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Chapter Text

Colin rubbed his hands together with a satisfied smile as his breakfast was laid to the table in front of him. He thanked the waiter and swiftly picked up knife and fork to dive into his warm pancakes. 

He frowned when a hand moved the plate from him.

«Aren’t you forgetting something?».

His best friend could be so vexing when she wanted, which was most of the time.

«Sure!», he smiled to her face as he grabbed a small glass bottle from the table and started pouring generous amounts of maple syrup on top of his pancake stack. «Thank you, Micky, I almost forgot».

«Very funny, Bridgerton», Michaela rolled her eyes at the dreaded nickname and waved his smartphone in his face. «We agreed on posting this morning’s breakfast on your instagram stories with your location, remember?»

Colin sighed and put on his photo-for-work face: handsome, flirty, somewhat distant. It was a hit every time.

Michaela took the picture with quick and experienced hands and began working on the screen. Colin tapped the handle of his knife on the wooden table, impatient.

«Can I eat now? The butter is melting», he all but whined.

«You’re honestly worse than a child», Michaela retorted without lifting her face from the phone, but waved her consent nonetheless. Colin finally shoved a forkful in his mouth, content.

He was almost finished when Michaela began to nibble on her croissant.

«You do know that the content on your socials is what pays your bills and also mine when you’re in between books, right?», she asked rhetorically, sipping her iced coffee through the paper straw. «If we don’t follow our posting schedule…» 

«Please, it is way too early to hear the word “algorithm”, Mich», Colin cut her off, pleading. «This is only my second espresso of the day». 

She raised her hands to admit defeat. 

Colin knew she meant well, though. «That’s why I have with me the best social media manager and, may I add, content creator around», he pointed to all of her, flashing his most dashing smile.

«Save the flattery for someone who is actually into spoiled rich men, Bridgerton». 

As per usual, Michaela’s words were harsh, but her tone betrayed her fondness.

Colin’s smile just widened wickedly. «Why, do you have any new friends I should meet?».

«Please, babe», she said, knowingly. «Your demi ass couldn’t handle a fling with one of my girls». 

«Touché», he admitted with a shrug.

«Speaking of fire spirited girls…», Michaela raised her brows as she looked next to her plate, where Colin’s discarded phone had begun to vibrate. «Why is Penelope Featherington yellow heart emoji, sunflower emoji, bubble tea emoji calling you?».

He had reached for his phone well before Michaela had finished listing all the emojis he had saved Pen’s number with. His smile was surprised but pleased.

«Hello?», he answered the call, raising a finger to stop Michaela in her tracks. She glared at him but snapped her mouth shut, opting to try and eavesdrop instead. 

«Yeah, I’m out with Michaela for… oh. Did something happen? No, sure. It’s just we have to go over this week’s schedule of contents before I can head back to the hotel, so I can call you back in one…».

Michaela shot him an admonishing look. He quickly backtracked. «…Three to four hours, maybe? Perfect, then. Bye, Pen». 

Colin hung up and looked at his friend across from him. 

«No questions?», he asked. «I know you were trying to eavesdrop». 

«Oh, am I allowed to speak now?», she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. «I’m letting this go just because I want the tea». 

«Fair enough, I’m sorry, Mich», he apologized, sincerely. «Penelope had hoped to catch me alone. She has something important to talk to me about, apparently, and she wanted some privacy».

«Uuuh, well. She should be aware that as my best friend you are not allowed to keep secrets from me», Michaela stated, matter of factly.

Colin laughed, slightly nervous. «I wouldn’t use that particular title in front of her, you know. She has dibs on it, on account of her being my first true best friend and all». 

Michaela looked somewhat surprised at that, or maybe it was Colin’s timid expression. «You two go that way back, uh?». 

Colin nodded. «I was twelve when we met, she was my sister Eloise’s friend in primary school».  

«Okay, I knew you’d known each other since forever, but I didn’t realize you were actual fetuses!», Michaela commented, impressed. «And you’ve been besties since?». 

«Well, not exactly», Colin explained. «We have always liked each other, but El’s really the possessive type and plus we both were at that age everyone seems so appalled at the mere thought of having a close friend of the opposite sex». 

Michaela whispered something that sounded a lot like “gender roles bullshit”, but gestured for him to go on.

«Things started to change when we both were teenagers and her parents allowed her to spend summer breaks with my family in the countryside», Colin smiled reminiscing of little Pen, getting sunburned by the pool. «She has always been shy but every year she came out of her shell more and more, until we realized we had lots in common and started to confide in each other». 

«We’re talking more than a decade of unperturbed, untroubled best friendship , then?», Michaela was actually impressed: usually friendships as long as this between a good looking heterosexual man and a good looking heterosexual girl got tainted by unrequited crushes or one sided attraction. 

«Well…», Colin scratched the back of his head, shifting in his chair.

Michaela smiled triumphantly. «Gotcha!».

«If you must know, there was a… pause in the friendship», he admitted sheepishly.

«I knew it! So, who wanted to shag who?».

«Both of us catched feelings that transcended platonic friendship», Colin corrected her, not without a glint of amusement in his voice at Michaela’s crass intuition. «So I took action and kissed her at her nineteenth birthday’s party. It only lasted five months, however».

Had the circumstances been different, Michaela would have teased Colin telling him how that with Penelope had still been his longest romantic relationship to date, but she saw the bittersweet sadness written all over her friend’s face and how his gaze was distant, lost in memories. She gently nudged his foot with her own under the table and smiled encouragingly. 

«You know me», he lifted his shoulders, embittered by his own nature. «I grew restless and she noticed. She was very graceful, telling me how breaking up was for our mutual benefit, with her set to begin university and me wanting to travel for a living and not just for fun». 

Michaela watched in horror as Colin slowly shook his head and his eyes got wet with mournful tears. 

«She gave me this look and I couldn’t help but say “The thing that makes me want to cry is I’m losing the best friend I’ve ever had”. She kissed me and told me that wasn’t going to change», Colin seemed to get out of the trance and he couldn’t help but smile, seeing his friend’s concerned stare. «And here we are! More than a decade later, and it’s still true. We’ve seen each other through everything. Losing jobs, losing parents, losing lovers. I’ve traveled all over and sometimes she has accompanied me, too. Best times of my life, maybe. Drinking and talking, even if it’s just over the phone». 

«That’s some unbeatable shit, mate», Michaela low whistled. «Like, if we were to compete in a ring to get the “Ultimate Colin Bridgerton’s Bestie” title, she would floor me».

Colin laughed at that. «Aw, Mich! You would get yourself stepped on by a beautiful woman to be my one and only best friend?».

She shrugged. «What can I say, it’s a risk I might be willing to take».

After that, they got their laptops out and got to work, figuring out which pictures from his last trip to post on Instagram, trying to determine which TikTok trending music was the less cringe to post the videos over, selecting fitting abstracts from his last book to caption the content with.

It was a couple of hours later, while he was munching on his brunch and drinking his fourth coffee, that an idea crossed Colin’s mind.

«She actually turned thirty just the other month». He hadn’t even meant to voice that thought aloud.

«Who did?», Michaela asked absentmindedly, typing on her keyboard. 

«Penelope».

«Congratulations…?».

He shook his head and tried to explain. «There was this one night in Greece, like five years ago. She had come with me because I was there to finish writing my first travel guide and she knew I’d be nervous. It was well past midnight and we had two bottles of red between us, trying to edit what I had written in the past weeks. She got really close and extended her little finger to me and said “Swear. When I’m thirty, if we’ve never married, we marry each other”. I pinky promised to her, but actually we’ve never talked about it again». 

Michaela’s jaw had dropped, her task of skimming through Canadian landscape photos all but forgotten. «And she just got thirty». 

Colin chuckled nervously, his heart suddenly beating furiously in his chest. «She couldn’t possibly…».

«What did she say now, exactly?», Michaela pressed.

«That she had hoped to speak with me alone, because it was an “urgent matter” and she was “desperate” to talk».

He had started to sweat even though they were still inside the air conditioned bar.

«I’d say I might be wrong, but you know I rarely am».

Colin didn’t even have the strength to throw a balled up tissue at her.

Michaela seemed to take pity on him. «Come now, babe. Your family has a thing for long lasting marriages! Aren’t, like, seven out of your sixteen siblings in happily-ever-after monogamous relationships? With dozens of little snotty angels to answer for?».

Colin ignored her. «Now that you mention it… she has been acting a bit strange recently. Not answering as many phone calls and avoiding some texts».

«God forbid she has just grown tired of you, uh?».

But Colin was not listening to Michaela anymore. He stood up abruptly, chair scratching the floor annoyingly. 

«Mich, I have to go», he proclaimed, stuffing his laptop and his notes messily in his leather satchel. «I have to know».

«Yep, no worries, you’re justified by the “about to get  proposed to” clause», Michaela remarked with sarcasm, but Colin was already out the door. «Cheers!», she yelled after him, raising her glass of white wine in his general direction as he sprinted by the glass windows of the bar. 

***

Colin paced the carpeted floor barefoot, clenching and unclenching his hands, restless.

Was Penelope really going to bring it up? She couldn’t, right? She had been drunk and hell, so had been Colin. Sure, he probably would have shaken that pinky with his own even if he had been dead sober. He had never been able to deny Pen anything, not when she fluttered the lashes on those gorgeous blue eyes. 

“If we’ve never married, we marry each other” .

His mind went to the little black velvet box, collecting dust in the back of a drawer in his childhood bedroom… Colin splashed his face with cold water and looked at his own reflection. Water droplets dripped from his furrowed brow and his hair was wild.

He took a deep breath and tried to rationalise: he was overreacting, for sure. He was going to call Pen, listen to what she had to say and be the best friend he could be: cheer with her, cry with her or give her some advice if she seeked it. He had promised himself a long time ago he would be there for her and foremost and he was not going to let a stupid drunk memory get the best of him.

Colin wiped his face on the fluffy hotel towel and struggled for a bit to make his hair look presentable, like he had just come back to his room from a friendly work meeting with his friend and not like he had spent the last twenty minutes spiraling. 

Satisfied with his efforts, Colin took his smartphone in hand and started the call.

One ring, two rings, three rings…

«Colin!». 

Penelope always sounded so happy to hear him.

«Welcome to the Hot&Sexy Blue Eyed Brunet gigolò service, Miss Featherington», Colin said, using his sultriest tone. «This is Colin speaking».

She giggled and then let out an exasperated, good-natured scoff. «You do know I can see who is calling me, right, you ridiculous dork?».

«And yet, you laughed!».

«Only because I don’t want to hurt your gigantic clown ego, sweetie».

«A win is a win!».

«Shift to FaceTime?», she asked, mirth still in her voice. «Are you presentable?».

«Depends on who you ask», he joked, pressing the video call button.

Pen’s sweet smiling face greeted Colin from his screen.

«Hello, beautiful», he breathed, genuinely. If he preened at Pen’s light blush on her cheeks, he didn’t let her see. 

«There you are!».

Pen had answered from the desktop computer at her desk. In the background, Colin was able to catch a glimpse of her kitchen slash dining room slash study. Pen’s apartment was small and colourful, always tidy even if filled with books and tiny ornaments and plants. It suited her and it was a rather fitting frame for Penelope’s round pale face. Her red hair was up in a messy bun and she had her reading glasses on. 

«Here I am», he grinned, suddenly feeling way more relaxed now that he was actually talking to her. He fell against the too soft mattress with a huff.

«And where exactly is “here”, Mr. Bridgerton?».

Colin loved when Pen referred to him using his last name. It was different than when Mich used it or when a stranger did. Between himself and his siblings and niblings alone, his last name wasn’t exactly rare, but Penelope had a way of saying it… like he was the single most important Bridgerton on planet Earth. 

«Vancouver», he revealed. «But I’m wounded, Pen, you would already know it if you would only watch my stories».

«You know I even have my notifications on for you!», she reminded him patiently. «I’ve just been busy with work myself, today. I was going to catch up with my socials once I was in bed».

«Ah, yes, your bed…», Colin smirked. «Your favourite place to think about me».

«A worse woman than me would say that it’s true, but only because your stuff is so boring it’s more effective than a sleeping pill».

«Touché».

«But I would never say that because I am the best friend and woman ever».

«And humble, too. You truly are the whole package».

They stared dumbly at one another for a moment, smiling the secret smiles they reserved just for each other. Colin couldn’t believe a handful of minutes ago he had been so nervous to talk to her: this was Pen! Nothing could go wrong if Pen was involved. 

Colin shook his head and rubbed a hand down his face.

«What?», she asked in gentle mockery.

He could see her adorable bunny-like white smile in his mind, even if his hand still covered his eyes. 

«It’s stupid…», he began.

«Well, of course it is, you’re thinking about it».

His eyes stayed closed.

«Come on, what is it?», she asked again, softer now.

«Alright, but try not to laugh at me».

Pen remained silent and, when Colin peeked between his fingers, he found her waiting.

«This may sound so random, but I was thinking about that spring when you surprised me in Greece while I was finishing writing my travel guide. And there was this honestly insane night… Gosh, we were so sloshed and you probably won’t even remember this, but…».

Penelope’s eyes widened. «I’m so sorry, Colin», she hurried to stop him. «I have to tell you something and then get back to work. I just received an email moving up a deadline, so, you know».

Colin had known Penelope for well over twenty years and he could confidently say he knew her. He knew how she took her coffee and her tea and on which occasion she preferred one or the other; he knew which brand of menstrual pads she was partial to; he knew her favourite ice cream flavour, her favourite flower, her favourite animated movie. Colin knew that when Pen moved into her apartment, she had arranged the books in alphabetical order as per author, but he also knew that now the volumes were sorted according to their general genre. Colin knew what made Penelope tick, what made her laugh, what made her cry. 

Colin knew Penelope, and Penelope was a liar. She didn’t like lying, per se; or at least he didn’t think so, even if he was pretty sure she took a morbid pleasure knowing she could get away with it. Growing up, her situation at home hadn’t been ideal and she did not have that many friends in school either; so little Pen had quickly learned that if she wanted to live her life the way she preferred, she just couldn’t let herself be too sincere. 

All this to say, after many years of quiet practice, Colin was able to tell when Penelope was lying. And right now she was.

«Right», he said, smiling tightly. «Tell me the news, Pen».

«I met someone», she blurted out. She looked tense, as if bracing herself for a bad reaction on Colin’s part.

«That’s great», Colin said, but he felt like his own voice didn’t belong to him. «That’s great!».

Maybe if he repeated it some more, he could even convince himself. 

Penelope seemed to relax a little, a timid smile on her red face. «It is».

«You haven’t really seen anybody, have you? Not since Fatwit Pete», Colin joked.

Really, he didn’t know where he was taking the strength to joke from. He got up from the bed, feeling restless.

«He’s not like the others I’ve dated before», Penelope defended him, and Colin felt he already hated this faceless, nameless guy. «He’s nice and smart and actually considerate. And not too bad to look at, actually».

«You truly like him», Colin assessed, the realisation dawning on him.

«Colin, we’re getting married. This Sunday». 

Colin literally dropped dead. At least, it felt like it. 

«Are you alright?».

«Sure!», he laughed. The almost hysterical tinge to it was not lost on him.

«You’re on the floor», she stated.

«Penelope, it’s Wednesday night», he retorted, as if that was enough to justify his reaction. «How can you possibly be getting married this Sunday?».

«Actually, it’s one of those four-day wedding things», Pen tried to explain. «You know my mother. She has invited like ten million people and it all starts tomorrow».

Colin should never have agreed to a video call: his face was red and his eyes were swelling up and Penelope was going to see . «I can’t believe it», he murmured. 

She seemed to resent him for that. «What, that somebody actually wants to spend the rest of their life with me?! Or maybe you can’t just begin to phantom the idea of someone wanting to take responsibility, take roots?!».

She had hit him where she knew he was tender and Colin felt a twinge of pain and betrayal in his chest.

«No! I can’t believe you’ve kept this secret from me! For how long? Months?!», he snapped back. «I wasn’t even aware of the fact you were dating someone, let alone that you were serious enough or… or sure of him enough that you were going to accept a bloody marriage proposal!».

Pen deflated. She stared at him in silence from the screen and tormented her bottom lip between her teeth, looking the perfect image of guilt. 

«Colin…», her tone was kinder, now. «You’ve always known I was going to get married, eventually».

Colin hoped that his sniffing had been subtle enough. «I know that, I do», he sighed. «I just hoped I would have been involved somehow».

«You’re right», she admitted. «You’d think I was mature enough not to avoid adult conversation with my best friend right until the last possible moment. I was afraid you’d react poorly so I hid it all from you. I was a jerk».

«You were not a jerk…».

«No, I was. And I’m sorry».

It had taken Penelope years of therapy to dismantle her parents’ influence on her mind. Her father’s tendency to hide things, her mother’s inclination to lie. «It’s a classic case of nature versus nurture», she had once shared with him and Eloise, while sitting cross legged on her sofa. «Looking at the evidence, for all we know deception might very well be written in the Featherington DNA. I am the daughter of a compulsive gambler and a woman who was objectively incapable of finding a connection with one of her children without belittling one of the others». Penelope’s dad had been found dead in a casino in fishy circumstance when she had yet to turn sixteen; the loss of a parent, despite the very different predicaments of their fathers’ departures, had actually been one the very first things her and Colin had bonded over, however sad it may be. On the other hand, after years of persuasion, Portia Featherington had at last embraced therapy and had, according to all three of her daughters, become a better mother for it. According to Colin, though Portia was now indeed more understanding and listened more to others’ needs, Pen’s mama had now become one of those somewhat terrible people that misused therapy terms to flee from difficult conversations. «Maybe I won’t ever be perfect, but I will try to fix myself and be better than my parents. I’ll start by taking accountability and apologising for the shit I do, I guess», Penelope had carried on, shrugging in her oversized t-shirt. «At least, that’ll be more than either of them has ever done».

And Penelope was just doing that: she was holding herself accountable and she was saying sorry. Her blue eyes seemed to stare right into Colin’s soul, even if they were just pixels, and really, he was incapable of being angry at her.

«It’s okay, Pen», he tried to put on his most sincere smile. «Truly».

«Okay, since that was not embarrassing at all…», she tried to laugh it off. «Colin, I would really love it if you'd stand by me through all this. My mother is insufferable and breathing down my neck and my sisters are jealous! Jealous, of all things! All because Portia is giving me all her time and efforts and neglecting them and my nieces! I feel like all the attention is on me. Not just my mother’s, mind you. Apparently every single person on the planet wants something from me! Dress and catering and venue and live band and RSVPs… I can’t wait for it to be over!».

Penelope, who had started to pace around her flat while talking, landed on her bed with an oof, her phone falling somewhere on the mattress beside her.

«Pen…?».

Colin heard her grunt in response and he smiled almost against his own will. «As lovely as your ceiling is, could I maybe look at your face?».

Red hair and a forehead popped up in the frame. «I need my best friend».

It was a statement so simple and her voice was so small, and Colin knew the battle was lost.

He sighed. «I’ll be there in the late morning, tops».

ITrustOneManOnly @MeanLesbian 

ITrustOneManOnly: penelope is getting married

ITrustOneManOnly: but not to me

Chapter Text

alphabet mafia & spouses (11 members)

colin✈️: so no one was going to tell me penelope is getting married

hya👑: honestly keeping a secret has never been so hard man

franny🎧: sorry colin

daph💁‍♀️: sorry col

sophie💚: how are u?

eloise📚: she made me swear! 

eloise📚: chicks before dicks

colin✈️ : i’m your brother

daph💁‍♀️: gals before pals?

ben🖌️: ovaries before… brovaries?

sophie💚: oh gosh

colin✈️: not even going to apologise, of course, thanks ben

ben🖌️: anytime 😘

g🫰: mates before dates

g🫰 : family friendly and gender neutral

hya👑: thanks woke agenda

kate🐶: anthony and i didn’t want to overstep

kate🐶: she told us she wanted to tell you herself 

hya👑: that was when she brought him over to family brunch so they could announce the engagement

colin✈️: SHE BROUGHT HIM TO FAMILY BRUNCH???????

eloise📚: jfc brother chill

daph💁‍♀️: also mum and I are planning the wedding

***

Colin had been alternating from desperately running his hands through his hair to impatiently tapping his fingers on the glove compartment, then his thighs, then the passenger window, over and over again, on repeat. He also couldn't seemingly stop venting about the situation.

«Alfred Debling», he was currently spatting. «Who the fuck is named Alfred, nowadays?! Apparently he is rich and he flaunts it, too. Before you call me a hypocrite, know this: he owns two electric cars. “Oh”, you might say, “Alfie, what a nice guy! You don’t want our planet to die”! But answer me this: who the fuck needs two electric cars in London?! Just use the bloody tube, mate! Do you want to be stuck in traffic, is that it?!».

The rental car sped up through traffic while Michaela stole side glances at her friend, worry clearly written all over her face. 

«…I swear to you he owns some pretty fancy leather shoes. Yeah! Saw them with my own eyes while scrolling on his insta. I call bullshit, I say. He is just pretending to be vegan. What else could he be lying about?! I bet “Alfred” is not even his real name ».

Michaela was starting to grow really concerned. «Colin…».

«And I suppose you could say he is handsome, if you like the tall, fit, blond type, that is. I mean, I could grow a beard like that too, you know, I just choose not to».

«Colin!».

He shut his mouth, even though he clearly wasn’t finished.

«Maybe we should, I don’t know… regroup? Talk about it?», Michaela ventured. «I feel like we should think this through a bit better?».

Colin looked at her like she had just grown another head. «Think what through?!», he screeched in disbelief. 

«Yes, well, you know», Michaela tried to rationalise, stepping on the gas rather than slowing down, as she always did while driving and attempting to get her point across. «Perhaps getting packed and buying a last minute plane ticket to London to win back your bestie or whatever isn’t the smartest idea?».

Colin could hardly believe that Michaela I-do-everything-on-a-whim Stirling was unironically telling him to “think it through”. The same person that didn’t believe in planning anything unless it was a work schedule, that mocked Colin’s bullet journals and that sneaked out right after one night stands because the thought of deciding what to get for breakfast with a stranger drove her mad. Talk about it , she said. The woman had even got a “Y.O.L.O. (You Only Lesbian Once)” tattoo in 2012, for crying out loud! Granted, she regretted it now, but she couldn’t even be bothered to get a cover up. The nerve of her.

Colin scoffed. «I’m not trying to “win her back”, Mich! I’m trying to save her from what could potentially be the worst decision of her life!».

«What I’m hearing is that you don’t think a grown ass woman can make a decision for herself without asking your permission first».

«I don’t want her to ask my permission», Colin replied, outraged. «All I’m saying is… I know Penelope, all right? Maybe even better than I know myself. And the mere fact that she would keep such a secret from me until the last possible minute is… suspicious». 

Michaela slowed down a little, taking the exit for the Vancouver airport.

«You’re not her only friend, Col. What about your sister Eloise? Have you talked to her?».

It was clearly the wrong thing to say.

«The way my family was in it, too! It’s unbelievable», Colin spat, resentful. «We’re always in each other’s business. I swear I know things about my siblings that make me shudder. A brother should really draw a line somewhere, but it’s unfathomable with the lot of them! There’s no such thing as “too much information” for the Bridgertons. …Yet apparently not a single one of them deemed me worthy enough to share the news with».

He was really trying not to make it all about himself and not to pass as a self-referential prat, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of betrayal. Maybe this is the price you pay for never being there, he thought bitterly. 

The car came to a stop in the parking lot near the departures.

Colin looked at Michaela with big pleading eyes. «Why are you being so… conscientious? I’m supposed to be the levelheaded one in this friendship. I think I need  your batshit crazy unwavering support».

Michaela let out the longest sigh. «All right, Bridgerton, here’s the plan», she finally said. «You try and get your beauty sleep on this nine hour long flight, because you have a mission. You have exactly four days to break up a wedding, steal this guy’s bride and… apparently make her miserable, since she is the one that wants to get married in the first place». 

Colin nodded almost manically. «Wish me luck?».

«Let’s get your pathetic ass on that plane».

***

Usually Colin would spend his long flights reading, catching up with the latest movies or tv shows, and sometimes even enjoyed a friendly chat with the people seated next to him. 

This time around, however, Colin didn’t feel like befriending the middle aged man on his right or the excitable young woman on his left that kept standing up to talk with her friends in the row in front of them; none of the best-selling titles in his replenished kindle library appealed him; and every plot summary he read on his letterboxd watchlist sounded trite and bleak.

Colin sighed and browsed the movies available, lazily scrolling on the screen built in the passenger seat in front of him. He looked up the “rom-com” section, feeling way more of a masochist than ever before in his life. Funnily enough, one of the romantic movies he hated the most was just next to one of his absolute favourites. 

When Eat, Pray, Love premiered at the theatre, he had just turned nineteen and had been considering dropping out of university. His mother had read the book the movie was based on and was desperate for someone to accompany her to the cinema. Colin’s father Edmund loved the cinematic art and, when he was alive, he and Violet had been regular patrons of the increasingly scarce London’s independent movie theatres. 

Edmund never tired of taking his children to watch whatever they pleased, too: 1999 had been a particularly epic year for six-year-old Colin, finally allowed to tag along his father and two elder brothers to see some of the maybe-not-so-age-appropriate movies. Tarzan had made him cry his heart out and cling to Edmund’s arm, but in time it became his dearest Disney classic; he had not been not able to shut up about The Phantom Menace for months and even insisted on growing out his hair to braid it in a little ponytail like Anakin Skywalker’s. And granted, maybe The Mummy hadn’t been a particularly wise choice for a child; however, as his older brother reminded him, it must have been worth it if only to witness young Benedict’s pansexual awakening as he ogled the characters. 

Colin had held his father’s hand during Bicentennial Man, Spirited Away and Gladiator; he had excitedly yapped his ear off  about Spiderman, Spirit and Treasure Planet. They had laughed together at the jokes in Shrek and The Grinch and Colin had sobbed while Edmund and Violet caressed his hair after the finale of Moulin Rouge!. 

His father wasn’t alive to take his older children to watch Return of the King together or his wife to the Love Actually premiere. Edmund had been taken away from his family in his prime, not even able to see the birth of Colin’s youngest sister Hyacinth, more than twenty years ago. And when, after years of refusing because the memories linked to it were far too painful, Violet had expressed her desire to return to the movie theatre, Colin had smiled, given her a kiss on the cheek and accompanied her to see The Proposal. 

Through the years, it had become a tradition of sorts that, whenever he was in town, Colin would escort his mother to see whichever romantic movie was out in theatres at the moment. So, when Violet had shown him with big pleading eyes the poster with a smiling Julia Roberts on it, Colin had booked the tickets with the striking realisation of who Daphne and Hyacinth had taken their kicked puppy look after. 

His mom had found a striking resemblance between Colin and the protagonists, both eager to travel to discover themselves and their purpose. And actually, that was what had given him the courage to talk to Violet about quitting uni and investing his trust fund in something he truly wanted to pursue. It was thanks to their mother’s fervent support that Colin’s eldest brother Anthony had finally folded and had given his consent. 

For three years, Colin had travelled and travelled. He had visited every European country, as well as some in Northern Africa and Southern Asia. Nonetheless, he had proved to be conscientious with his money: when he had happened to stay in one place for longer periods of time, he had taken hands-on gigs and the odd job, which had actually taught him a lot about many crafts. He could boast about his vague knowledge on playing guitar and on making hand-made baskets, but he also knew how to weave rugs and blankets on a frame; he had proven to be a decent janitor and a good enough baker; he had learned he was slow with the cash register but he loved being friendly and helpful to the clients. 

During his travels, he had always stayed in contact with Penelope. Though the correspondence had started gradually, the constant connection had ultimately been what  made Colin understand he was in love with his childhood friend. At first, it had been nothing more than a few likes and comments on the Facebook albums where Colin used to dump his travel pictures; each photo was captioned with a little consideration he had while taking it, and his siblings used to deliberately mock him, but Pen didn’t. 

Thing had changed during his stay in Paris, when Colin had ended up visiting a temporary private art collection display at the Bourse de Commerce; walking quietly alongside the paintings and statues, he had come to a sudden stop in front of Lefebvre’s Jeanne La Rousse: the subject was a girl standing in front of a green wall, reading. Her hair was a fiery red, waist long and curling in sweet waves; it had been impossible for Colin not to think of Penelope, standing in a corner against one of the acid green walls in her childhood home. Growing up, she had decided to wear her hair at shoulder length, but as a child and as a teenager, her ringlets had been free to grow out reaching her lower back. Jeanne La Rousse’s skin was peaches and cream and soft looking, and her Renaissance style dress was cut low on her generous bust; her profile was starker than Pen’s, her nose straight, but her lips were the right shade of pink though somewhat less plump than Penelope’s. Jeanne held a small miniated book in her delicate hands, but her pale blue eye was not on the page; she appeared lost in thought, or perhaps her attention was on someone out of the frame yet close to her, and she was using reading as a mere excuse to listen secretly. Colin had smiled despite himself: maybe looks weren’t the only thing the lady in the portrait and Penelope had in common. He had bought a postcard that had Lefebvre’s masterpiece printed on it and had sent it to Pen, writing “This one made me think of you. Love, Colin” in the back.

Since that meaningful moment, it had been a whirlwind of postcards, letters, e-mails. In time, the old-fashioned correspondence had evolved in texts, Skype calls and, whenever Colin was back in London, in late night conversations discussing his travels, but also her dreams and plans for her future. Penelope had grown into his best friend, his confidante; and, after her nineteenth birthday’s party, after a glass of mimosa and a peaceful dance in the dark, Pen had become his lover. 

Even to this day, those few months with Penelope had been some of the happiest of all Colin’s life. Being able to hold her hand, hug her, kiss her… Just the privilege of standing next to her had made him feel serene, lighter, braver. However, those memories were now tainted with the knowledge he had been lacking in their relationship, blissfully unaware of Pen’s self doubt, her hesitations about the future Colin had been so eager to build together. 

They had mutually agreed to break up but remain friends. Colin supposed it was something many couples tried to accomplish after an amicable split up, and also something a lot of those same couples failed at. But he and Penelope had succeeded just fine, solidifying in Colin’s heart the belief that they could accomplish anything together. 

He had left, had started his Instagram page and begun publishing some short reviews and articles online about travel experiences. After the same old boring “10 Places you just can’t miss in…” and “5 Dos and Don’ts when in…”, his internet persona had grown larger and his reputation with magazines had become steadier. Then he had met Michaela through an old mate from high school, John Stirling, who had wisely sensed his cousin and Colin could help each other out work-wise. Michaela loved to travel, to be free, to roll with the punches and see where life took her; coincidentally, she also was a damn good social media manager and content creator: just what Colin needed. After all, engaging with followers had always made him nervous and he just couldn’t keep up with the logics and dreaded algorithms of social media. 

Having Mich in his team had been a real game changer: Colin had become a travel influencer through and through and that meant not having to worry about money and having loads of time to pursue his true ambition. He had published his first travel guide five years ago now, and in the meantime he had released another one plus a non-fiction book, a journal of sorts that collected some of the impressions and thoughts he had while travelling. Needless to say, it had been Penelope who encouraged him to write it, and who had spent numerous late nights editing his writings with him. 

Almost fifteen years later, Colin still considered that night at the movies watching Eat, Pray, Love with his mother one of the focal turning points of his life. At first, being the ignorant privileged teenager that he was, he had been happy Violet had drawn some similarities between himself and Julia Roberts’ Liz Gilbert. However, to grow up meant to learn and to change and, when visiting the places the movie was set in, he truly hoped he hadn’t come across as self-centred as Gilbert. 

He remembered the first true meaningful one-on-one conversations he had with his sister-in-law Kate, now years ago; how they had fervently discussed the new wave of modern colonialism that raged through the countries of the global East and South. «Save me, white hero!», she had wooed dramatically. «My only purpose in life is to assist you in your journey to find yourself!». Kate’s sister, Edwina, had burst out laughing and had finally overcome her initial shyness in front of that display. «Please, do purchase a miniature statue of the god I do actually worship and bring it home as a souvenir!», she had said in a fit of giggles. 

Colin smiled at the memory and emphatically moved the pointer away from the movie’s thumbnail. And there it was, one of his absolute favourite romantic movies: When Harry met Sally. He knew it sounded so corny of him, but the “friends to lovers” trope truly had a special place in his heart. And, given he was already on a mission whose outcome could potentially lead to that very heart shattered in a million pieces, Colin fixed his earpods and hit play.

***

It was not the holiday season, but London Heathrow was as crawling with life as ever. 

Colin fancied himself quite the experienced traveller, yet it took him almost half an hour to get from the plane to the sliding doors of the Arrivals area. He shifted his heavy backpack from one shoulder to the other and tightened his grip on his trolley, slaloming between the crowd and the piles of luggages. After nine hours of flight and little to no sleep, the noise and the neon lights of the airport were starting to give him one hell of a migraine; in moments like this, he really understood the aversion his sister Francesca had to travel.

Colin looked around, scanning the sea of heads for a fiery one. The thing was, Colin was pretty tall, but on the other hand Penelope was really short. He started to lose hope and was considering calling her and telling her to meet in the car park, when a small red projectile hit him straight in the chest. 

«Colin!», Penelope squealed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Colin quickly let go of the handle of his luggage and allowed his backpack to fall to the floor. He slightly bent his legs and took Pen by the waist, lifting her in the air; they spinned a couple of times on the spot, before she shrieked in excited panic. Colin let her feet touch the ground once again, but didn’t let go of his hold on her. He couldn’t help to think this was what the stress-packed last few hours had been for: it was all worth it just to feel Penelope Featherington in his arms, her citrusy perfume clouding his senses and making him feel at ease, at home. 

«Hello, gorgeous», Colin murmured into her hair, even though he was certain she wasn’t even going to hear him with all the commotion going on around them.

Pen disentangled from his hug and tilted her head to look him in the eyes. «Can you believe I’m going to do this?», she asked, smiling nervously.

He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, relishing in the softness of it. «If life has taught me anything, it’s that nothing can stop you if you put your mind to something».

And really, Colin was not just saying that, he really believed so. But he also firmly believed that Bridgertons were relentless, and this particular Bridgerton had set all of his own stubbornness and determination on convincing Penelope not to marry some stranger. 

As if reading his thoughts, someone drew his attention with a little cough.

Penelope had the decency to look sheepish, turning around to face the man Colin had stalked - just a smidge - on social media the day before. He was politely waiting for Pen to make the introduction, which Colin found unnerving.

«Alfie, this is Colin Bridgerton», she finally said. «Colin, meet my fiancé Alfred Debling».

And she took Alfie’s hand in hers, beaming up at him.

When Debling extended to him the hand that wasn’t currently holding Penelope’s, Colin briefly pondered biting it off. But, as far as first impressions went, that maybe wasn’t the best idea. Colin realised his right hand was still on Pen’s waist, so he reluctantly let go to take Debling’s. 

The blond smiled courteously while shaking his hand, and Colin squeezed just a little bit more than necessary. 

«Here’s the famous last Bridgerton», Debling acknowledged. And, despite knowing he meant Colin was the only remaining Bridgerton with whom he had yet to make acquaintances, it still stung to be addressed as the last.

«Here I am», Colin agreed, mirroring the close lipped smile. 

***

«So!», Colin exclaimed cheerily, slapping his hands on his thighs. «How did you guys meet?».

He was sitting in one of Debling’s electric cars; rather spitefully, he had chosen to occupy the middle space of the backseat, so the blond was forced to strain his neck to properly look in the rearview mirror. Everytime their eyes locked into the mirror, Colin would offer Debling a smile that was as apologetic as it was fake.

«Actually, we met through work», Penelope explained, turning slightly in the passenger seat to look at him. «I was in charge of writing the “Journey towards a greener future” column for the month and Alfie’s startup had been due an interview for months at that point».

All her life, Penelope had been a voracious reader and an inventive and witty writer too. She had attended the English degree program at the University of London, choosing to major in composition and rhetoric. After years of unpaid internships - and two or three retail jobs on the side to pay the bills -, she had finally earned her place as a columnist at a newsmagazine called Gentle Reader. 

«Oh», Colin feigned ignorance. «Did you found a startup, Alfred?».

Debling kept his eyes on the road in silence. Colin’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

«Alfie doesn’t talk while driving», Pen rushed to clarify. «He is a very cautious driver».

Colin could tell: the highway speed limit was at 70 miles per hour, but Debling was actually driving at a painfully slow 45. He was pretty sure that going this much under the limit was  illegal; and even if it wasn’t, there was still the chance that things could go wrong way fairly quickly if one of the exasperated drivers tailing behind them finally had enough of going at such a glacial pace. 

Colin couldn’t believe he was missing Michaela’s reckless driving, but there he was.

«How mindful of him», he commented.

Pen sensed his sarcasm but chose to ignore it. «Anyway, yes, Alfie is one of the founding members of BioLife. They deal with recovering the waste products from industrial processes in the agro-food chain to extract biopolymers to manufacture biodegradable and edible packaging».

Colin believed himself above feeling envious: growing up with seven siblings, you had to be careful or ugly emotions like that could get the better of you. Throughout his life, he had also had his fair share of self doubt and was no stranger to feeling useless. There were still times he thought he was no more than an empty-headed charmer, but for the most part he was aware of his own potential. 

However, his self esteem wasn’t happy to hear that a man the same age as him had accomplished something so relevant and noteworthy. 

«That’s, uh… cool», Colin admitted reluctantly. «I don’t even know what half of those words mean».

«Neither did I!», Penelope assured him. «But as far as environmental engineers go, Alfie is a very patient teacher and he was so kind as to explain it all to me in a way that, upon reading my piece, anyone could understand. The story was a hit, really».

«I bet it was, Pen», Colin hurried to say. «Your writing is flawless».

It was not just plain flattery: Colin always tried to be caught up with both Penelope’s weekly and her monthly assignments. He loved reading a particularly well-structured sentence or a clever remark, imagining Pen’s grin as she came up with it.

She smiled shyly at him, blushing, and he felt his heartbeat quicken.

«After the piece was out, Alfie reached out to me and very gallantly asked me out», she finished. «And I said yes».

One of Penelope’s hands rested on Debling’s thighs, seeking contact, but Alfred just patted it dismissively and moved it away. 

«No distractions, dear», he reminded her, eyes not moving from the road.

Pen clenched her hand in her lap and muttered a feeble “right, sorry” before looking out the window. And, in the midst of the whirlwind of emotions that was battling inside of him, for the first time Colin felt hope.

The rest of the car ride went by smoothly: Debling kept driving excruciatingly slow and Colin and Penelope lost themselves in a chill back and forth to catch up with their respective lives, on their way to his mother’s house for a small gathering and lunch. Despite Colin’s effort to avoid it, at some point the conversation took a turn on the topic of her wedding once again. They were just two blocks away from Burton Street when Penelope dropped the bomb.

«Your mom and Daphne are being so tolerant of my mother’s antics and weird requests», Penelope told Colin. «I could not have been blessed by two better wedding planners, I swear to god!».

«You know they love to see their clients happy. Plus you’re not just anyone, Pen, you’re family», he reminded her. «You know every one of us would do anything for you».

«I know… I am the luckiest bride. The whole Bridgerton clan is helping me and I couldn’t be more blessed. I have a team bride, you know? Even Eloise has accepted to be my lady of honor – which is not a maid of honor, so don’t ever call her that if you don’t want to be subjected to an hour-long rant on the inherently misogynistic roots of bridesmaids. Which, of course, I agree with, but I’d rather not hear the whole speech again. Naturally Francesca and Edwina are involved too, which is slightly scary. And my sisters, of course, because we have a modicum of relationship now and I don't wanna lose that». 

«Seems to me that you are all set!», he said, grimacing internally. His family was unknowingly making his wedding-sabotaging goals extremely difficult to achieve. 

Penelope hesitated. «Actually, not quite…» she said.

And Colin knew, in the moment the words came out of her mouth, that he had been caught in a well orchestrated trap. «What do you mean?» he asked in a tiny voice.

Penelope took a deep breath and spoke the most devastating sentence ever: «Colin, I need a man of honor».

***

Despite the last minute invitation, most of his siblings had managed to come and say hello to him. The familiar noise of their chatter enveloped Colin and prevented him from thinking too much about Penelope’s request. 

She had left him on Violet’s doorstep with a quick hug and an excited “See you later!” and then he had watched Debling’s car drive away, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Colin had said yes, of course he did. He really ought to learn to tell her no, because it was quickly taking a toll on his sanity.

Benedict teased him for his uncharacteristic silence, but his brother’s mocking was soon halted by little William throwing up a bit of his porridge. Colin silently thanked his younger nephew for the out: he knew it might be odd, but he really didn’t feel like talking about his last travel adventure. 

But of course, not even here he was safe from wedding talk. At the first mention of “bridal shower”, he excused himself and fled from the table.

Colin found refuge in his old bedroom, turned guest room when he had moved out. He left the door ajar and frantically called Michaela. He loved his siblings and confided in them often, but they all looked so involved and happy about Pen’s wedding celebrations: he couldn’t stomach talking to them about his feelings on the matter. 

«Hello, babe», Mich said as soon as she picked up. «Any news? Slapped the vegan bitch in the face yet?».

Micheala took way too much enjoyment in mocking this side of Debling, considering the fact they shared the same diet. «Straight men barely eat pussy already, now they’re allowed to be vegan too? I feel for Penelope, I swear», she had told Colin when she’d come pick him up to take him to the airport. Colin had only grunted in response. 

As he paced the floor, Colin dragged a tired hand over his face. «That’s not very polite, is it? Considering I am to be the bride’s best man». 

From the other side of the line, Colin heard sudden choking and spluttering sounds.

Michaela was still coughing when she managed to croak: «She asked you to be her best man?!».

«Indeed».

Sensing her friend’s dejected tone, Michaela hastened to find a solution. «You know what? That’s exactly what you need».

«No need to rub it in, Mich».

«I’m serious!», she insisted. «Think about it. This will give you an excuse to be around Penelope all the time. Being the man behind the curtain, helping her out and keeping her happy. But at the same time, you could strike at any moment, pointing out to her that this is absolute madness and that she doesn’t even know the bloke».

Colin thought about it. «Isn’t it a little bit… manipulative?», he asked.

«All is fair in war and love, is it not?», she pushed. «If I’m being honest, you’ll be doing her a favour».

Colin stopped in the middle of the room, hand sweaty and fidgety at his side. He thought about Penelope smiling at Debling, about her excitable voice talking about all the wedding preparations. Those images juxtaposed to how Debling had dismissed her touch; how that damn electric car was spotless and almost aseptic, while Penelope’s was messy and always in need of cleaning. It was the same car where Penelope would karaoke with him, screaming at the top of her lungs old One Direction songs. How could Alfred’s “no talking, no touching, no distractions while driving” rule apply to that?

Now, more than ever, he was certain that the man wasn’t right for his Pen. Deep down, he knew no one was more of a perfect match for her than Colin himself. But eleven years had passed from their break up and Penelope had clearly moved on: he couldn’t slither his way into her heart in a deceitful way. He knew she didn’t want him as more than a friend; however, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still prevent this whole situation from going sideways: in the long run, she wouldn’t possibly be happy. And Colin wanted nothing more than Penelope Featherington to be happy.

«I will show her he is not right for her. That she is rushing into this for no reason», he resolved. «I will stop this wedding, and if to do it I have to become the best man to ever best man, then I shall».