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“Penelope, wait! Don’t leave yet!”
Penelope stopped short, her breath puffing cloudy rings into the cool night air. The ice arena’s car park hummed with buzzing lights and the faint giggles of gossiping girls searching for their parents' cars. Penelope closed her eyes briefly. Anything would be better than having this conversation right now, but she should have known better than to think she could slink away from Hyacinth Bridgerton.
Footsteps slapped against the concrete, growing louder, until Hyacinth finally skidded to a halt behind her, gasping for breath.
“I can’t believe you made me sprint after such an intense practise. I’m knackered,” the girl huffed.
Penelope pinched her eyes shut again, gathering what little energy she could muster before turning around. When she did, she found Hyacinth staring down at her, cheeks flushed, brows drawn tight with concern. Exactly what Penelope had hoped to avoid.
“What do you want, Hy?”
Hyacinth recoiled, hurt flickering across her face, and guilt instantly flooded Penelope’s veins. She reached for Hyacinth’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know something’s wrong, Pen. You barely said a word all practise. You spent more time staring into space than watching us on the ice. That’s not like you, especially with our Christmas show coming up in a few weeks.”
Penelope’s throat tightened. She swallowed hard, trying to force down the rising ache. If she spoke, she would break. Not here. Not in a freezing car park with her skates still dangling from her shoulder.
“You miss him, don’t you?”
Heat pricked behind Penelope’s eyes. The tears didn’t fall, just pooled, heavy with everything she’d been holding in. She could only nod in response.
Colin left November 1st for a freelance gig in Germany, scheduled to keep him there until Christmas Day. Four weeks had passed and three more stretched ahead of her like an endless winter. Since becoming a couple the previous Christmas at Aubrey Hall, they hadn’t spent more than two weeks apart. After his BBC show ended, Colin travelled less, and when he did, Penelope always managed to visit him. Always.
When Visit Köln hired him to manage their social media outlets for the Christmas season, he lit up like the city’s famous holiday market. It was everything he adored—local culture, festive food, twinkling lights—and a generous paycheque only sweetened the offer.
“But you’re going to visit him next week, aren’t you?” Hyacinth asked gently.
Penelope’s chest constricted. “Not anymore. A big project came up at work and my boss wouldn’t approve my time off.” Her voice dropped, all strength draining from it. “Your brother is livid. We… had our first row earlier this week.”
“Oh, Pen, I’m so sorry.” Hyacinth wrapped her arms around her. It wasn’t the most comfortable hug, with one of Hyacinth’s skates jabbing into Penelope’s rib, but Penelope let herself lean into it anyway.
Hyacinth stepped back, bristling. “How dare my brother be angry with you. What a wanker.”
“He’s not angry with me,” Penelope corrected softly. “Just upset with the situation. It frustrates him that I have a normal job that doesn’t always let me drop everything and follow him around the world. He wants me to freelance, too.”
“And that doesn’t interest you?”
Penelope sighed, exhaustion settling deep in her bones. She was grateful to have someone besides Colin to talk to, but she was also tired of explaining herself.
“Of course it interests me. But building a freelance career is hard. Colin is a Bridgerton, and he had a successful television show. People seek him out. That’s not going to be my experience. And not knowing when the next paycheque is coming—Hy, I can’t live with that level of uncertainty.”
Hyacinth studied her, lips pursed, a crease forming between her brows. Penelope felt exposed and seen in a way only the Bridgertons ever made her feel.
“Yes, but…” Hy said slowly. “Do you like your job? Or do you just like the security it gives you?”
Penelope sighed. “Now you’re starting to sound just like your brother.”
“Well, if I have to sound like one of them, Colin is probably the best option. You don’t want me sounding like Anthony, do you? Or God forbid, Gregory.”
Penelope let out a breath, half-laugh, half-exasperation. “What is so wrong with liking security? I don’t mind my job, and it provides me with a good life. I get plenty of time off, I can afford my flat, and I’m always done in time to help coach your skating club.”
“Have you been writing lately?”
Jesus. It was the exact same conversation she’d had with Colin.
“I haven’t really had time,” Penelope admitted. “But not because of my job. I haven’t had time because I’ve spent the last year wrapped up in the excitement of a new relationship, and because I rediscovered an old hobby.” She rested a hand on Hyacinth’s shoulder. “I’ve replaced writing time with ice time. And I don’t regret that.”
“You know, you don’t need to be worried about mon—”
“Stop.” Penelope’s voice cracked sharp in the cold air. “Do not finish that sentence. That’s exactly what upset me with Colin. I do need to worry about money, Hy. I’m a single woman trying to survive in an incredibly expensive city.” She softened again, pulling Hyacinth into another hug. “I know you don’t understand. But I need to be able to provide for myself.”
Hyacinth eased back, her expression brightening with comprehension. “I get it. I do. And Colin… he’ll come around. He just wants you to be happy. You know that, right?”
Penelope nodded, a thick lump forming again in her throat. “I do.”
Hyacinth linked their arms together. “How about we get some curry? I don’t know about you, but I’m famished. The coaches really kicked our arses tonight. It’s like we’re preparing for a Christmas spectacular or something.”
“It’s not easy being the lead swan, is it?” Penelope teased, giving her a cheeky wink as they started toward the tube station.
Hyacinth groaned dramatically, leaning her head against the top of Penelope’s. Penelope let her, grateful for the warmth and for the company and for the brief moment where everything felt a little less heavy.
⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️
It was well past eleven by the time Penelope made her way home. Dinner with Hyacinth had somehow turned into trivia night at the corner pub and it was impossible to slip away, especially once Eloise and Daphne unexpectedly showed up. But it ended up being exactly what Penelope needed: an evening filled with laughter, sisterly teasing, and the kind of silly chaos only the Bridgertons could provide. Between the cosy Christmas garlands strung above the bar and the two (fine—three) decaf Irish coffees she’d indulged in, Penelope felt warm down to her bones.
The lift doors slid open, and under the dim hallway lights she immediately noticed a large box sitting outside her flat. A huge velvet bow crowned the top, far too elaborate to have come through the post. Besides, any parcel this size would have been logged with the security office downstairs.
Only two other people had keys to her flat. One was hundreds of miles away in Germany, and the other was…
Eloise.
Eloise, who had shown up at trivia night far too innocently. Eloise, who had brought Daphne with her.
And this box—wrapped in glittery green paper with crisply folded seams and an elaborate bow—radiated Daphne.
She huffed a fond laugh and unlocked her door. Once inside, she hoisted the package over the threshold. It was lighter than she’d expected, so she carried it over to the lounge and set it on the coffee table. She shrugged off her old wool coat, tossing it over the back of the sofa with a mental promise to hang it properly later.
Right now, she had a mystery to unwrap.
Penelope tugged gently at the ribbon, watching it unfurl in a crimson puddle at her feet. She carefully peeled back the paper. Daphne’s gift-wrapping deserved reverence, not reckless tearing, and she paused when German writing on the box suddenly appeared.
A smile spread slowly across her face.
Of course.
Colin.
She fetched the scissors from her junk drawer, sliced through the tape, and lifted the flaps. Resting atop crumpled tissue paper was an envelope.
My Dearest Pen.
Her heart fluttered. The remnants of frustration she’d been carrying all week quickly evaporated.
She opened the envelope.
My love,
I’m sorry for being such a fool. I know our argument was small in the grand scheme of things, but it’s been gnawing at me. I hate that I’ve added to your stress when all I want is to make your days feel lighter.
Truthfully? I’m gutted you won’t be here. Cologne is enchanting at Christmas. The air smells of cinnamon and roasted nuts and the whole city glows from thousands of twinkling lights. But without you beside me, it all feels a bit… dimmer.
You always talk about wanting to make it on your own, and Pen, you already have. Your strength inspires me daily. But I need to remind you of something: you’re not alone anymore. Not in anything. Not ever.
You can always count on me to be there—whether we’re countries apart or just a tube stop away.
Until then, I’ll count down the days until I see you again.
And because I never want you to forget how much you mean to me, you can count down the days with me and have a little reminder of how much I love you—every single day until Christmas.
Frohe Weihnachten,
Colin
Penelope rested the letter against her chest, letting the warmth of his words settle into the places that had ached all week. When she finally lifted the tissue paper, her breath caught.
Inside was an intricate hand-carved Advent calendar. Twenty-four tiny wooden drawers lined the base, each with a delicate knob. Above them stretched a miniature German village, its storybook buildings dusted in snowy white glitter. In the center stood a metal Christmas tree designed to spin when the candle beneath it was lit. And to the right, on a glossy painted pond, stood a tiny ice skater figurine stretched out in an arabesque.
That did her in.
Tears spilled fast and hot, her chest hiccupping as she tried to breathe. She’d spent so many years wanting Colin from afar—loving him quietly and hopelessly—that she still struggled to believe he loved her back. Truly loved her. And he showed it again and again, in ways she never expected. In ways that made her feel cherished.
They were apart, yes. But he wasn’t going anywhere.
When she finally steadied herself, she reached for her phone to text him. She groaned when she noticed the date. November 29th. She’d have to wait an entire day before opening the first drawer. Why couldn’t Eloise and Daphne deliver this gift tomorrow night? Penelope wasn’t certain she had the self-restraint to wait another day. She sighed heavily as her fingers flew over the keyboard.
Penelope: I could open all 24 boxes right now and you would never know.
Colin: I would absolutely know.
Penelope: I don’t think you would. I’m a great secret keeper.
Colin: Not as good as you think. Trust me, good things come to those who wait.
Penelope smiled. She was starting to believe that was true. She waited a long time to experience love—not just love, but love with Colin—and she did not want to take a moment for granted.
Penelope: It’s beautiful, Colin. I love it. And I love you.
Colin: I love you, too, Pen. You can always count on that.
🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁
The first week of December passed in a blur, so fast that Penelope felt as though she’d blinked and lost entire days. Work was ballooning with year-end chaos, and every evening she arrived home completely wrung out. The hours were long, the deadlines relentless, and by the time she reached the tube each night, she felt as though her bones were made of lead. Yet the knowledge that something, some little surprise Colin had chosen specifically for her, waited at the end of each day added a thread of anticipation through all the exhaustion.
Normally, she’d go straight from work to the ice rink, scarfing down a sandwich on the way, and mentally running through drills for her students. But now she rushed home first, breath puffing in the cold air, just to open the tiny drawer of her Advent calendar. It was ridiculous, really—adding extra travel to her already frantic days—but opening the tiny boxes in the morning felt wrong, and waiting until after practise was impossible. By nine o’clock she was barely capable of brushing her teeth, let alone savouring one of Colin’s carefully chosen treasures.
Monday, December 1: a tiny candle that made the wooden Christmas tree spin in a delicate slow circle. She watched it rotate for an hour while she sipped her nighttime tea.
Tuesday, December 2: roasted walnuts from the Christmas market, still fragrant with winter spices when she tore open the baggie.
Wednesday, December 3: a single German-chocolate truffle, so creamy and decadent she closed her eyes while it melted on her tongue.
The rest of the week continued like that. Sweet little trinkets, tender notes, each one its own soft spark of joy.
But by Saturday morning, she didn’t even pretend to have self-control.
She rolled out of bed still warm from sleep, tugged on her glasses, pulled her riotous curls into a messy bun, and padded into the living room with the eager, fluttery feeling of a child on Christmas morning. She curled her legs beneath her on the sofa and leaned forward, practically vibrating as she found box number six. The tiny knob clicked softly when she pulled it open.
Inside was a crisp five-pound note with a key resting atop it.
Her pulse tripped as she unfolded the accompanying note.
Treat yourself to some cocoa and head to the address below. Call me when you get there.
An hour later, cocoa warming her hands, Penelope stood in front of a Notting Hill townhouse feeling tiny, surprised, and breathless. The street was quiet, still too early and cold for residents to be exploring the neighbourhood. The house itself looked like something out of a movie—white-painted brick, proud columns, tall windows, and a sunshine-yellow door that popped against the grey morning. It looked cheerful. Alive. Full of possibility.
“It’s mine,” came Colin’s voice, bright with pride, through the phone. His face lit up her screen like a sunrise.
“You bought a flat?” Her voice cracked upward in pure bewilderment.
“I’m afraid I’ve worn out my welcome crashing with Ben and Sophie. And my mother is too polite to tell me she’s tired of tripping over me in her kitchen. And I can’t just assume my girlfriend wants me in her way all the time.”
But she did. God, she did. When he stayed with her for a few days, her tiny flat felt too full and too small and too perfect all at once. It made her imagine things. Sunday mornings tangled together, brushing teeth shoulder-to-shoulder, building a life. It was sweet… until she remembered how much space he took up in her double bed and how his toiletries migrated across her miniature bathroom like his own personal invasion.
“Pen?” His voice pulled her back. She blinked, realizing she’d drifted.
“Pen, you look cold. Your little nose is all rosy. Go inside. You have the key.”
“When did you even—”
“I put in an offer before I left. They accepted a few days later. We closed last week. Anthony picked up the keys for me, and Daphne tucked one into the calendar before she wrapped it.”
Penelope pushed the key into the lock, her fingers trembling. The door gave way with a soft groan, and the moment it swung open she forgot how to breathe.
A huge open room stretched before her, and the grey daylight filtering through tall bay windows was somehow still able to make the polished hardwoods shimmer. It was beautiful. Airy, warm, and full of empty space waiting to be filled. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and when she turned back toward the room her breath hitched.
A massive Christmas tree stood in the front window, glowing with soft white lights. Bare branches except for one ornament—her vintage swan, the one he had gifted her last year—clipped perfectly at eye level. Her throat tightened.
Beneath the branches sat a small box.
She crossed the room with a sense of inevitability, as though her heart already knew what waited inside. When she opened it, she found their ornaments, the ones they’d collected across countries, tokens of their new life together that she couldn’t bear to hang at home while he was away. Each one a tiny story that caused a tiny heartache.
Her ears thrummed with a rushing sound. She could barely hear when he murmured, “Are you okay?”
Tears blurred her vision.
“Darling,” he said softly, “I have a question.”
She lifted the phone so she could see his face. He looked so heartbreakingly lovely—cosy navy jumper, black-framed glasses, hair slightly mussed like he’d been running his hands through it all morning.
“What is it?” Her voice wobbled.
“I was wondering if…” He glanced away, suddenly shy, and her heart clenched. “Well, it’s been a year now and… and this house will only feel like home to me with you in it.”
She let out a breathless laugh, joy bubbling up uncontrollably. “That’s not a question, Colin.”
“No, I suppose not,” he said, cheeks pink. “It’s the truth, though.”
“Are you asking me to live with you?”
He nodded, vulnerable in a way he rarely let anyone see.
All her practical fears rushed forward—the increased distance from work, the fact she couldn’t contribute meaningfully to a London mortgage, the terrifying what-if of heartbreak. But then she looked at him, really looked, and all the noise quieted. All that remained was the steady, certain warmth she’d felt for him since the beginning.
“Of course I will, Colin.”
🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲
The following week was even busier. Between work and dress rehearsals for the ice show, Penelope found herself in near-constant communication with Colin and Daphne, trading an endless stream of furniture links as they tried to assemble a home that felt like both of them. They had completely opposite tastes—Colin gravitated toward modern, sleek pieces fresh from the shop while Penelope adored anything vintage and slightly wonky from giveaway sites. Daphne, thankfully, lived somewhere in between and had impeccable judgment, the time, and enthusiasm to help furnish the empty townhouse.
After work on Friday, Penelope hurried to the new space, excitement lifting her steps. Daphne was already inside artfully draping throw blankets over the newly delivered cream-coloured sectional. She was treating the task as if she were styling a magazine shoot. A stunning, deep green area rug grounded the room, and Penelope paused, warmed by how inviting it all looked—how theirs it was starting to feel. She especially loved how Daphne had angled the sofa toward the large bay window. She could already picture herself writing there this weekend, the Christmas tree glowing before her, winter light pouring in behind it.
She greeted Daphne, dropped her coat and work bag in a careless pile, and made a beeline for the fireplace mantel. Her Advent calendar sat there proudly, as if it had always belonged. Opening it here felt infinitely sweeter than in her dull old flat—a flat she’d only have for a few more months until her lease expired.
“I find this whole countdown situation to be devastatingly romantic, you know,” Daphne said, nodding approvingly as she fluffed a tartan pillow. “Not that I’m surprised Colin came up with it. He has always been the most thoughtful of my brothers.”
“It’s made the days without him pass a little faster,” Penelope admitted. “It’s like he’s here with me. Almost…” She trailed off as she opened the day’s drawer, squealing when she uncovered a delicate gold necklace with a Swarovski crystal angel charm. A small note beneath it read, an angel for my angel.
Daphne hurried over, helping her clasp it around her neck. “Oh, that’s perfect.”
Penelope’s fingers brushed the charm, her heart swelling.
“I was a little worried about the key, though,” Daphne continued. “That could have completely backfired.”
“Nah, I was a sure thing,” Penelope laughed.
“Yes, but he could have at least asked you to help choose a place.”
“He didn’t need to. This is exactly what I would’ve chosen, and he knew that. Besides, if I’d known in advance, I would’ve argued about the size, the expenses—all the things I’m realizing don’t actually matter.”
“They don’t,” Daphne agreed. “You’re part of our family, Pen. Whether you’re dating Colin or not. But I will say, I’m so glad that you are. And I can’t wait until that fool officially makes you my sister.”
Penelope’s heart thudded at the thought. They hadn’t discussed marriage—not seriously, anyway—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were standing on the edge of forever.
She was still toying with the angel charm when the front door flew open, slamming hard against the wall.
“Bloody hell, Benedict. Be careful!” Gregory’s voice echoed from the step.
“Sorry, Penelope! The wind took it, I swear,” Benedict called, grunting under the weight of the dining table he was wrestling through the doorway.
The two brothers maneuvered the heavy piece inside and carried it straight to the dining room, setting it carefully beneath the home’s original chandelier. Penelope gasped as the table settled into place—an antique beauty she could instantly imagine hosting Sunday roasts and Christmas dinners around.
“Not too shabby for two hundred pounds on Marketplace, huh?” Daphne said proudly.
“Daph, it’s perfect. I love it. Not sure Colin will, but honestly? I can’t say I care.”
“I’ll see if Mum has another rug in storage,” Daphne replied, already scanning the room for possibilities. “That’s where I found the one for the living room. She never throws anything away—but thank God for that now, huh?”
Penelope turned to them, overwhelmed by gratitude. “Daphne, seriously. I can’t thank you enough. And Greg, Ben… thank you for hauling this thing halfway across London.”
“Anything for you, Penelope,” Gregory said with a wink. “And next time any of us moves, Colin’s definitely on the hook.”
Left standing in the center of her new living room, Penelope took a slow breath, letting the moment settle. She was building a home—their home—surrounded by the family she’d somehow always belonged to. And in just twelve more days, the missing piece of all of it would finally come back to her.
⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️⛸️
Penelope awoke on December 23 buried in a pile of blankets atop her new sofa. She’d spent every night in her new home since the couch had arrived. It was comforting to know she was in their space, despite never being there together. But in some weird way, she felt closer to him here, especially when she’d sit beneath the tree and they’d video chat for hours. She felt his presence surrounding her.
There were just two more days to get thorough until she would be wrapped in his arms once again. His flight from Cologne would be arriving very early on Christmas morning, and he planned to rent a car at Heathrow, pick her up, and head off to Aubrey Hall to spend Christmas Day with the family.
It was a Tuesday, but she was officially on break from work for the next week, so she rolled out of her makeshift bed and scrambled over to the mantel, eager to open today’s Advent calendar drawer. The gifts this week had been small, mostly chocolates and traditional gingerbread hearts, but Penelope didn’t mind. The sweet treats brightened her spirits and reminded her that Colin was thinking of her. Besides, in 48 hours, she’d have the best gift of all. She’d have Colin.
Perched on her tiptoes, Penelope drew open the box, and let out an excited squeak when she uncovered the day’s gift: a gorgeous glass figure skate ornament. It was special for so many reasons. Tonight was the big Christmas spectacular for Hyacinth’s figure skating club; almost exactly one year to the date of last year’s skating hijinks, an event that not only reignited her passion for skating, but finally led her to Colin. She wiped away the single tear that fell from her eye, touched by his thoughtfulness and hurt that he wouldn’t be there to see how far his baby sister had come in her skating—thanks, in part, to Penelope’s coaching.
She hung the ornament on the tree, right next to a little sea turtle they got to commemorate their trip to Hawaii earlier in the year. After that, the day passed by in a blur of unpacking her kitchen items and a trip to the market. She even had time to bake Colin’s favourite shortbread biscuits before heading to the ice arena.
Now she stood in the dugout, giving Hyacinth a little pep talk before the girl stepped out onto the ice for her solo program.
“Hyacinth, look at me. You’ve worked so hard for this, and I’ve seen every step. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be you. Take a breath, trust what you’ve practised, and let yourself enjoy the moment. I’m right here, proud of you already. Now go show them the talented, brilliant girl I know.”
Hyacinth’s smile grew wide, illuminating her face with joy. For a brief moment, Penelope felt warmed by the girl’s reaction to her pep talk, but when Hyacinth’s eyes drifted up into the stands, she realized the smile wasn’t for her.
“You made it!” the girl exclaimed and she started waving frantically. Penelope turned to see who she spotted, only to find Colin walking down the stairs.
Penelope’s breath hitched. For a second, she wondered if she’d conjured him through some aching, impossible wish somehow made real. But no. He was truly there, descending the steps with that soft, sheepish smile he always wore when he surprised her.
Hyacinth bounced on her blades. “I can’t believe you actually came!”
Colin reached the barrier and leaned in, slightly breathless from hurrying. “Of course I came,” he said, entering the box and giving his sister a quick squeeze around the shoulders. “I wasn’t about to miss your big moment.”
Then his eyes found Penelope.
For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. He simply looked at her, his gaze warm and relieved, as though arriving here had settled something deep within him.
“Hello, Pen,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
Penelope felt her throat tighten. “You’re… you’re supposed to be in Cologne.”
He shook his head, a quiet grin tugging at his lips. “Not when I could be here instead.”
Hyacinth cleared her throat loudly, reminding them both that she still existed. “Um, solo program? Two minutes?”
Colin laughed and gave her an encouraging nod. “Go knock ‘em dead, Hy.”
Hyacinth beamed and pushed off toward the ice door, elated by this new development.
Penelope watched her go, still trying to steady herself. Colin’s hand brushed hers gently before lacing his long fingers between her dainty ones, and every part of her finally caught up to one truth: he was here early. For her. For them.
As the lights lowered and the music rose, Penelope leaned into Colin and whispered, “Do I have my protege to thank for this surprise?”
“For once, Hyacinth wasn’t scheming. This one’s all me. I can’t imagine spending Christmas Eve without you,” Colin murmured, placing a soft kiss on the crown of Penelope’s head.
🏠🏠🏠🏠🏠
It was no surprise to anyone that Hyacinth crushed her performance. Her routine to Lindsey Stirling’s Carol of the Bells was energetic—frantic, even—but it showcased her grace and grit perfectly. And despite her fear of falling, she landed the double axel she’d been perfecting for weeks. Penelope’s heart felt fit to burst.
After grabbing a quick bite with the Bridgerton clan, she and Colin slipped away to the Trafalgar Square Christmas Market. It wasn’t the authentic German experience they’d planned on, but Penelope found she didn’t mind in the slightest. They were together, walking hand in hand while snow fluttered down softly, the streets glowing under vintage lamplights and garlands of Christmas lights, Big Ben keeping quiet watch in the distance. It wasn’t what they’d envisioned, but it felt right. It felt like home.
Colin stopped at a stall to buy them each a steaming mug of mulled wine before they continued their stroll. They didn’t speak; they didn’t need to. The warmth of the drinks in their hands, the soft crunch of snow underfoot, and the simple fact of being near each other again said more than words could manage.
They walked and walked, content and aimless, until more than an hour had passed. Eventually, they found themselves on the stoop of their new home. Neither had realized they were heading there. They were just pulled toward it as if by an invisible thread.
Penelope fished out the key from her pocket. The moment they stepped through the bright yellow door, Colin gently took the empty mugs from her hands and set them on the floor.
“Pen…” he murmured, sliding her coat from her shoulders with practised ease. He stepped closer, guiding her back until her spine met the door. His kiss came hurried, almost urgent—seven weeks apart collapsing into a single breath, a single moment, as if he couldn’t bear to waste another second without her.
Wanting to continue this, but also wanting to show him the few things she’d done with the place, she pulled back, breathless.
“I missed that so much. Missed you so much,” she panted. “But first, let me show you around.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the dining room. The walnut dining table almost sparkled under the light of the old chandelier, and below their feet was a large, burgundy Persian rug Daphne pulled out of Violet’s storage.
“I know it’s a little more traditional than you prefer, but just imagine it with some fresh wallpaper. Daph is helping me source a buffet to go against the wall there, and in the corner I’m imagining a simple china cabinet to display some of the trinkets you’ve collected from around the world.” The words flew out of her mouth at great speed, in an unnecessary attempt at keeping him from disagreeing with her.
“It’s perfect, Penelope. Truly.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen. “I’ve moved over most of my kitchen stuff, but we can get rid of any of it. It’s not very nice. You’re the chef in this relationship,” she said while flinging open some cabinet doors to show him where things were. “But, I did make you these!” She held up a tin of shortbread and he promptly grabbed a biscuit and moaned in delight with the first bite.
Penelope laughed at his reaction, warmth blooming in her chest. “I’m glad you like them,” she said softly, watching his eyes flutter shut in exaggerated bliss as he took another nibble.
“Oh, I more than like them,” he said, mouth still half-full. “These alone were worth the early flight.”
She swatted him lightly, cheeks glowing. “Come on. There’s one more room.”
She tugged him toward the living room, where the only illumination came from the Christmas tree and the string of fairy lights she’d draped along the mantel. The room glowed gold and soft, shadows dancing over the moving boxes she hadn’t touched yet and the blankets and pillows piled on the sofa.
Colin blinked, surprised. “You’ve been sleeping down here?”
“For the last week,” Penelope admitted, self-conscious but smiling. “I know it’s silly but the lights, the tree, the Advent calendar—it felt like being close to you.” She gestured at the mantel. “I didn’t want to miss a single morning.”
His gaze softened. “What about upstairs?”
“On what bed? There’s nothing up there yet but my face creams strewn across the bathroom counter,” she said with a dismissive wave. “Besides, this room is where everything feels like us.”
Colin stepped farther in, taking in the tree carefully. “You put up our ornaments.”
She nodded, moving to stand beside him. “All of them. Look! My swan, our sea turtle. The Eiffel Tower we got in Paris. Plus, the little Paddington you just had to have at Harrods. And the skate ornament you sent.” Her voice wavered just slightly. “I wanted it to feel like a home we made together.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close in the warm glow of the lights. Softly, he began to sway. Penelope let out a breathy laugh.
“There’s no music,” she whispered.
“There doesn’t need to be.”
They moved in slow circles, Penelope’s cheek pressed to the familiar rise and fall of his chest. She nuzzled her cheek against the knit of his sweater, and for several minutes, they just breathed each other in, enjoying their first dance in their new home.
Eventually he pulled back just enough to kiss her forehead. “Tea?” he murmured.
She nodded, and soon they were curled together on the sofa, wrapped up beneath a tangle of blankets. Colin held his mug in both hands while she nibbled on a biscuit from the tin. They talked in murmurs—about Germany, Hyacinth’s triumphant double axel, their excitement to celebrate the holiday at Aubrey Hall—all of the tiny details of their days that they’d been saving for this moment.
After a comfortable pause, Penelope whispered, “I loved the countdown, you know. Every day felt like a little piece of you. It made the distance easier.”
He brushed his thumb along her knuckles. “Pen… are you sure you’re ready for this? Living together? It’s a big step.”
She shifted, leaning into him more fully, her voice soft but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. And I’ve been thinking…” She hesitated before continuing. “Maybe it’s time to find something less demanding. More flexible. A job that lets me write again. Really write. I miss it. And I want more of this. More of us.”
Colin rested his forehead against hers, pride shining in his eyes. “Then we’ll make it happen. Whatever you want, we’ll find a way.”
Penelope smiled, relief flooding her like warmth from a hearth. The tension she’d been carrying for weeks loosened at last.
They settled deeper under the blankets, Penelope tucked against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. The tree lights twinkled softly across the room, casting a warm glow over their faces.
Within minutes, their conversation drifted into quiet murmurs and then into nothing at all as sleep crept over them, huddled together, finally home.
🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲
Penelope lay there, eyes still closed, luxuriating in the few last moments of her dream. A dream where she was wrapped tightly in Colin’s arms, his mouth leaving a trail of wet kisses along the curve of her shoulder, and his breath hot on the back of her neck.
Her breath hitched with a squeeze of her breast, and she suddenly realized that this was not a dream at all, but that Colin was curled up behind her, kissing and caressing her body.
A familiar heat began crackling within her, a heat that she hadn’t felt in nearly two months. Sure, they tried some creative ways to be intimate despite the distance, but none of it affected her in the same way that his hands on her body and breath on her neck could.
“Happy Christmas Eve, Pen,” Colin murmured between kisses and gentle nips at her skin. The hand that was cupping her breast slid down her stomach, and then over her hip with unmistakable intention. Eventually, his hand toyed with the waistband of her sleep shorts, fingertips dancing over the sensitive skin underneath.
“Mmm, it is indeed. This is quite a nice way to wake up.” Penelope pressed her backside into him, luxuriating in the feel of his hard length against her. His breath caught at the spark of friction, and he emitted a low rumble of a groan.
“Fuck, Pen. I missed this so much. Missed you so much.” Colin’s voice was quick and breathy in her ear. A hand slid into her knickers, his long middle finger quickly finding her clit. He applied firm pressure and made a slow circle, and Penelope thought she would break right there.
Penelope let her eyes fall shut, letting herself sink fully into the closeness—the steady strength of his body braced against hers, the reverence of his touch, the way he handled her as though she were both familiar and precious. His fingers slid slowly into her, and he continued his lazy exploration for quite some time. Penelope savoured every second.
“I missed touching you like this,” Colin whispered, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear in a way that made her shiver. After what felt like an eternity, he finally started increasing his pace. “You missed it, too. Didn’t you? I know how much you love coming apart on my fingers.”
Penelope answered with a ragged moan, unable to find words when he curled his fingers in that familiar way that always took her over the edge.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice breaking on the words. “Especially like this. The way you look when you let go… I swear, Pen, you ruin me,” he babbled, pressing his hips into her backside with renewed vigor.
She crashed hard, weeks worth of tension finally uncoiled.
“Colin,” Penelope panted when she finally found her breath. “Should we be doing this on our new sofa?”
He laughed against her shoulder. “Well… there are blankets down. But you’re right. Probably best not to christen it with unsightly stains.”
They giggled in unison and dragged the pile of blankets and pillows to the floor, and made a cosy little nest in front of the tree.
Once settled, they faced each other, taking in the sight of the other in the soft gold light. Colin reached up, cupping her cheek with a tenderness that made her chest ache. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, and she sighed into the touch, still marveling that this was real.
She sat up on her knees and pulled her shirt over her head. She’d never get over the way his breath hitched every single time she exposed her breasts to him. Even after a year, he was still awestruck at the sight of her. She was starting to believe that he would always look at her this way.
His shirt quickly followed, and then they were moving toward each other as if no time had passed. It was a naturally choreographed dance of tongues, bodies, and laughter. They melted into each other, eager to make up for every second of lost time. Eager to start this next chapter together.
They lay there in silence after coming down from their highs, hair tousled against the pillows as the soft winter light filtered in through the sheer curtains. The room felt calm and peaceful, as though the world had slowed just enough to let the two of them exist outside the hustle of the holiday week.
Penelope stretched with a squeak and smiled at him with a lazy and sated grin.
“Last day,” he said, nodding toward the wooden Advent calendar on the mantel—the one she’d opened every day for the past twenty-three days with increasing curiosity.
Penelope climbed up off the floor, pulled on her pyjamas, and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders like a cape.
“The grand finale better be good,” she teased, padding across the room on bare feet. Colin followed, quickly pulling on his flannel sleep pants.
Penelope reached for the final drawer, but before pulling it open, she glanced over her shoulder. Colin swallowed hard, his eyes wide and full of something uncertain and fragile. Anticipation? Fear? Hope? She couldn’t quite name it, so she turned back and rose onto her toes to open the last drawer.
She froze. Her breath caught.
Inside, nestled on a fold of velvet, was a ring. Simple, elegant, unmistakably chosen for her.
“You… put this in here?” she whispered, turning to him, eyes already glassy.
He nodded, the nerves written plainly across his face.
“It’s been in here this whole time?”
Another nod. “That’s how I knew you hadn’t peeked. If you’d seen it, you would’ve told someone. Maybe not me, but Eloise. Or Daphne.”
“They knew?”
“They were instructed to alert me the second you said a word about it.”
He stepped beside her, one hand settling warmly on the small of her back while the other carefully retrieved the ring. Slowly he sank to one knee. Penelope gasped, her hand flying to her mouth even though she already understood what was happening.
“Penelope, the last twenty-three days have been torture waiting to ask you this question. Every single day when you called after opening your box, I wanted to say, ‘Just skip to the last one!’ But I waited this long… so I figured I could wait a few more weeks.”
“What do you mean, you waited this long?” she asked, her voice shaking.
He gave a breathless laugh. “Pen, I was ready to propose on Valentine’s Day, but I didn’t want to scare you away. So I decided to wait until Christmas. It felt like the right time in our story.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she stared at the man she had loved quietly for years. She thought the tiny key had been the best gift he’d ever given her, but now she saw it had been only the beginning.
“I was going to propose in Cologne,” he continued softly. “Get down on one knee right in front of the cathedral after we were both tipsy and warm from the Glühwein. But, plans changed, and I came up with the Advent calendar idea instead.”
The proposal he planned would have been lovely, but there was something about this moment… the anticipation of the countdown, the intimacy of the two of them having just woken up in their new home, that felt right.
“Pen, this life we’ve started…I want it forever. I want it every morning, every Christmas, every second with you for the rest of my life.”
She huffed out a shaky laugh as he looked up at her with shining eyes. “That’s not a question, Colin,” she said, echoing her own words from two weeks earlier.
“You’re right. Why am I so bad at asking questions?” he joked, though his voice trembled.
Needing to be closer to him, Penelope sank down onto her knees and met his gaze fully.
“Penelope,” he whispered, “will you marry me?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Not with words, anyway. She just launched herself into his arms and kissed him soundly, a kiss filled with promises of the life they would share together. Just as he said she could always count on him, she wanted to make it clear that the same was true of her.
“That’s not an answer, Penelope,” he murmured against her cheek.
She laughed, breathless and radiant. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Colin.”
Penelope pressed her forehead to his, her breath still trembling with laughter and tears. Outside, a few errant snowflakes fell lazily past the window, the world quiet and expectant, as if it, too, had been waiting for this moment.
For twenty-three days she counted down the drawers of an Advent calendar, but the promise she held now, this future together, was the only thing she would ever need to count on again.