Penelope

I rearrange the fork, knife, and napkin in front of me. I'm sitting at a booth at Gabriel's restaurant, waiting for Patrick to arrive. He called last night, asking if I wanted to go out for lunch. I agreed. Patrick plans on apologizing profusely for the unexpected interaction with our mom. It's easy to assume because of the look on his face yesterday. And while I appreciate the sympathy, he has no need to apologize. Our mom showed up unexpectedly. How was he supposed to predict her arrival? 

But Patrick isn't at the forefront of my mind.

Cassian is.

 I'm still trying to wrap my head around him asking me out. I know it doesn't mean we're instantly boyfriend and girlfriend—only a fool would believe such a thing so soon. Which is why I'm trying to keep an open mind. I'm also trying to tone down my excitement. Allowing myself to succumb to the excitement could cause disappointment. Cassian is still trying to make his way through the weeds. I'm grateful he's given me a chance. There's something between us, but he needs to deal with the blurry lines and see if he can overcome his fear of losing me as a friend. Once he figures it out, I'll be there, ready to support whatever decision he makes—even if it hurts. There are predicaments where friendship is too valuable to risk. Cassian, I know, is one of those people. He stated so himself. But if he's willing to try, then there's some hope after all. I will not rely on it, though. I still need to continue living my life. There's a business I need to help run. 

That being said, there's no shame in letting a little of the happiness seep into my body. I love snowshoeing. Before I moved to Vancouver, snowshoeing was one of my hobbies during the winter. When the snow is magical, as opposed to being an annoyance. I haven't been snowshoeing for two years.  It'll be fun to spend some time with Cassian on a date.

A date.

I press my lips into a firm line and exhale through my nose.

"Somebody's daydreaming."

Gabriel's voice removes me from my inner thoughts, bringing me back to the restaurant. I flatten my hands against the soft wooden tabletop, inhaling deeply. "I was not daydreaming," I reply. But I was thinking about Cassian.

"Cut the bullshit, cousin," Gabriel grins, sitting down across from me. His hair is damp with sweat and he smells of cooking oil. It amazes me how he can work over heated surfaces all day. I love to cook, but I fear I would get sick of it if my career revolved around food. Gabriel's passion for food is mighty. "A smile like that isn't caused by daily routines. You don't see me smiling at a head of lettuce that way."

"Fine," I sigh, picking at my nail polish. While nail polish looks good on my nails, I only paint them to avoid biting my nails. Picking off the nail polish remedies such an unsanitary habit. God knows what could be under my nails. "Cassian asked me out on a date."

"What?" my cousin exclaims. He drops his phone to the table. "When?"

"Last night," I reply. A flake of cranberry-coloured nail polish falls to the table. "When we were picking out a Christmas tree."

"Penelope!" he smiles. Gabe leans back in his chair, brushing a strand of sweaty black hair from his forehead. He claps his hands together. "That's amazing. I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks," I smile, aware of the faint blush spreading across my cheeks. Maybe I info-dumped on my cousin too much. "But I'm not looking into it too much. This is still new. We'll see how the first date goes."

"It'll be fine," Gabe snorts. "That man is in love with you."

My heart thumps against my ribcage. "How can you tell?"

"I'm a man," he shrugs. "We know things."

I roll my eyes, laughing. "Since when do men know anything? Most are thick-skulled idiots. No thanks to your egos." Yes, even Cassian is a thick-skulled idiot sometimes. He likes to nurture his ego, too, but it doesn't over-inflate. Thank God. 

He swats away my comment. "While you're correct, even a fool could see the way Cassian looks at you. I think he's afraid. You can be intimidating."

He is. He doesn't want to risk losing me as a friend.

"I'm not that intimidating," I frown.

Suddenly, Patrick is sliding into the seat next to Gabriel. "You are intimidating," he says. "You terrify the surrounding men. Ophelia even questions her authority when you're around. Our cousin never questions her authority. Trust me."

My frown deepens. Yes, I'm good at my job, but I don't intimidate. I'm smart and I excel at what I do. That's not intimidating. "No," I argue. "You guys view me as intimidating. That's how men are raised to view women who excel. They see us as a threat." I toss my hair over my shoulder. "Intimidation is far from what I stand for. If that's your problem with me, then maybe rethink your priorities."

Both men exchange a glance, scared out of their wits. Another result of such a patriarchal society. 

"Good luck, man," Gabriel says, clapping Patrick on the back. "I'm gonna head to work now. Lunch is on the house!"

"I thought we agreed we weren't doing that anymore?" I call after Gabriel.

My cousin waves off my comment and continues to the kitchen.

"Man, why do you have to leave me alone?" Patrick murmurs, running a hand through his curly locks. When my gaze flicks to his, he raises his hands. "You're not intimidating, okay? I'm just... insecure."

I snort and pick up my menu. "Nice recovery, brother."

Patrick's mouth opens and closes, but he doesn't say anything. He averts his gaze. Over the edge of the menu, I see him trace the rim of his glass. Condensation drips down the side. "Look, Penelope," he sighs. "I had no idea Mom was going to be there." He pauses and shakes his head. "Okay, she was supposed to be there, but not until later. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I reply without hesitation. "Cassian updated me on the situation. I will not lie, it was shocking, especially after telling my mom about you—"

"Wait," Patrick interrupts. "You told your mom about me?"

If Patrick thinks he's the only one who came here to apologize, he's wrong. Telling Mom before asking him was wrong of me. Even if Mom's words were putting me in an uncomfortable position. "Yes," I reply, "she was hinting at us dating. She's been rather fond of you since the barbecue. I'm sorry I told her, though. It went against our conditions."

Patrick makes a gagging noise and raises his hands. "Ew. No hard feelings here. You needed to tell her." He picks up the menu in front of him. I watch his eyes flick from option to option. After he's decided on an item for lunch, he sets the menu down and stares at me. "I'm sorry, Penelope. If I had known she was showing up early..."

"But you didn't," I point out.

"Are you okay?" he asks, ignoring my fact. "I know this has been difficult for you. Whenever I see you, I wonder if I did this right. If I should've eased you into it." He rests his face in his hands and heaves a heavy sigh. "Maybe it would've been easier."

His comment sets off a lightbulb in my head. I cock my head to the side, frowning. He's blabbing. Something's bothering him. I can tell by the tenseness in his shoulders and the stress radiating from him. Huh. This has affected Patrick more than it's affected me. "Are you okay?" I ask.

Before Patrick can answer, a server arrives, asking if we've decided on our orders. I order a chef's salad—Gabriel makes the best salad dressing—and Patrick orders a burger and sweet potato fries. When the server has left, promising a refill of our waters, Patrick sighs again.

"No," he admits. "I'm not okay. We all have imperfections. Mine comprise not thinking things through before acting. Which is ironic because that's what my job requires me to do. What are we going to do about our m—I mean Renee? She knows something's up, Penelope. Cassian was too protective, and I let my emotions get the best of me. It won't be long before she's asking questions." His gaze flicks to mine. They're full of sympathy. "I don't want to rush you, either. I'm sorry."

I glance around the restaurant, holding back a laugh. Outside, the sky is a dark shade of grey. It promises snow later tonight. Patrick's throwing himself for a loop. I feel bad for my brother. Although I like to take a step back and view the perceptions of other people, I haven't done enough of that for him. It must overwhelm him, to experience this. After years of fighting against suppressive parents, he finds me. He's proven them wrong. He must wonder how to break the news to them. The thought makes me come to a hasty conclusion. We must stand united when the time comes. We've created a relationship. It still needs work, but we get along and are respectful of each other's boundaries. Our parents need to realize that otherwise they're going to pick us apart. This is just me judging from Patrick's stories and the small exchange I had with my birth mother. Maybe, when they know who I am, they'll be more understanding.

I will not get my hopes up, though. They gave me up for a reason. Seeing me might haunt them. My presence might trigger a catastrophic chain reaction.

"Listen," I say, turning back to Patrick. "I will not leave you hanging, okay? Take a deep breath, Patrick. We'll figure this out together. What's bothering you?"

The bags under his eyes look darker. He rubs the heel of his hand against his face. "They're relentless, Penelope. Hell is going to break loose when we tell them. We have to have a strategic plan. If we don't, they'll refuse to talk to us. To look at the DNA test results." Patrick slouches in his chair. "Fuck. It would be helpful if we knew why they gave you up and not me. There has to be a reason. It makes little sense." As an afterthought he adds, "She should've recognized you. You look so much like her. And we have our similarities, too." 

Patrick's comment strikes a chord in my heart. It shocks me she didn't recognize me. My brother is right. The similarities are endless. I tap my chin with my finger. I've had a tough time wrapping my head around why I was given up, too. Every reasoning I come up with makes no sense. "It would be," I agree. "Do you think there's a way we could find out prior to telling them? Any papers you could investigate?"

Patrick's eyebrows raise in surprise. "You want to discuss this with them?"

Swiping at the condensation on my glass of water, I nod. It'll be a difficult conversation to have, but it needs to happen before Cassian and I leave. "Yes. As long as we can count on each other, it'll be okay. What do you think the best approach will be?"

Patrick leans back and crosses his arms. "Somewhere public," he replies. "Our parents are too proud to risk exposing themselves. If we're in a restaurant, they'll act civilized."

"We'll do it here," I nod, gesturing to the surrounding area. This restaurant is always busy, no matter what time of day you come. I could also ask Gabriel to seat us closer to the patio section, behind the large indoor plant in the back corner. We'd still be out in public, but we'd have a bit of privacy, too.

"Okay," he breathes. "That sounds good. It would be smart to have a referee, too. I love our parents, but they can trigger me." He pauses and then retracts his words. "They don't trigger me. Sorry. That makes me sound like I have a temper, which I don't. What I meant is that disagreements are common between us. Especially with Dad."

Although I want to ask questions about what I should expect from each parent, our plan is more important. We need to be solid if our plan is going to work. "Cassian could join us," I suggest. "If I ask him to, he'll stay quiet until things get out of hand. If they even do. He... he could play the role of my boyfriend. That way, there will be a reason for him to come. We can say I wanted him there for comfort and support..." I trail off, reminded of our date tomorrow. 

The corner of Patrick's mouth curves upward. "Speaking of you and Cassian... has anything happened?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"You seem happier," he smiles. "Now that he's not pining over my—our callous cousin. Trust me, I got an earful from Ophelia. She wasn't pleased with Cassian picking our side."

Just as I'm about to respond, the server arrives with our food. She sets it down, and my stomach grumbles. The fries from Patrick's plate smell delicious. My salad looks delicious. Gabriel has even added blueberries to it. I grab my fork and spear through some spinach, arugula, and lettuce, stuffing it in my mouth. Flavour explodes across my tongue, causing me to stifle a groan. God, I need the recipe for Gabriel's salad dressings. He concocts a new one every time I come here. 

"Cassian asked me out," I admit after swallowing my food. "On a date."

Patrick dips a fry in the small container of ketchup. Before he pops it in his mouth, he smiles at me. "That's awesome, Penelope. You and Cassian are perfect for each other."

"You think so?" I smile, keeping my gaze locked on my salad. If I make eye contact, my emotions will implode. Although our brother-sister relationship is still new to us, it feels good to gain his approval. Patrick and Cassian seem to get along whenever we're at the winery. Maybe they'll become good friends through this experience. 

"Yes," he replies. "Do you think he'll come, though? We're asking a lot of him."

"Of course he will," I reply. Cassian promised he'd have my back, and I know he's a trustworthy man. It's one reason my feelings for him have lasted. And, if things work out between us, it'll be the reason they develop into something more. He can be daft, but he has a heart of gold. Although he's not fond of my biological mother, he'll be able to control his emotions. "Cassian will help us out."

Patrick takes a bite of his burger. "Okay," he says after he's swallowed. "When are we going to do this?"

I'm not ready for this, but it needs to happen before we leave. Otherwise, I'm going to be stuck in a whirlpool of my own emotions. I'll spend days pondering over what the end results could've been. "Next weekend? We can work out the details on Monday and go from there. I'll talk to Cassian tomorrow while we're snowshoeing."

"That sounds great," Patrick replies. He then cocks an eyebrow at me. "Snowshoeing for the first date? The man has character."

I toss a blueberry at him. "Shut up, Patrick." He's teasing me now. Just like older brothers do.

He tilts his head back and laughs. "I'm liking the role of big brother."

I laugh along with him. Each minute I spend with him reduce the oddities of our situation. 

Although I'm terrified of facing my biological parents head-on, I'm glad Patrick and I can have serious conversations. He's not dysfunctional, which makes things easier for me. He provides comfort where other people can't. We've both suffered from pain and confusion. We can understand each other.

I also like that we can laugh, despite the looming gloom and the seriousness it holds. 

Because it's just like they always say: Laughter is the best medicine.