Chapter Text
August 2024
It is still quite difficult to say goodbye. Especially to Eloise, whose pregnancy has made her a weeping ball of hormones, likely to cry at the drop of a hat. It is why Penelope protested so hard against the Crane’s seeing her and her brood off to Heathrow. On top of child-wrangling, she now has to navigate an onslaught of justifiable emotions. At least if they’d taken Anthony up on his offer to lend them his chauffeur for the drop-off—the original plan—she would’ve had the entire ride to gather her bearings. Now, she has to watch her dearest friend try, and epically fail, to keep herself together long enough for her and Colin to usher their children through the airport, and she cannot trust this pregnant version of Eloise to pay her that respect.
Fortunately, her husband is most helpful and so in-tune with all her subtle nuances and mood shifts that he anticipates her breakdown, focusing all his attentions on their two youngest children. When she tries to pull their son from his restraints with slightly trembling hands, he kindly—wordlessly—intervenes, instructing their eldest son to unpack the stroller while their eldest daughter keeps the 7- and 3-year-old occupied. The 3-year-old is a little track star and will not hesitate to take off running, but the 7-year-old is as obedient as a child her age is expected to be.
“Pen, seriously, if my idiot brother’s making you live in the States now is the time to tell me,” El whispers conspiratorially, side-eyeing Colin suspiciously. She clasps Penelope’s wrist and pulls her close. “I will notify TSA or customs, tell them that you and my nieces and nephews have been kidnapped by a mad wanna-be American man.”
Pen snorts through the tears threatening to fall. “They’d be miserable without their father, El. I’d be miserable with their father.”
“It’s called Stockholm’s syndrome, Pen, and therapy can help.”
“Eloise,” Pen soothes, offering her a tenuous smirk.
“You will return for the birth? You missed Penny’s—”
“I was nearly 9 months pregnant with Gemma, El. No respectable airline would have permitted me to board a plane across the fucking pond.”
“Are you pregnant now?”
“nonononono, Aggie! No stwolluwr!” Piper bellows, curling her chubby legs tight around AJ’s waist and her arms round her neck.
Pen and Eloise watch the scene unfold; Aggie bowed over Piper’s designated seat trying to pry the girl’s limbs off her, Colin stepping in to assist, Gemma flailing wildly to be put down, then Colin holding her at arm’s length to offer her the sternest, most menacing glare he can muster until she calms the hell down.
Penelope quirks a brow at her best friend. “We’re done.”
“So, no excuse then?”
“I will be here.”
“Without the children?”
“Just the little ones.”
Eloise’s eyes widen to saucers. “Not the little ornery one? You’ve got to leave that one with Colin. Let Gemma tag along. She’s far more amenable than Piper.”
“You cannot show favoritism, Eloise, they are your nieces—”
“I may tell a joke, but I never tell a lie, Pen. Piper is too much like my brother. Chaotic and unhinged and shifty.”
“Colin is not shifty. Of the two of us, I am far shiftier than he will ever hope to be.”
“Be that as it may…she is not invited.”
Pen rolls her eyes. Eloise is joking, she knows. Half-joking, at least. And what she says is true. Piper looks like her father and acts more like him than her. She is Colin with the addition of a mile-long mean streak. Gemma is Pen reincarnated, from looks right down to personality.
“Ladies, you’re stalling,” Philip declares, leaning against their SUV as Colin pushes the stroller toward them, Cían nibbling on a biscuit behind his indignant big sister.
Penelope levels a sorrowful glance at her best friend while Eloise’s bottom lip trembles. Pen is the first to move toward her, pulling her into a long, warm embrace.
“I will miss you dearly, sister.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” Eloise cries, eyes squeezed shut as her chin digs into Penelope’s shoulder. “You will call the moment you land in New York?”
“Of course,” Pen sniffs.
Colin sidesteps their little display and thrusts his arm out to shake Philip’s hand. “Until next time, brother.”
“Until next time.”
Eventually the two women decide to disengage, for necessity more than anything else. They can stay locked in an embrace until Eloise’s water breaks, and it still wouldn’t be long enough. Life must go on. A laundry list of tasks awaits them at home, no longer able to be put off yet another week.
Colin lugs his sister into his arms. “I will never forgive you for stealing my friend from me,” Eloise iterates, something like a tradition now, a mantra that she repeats every single time they reunite.
Colin chuckles, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “I met her first,” he reminds her, then adds, “I love you, too, El.”
After a short chorus of good-byes from the children and one final consolation-hug for El and Pen, Colin ushers his family through the entrance.
*
The plane ride home was shockingly pain-free with little to no fanfare, save for the little show Piper put on when she realized Gemma got to sit next to Penelope while she’d been relegated to the seat next to their father, whom she was frequently quite fond of. Despite it being a quick fix, Pen had been firmly against yielding to Piper’s little plight, though she quickly realized that the small confines of an airplane were not ideal for proving a point to one’s stubborn child. Needless to say, Gemma and Pie ended up switching out their seats.
Pen and Colin alternated baby duty in 2-hour increments, for the most part. At 7 months old, Penelope was mostly still Cían’s primary source of nutrients, so the few times he sought after a meal Pen dutifully took him in her arms and—discretely as possible with such a ravenous little boy—let him latch on to her breast. To lighten her load, Colin put himself exclusively on diaper and bathroom duty. While she was much shorter and could navigate the narrow aisles easier than he could, he new what a nuisance it would be for her to do so between Piper and Gem. And he would never mind inconveniencing himself for his wife’s benefit.
In the seats behind Penelope, AJ and Elliott spent the duration of the journey home either asleep or with their eyes cast down on a screen, saving their parents from hours of pointless banter. Elliott didn’t even flinch when his sister slid into the window seat ahead of him. Instead, he pulled out his headphones and iPad and scrolled through a couple of movies he’d downloaded to watch for the journey while AJ did much of the same.
All those elements combined made for an easy trip home.
Hours later, as Colin loads the last of their luggage into the SUV, Penelope buckles Piper into her booster, craning her neck toward the back row to make sure the twins have properly strapped themselves in. Elliott is notorious for forgoing his seatbelt altogether, but he’s only put it on, she’s aware, to evade her wrath. Smart boy. AJ is using hers as a hoist for her head, dozing off to the music plugged into her ears, her long, dark hair obscuring her pretty face. Between Piper and Cían, Gemma has tucked herself under the purple fleece blanket Pen keeps in the car for them, lounging against her brother’s rear-facing seat. It is well past their bedtimes and Pen is dreading the moment they arrive home, because the calisthenics she and Colin will have to perform to keep them from rousing will be an impossible feat.
Sometimes it is difficult for her to grasp the fact that she’s a mother. That she is wholly responsible for 5 living, breathing human beings. That no matter the level of success in every one of her endeavors—and her husband’s—their well-being is contingent upon herself and Colin’s.
Penelope climbs into the passenger seat as Colin effortlessly slides into the driver’s. “Where is the key?” she queries as the engine roars to life, a little smirk playing on her lips.
The number of times he’s lost that fob should be in the Guinness Book of World Records. She’d even gone so far as to purchase a cute little neon cover for it thinking that might make it a bit more difficult to misplace. But it’s like he’s made it a habit, an integral part of their routine to spend ridiculous amounts of times—of which they do not have—looking for it.
“It’s in my pocket.”
Pen holds her hand above the center console, wriggling her fingers to entice him to deposit the fob into her palm. She’s taken to keeping it in her possession because at least she knows its exact location. He drops it into her hand with an exaggerated flourish and she smiles as she links it on the chain with her bedazzled initial and a small bottle of hand sanitizer.
“Thank you.”
It is nearly 11 pm when Colin begins steering them towards home, carefully navigating over rain-slick roads and weaving through mild traffic. Somewhere between passage over the Whitestone Bridge and Pelham Bay, Penelope dozes off to Saint Harrison’s ego talkin’ and stirs to the mechanical hum of the garage whirring open. A little disappointment seeps into her consciousness as she rubs vestiges of sleep from her eyes and extends taut muscles. She quite enjoys watching the last bits of the city dissolve from the rearview mirror, eventually making way for the quaint little seaside town they’d long since traded their former lives for. Away from prying eyes, perpetual noise, and the fast life that is associated with New York City. A life neither one of them found conducive to raising young children.
“You know,” Colin begins, twisting in his seat with a teasing glint in his eye, “riding in the front is a privilege, Pen. There are rules. Standards, if you will.”
“…Did you know that there were exceptions to those rules,” she counters, propping her elbow on the console, chin propped up on the heel of her hand. “14 years of marriage deems that I have long since been elevated to ‘passenger princess’. Or queen, as it stands. Furthermore, I have given you five children. Your rules no longer apply to me, Mr. Bridgerton.”
Colin shakes his head. “These rules are in place for a reason,” he replies, feigning a serious lilt in his voice, “and 14 years of marriage does not negate them, Pen. I am afraid you must be punished for your blatant insolence. Thoroughly.”
Penelope quirks a brow, quite enjoying their playful banter. “Oh? Tonight, then?”
“Oh no,” he insists, “your punishment will be much like a…a strike of thunder. You won’t know the precise moment it hits, but when it does, Pen…it will rock your world.”
Pen’s lips curl downward as she considers him and his threat, and she must admit…she is rather disappointed that her penance will be delayed. Exhausted as she is, she’s been looking forward to a homecoming quickie. Quality time with extended family is truly lovely and she is grateful that they have been blessed with the means to travel across the pond as a family of 7, but making love to her husband under the same roof as their relatives and in the close quarters of their children proved to be a challenge. Not an insurmountable challenge, mind you; they would not be Colin and Penelope if they allowed something as trivial as family to impede on their vigorous sex life. But a challenge, no less. Now that they’ve arrived home, she’s hoping that Colin might muster the energy to break in their new canopy bed.
She feels Colin’s lips slotting against hers, soft and inviting. A promise for more swirled in his toe-curling kisses. “Let’s get the kids to bed before we get our hopes up,” he tells her, forehead pressed against hers.
Penelope nods. “Ok,” she agrees between slow pecks.
Pen is not quite sure how, but she manages to peel Cían out of his confinement with no issue as Colin works to rouse Gemma while unfastening Piper.
“…we’re home?” Gemma slurs, eyes heavy with sleep. Putting her to bed will be easy as pie.
“Yea, love. Come on,” Colin gently urges her, holding out his hand for her to grasp.
She pouts, still drunk on sleep. “I can do it, daddy.”
“Well, can you do it faster, Gemma? We would like to get out too,” AJ complains, perched impatiently on the edge of her seat.
Colin shoots her a warning glare as Piper flinches against him. “No need to be cheeky, AJ,” he gently admonishes her, helping Gemma down.
When AJ is finally freed, she breezes by her mother as if she’s some random stranger off the street almost knocking her over in her haste to reach her room, then rounds the corner like her leggings are on fire. Typically, Penelope would elect to check her for her behavior, but she’s in no mood to hard launch a row with a teenager. Not tonight, anyway. She needs her energy for other, more enjoyable pursuits.
“Did she—”
“Leave her alone. She’s been longing for some semblance of privacy for 2 weeks now,” Penelope explains. “Besides, she’s bound to do something equally as infuriating tomorrow that will call for a proper tongue-lashing. Let it go.”
Penelope stands back as they approach the stairs to allow Gemma to climb up first. She goes to follow behind her when Elliott rounds the corner from the garage, but then makes a lazy beeline for the kitchen; and this is a battle she insists upon partaking in.
“Elliott, what are you doing?”
He pauses on the first step into the kitchen, seemingly seeing her for the first time. “Huh?” he mumbles, confused.
“What are you doing?”
Elliott blinks, looks to his father and shrugs. “I’m grabbing a snack,” he replies as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.
Colin chuckles.
“Why?”
He creases his brow in confusion. “Because I’m hungry?”
“Either he’ll have his snack now,” Colin interjects, patting his son’s surprisingly broad shoulder, “or he’ll just sneak down like a thief in the night and take one later.”
She narrows her eyes at her husband. “You would know.”
“Indeed, I would. He gets his appetite from his father, after all,” Colin smirks, nudging his son on.
Penelope blows out a puff of air through her cheeks and continues her ascent up the stairs, leaving Elliott to eat them out of house and home. Hopefully the little boy in her arms will prove to be easier on their grocery bill, though the rate at which he suckles on her poor breasts leaves much to be desired.
When she peeks into Gemma’s room, the kid is already halfway into her pajamas with her plush floral comforter peeled back for her to burrow into its warmth. Gemma is the most self-sufficient and responsible 7-year-old Penelope’s ever met. Her independence is truly astonishing…and just a little heartbreaking. As a mother, of course, she encourages her children’s autonomy, but there are limits to her compliance. At the rate she’s going Penelope won’t be surprised if she starts preparing whole family meals before she turns 8.
“Can you turn off the light for me, mom?” Gemma asks, flicking on the projector light atop her desk.
What ever happened to ‘mommy’? Who gave that kid permission to change her title? To grow the hell up?
“Of course,” Pen softly answers, an unexpected surge of melancholy stealing through her heart.
As she flicks off the light, watching Gemma nuzzle and shimmy amidst her covers, the projector bathes the room in a deep purple glow, a vision of sparkles and unicorns and castles dancing across the walls, ceiling, and carpet. Pen can’t help but satisfy the urge to tuck an errant curl behind her daughter’s pointed ear. And she knows she’s tempting fate with Cían in her arms, but she simply cannot resist. Gemma looks up at her with tired, drooping eyes and a lazing little smile, her tiny hands tucked beneath her cheek.
“g’night, mommy,” she sighs, eyes blinking closed as Penelope kisses her forehead.
“Good night, sweets.”
When Pen pads quietly through the Jack-and-Jill into the nursery—only after watching over Gemma much longer than she intended—she finds her husband perched on the glider carefully pulling a gown over Piper’s curly head. The toddler remains limp in his arms, over-tired from their long voyage home. She offers him a wistful smile on her way to the crib. Mindful of her height, Colin already has the siderails lowered for her to deposit their son comfortably.
In these quiet, mundane moments, working in tandem like a well-oiled machine, two parts of a whole; her love for him permeates through her veins and drapes over her like an old, worn cardigan. Swirled with comfort and warmth and a familiarity that has always been present, even at the very beginning when things were so uncertain between them. She found great relief, back then, in the foundation of their friendship. And she finds it, still, in their friendship today. That no matter what obstacles are thrown at their union, she can lean on it when things seem too daunting to overcome.
end chapter one