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"What the hell is a Lochan?" Penelope frowns as she tries to understand the person on the other end of the phone. "What is that? A name?" She waits for a response. "Oh! The orchids?" A yes is her confirmation. "The orchids are not ready? Well, get something else; no one will care."
"Everything okay?"
Placing the phone by her shoulder so the person over the line won't hear, she fakes a smile, "Yes, Violet, everything is perfect! I promise, nothing will be bad today."
The older woman smiles kindly, "Florist is cancelling, isn't he?"
She should have known she could not hide anything from this woman. Violet Bridgerton has been like a mother to her since the first day she and Eloise met as kids, always there to offer advice or a helping hand. She has been more of a mother to her than her biological one, and more than once Eloise would beg her parents to adopt Penelope so they could be real sisters.
Penelope would always laugh off the idea, but it was not because she didn't like the idea of being Eloise's sibling...but that is not important now.
Today is a big day for the family.
Against all odds, and against what her younger self used to say, Eloise Bridgerton is walking down the aisle to the love of her life. Widowed father of two, keen agriculturalist, Phillip Crane, won her heart over a series of sweet notes and letters exchanged when he was on trips away for work.
Penelope, of course, is the maid of honour. They have been best friends since they were seven, and Eloise hates most other people, so the choice was clear. Penelope was overjoyed when she got asked. She loved planning the wedding, organising things, feeling important and helpful.
Until today, the day of the bloody wedding, and everything is going wrong.
"Eloise had a freak-out this morning; I had to calm her down to get her to go through with the wedding. The seating is just all off; I spent all morning fixing it. The florist keeps ringing with more and more problems, and I haven't even had my hair done, and the wedding is in an hour!" She exclaims, all of her worries coming out in a big bundle.
Violet Bridgerton is a formidable woman, a woman who has survived a hell of a lot in her life. From losing her husband and having eight children, there is nothing that can be thrown at her that she cannot deal with. This is just a drop in the ocean to her; she could solve all of these issues in seconds.
But her biggest priority is Penelope.
"My dear," Violet reaches out to take the phone from her gently. "Daphne will do your hair, I will speak to the florist, and Francesca will keep Eloise calm."
"B-But..." Penelope chews on her bottom lip worriedly. "I'm the maid of honour; I am meant to deal with all of this-"
"You are one woman, my darling." She reminds her, brushing some of her hair away from her face with all the love and care only a mother like her can give. "You have planned a wonderful wedding for my daughter. It is my duty to care for my children, which you are one of, so please get yourself ready, and everything will be fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
Violet is some woman for one woman; Penelope has always thought that. And she is only proven correct in a matter of twenty minutes when miraculous flowers appear, and her hair is completed to perfection by Daphne. The chairs look even better than she made them look, and somehow, all the Bridgerton boys are dressed and not trying to antagonise one another.
Anthony nearly cries at the sight of Eloise in her wedding dress, though he strongly denies it when teased by his sisters. Benedict has the duty of keeping Hyacinth and Gregory from bickering, a large task for any one person. And Colin...Well, he is by her side when required.
Standing at the altar with the love of your life...that is not awkward at all, she thinks as they stand together by the doors.
He is the best man; she is the maid of honour; therefore, they walk the aisle together and stand close together. All of that would be fine, if not for how many jokes Benedict has made about best men hooking up with maids of honour – something that has earned him a punch from every member of the family.
Hyacinth will walk with Gregory, Daphne will walk with Benedict, and Francesca will walk with her wife, Michaela. Penelope will walk with Colin, and Anthony and Eloise will be last, of course.
"Is everyone ready?" Daphne checks, fluffing dresses and checking hair. "No one fall over."
"Great advice." She mumbles, already terrified of tripping on her dress.
The music starts.
"Can you believe Eloise is getting married?" Colin says beside her, still in shock despite this day having been in the diary for months. "Eloise. Before me! I expected it of Anthony and Daphne, but Eloise?"
"Hyacinth will be before me." She whispers back, watching the two youngest members of the family begin to walk. "In fact, Daphne's children will be before me."
He chuckles beside her, his arm looping with her own, "I doubt that. You are only twenty-five, Pen."
"With zero chance of marrying before thirty." She laments softly, making him frown. "I realised when I was planning this that I am closer to being a nun than being married. They must be celibate for like two years; I could be a nun...I just do not think the headwear would suit me."
Colin turns his head to face her as Daphne and Benedict walk next. "Pen, you will get married, I am sure of it. If someone was willing to marry Eloise, there is hope for us all." He tries to joke softly.
"Sure," She wrinkles her nose, stepping forward. "Who would not want a plump, moderately attractive author with an overbearing mother? They would have to like cats, too; I will probably have ten by the time that guy shows up." She jokes back, watching Michaela and Francesca begin to walk now.
His look is surprisingly earnest, "Who wouldn't want you?"
It is their turn.
She cannot reply to him, instead plastering on her smile and beginning to walk down the aisle. They walk in sync, arms linked and smiles on, her hand clutching her flowers, her eyes focusing on the vicar at the altar and nothing else. Not Colin's soft tone or the fact he smells great – how he always smells great, she doesn't know.
They unlink at the altar, smiling at Phillip as they take their places. She turns her brain off the second she spots Eloise and Anthony walking together, her smile wide and genuine and beaming at her friend.
The ceremony itself feels short, though it is probably because she spent months planning it and therefore it goes by in a flash. She passes Eloise her vows when she needs to and rings; she smiles and makes sure she never steps out of place. She nearly cries at Phillip's sweet vows. Okay. She does cry, but only lightly, and Daphne pulls a tissue out from her bra in a flash from beside her.
At the end of the ceremony, Colin is at her side to walk back down, and he greets her with a soft kiss to the cheek that she did not expect but certainly does not reject. She hears a camera click right when she does it, so she assumes it was for the photographer's benefit.
"I got married!" Eloise exclaims joyfully the second she is out the door, making the people around her cheer for her. "Let's get pissed!"
Cars are ready to take people, and she can feel Eloise and Phillip's relief to have a moment alone. When planning, both had said they would share their car, but Penelope and Violet had been the ones to say having a moment alone would be nice...it is always a nice feeling to be proven correct.
Thankfully, the reception had zero problems, and she feels herself relaxing more and more as the day continues. Though that may be because of her wine intake during the dinner and speeches.
Colin delivers a speech that is equal measures sincere and hilarious, and she finds herself holding her stomach with laughter over the stories, especially ones where she features – and she features rather heavily in a few of them.
His speech is appreciated by...a few people.
Particularly women. Particularly young women who wear beautiful dresses and who look stunning in them.
She finds herself sitting at the head table, a glass of champagne between two fingers on the table, playing with it idly as she watches Eloise and Phillip speak to people, and the Bridgerton family go around the room.
The song Dancing on My Own is playing, and she can see Kate and Anthony dancing to it, and she is happy, more contemplative than anything. She is happy for her friend. Jealousy would not be a good word, not for the wedding, but maybe envious would be, something she feels terrible for.
"Pen."
Colin sits beside her, a worried look in his eyes, or maybe fear; she is a little buzzed and therefore not at her best when it comes to emotional cues. "I need your help with a problem, Pen."
She laughs, "I am done fixing problems today."
"Women keep flirting with me."
"Doesn't sound like a problem." She says, glancing at him to see that anxious look she is so desperate to wipe away. "But, if it is, it sort of sounds like a Colin problem. Not sure how Pen can help."
"Well," He starts, his voice sounding so similar to the one he has when he plans on crazy pranks. "You are the maid of honour. I am the best man. People assume they are always together, so if we pretend to be, people will quit bothering me. I am not interested in a random hook-up at my sister's wedding..."
Penelope raises an eyebrow, trying to hide her smile at the mere thought of it. No one would believe that they are together, not in a million years. She knows that because she would never believe it, no matter how badly she wants to.
Men like Colin Bridgerton do not date women like her. They date models, not struggling writers. No matter how her heart aches for it to be true.
"You want me to fake date you at your sister's wedding?"
"Yes." He says simply, in all seriousness. "But we commit to the bit. Fully. We make it weird."
That does grab her attention.
"Define weird."
He leans in closer, making her intrigued, "Every crazy idea you could possibly have, we do. No matter how wacky, we tell people about it. We could have a lot of fun with it."
It does sound fun. It would certainly distract her from her pensive thoughts, and it would mean no longer having to watch Colin and some fake blonde flirting with him. It is a win-win in that case.
Selfishly, she thinks it would show her what it would be like to be his. Just for one night. Just for fun.
A therapist would have a field day in her brain.
"Fine."
"You met during a hostage situation?!"
"Yes," Penelope nods solemnly, acting as if every word that she says is the truth and nothing but the truth. "A bank robbery, of all things. Colin played the dashing hero."
"One look and we were in love." Colin agrees, acting doe-eyed as if he is remembering it. "She saw me and thought I would be the one for her. And I saw her and thought she was the most beautiful hostage I had ever seen. We have been obsessed since."
"How...lovely."
"You ran a vineyard together?"
"For a time," Penelope says, entirely composed. "South of France. It was a very exclusive operation."
Colin nods, leaning casually against the table. "Small batch. Highly sought after."
"What happened to it?"
Penelope sighs. "Colin insisted on naming every wine after me."
"It was branding!" He exclaims like this is a conversation they have had hundreds of times before.
"You named one Penelope's Disappointment."
He looks at the elderly couple, explaining, "It was a dry red."
"Oh..."
"You're banned from Venice?"
Colin winces slightly, "Banned? Now that is a strong word."
Penelope cuts in, perfectly pleasant. "We are banned, honey!" She says, ignoring the way the term of endearment makes him flush a little. It must be the wine.
"It was a misunderstanding."
"You tried to race a gondola."
"I did race a gondola."
"You knocked over a wedding."
"They were drifting."
"You almost eloped?" One of Phillip's relatives asks, eyes wide. "What happened?"
Penelope tilts her head, considering. "We considered it."
"Prague," Colin adds, softer than before, and she thinks back to a trip they took to Prague years ago. She remembers getting so drunk they went to a church and acted like fools and got thrown out.
"It was raining." She says, like she is remembering something real.
"There was a chapel," Colin says.
"And no one else around."
A pause.
Penelope clears her throat. "Then we got distracted."
"By pastries," Colin says quickly.
"Very good pastries!"
"Anyway, then we came home; we had to," Colin says, his tone wistful. "The alpaca farm cannot run itself." He continues, remembering they had told this couple that they run one together. She isn't even entirely sure they get alpacas in England, even in zoos.
"They are very sensitive animals." She advises the couple.
"They hate me."
"They don't hate you, my darling." She defends, and there it is, that redness on his neck once more. "You just can never remember their names, and they get frustrated with you for it."
"What was wrong with naming them all Colin?!"
The wife of the couple they are speaking to laughs, "Best not let him name the children."
Penelope ignores the churning in her gut at the thought.
"When did you realise you were serious?" A man asks, sipping on champagne and seeming genuinely interested in them despite them having told him they run a daycare for abandoned horses.
Colin glances at Penelope, smiling like there is a joke between them. "Italy."
Italy was their first holiday together. Benedict and Eloise came too, and they spent the whole time eating pasta and feeling bloated. Colin and Penelope were the only ones who did not suffer a hangover on one of the mornings, and they ended up sitting out in the sun like an old married couple, eating morning pastries, and wishing they would never go home.
It was the holiday that solidified her love for him, saw herself actually having a life. All of her fantasies had been exciting, but a slow morning in the sun made her think she would love those just as much.
With Colin Bridgerton, she does not love doing things. She loves doing nothing with him. She loves him so.
"That was the second time," She corrects, trying to joke about it.
"The first time you threatened to leave me in Switzerland." He continues it, winking at her to make her laugh.
"You deserved it."
"I did," Colin says lightly. "That's when I knew."
"Do you live together?" The man asks.
"Unfortunately," Penelope says, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, the day he picks up his shoes before I trip on them is the day I say yes to a proposal!"
"She steals all the blankets," Colin adds.
"You kick in your sleep."
"You talk in your sleep."
Penelope pauses. "You listen?"
"I have to," Colin says, winking at her and making her blush. "You say my name."
Oh, how I hope that isn't true, she thinks, but she hides any worry behind a laugh.
"Tell them about Greece." Penelope gestures to the old couple in front of them, her other arm linked with Colin's. "You'll love this story!"
"No."
She frowns, "You loved Greece."
"I nearly died in Greece."
"You fell off a boat." She says.
"You pushed me."
She gasps. This is an ongoing argument between them. They had been in Greece for a long weekend and had gone out on a boat tour. She had stood up to grab something and accidentally knocked him; however, Colin, to this day, swears that she did it on purpose.
"I nudged you by accident!"
"Into the sea."
The older couple smile and laugh at their back and forth together, "You two have so many stories." The husband comments. "Much like us. It is like looking in a mirror...and yet you are both so young."
Penelope laughs lightly. "We have been through a lot. We have known one another since I was seven." She says, and she realises that this is the first story that they have told people that is completely and utterly true in every way.
Colin looks at her for a moment longer than he should. "Yeah..." He says quietly. "We have."
The wife smiles warmly at them, eyes soft with something knowing. "And how did you know?" She asks Penelope gently. "That he was the one."
It is meant to be another joke. Another story. Another ridiculous, half-invented answer to add to the growing list. She intends on coming up with a wild story, of making them both laugh and then moving on because that is what this is all about. Half-truths wrapping around lies to make them seem like a couple.
Penelope opens her mouth, ready to say something absurd, something about alpacas or gondolas or near-death experiences, but nothing comes out.
For a moment, she just looks at Colin, only to find that he is already watching her. Waiting. And suddenly, she can't bring herself to lie.
Her voice, when it comes, is quiet: "He makes me laugh."
It is the truth. Every word of it, and she wonders if he can see that in the way her eyes search his, begging him to understand or even to not understand and move on because it feels far too personal, far too intimate, for them to share with two strangers.
That is what her love boils down to. Sure, Colin is attractive and well brought up and kind, and well-off and has a good family and a good job and he is sunny, and he is so many wonderful things. But above all else, he makes her laugh. Every day, every moment she is with him, he finds ways to make her laugh.
He is her best friend; he is her love; she just wishes that he thought the same of her.
"And you?" The husband asks, turning to Colin.
Colin doesn't answer straight away, because he has gone very, very still. He is staring at her still, and she turns her eyes away, refusing to meet his now. At the faint flush in her cheeks. At the way her fingers tighten, just slightly, around his arm.
And it hits him, not all at once, but all the same.
Every laugh. Every story. Every moment today where it stopped feeling like a performance and started feeling like more. Every real story that came out of their mouths was not for everyone else but themselves.
In that moment, it suddenly hits him in the face that he is a fool. He is a fool for pretending to be hers when he knows it is what he wants, more than anything, including the alpaca farm that he sort of set his heart on now. But he throws that dream away, intending in that second to let her know how he feels.
"She's my best friend," He says finally. Penelope's head lifts, just a fraction, and he swears that he sees sadness in her eyes, of all things. "And there is no one else I care about more than her."
The wife presses a hand to her chest. "Well," She says softly. "That's that, then."
Penelope's breath catches, because that didn't sound fake either. And when she finally finds his eyes again, he is staring back at her like he is trying to figure out how he ever thought any of this was pretend.
"I need a drink." She whispers.
Penelope darts past him, the bar never her destination. Of course, Colin follows, never one to leave her when she is just as affected by the moment as he is. She rushes out to the hall, searching for an empty room of some kind or for the outside, her dress feeling too tight all of a sudden at her chest.
"Pen!" He calls, reaching for her hand to tug her with him to a room he knows is empty, though she somehow avoids him.
"Colin!"
"Pen!" He calls again, sharper this time, fingers closing around her wrist before she can disappear down the corridor.
He tugs gently, not pulling her back so much as guiding her, until she stumbles into a quiet side room, half storage, half-forgotten sitting area, dimly lit and mercifully empty. The door clicks shut behind them, and for a second, neither of them speaks.
Outside the door, she can hear the songs changing, people cheering for You Belong with Me, and she swallows thickly.
"Pen..." He breathes, his fingers still on her wrist.
Penelope laughs once, a brittle, disbelieving sound, and shakes her head as if she can physically dislodge everything that just happened. "This is ridiculous." She says, staring anywhere but at him. "We are...Colin, we are at your sister's wedding. We cannot disappear."
"I know.” He says, his voice is softer than it should be, and it makes her look up at him finally. "Did you mean it?"
"What?" She whispers.
Colin doesn't repeat the question straight away. He just watches her like he is afraid she'll vanish if he moves too fast, and she feels like running out the door and avoiding this altogether, so maybe he should be worried. "At the table." He says quietly. "When you said I make you laugh."
Her chest tightens immediately.
Of course, that is what he is asking about; she knew she could never get away with such honesty when everything else has always been so funny and fake.
She lets out a breath that is almost a laugh, but it catches halfway. "Colin, that was..." She stops herself, searching for something safer. Something lighter. "That was part of the act."
His expression shifts. Just slightly, but she sees it. With Colin, she always sees every little gesture, too in love with him to not notice. "And the rest of it?" He asks.
Penelope finally looks at him properly then, and that might be her second mistake of the night. Because he looks…different. Not like the Colin she has built up in her head over years of watching him from too far away, his friend but not his love, never that. Not like the Colin who smiles easily and never seems to notice the way people feel about him.
This Colin is something she has never seen before.
"I don't know what you mean." She says, but it comes out weaker than she wants.
Colin's hand loosens slightly on her wrist, but he doesn't let go. "The stories, Pen." He says. "The vineyard. Venice. Prague. Italy. The whole lot of it-"
Penelope huffs softly, shaking her head again, but there's no real conviction in it. "Those were jokes."
"Were they?"
She finally pulls her hand back, not sharply, but enough to create space. Enough to breathe. "Yes." She says. "Colin, they were jokes. That's the point. That's what we agreed to do."
He nods once, like he is accepting that answer, but his eyes don't leave her. "And the part where you said I make you laugh? Pen, that didn't sound like it was the same as the rest. The rest was off the cuff and fun, and that...Did you mean it?"
Her mouth opens, then closes again, "I didn't mean anything by it." She lies, hoping he doesn't catch the higher pitch in her tone.
But this is Colin. Colin who she has known since she was a child and loved just as long. Colin who defended her from school bullies and who would walk her home every day to avoid them. Colin who would come to the bar to pick her and Eloise up on drunken nights and help her take off her make-up and get into bed. Colin who has always made her feel so safe. Her constant.
Colin steps closer, not enough to corner her, but enough that she feels it in the air between them. "I think you did." He says gently.
Penelope shakes her head again, but her voice wavers now. "You're imagining things."
"I'm not."
The certainty in his voice makes her heart stutter. Outside, the music swells again, muffled through the door. Laughter. Cheering. Life continuing exactly as it should be, everyone enjoying the wedding that she spent months planning, months thinking about and worrying about.
Penelope looks down at the floor because looking at him is becoming dangerous in that second, seeing how soft his eyes are, how much he is digging for an answer: "This is a wedding." She whispers, like that explains everything. "We are just caught up in it. Everyone is emotional and-"
"Penelope."
She forces herself to look up.
Colin's expression is different now. Less playful than before by far, looking more open and more honest than she has ever seen him. This is not her best friend Colin, not how he usually is. "Did you mean it?" He asks again.
Her throat tightens, blinking back the wetness behind her eyes, wishing she could laugh this off and walk away.
She thinks of every year she has spent loving him quietly. Like it is something she should be able to grow out of if she tries hard enough. Like it is something that will eventually stop hurting if she just stops looking at him for too long. But it never did. No matter how many times she told herself it would never happen, she should move on and get over him because Colin Bridgerton would never go for plain old Penelope Featherington.
Her voice comes out smaller than she wants it to, wishing she were more assured and confident, "I don't know what you want me to say."
"The truth." He whispers back. "It's just me...You can always tell me the truth, Pen."
Penelope lets out a shaky breath, her fingers curling slightly into her palm as if she can physically hold herself together. "The truth?" She echoes softly, almost like she can't believe he is still asking for it.
Let it go, she begs in her head.
Colin doesn't move; he doesn't interrupt or try to talk again; he just waits.
Penelope swallows. "I don't know when you started saying things like that to me," She says, voice trembling despite her best efforts. "Like I can just…say things and it won't change anything."
Colin's brows knit slightly. "Pen-"
"No." She cuts in quickly, then immediately softens it, because it is him. Because it is always him. Colin does not deserve her ire, not when he did nothing to deserve it. It is not his fault that she is about to ruin years of friendship over her silly little heart. "Let me finish."
She breathes in, so much that it hurts her chest, like she is forcing herself over a ledge she has been standing on for years. "I meant it." She says again. "What I said at the table."
Colin's throat moves, like he is swallowing something down.
"I meant it because you do make me laugh. And because you always have. Even when you shouldn't. Even when I tell myself not to..." Her voice catches, and she hates that it does, hates that she is about to cry when she knows he will never feel the same. "And because I have spent so long pretending I don't feel things that I absolutely do feel that sometimes I forget I'm even allowed to say them out loud."
Her eyes sting now, properly, and she looks away for a second, gathering herself. "I meant it, Colin." She whispers. "Because it was easier than saying anything else."
Colin's voice comes softer than she has ever heard it before, "What else?"
She shakes her head, a weak, almost helpless laugh escaping her. "You really don't know?" She asks, though it isn't an accusation. It's something closer to heartbreak, knowing she is about to ruin everything between them. She is about to lose her best friend in the world because she is a fool. Fool enough to fall for him. Fool enough to never get over him.
Colin steps forward slightly. Just enough that she has to look at him again. "Penelope, I don't know what."
Her breath shudders. Don't do it, her brain screams at her. But the second his eyes find hers, the words come tumbling out anyway. "I have been in love with you since I was a child."
He says nothing.
It is somehow worse than she thought. She thought maybe he would burst out laughing, but that reaction seems unnecessarily cruel when Colin has never been anything but kind to her.
Penelope keeps going anyway, because stopping would mean taking it back, and she can't do that anymore. "And I tried not to be, I swear, I did." She adds quickly, voice breaking a little now. "I really did. I told myself it would go away, that I would grow out of it, that you were just Colin, my friend, and I was being ridiculous for thinking-"
She stops, swallowing hard. "For thinking you could ever look at me like that." Her chest rises and falls too quickly now. "And I got very good at pretending I didn't care, like I did not feel this way." She whispers. "But I did. I always did. I always have, and I think I always will."
Silence.
This is worse than laughter, she thinks, wiping away one of her tears when it falls.
Colin doesn't speak. Doesn't interrupt. He doesn't even look away, until finally -
"Pen," He starts, his voice hoarse like he is holding back the same emotions that she has allowed to flow so freely from her now, knowing she will be embarrassed about it later on. "I didn't know."
She lets out a breath that feels almost like a laugh, but there is no humour in it, only heartbreak. "Of course you didn't."
Colin shakes his head once, slow, "No, Pen." He says. "I mean-I didn't know what it was."
Penelope blinks at him, confusion taking her over, not understanding what he means by that. "W-What?"
His expression shifts, something dawning behind his eyes, something almost disbelieving, like a lightbulb has just gone off in his head that he never quite worked out how to do until now. "I thought…" He starts, then stops, like he is struggling to find the right words. "I thought I was just comfortable with you. I thought that was it."
None of it makes sense, but he allowed her to speak before, so she will allow him the same, even if she doesn't understand it.
"I don't think I have ever felt like this with anyone else."
Colin steps closer again, carefully now, like he is afraid she'll disappear if he moves too fast. "I think I've been trying not to notice it all day." He admits, a smile growing cautiously on his face. "Trying to make it into a joke because that felt easier than...than this." He exhales, shaky. "And I think I've failed."
Penelope stares at him, her heart doing something unbearable in her chest, feeling like it could burst at any second. "Failed at what?" She whispers.
Colin's gaze doesn't leave hers, stepping closer one more time, his face so close to her own that she could lean forward and do the one thing she has always wanted. "Pretending," He says simply. "Pretending that I do not love you in the same way you worked out you do so long ago."
Her tears fall, and his thumb comes to wipe them away.
"Forgive me." He whispers, almost begging her. "And let me spend my life apologising to you for not realising it sooner."
And, because it is him and they are friends before anything else in the world, she has to make a joke, as terrified as she is and hopeful, "That sounds like a proposal. And you haven't even kissed me yet."
He laughs, leaning closer to nudge her nose with his own, "Let me rectify that immediately."
Their first kiss is soft, almost tentative, like he's worried she will suddenly refuse him, and it will all go wrong. His lips brush against hers, gentle, lingering for just a second before pressing again, a little firmer this time, testing, learning what she likes, what works for them.
Penelope exhales against him, the sound quiet but completely unguarded, and that's what undoes him. Because she's not pulling away, she's leaning in; her hand comes up, fingers curling into the front of his jacket like she needs something to hold onto, and suddenly the carefulness fractures and finally they let go.
The kiss deepens. Years of almosts and not-quites and things left unsaid pour into something that finally fits. Colin's other hand finds her waist, steadying her as she shifts closer, like the space between them is something neither of them can tolerate anymore.
"Pen..." He breathes against her mouth, and she answers him by kissing him again.
His hand tightens slightly at her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she gasps softly at the sudden closeness, the sound swallowed immediately when his lips find hers again, more certain this time, more urgent.
She presses forward without thinking, and he steps back instinctively until her back meets the wall with a soft thud. Her fingers slide from his jacket to his collar, then higher, brushing the edge of his neck as if she has been wanting to do it for years and is only just allowing herself to.
Because she has been. Always, always wanting this with him. She has no time to be shocked about it.
Colin leans into her, one hand braced beside her against the wall, the other still at her waist, holding her like he's afraid she might disappear if he loosens his grip. She tilts her head, kissing him back just as fiercely now, and there is something almost dizzying about it. The shift from years of quiet longing to this, to being wanted back and loved in return after years of thinking it would never happen.
When they finally break apart, it is only because they have to, needing to catch their breath, but they do not go far, still clinging onto one another, foreheads rested together.
Colin lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, his thumb brushing lightly along her side like he needs to confirm she is real.
"I should have done that years ago."
"Where the hell are they?" Eloise mutters, checking every room in the hallway, her dress dragging along the hall carpet behind her.
"Maybe they left?" Benedict guesses, checking the rooms on the opposite sides that she is checking. "Then again, when has Colin ever left before a cake was cut?"
A loud moan comes from a room a few away, followed by a banging, and he chuckles, "Sounds like someone's having some fun." He smirks, walking towards the room. "Maybe it's them." He jokes.
Eloise scoffs, "Please. Penelope would have better sense than to go off with my brother."
"Hey!" He exclaims. "I take offence to that. Penelope and I would make a beautiful couple."
She laughs, shaking her head, "As if. Colin would murder you. He has been mooning after her for years. Out of all my brothers, he is the least disgusting, but I still think she would have better sense than to date a Bridgerton boy."
They open the door the noise came from, and Eloise screams, slamming it back shut after the sight...
"OH, GOD!"
Benedict starts cackling, holding his sides, and trying not to fall over from how hard he laughs, "Oh my! That was-HA! That was fantastic!" He yells. "Looks like you were wrong!"
Eloise bashes her fist on the door, "Get dressed! I need a word!" There is no response, and she kicks the door after thirty seconds of silence. "No, you may not finish! Can't believe you two are having sex at my wedding!"
A minute later, a sheepish (Penelope) and smug (Colin) pair come out from the room, both of their clothes in a state of disarray. Penelope's hair is wild and out of its perfectly made-do, whilst Colin has lipstick marks all over his neck and jaw, and the sight makes Benedict laugh harder if possible.
"I would like to apologise for what you just saw." Penelope starts.
"Speak for yourself," Colin says, but a nudge to his gut from her has him wincing and correcting himself. "I am very sorry you saw that."
Benedict holds onto the wall for stability. "This is hilarious. I have to tell the group chat." He reaches for his phone, which Colin promptly snatches from his hand. "What?! They all love Penelope; everyone will be thrilled! Mum especially."
Eloise scowls, exhaling hotly, "Penelope, I thought you had better sense than to date a Bridgerton. You know they are all idiots."
Penelope winces at that, glancing up at Colin, "Well, technically I'm not dating a Bridgerton." She says, albeit quietly. "I'm sorry, El, we kind of...realised some feelings and got a little overexcited."
"And engaged," Colin adds, his grin so wide it is a wonder it doesn't hurt. "So, technically, as she said, not dating."
Benedict and Eloise gasp at that, looking between the two of them.
Eloise steps closer, leaning in to be face-to-face with Penelope, "Are you sure? Colin tells boring travel stories and eats you out of house and home. He likes bourbons, Penelope, come on, you can do better. I am just saying." She whispers.
Penelope leans closer, "Unfortunately, I am in love with him."
"Shit."
"Mh..."
The bride of the day leans back, moving over to Colin, "If you hurt her-"
"You will kill me. I know." Colin interrupts gently. "Believe me, I have no intention of ever doing so. I love her, I want to spend my life with her. I would end it myself if I hurt her; you would not be able to get to me in time."
"No." Eloise shakes her head. "If you hurt her, I will hack your emails and create several fake social media accounts to create a smear campaign against you to drive a wedge between you and everything you love. I would get credit cards in your name and launch an identity theft scheme, leaving you bankrupt and facing criminal charges. You will get visits from your children in prison. Do you understand?"
Colin gulps, backing away slightly, "I am very grateful you still allowed me to have children in this scenario."
"Only because I know Penelope wants them." She concedes. "And your kids would be cute, as much as I hate to say it."
Penelope hides a laugh behind her hand, touched by her best friend's loyalty and consideration – even if it is in a bit of an odd way, considering Colin is her brother, and she should defend his feelings rather than her own.
"Sorry we got engaged on your wedding day," Penelope says, ignoring the way Benedict finally begins to calm his laughter down. "I promise, we will never steal your thunder again."
That is a lie.
Ten months later, on the day Eloise and Phillip announce they are expecting, Penelope gives birth to their first child, Agatha.
(Eloise has to admit she is rather cute...not that she would ever tell Colin that.)