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Chapter 41: "that's what's next"

Summary:

THE EPILOGUE <3

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun streamed through the expansive windows of their new three-bedroom apartment, flooding the open-plan living space with warmth. It was more spacious, modern, and a significant upgrade from Colin’s previous bachelor pad. Penelope had insisted they needed the extra space. Colin had grumbled about it initially, but now, as he stretched out on their plush navy sectional (a joint decision after she vetoed his old leather couch), he couldn’t deny that the place felt perfect. 

 

Penelope stood at the kitchen island, unpacking the last of their dinnerware. A mix of her tasteful ceramic plates and Colin’s “vintage” mugs had somehow made the cut. She caught him staring at her and raised an eyebrow. “Are you just going to lounge there, or are you going to help?”

 

“I’m providing moral support,” he replied with a lazy grin. “You’re doing an amazing job, by the way.”

 

She laughed, setting down a plate. “Your moral support is appreciated. But I was hoping for something a little more… physical?”

 

“Careful, Pen. I might misinterpret that,” he teased, walking over to her.

 

“You always do,” she shot back, but her smile gave her away.

 

They’d only moved in a week ago, and already the apartment felt lived in. Her book collection lined the shelves in their shared office, while his antique maps adorned the walls of what they jokingly called the “study,” though it mostly served as Colin’s escape when he needed quiet.

 

"Remind me again why we needed three bedrooms?" Colin asked, wrapping his arms snugly around her waist as she carefully stacked plates in the cupboard.

 

“Because I refuse to let our living space devolve into chaos,” she replied, leaning into him. “One room is for work, one for your random hobbies, and one for us.”

 

“Okay, okay, you win,” he interrupted, laughing. “It’s a palace compared to my old place.”

 

“Exactly,” she said smugly, poking his chest. “You’re welcome.”

 

The timer on the oven beeped, signaling that their dinner was ready. Colin reluctantly let go of her as she grabbed oven mitts. “Do you think your mum's lasagna will survive this time?” she teased, pulling out the bubbling dish.

 

“Hey, I’ve improved,” he said confidently, grabbing plates. “And besides, you’re stuck with my amateur cooking abilities, burned edges or not.”

 

She smirked. “We’ll see.”

 

Over dinner, as they passed bowls of pasta and slices of garlic bread across their dining table, the conversation naturally drifted to Penelope’s job prospects.

 

“I should hear back from NYP any day now,” Penelope said, moving her fork absently in her pasta, though the slight crease between her brows revealed her nerves.

 

Colin set down his glass of wine, his expression serious but full of unwavering confidence. “They’d be absolutely mad not to hire you, babe,” he said firmly. “You’re brilliant. Honestly, the literary department would be lucky to have someone with your eye for detail and passion for stories. You could breathe new life into it. Although, I wouldn’t be too opposed if they assigned you to Editorial again.”

 

“Oh?” she asked, leaning forward slightly. “And work officially under you, Mr. Bridgerton?”

 

Colin shrugged, a teasing glint in his eye. “Hey, I’d have no complaints. You were my model intern not too long ago.” Her cheeks flushed at the memory of their early days at NYP. “You were thorough,” he corrected with a grin. “And memorable. Very memorable.”

 

She reached for her water, trying to hide her smile. “Stop with the flattery, Col. You already got me.”

 

“And I fully intend to keep you,” he said with a contented smirk.

 

*

 

To: [email protected]
Subject: My thoughts

Dear Colin,

I’ve been thinking a lot about change—how we change each other, how we grow together. You’ve always had this way of surprising me, Colin. Even now, you make me laugh at the moments I least expect it, and you make me cry (in a good way, I promise) with your kindness.

Also, just so you know, you left the tea towel on the stove again, which I’m pretty sure is a fire hazard. Consider this my gentle reminder to work on that particular habit.

With all my love,
Pen

 

To: [email protected]
Subject: My Thoughts (Reply)

Dearest Pen,

I see that you're using your work email to send me your thoughts! VERY INTERESTING. 

Anyhoo, as for changes, you’re right—it’s been on my mind too. I’ve been thinking about how much better my life is with you in it. I mean, you've always been in my life of course but not in the way I had wanted to. 

Now, on to lighter topics: I would like to formally dispute your tea towel accusation. I believe I left it near the stove, not on the stove. Let's use correct prepositions, my love, as this makes me totally innocent of any fire hazards. But if you insist on my guilt, I shall endeavor to be more mindful.

Yours always,
Colin

 

To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: My Thoughts (Reply to the Reply)

Dearest Colin,

It's funny how using my official work email is so empowering! I'm so excited to actually have it back for the long term, and not just six months!

For the record, you’re definitely guilty of tea towel negligence. I have photographic evidence (okay, I don’t, but I’ll get some next time). Also, how is nearly burning our flat a lighter topic?

Forever yours,
Pen

 

Penelope stared at the blinking cursor on her screen, her lips curling into a small smile as she reread Colin’s reply to her reply. Just as she was about to close her laptop for the night, it pinged once more. It was another email from him, this time with a different tone and subject.

 

To: [email protected]
Subject: A Best-Seller in the Making?

Dearest Ms Featherington,

I’ve been thinking about those 200 elusive and unsent drafts of yours. Have you ever thought about turning them into a book? Before you roll your eyes—and I know you’re rolling them right now—hear me out. The way you write, the way you pour yourself into every word… it’s heartfelt, raw, and entirely you.

I don’t mean this as a casual suggestion. I think it’s something only you could write, and, unselfishly, I think it’s a story the world would fall in love with. We happen to work in a little publishing company that would be delighted to feature a certain young writer I know by heart. I mean, you can obviously choose to replace real names with pseudonyms but you get the gist!

Think about it. A collection of love letters, reflections, and stories about everything that makes us human. If you ask me, it’s a best-seller in the making.

Yours (plus now your unofficial book agent and soon-to-be editor),
Colin Bridgerton

 

Penelope leaned back in her chair, her fingers instinctively tying her hair into a low ponytail. Her first reaction was disbelief—was he serious? But as she reread the email, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement mingling with her doubt.

 

To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: A Best-Seller in the Making?

Dear Mr. Bridgerton,

An actual book? Are you serious? (Don’t answer that—I know you are.) The idea of anyone reading those emails, let alone strangers, makes me feel… well, somewhat exposed. You know how private I am about my writing. We've only agreed that I'd share them with you.

Besides, who would want to read the ramblings of a woman about a man who leaves tea towels on the stove? It hardly screams “best-seller material.”

But then again, you always see things I don’t. So maybe there’s something in those emails worth sharing. Maybe. I’m not saying yes, but I’m not saying no either.

And for the record, you’re not my book agent nor my editor. Yet.

Yours,
Ms. Penelope Featherington

 

Not two minutes later, Colin’s reply landed in her inbox.


To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: A Best-Seller in the Making?

Dearest Pen,

That wasn’t a no. I’m taking it as a yes.

I can already see it: “My Unsent Letters to Him” Catchy, isn’t it? (Don’t worry, we can workshop the title. We have ask the young interns for possible trends these days!)

And you underestimate yourself, as always. Your words are extraordinary, Pen. They’re funny, poignant, and real. People want that. And if you’re worried about being too vulnerable, don’t be. Vulnerability is what makes your writing so compelling—it’s what made me fall for you even more.

So, here’s the deal: think it over. No pressure. But I stand by what I said—this could be a best-seller. And if you let me, I’ll make sure the world sees just how amazing you are.

Yours,
Colin

 

Penelope shook her head. Trust Colin to take her private musings and transform them into the premise for the next great literary endeavor. Yet, as much as she wanted to dismiss the idea outright, she couldn’t ignore the excitement his words had kindled in her. She lingered for a moment, her thoughts swirling with the tantalizing possibility that her emails could become something more. Unable to sit still, she left their shared office and padded down the hallway. She spotted Colin at the living area, utterly absorbed in whatever he was typing, his brow furrowed in concentration. Grinning, she tiptoed behind him and leaned in.

 

“Mr. Bridgerton, I’m suddenly getting hungry,” she declared, her voice breaking the quiet.

 

“Is that so?” he asked, fingers still flying across the keys. “Any preferences?”

 

“Hmmmm, I'm craving for a falafel sandwich,” she replied matter-of-factly, resting her chin on his shoulder.

 

Colin finally paused his typing, tilting his head to look at her. “Falafel? Interesting choice. Any reason, or just craving chickpeas today?”

 

She shrugged with a sly smile. “I give in easily to my cravings.”

 

“Noted,” he said, standing up and stretching. “Alright, falafel it is. Come on, my future best-selling author. Let’s feed that mind of yours.”

 

*

 

The chaotic symphony of clashing voices began the moment Colin and Penelope joined the family Zoom call. 

 

“I don’t even know why we’re doing this,” Eloise’s voice rang out, her camera zoomed comically close to her face. “Family holidays are overrated.”

 

“Not if you actually care about spending time with us,” Hyacinth replied.

 

“Hyacinth dear, your microphone is too loud!” Violet’s voice broke in, the quintessential maternal figure trying to maintain order in the unruly call.

 

“Is it better now, Mother?” Hyacinth replied with mock patience before turning her attention to Colin and Penelope. “Why don’t you two give us a tour of your new place while we wait for the rest? We’ve been waiting for months!”

 

“Okay, but this is a one-time deal,” Colin muttered as he grabbed his tablet and reluctantly panned it around the room. “Where should I start? And please, for the love of all things holy, don’t say our bedroom.”

 

“You’d think after a year together, you’d be less embarrassing,” Eloise deadpanned, her tone dry as ever. "Pen, are you doing okay?"

 

"I'm perfectly alright, El." Penelope waved at the screen.

 

“Can we focus, please?” Hyacinth interjected, leaning closer to her screen. “Oh, I so love your kitchen! It’s so quaint. Is your cooking better now, brother?”

 

Before Colin could respond, the Featheringtons, Archie and Portia, joined the meeting, their presence immediately shifting the energy.

 

“Oh why hello, everyone! I'm sorry we're late. Our WiFI is acting up. Thank goodness, Archie found a way to get things going.” Portia declared with dramatic flair. “Anyway, since we’re all gathered and we need not waste more time, Violet and I have a proposition before we plan the family holiday.”

 

“A proposition?” Francesca asked, raising an intrigued eyebrow.

 

“Yes, we were hoping to take a trip but,” Violet said serenely. “just the two of us.”

 

The call went silent for a beat.

 

“What?!” Hyacinth was the first to recover.

 

“We think it’s time for a much-needed break. Just us mothers. Without any of you.” Portia confirmed with a gleam in her eye. 

 

Colin looked genuinely alarmed. “You mean to say… you’re leaving us to fend for ourselves?”

 

Violet smiled, unflappable. “Colin, I think you’ll manage.”

 

Archie, who had been quiet until now, cleared his throat and looked at Portia, who conveniently sat beside him. “Mother, are you serious? I thought this trip involved both our families, together. It's been ages since we've done this.”

 

“Yes, it’s both mine and Vi’s,” Portia assured him. “And before you ask, it’s not up for debate.”

 

"So you've both decided." Archie pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. "Fine." Luckily, he didn't push any further.

 

“My darlings,” Violet replied smoothly. “You have to understand that this is about self-care.”

 

For a moment, there was stunned silence—then Francesca’s giggle broke the ice, quickly followed by everyone else’s. "I'm sorry, yeah I understand, given that Hy can get crazy excited during these trips."

 

"Excuse me?" Hyacinth shook her head. "Speak for yourself, Frannie."

 

“So, it’s settled then,” Portia announced with a graceful nod. “The two of us will take a trip, and you kids can plan your own holiday. We can do the usual family stuff a separate time.”

 

“Well,” Eloise said, grinning slyly, “I guess this is our gift to you. Enjoy, wherever you plan to go.”

 

Hyacinth clapped her hands together. “Ooohh, so does this mean we can plan a ‘youngsters only’ trip instead? Because I’m all in for some Disney magic!”

 

“That actually sounds interesting.” Penelope said. “Which Disneyland park, though?”

 

“I'm suggesting, Paris,” Hyacinth decided quickly. “We could spend one or two days at the theme park and the rest exploring the city of love.” Her grin turned wicked. “Speaking of the city of love… I heard someone visited a local jeweler recently? Browsing for rings, perhaps? I must say brother, maybe Paris has better diamonds!”

 

The metaphorical room exploded.

 

"Which brother are you talking about, Hy?" Eloise grinned. "The one in London or the one in New York?"

 

"Obviously, the one with a long-time girlfriend." Hyacinth spoke and everyone went silent.

 

“What?” Colin blurted, his face going pale.

 

“Hy, who told you that?” Penelope asked at the same time, her voice an octave higher than usual.

 

Portia’s camera flickered slightly, but her wide, knowing smile remained intact. She didn’t say a word, though her silence spoke volumes.

 

“You know,” Hyacinth said innocently, “I thought you’d deny it. But judging by your reaction, I think I’ve hit the mark.”

 

“Hyacinth Bridgerton,” Colin hissed, cutting her off, his face flushing red.

 

“Oh, come on,” she pressed, leaning closer to the screen. “You might as well admit it now and spare us the suspense!”

 

But Colin and Penelope just exchanged frantic glances, both too stunned to respond.

 

“Well, this is unexpected,” Francesca murmured, her expression one of amusement and surprise.

 

“Utterly unexpected,” Archie added, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. "Is this why you suddenly want to have a serious chat, bro?"

 

Then Violet’s serene smile faltered ever so slightly. “Wait. Are you saying there’s a possible milestone planned for Paris?”

 

Portia gasped audibly, clutching her pearls for dramatic effect. “Violet, if there’s even a chance of this, we can’t possibly miss it! Paris! How romantic!”

 

“I suppose… it would be a shame to let you all go unsupervised,” Violet mused, her eyes narrowing at Colin and Penelope.

 

Portia nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, change of plans! We’re cancelling our self-care trip. Paris it is! For everyone!”

 

The Zoom call devolved into a cacophony of excited voices, with everyone either cheering, teasing, or debating the logistics of a group holiday to Paris.

 

“Wait—what?! What's happening?” Colin sputtered, waving his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Everyone, let's just settle down please."

 

But his protests were drowned out by Hyacinth’s triumphant cry of, “Again, he's not denying it!”

 

"FYI, this Zoom call is being recorded." Eloise reminded the group. "And thank goodness for that!"

 

Colin's face twisted with a mix of horror and exasperation as he snatched the tablet. “That’s it. This started off as fun—but now? It’s gone weird. Goodbye, family. Please regain your sanity before I see you again.” With a decisive tap, the call ended, leaving the screen mercifully blank. Tossing the tablet onto the couch, he let out a dramatic sigh. “Thank God that’s over.”

 

Penelope remained frozen in place, her mind still spinning from the chaotic turn of events. She turned to Colin, her brows furrowed in disbelief. “Wait, what just happened? Why is Hyacinth spreading rumors about you going to a jewelry store—” Her words trailed off as Colin suddenly dropped to one knee in front of her, his hand clumsily patting his back pocket. “Colin…” Penelope’s voice was low and uncertain, her eyes wide as she stared at him. “What on earth are you doing? Why are you… are you on one knee??”

 

“Honestly, I was going to wait until our holiday,” Colin muttered, pulling out a small black velvet box, his cheeks flushed. He looked up at her, a sheepish grin breaking through his otherwise resolute expression. “But since tonight has already turned into a complete circus, and Hyacinth apparently decided to take creative liberties with my plans, I figured, why wait?” Penelope’s hand flew to her mouth as he flipped open the box, revealing a ring nestled inside. “Penelope Featherington,” His voice soft yet steady, his eyes locking onto hers. “I don’t want to face a single day without you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

 

Silence blanketed the room, save for the pounding of Penelope’s heart. She stood frozen, her eyes darting from Colin to the ring, then back to his eyes. Her thoughts tumbled over one another, overwhelmed by the weight of the moment. “Colin…” she whispered, tears glistening as she sank to her knees in front of him, pulling him into a tight embrace. She buried her face in his shoulder, letting the moment settle around them. After a few long, steadying breaths, she finally looked up and kissed him—a sudden passionate kiss full of all the words she couldn’t quite say yet. When she finally pulled away, Colin blinked at her, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “Wait… babe that was amazing, but you didn’t actually give me an answer.”

 

Penelope laughed, her voice trembling. “Yes, Colin. That was my answer. Of course, it’s a yes.”

 

A radiant smile spread across Colin’s face, his eyes shining with relief and joy. Gently, he slid the ring onto her finger, taking a moment to marvel at how perfectly it fit. "It fits!" Then, pulling her into his arms, he let out a breath that seemed to carry every ounce of nervous energy he'd been holding. “You’ve just made me the happiest man alive,” he whispered. After a beat, his playful side emerged, as it always did. “So… do you think we should rejoin the Zoom call? I'm thinking, maybe they’ve calmed down by now.”

 

Penelope shook her head as she leaned into him, her fingers tracing the fabric of his shirt. “And tell them about this?” She held up her hand, the ring sparkling against the light. “Colin, I thought you wanted them to settle? This will have the exact opposite effect.”

 

"Hmm, good point. Maybe we keep it between us for a while. Just for now—until we’re ready for the madness again?”

 

Penelope smiled, her heart full. “I see no harm in that,” she said softly, her fingers entwining with his.

 

For a moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them basking in their private happiness. 

***

Notes:

And so, it is finished! They're off to start another chapter indeed. Who knows how many pages that will be? :D

TYSM for joining me in this fic! I truly had the best time!
Hope your 2024 was memorable just like mine! ~emiko