Penelope

Dinner with my parents, Cassian, and Patrick went better than I expected. Mom and Dad adore Patrick, and they spent a good half hour talking about how much we look alike. After that, we played some card games and discussed the issues with Patrick's parents. My biological parents. No one is sure why they kept one child and gave up the other. As the night went on, I started disassociating myself from the relation between me and the name Jules. Yes, it is my middle name and my birth name, but Jules Collins doesn't exist. I'm who I am because of how my parents raised me. Jules Collins is a girl the world will never know. Penelope Montgomery, the woman I am today, is the one who exists. I take pride in knowing who I am and where I stand.

Blowing away the steam from my coffee, I take a timid sip, the steaming liquid stinging my tongue. I set the paper cup down and glance around the mall. People are bustling, trying to finish early Christmas shopping. Décor has been strung along the ceiling; bedazzling snowflakes that glitter beneath the lighting, large boughs of holly and pine replacing the flower and tree pots, and Christmas music trickles in the background. Faces are filled with joyous smiles and the kids seem to have an extra burst of energy as they weave through the tables of chairs of Blenz Coffee.

I used to ridicule people who completed their shopping so early. Shopping in December, with Christmas on the horizon, is much more festive and exciting. Almost magical. But I respect those who complete their shopping early. It adds a much more relaxed vibe to the Holidays. I can honestly say I prefer it as opposed to waiting until the last minute to get gifts. Leaning down, I scoop up my bags and remove each item, placing them back in the bag when I'm finished inspecting them.

For Gemma, I bought a Béis diaper bag. It's something she's going to need before the baby shower which she wants to have a month after the baby's born. If I decide to have kids, I'm copying Gemma's idea. I like the idea of people actually being able to meet my child. Gemma's going to love the bag. It's stylish, making it look more like an oversized purse than a diaper bag. There's also a plethora of storage compartments, as well as a padded pocket for her laptop. 

Jake was tricky to buy for, as he's more of a giver than a receiver. He's vague, always leaving people to guess what he wants. I bought him a collection of Taylor Swift vinyls. He has a record player in his office he uses frequently. He's also a big fan of Taylor Swift, so that's that. I stuff the vinyls back in the diaper bag, setting it on the floor.

I continue to rifle through the presents. With business climbing, I've gone overboard this year. Mom's diamond pendant necklace sparkles as I carefully place it back in the velvet box. Dad's going to love his new watch. I even bought something for Patrick—a new tool belt. I noticed how worn and stained his was at work. I also threw in a Yeti water bottle. His current water bottle has taken on some rough damage.

When I remove the presents I bought for Cassian, I lay them out across the table, wondering if he's going to like them. Despite his city vibe, he loves the outdoors. He enjoys hiking, fishing, camping, and ATVing. On my lap, I spread out the Yamaha sweater I bought him. It's a dark green, similar to the quad he owns. From time to time, he goes out with his friends from high school. Hopefully, he likes the sweater. Next, there's the dark green Yeti water bottle. Yes, I also bought one for Cassian. I've used Yeti products for years, and I can confirm they're worth the money. I lay a few more items out on the table: a wallet, some cotton T-shirts, a new pair of hiking boots.

When everything is on the table, I lean back in my chair, sipping my coffee. Seeing so many items worries me. Have I gone overboard? Maybe just a little. I take another sip of my coffee, breathing in the comforting smell of freshly ground coffee. Do I care? No. I enjoy buying gifts. Giving, seeing the smiles on everyone's faces, is the highlight every year.

After a few more sips of my coffee, I put everything back in the bags and scheme how I'm going to prevent Cassian from spoiling his Christmas. Jake told me Cassian loves to snoop. I shift against the uncomfortable metal chair. Keeping the presents a secret will be difficult. Keeping them tucked in the back of his SUV is off the list. Hiding presents under my bed would work... until we have to drive back to Saanich. I expel a deep breath, tapping my bottom lip.

"Someone's lost in thought."

Glancing up, I see Tessa has finally arrived. Her hair is tousled in a beautiful messy bun and she's wearing a romper. A large turquoise belt sits around her waist, adding a splash of colour. We're meeting to review the final details of our contract. She's already signed, but we need to discuss start dates and other points.

"Tessa!" I smile, standing up. We greet each other with a professional handshake. When we're sitting down, I push her coffee towards her, hoping it's not too cold. "It's good to see you again. How are the kids doing?"

After a sip of her coffee, Tessa chuckles. "It's the holidays, Penelope. My kids are full of candy canes and trudging snow throughout the house after sledding."

I picture her kids running around, the melting snow from their boots leaving puddles across the hardwood floor. "I'm assuming that means you've decorated fro Christmas?" I ask.

"More or less," Tessa replies. "The Christmas tree is up and decorated. It's a day-by-day thing. I hope we'll be finished before December arrives. Once it arrives, our schedule is booked."

"Lots of family events?" I ask.

She nods, glancing around the mall. "That's what happens when your side and your husband's side lives in the Okanagan." She returns her attention to me with a shrug. "I'm okay with it, though. It's nice to see everyone. I only ever see some family members at these holiday functions."

I nod in agreement, even though I don't understand the full context. Both of my parents have smaller families. I've gotten together with my aunt and uncle, and Gabriel and our grandparents. But that's about as big as the party gets. And I can't say much about my biological family. I don't have to guts to ask Patrick. Not yet. I'll ask him more about our family when we've exposed the truth to our parents.

"Well," Tessa continues, threading her fingers together. "Should we get started?"

"Yes," I reply, removing papers from my bag. This morning, I drafted a rough outline of what the upcoming schedule will look like. If all goes according to plan, we should be open by mid-January. We'll start the year off with a soft opening. Then, when summer arrives, we'll have a grand opening. Until then, we'll use our social media accounts and company website to promote the dates. It's important for us to be transparent with Tessa, as she's going to be supplying us with food and sweets. I'm looking forward to her being our partner.

I set the papers down and slide them across the table, explaining important dates and what not.

* * *

After my meeting with Tessa, I'm exiting Indigo, lugging my bags, when I run into Ophelia, Renée, and a woman I'm assuming is Ophelia's mom—my aunt. My breath hitches in my throat when Ophelia makes eye contact with me. She gives me a small wave which makes Renée look in my direction. When Renée sees me, she rushes over. I freeze in place, dreading this exchange. Curse fate for making us run into each other. I'm not prepared for this. 

"Penelope!" Renée exclaims. "It's so good to see you again. I'm sorry you had to leave so early at Utterly Uncorked."

I silence a condescending scoff. Renée's making it sound like I caught the stomach bug. In reality, Cassian was the one who rushed me out of there. In reality, she put her son in a desperate situation and inadvertently made him feel like an asshole. But through my own frustrations, I can't help but feel curiosity pique. How does she not recognize herself in me? Even now, with age showing on her face, there are similarities between us. It pains my heart to know how oblivious she is and how aware Ophelia is.

When I make eye contact with my cousin, her gaze hardens. I harden mine in response. For Patrick. Part of my respect for my brother stems from his ability to weather the storm. It must have been hell for him to combat the doubts of his family. I refuse to give Ophelia victory. She sees me as a threat. Patrick said our parents treat Ophelia like their own kid. She fears I'm going to take that away from her once my identity is revealed.

But I won't cower in a corner like I want to.

The Montgomerys are always victorious. My parents taught me that even when you lose, there is still victory; you learn your mistakes and become better. You try until you make it. That's the mindset that got me where I am today. It's how I'll continue to run my life.

Pasting on a fake smile, refusing to succumb to my overwhelming emotions, I return my biological mother's hug. "It's good to see you, too, Renée." I choke on her name, covering it by clearing my throat. "How are you?"

She steps back and ignores my question. "My, you have a lot of shopping bags!"

"Yes," I nod. "I'm getting some early Christmas shopping done." Deciding to milk my position a little more, I add in, "I even bought a couple things for Patrick. He's been such a wonderful addition to our team. If we have any future locations in Kelowna or Penticton, Elemental Coffee will call him."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ophelia's cheeks turn pink with irritation. I'm walking a dangerous line by hinting at Patrick's and I's relationship, but I can't help myself. I want to poke. I want to inflict the same disappointment I feel.

I want to expose the scars on my heart.

But I bite my tongue, remembering the agreement between Patrick and I. When we tell our parents the truth, we do it together

"How sweet," she smiles. A split second of silence passes before she turns around, a hand pressed to her chest. "How rude of me! I forgot to introduce you to my sister. Penelope, this is Roxy. And you've already met Ophelia. The Henrys own Utterly Uncorked, but I'm sure you know that already."

I exchange a hostile handshake with Roxy, meeting her sharp blue gaze. A sense of triumph fills me when I see that shock of recognition flash through her expression. Something tells me news of Patrick and I isn't new to her. Ophelia has kept her mom updated, but she needed to see me to believe it.

"It's lovely to see you again, Ophelia," I nod. God, my cheeks hurt from all this fake smiling.

She returns my greeting with a tight smile. "Lovely to see you, too, Penelope. How's Cassian doing?"

I think back to the dates we've gone on, wondering if I should expose my relationship with Cassian. Without a second thought, I decide against it. It's not fair of me to use something so important to one-up her. It's rude and selfish. "Cassian's good," I reply. "We've been busy with work, but we're hoping things will calm down closer to the Holidays. He wants to go home to be with his mom."

"And you won't be joining him?" she asks, cocking her head to the side.

"No," I reply. "My family lives here. I'll be joining Cassian, Jake, and Gemma for New Year's Eve, though."

It's a partial lie. Cassian's planning on staying here for Christmas, with me, and then we're going to drive to Saanich for Boxing Day until January third. I'd prefer to fly down there and avoid icy, snowy road conditions. Plane tickets are expensive, though. And after the hit my bank account has taken from Christmas shopping, I can't handle buying a ticket. It's a good thing I trust Cassian's driving.

My reference to family makes Ophelia's jaw tic. Which makes me realize we need to have a discussion. One of these days, Ophelia and I need to talk. In no way, do I want to steal my parents from her. All I want are answers. After that, they can decide where to go. If they still don't want me, then I'm okay with that. Being away from them doesn't hurt me. Not knowing answers hurts me. There are questions I've been asking all my life. Ones I've never had to opportunity to ask aloud.

It only emphasizes the disappointment.

"That sounds like a lot of fun," Renée smiles, patting me on the shoulder. "Anyway, it looks as though you were on your way out. It was nice to see you."

I make eye contact with my biological mother again, feeling deflated. How can she not see the resemblance? I can't wrap my head around it. I'm disappointed my biological parents never analyzed the potential aftershocks that could take place based upon their decisions.

"Yeah," I reply, adjusting the bags hanging from my arms. "Thanks. You, too."

Ophelia shoots me one more glance before she turns, her nose tilted towards the high ceilings. I suppress a sigh, turning away from their group. Unlike Patrick, I haven't faced the worst of this family. I am, however, understanding his frustrations and why he's been so consistent in finding me. There's something about being singled out, about being the elephant in the room that gives this family power. A power I'm not sure I like. It concerns me because it begs the question: Why did they try to keep Patrick silent?

I continue to stare after them, wondering what family drama could unify them into lying. Into suppressing their own relative of his rights. Patrick had a right to know about me. They kept him in the dark for twenty-four years. Who in their right mind would do that to a child? Let alone a relative? Their own fucking son. Patrick's had it worse than I have. At least my family nurtured me and loved me. They never suppressed my curiosity or my need for knowledge.

Shaking my head, I turn and exit the building. The air in here is too thick with disappointment to breathe. Stepping outside gives me a sense of relief, bringing new possibilities into my train of thought. Could a scandal have caused this drama? Traditional ways, perhaps? Maybe my biological father didn't like the thought of having a daughter.

Whatever the case, Patrick and I will know soon enough. Our plan has been set in stone.

My grip tightens on the bags as I cross the street to the parking lot, and I remind myself that no matter what happens, I still have my real family. The ones who cared for me and raised me. And if our interaction causes a fallout, then Patrick has a place, too.

* * *

Cassian isn't home when I arrive. I find a note on the fridge telling me he's gone for a run. Setting the note down, I glance out the window. The sidewalks have been cleared, but black ice is a hazard. I wish he would've waited for me before going on a run. But I'm sure Cassian needs some time to think. Whenever we're together, it isn't hard to tell he's second-guessing himself. I suppose I should be grateful. A man who shows his emotions is better than a man who keeps them bottled up. I do, however, wish Cassian would just talk to me. If he feels things are moving too fast, then we can slow down.

Sighing, I get to work and hide the presents. I stuff the ones he can see in my closet. Hiding his presents are different story. I take fifteen minutes to decide the downstairs cold room will have to do. He never goes down there because he claims it's haunted. He also doesn't like how cold the floor is against his feet. I always tell him to wear socks, but he never listens.

Once Cassian's presents are hidden away in an old trunk that smells of mothballs, I head back upstairs and get dinner going. I'm making fried cauliflower sandwiches. The recipe I use is one of my mom's all-time favourites. The coating I put on the cauliflower makes it taste exactly like fried chicken, and the spicy mayo seals the deal. After buying Jake all of Taylor Swift's vinyls, I'm in the mood for her music. Lover is my favourite album, so that's the one I set on repeat. While I'm blotting the cauliflower, I hum along to "The Man." You can't listen to this song and tell me it's not the song of the decade.

Cassian arrives home as soon as I've set the coated cauliflower in the oven to bake. "Have a nice run?" I ask.

He removes his head phones and sets them on the counter. "Yeah," he nods. "It was great."

"The sidewalks and pathway weren't icy?"

Cassian strolls into the kitchen. He pulls me into his arms, planting a small kiss on the tip of my nose. He's coated in sweat and smells like winter and deodorant. Cassian's cheeks are pink from the cold. "I'm fine, Pen," he chuckles.

I rest my hands against his broad chest, feeling it rise and fall. He's still breathless from his workout. "I can see that," I smile.

Grinning, Cassian breaks the embrace and observes the kitchen. "What are we making tonight?"

"Fried cauliflower sandwiches. It's a recipe my mom used to make when I was a kid. If you want to join in, you can cut up the veggies. I'll make the spicy mayo and toast the buns."

I don't need to say another word to Cassian. He enjoys cooking and never objects helping. From the cupboard beside the oven, he grabs a cutting board and a knife. Once those are set on the counter, next to the station I've set up for making the sauce, he saunters over to the fridge and removes purple cabbage, avocados, tomatoes, and lettuce. As a last minute thought, he grabs the jar of pickles.

"How was the meeting with Tessa?" he asks as he organizes the food.

"It went well," I reply. Using a spatula, I scoop the mayo from the measuring cup and plop it into a bowl. It's aggressive. I'm still reeling from the encounter with Ophelia, Roxy, and Renée. "She's excited for the New Year. Her business is doing really well from home, but this is the first time she's gotten to sign a contract. If we'd been out for dinner, she'd probably have ordered a bottle of champagne."

Cassian cuts the tomatoes into thin, perfect slices. When he's finished, he arranges them on a plate. "No doubt," he replies. "She seemed excited when we tested the baked goods at her house."

"Hmm," I murmur, squeezing some sriracha sauce into the mayo. I squeeze it so hard the lid pops off, spilling way too much into the bowl. A curse slips from my lips as I try to scoop it out. It doesn't work, of course.

Beside me, I hear Cassian set his knife down. "Pen? What's going on? You're... off tonight. Did something happen?"

Staring down at my sriracha sauce-coated hands, I sigh. My chest fills with disappointment again. "I ran into Ophelia, Renée, and Roxy—Ophelia's mom. They were in Indigo when I was on my way out." I wipe my hands on the edge of the bowl, trying to remove as much as I can. Frustrated that the lid popped, I glance at Cassian. "Why can't she see the resemblance, Cassian? It makes no fucking sense."

Cassian's not used to hearing me swear aloud, so his shock is blatant. It fades, though, turning into a look of concern and sympathy instead. "Pen," he whispers. He draws me into his arms and presses a kiss into my forehead. My hands brush against his workout shirt, covered in sauce, but he doesn't care. I can tell by the way he's holding me. "You know you're okay, right?"

A hoarse laugh escapes my throat. Cassian isn't trying to dictate how I feel, he's just being honest. And judging me from past actions—from my life. My parents never kept it a secret I was adopted. All my life, I've battled uncertainty and second-guessing myself. I've dealt with disappointment. "I know," I reply, breathing in his spicy cologne and the outdoorsy scent. Cassian tightens his arms around me. I revel in his warmth. "It's difficult, though. The disappointment. I don't want to feel it anymore. Are Patrick and I making the correct decision?"

Cassian's breath is hot against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine and right to my very core. I'm hypersensitive about how close we are. About the thin layer of clothing between us; my leggings and his joggers. "What do you think?"

I take a deep breath, trying to fight the disappointment. It's like a rash; spreading until that's all I can feel. Disappointment is a product of situations. One that, if it occurs often, you expect it. I hate that I feel like this. I want to be optimistic and believe Patrick and I will receive unexpected, positive outcomes from our upcoming interrogation. But it's difficult when all I've seen with the Collins family is disappointment. Aside from Patrick, of course.

"I-I..." I stutter. "I don't know. "I want to believe we're making the right choice. I'm..."

I trail off, losing the ability to speak. There's a lot up in the air. I don't know what to think.

"You're afraid of the outcome," he murmurs. "You don't want to be disappointed again."

I nod, burying my face in his neck. The heat radiating from his skin is intense, making me wonder what it would be like to share a bed with him. I'm always freezing cold at night—even with my mile-high pile of blankets. He could be my personal heater.

"I understand," he continues. "More than I care to admit. But how do you know when it hasn't happened? It disgusts me what your biological parents have done. Personally, I think you're going to feel a lot of disappointment with them. There's no way to justify giving up one child and keeping the other. But you deserve some answers, Pen. Don't go in there expecting anything. Go in with a rational mind and be prepared."

"Jeez," I snort. "You sound somewhat pessimistic. Are you okay?"

Cassian shrugs beneath me. "What can I say? Seeing you unhappy bothers me. And the Collins don't have a lot of redeeming qualities." He shoots me an apologetic look. "No offence to you or Patrick."

I pull away from his chest and stare up into his dark brown eyes. Brown eyes don't get enough credit. Blue eyes and green eyes are always romanticized. Where is the credit for brown eyes? They're so alluring and intoxicating. Cassian smiles down at me, curbing some disappointment. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I told you I'd come with you," he murmurs. "I'll be the buffer you and Patrick need."

I wish Cassian could read my mind. All I want him to do is kiss me.

"Ask and you shall receive," he grins.

Shit. I said that aloud.

"Yes," he laughs, dipping his head down. "Yes, you did."

Cassian's lips brush against mine, soft and warm, and my body lights up. His kiss chases away the disappointment, replacing it with happiness and a reminder of why the disappointment has never taken control of my life. I'm happy where I am. And, no matter what happens, I'll always have a family who loves me. I'll always have friends I can depend on.

With my hands still coated in sauce, I slide my arms around Cassian's neck and tangle my fingers in his hair. He chuckles and deepens the kiss, murmuring something about needing a shower.

I laugh against his mouth, hardening the kiss.