illusory dust off of her shorts. Penelope would be the best damn friend and housemate northwestern Michigan had ever seen.
She practically stomped her way over back into the house and into the pantry. Penelope pulled out her sour cherry candies as she looked for Colin, adrenaline flowing through her like a guided current. After a minute of searching, she found him in the family room, prone on the sofa with his laptop in his lap and a forlorn look on his face. In seconds, her adrenaline faded and she tepidly walked into the room - candy forward.
“Hey, I got these from the grocery store yesterday.” She spoke like a veterinarian whispering to an anxious animal, holding out a bag of treats. “Do you want any?”
He looked up from his computer in surprise. “Oh, uh sure. Thanks.”
Colin started to move his laptop before Penelope walked further into the room. “I can come to you. No worries.” He reached into the bag now presented to him and popped a few pieces into his mouth. “I’m sorry for last night. I was a little thrown off, but I promise I am here to be a pleasant and noninvasive houseguest.”
He chuckled but the same far-off look lingered in his eyes. “It’s fine, Pen. I can imagine it would be…disorienting to say the least. Hopefully we’ll both get some writing done, well, you will probably.”
Penelope gestured to the couch and he shuffled his knees towards his chest to make room for her as she sat down, arms tucked into her side like a passenger at Cedar Point. “Are you stuck on something?”
“It’s just this one sentence for now. I’ve been rolling it over in my head for like, ten minutes.” She had a sneaking suspicion it was more than that, but didn’t push it.
She did, however, offer - as friends do - to look it over. Penelope might not have known him well personally, but she knew him as a writer and had followed his work for years. She didn’t know him, but she knew his voice. “I could take a glance at it, if you wanted?”
Instantly, he thrust the laptop into her hands. “Please. Right now it’s like I can see all the puzzle pieces but they just don’t fit together.”
“Sometimes the order is the hardest part,” Penelope agreed. It was nice to talk about writing with him. They hadn’t really done that before. She hadn’t really done that with anyone before. Who would take her seriously? A romance writer. That’s all most people saw her as anyway. But as she suggested alternatives and they workshopped his entire paragraph over the next hour, she realized that Colin took her seriously. He implemented her suggestions and listened when she explained her reasonings. It was a welcome change, and one that felt achingly like friendship.
“The sunset is starting soon. Would you want to join me on the back porch? I like writing there a lot.” It was an offering, a piece of herself for him to take or leave. She steeled herself for rejection but a warmth settled within her when he smiled and nodded.
“As long as I’m not invading your space or anything,” he tempered.
She shook her head, “Not at all. I’m happy to share the space.” Colin gathered his things and walked toward the kitchen to the back porch, Penelope was close behind.
They could be friends.
They would be friends.
And that improvement would be enough.
-