Penelope sat there on the bathroom floor for most of the night, replaying the night over and over again in her head. Everything had gone downhill so quickly that it didn't even feel real. She couldn't sit here forever. She had to do something, to talk to someone who wasn't Charles or someone in his life. She couldn't let herself get trapped in this echo chamber, manipulated into giving him another chance because people close to him wanted them to stay together.
The phone rang a few times before he picked up. She wasn't sure he'd answer, but she was thankful that he did.
"Hello?" Jasper said, sounding confused. "Penelope, that you?"
"Oh hey," she said, wiping her eyes as she tried to hide the hoarseness in her voice. "Are you busy? I wasn't sure you'd answer I know your mom was in town this weekend."
"Of course I would. You at home? It's like seven here, it must be really early for you. Are you okay?"
"Oh, we went out. Got back late."
"Right. Everything okay, though?"
"I saw Clare, Kelly-Anne and Sylvie tonight. It was weird, actually. I don't think they like me very much."
"You saw them at the club?"
"Yeah. They were in town for the grand prix."
"I saw that didn't go so well. I'm really sorry for Charles, Nell, that must've hurt."
Penelope didn't say anything, her words failing her. Jasper sighed on the other end of the phone, wishing they weren't thousands of miles apart.
"Penelope," Jasper said gently, "what's the matter?"
Another tear slid down her cheek as she leaned back against the wall, her eyes red and puffy. Jasper knew her too well. Plus, wasn't this the reason she'd called him? Perhaps not consciously, but some part of her needed to talk this through. She couldn't cope with what she was feeling on her own, and it's not like she could talk to Charles. She'd put herself in the hospital just days earlier by suppressing what she was feeling. She couldn't do that again.
"Just a bad day," she said in a small voice, her fingers grazing against the necklace that Charles had given her all that time ago. She still wore it everyday, but now it felt more like a noose than a blessing.
"Because of the race?"
Penelope shrugged. "I guess. I had an argument with Charles when we left that party. It was bad, Jasper. The worst one we've ever had."
"What?" Jasper said, sounding confused. "But you guys don't fight. What was it about?"
"Remember his friend Pierre?"
"The guy he's been racing with since he was little?"
"Yeah. They had a fight, Jas, like an actual fist-throwing fight outside the club. I was talking to Clare and the girls, then the next minute I walk outside and they're screaming at each other. Some of the other drivers were there, pulled them apart before it could get any worse."
"Oh my god, Penelope."
"I know."
"Why were they fighting?"
"That's the worst part. He wouldn't even tell me. I can't shake this feeling that something's going on behind my back. I can't be in another relationship where I can't trust my boyfriend, Jas, I can't do that again."
"Hey," Jasper soothed. She wished he was here. "Where are you now? Are you safe?"
"I'm fine. I'm crying on the bathroom floor, actually."
"Just like old times then?" he joked. In a weird way, that made her feel a little better. "How many times have I picked you up off someone's bathroom floor, huh?"
"Too many times," she sniffled, but it was the closest she'd been to smiling all night. He wasn't wrong - Jasper was always the first person she called when she was in trouble. When Harry had broken her heart, he'd sat up with her all night, always a shoulder to cry on. She loved him for that. "I don't know what to do this time. I feel so far away."
"You could come home," Jasper suggested, his voice hopeful.
"L.A. isn't home anymore, Jasper," Penelope said sadly. "You know that."
"Right. Monaco is."
"Charles is. Or was, maybe I don't know. Maybe I was stupid to think it could work. Everyone lets me down eventually, guess he's no different."
Penelope could tell Jasper was choosing his words carefully. "Listen, I know you don't want to hear this right now. Normally, if it was any other guy, I'd tell you to leave his ass and never look back, but Charles...well, I've seen how the guy looks at you. The guy loves you, and sometimes that's worth fighting for. You make each other better. Don't throw that away before giving things a chance to get better."
"How much did it hurt you to say that?"
"I threw up in my mouth halfway through. I mean it, though. I want you to be happy."
"I love him so much, Jasper. It hurts. I can't think straight."
"When was the last time you were on the ice?"
Penelope went to reply, but she stopped herself. When was the last time she went skating? She'd spent so much time flying back to L.A. to work or following Charles around the world, that she hadn't carved out any time for dance since Nationals. That realisation was painful, too. "I don't know."
"If you were here and you needed to clear your head, what would you do?"
Slowly, Penelope started to catch on. "I'd go skating."
She could almost picture him smiling. "Then there's your answer."
"Okay. I can do this."
"You can."
"Hey Jasper?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for always picking me up off the bathroom floor."
"You're welcome. You call me anytime though, I'm serious. And if you want me to kick his ass, I happily will."
*************************
For once, the Monaco air was actually cold. Penelope had left the apartment with just her skating bag and car keys, having changed out of her dress and tied her hair up in a ponytail, never wanting to see that outfit ever again. She drove in silence, the windows down, letting the cool air cleanse her of her troubles. It didn't fix anything, but it made her feel clean again.
Not shockingly, the rink was empty. There weren't that many figure skaters in Monaco anyway on a regular day, but at 4:30am in the morning, there were even less. It took her back to when she was younger, during competition season where she'd gotten up at ridiculous times in the morning to train before having to film for her show, then returning to the rink to train again in the evening. She remembered her grandparents driving her back and forth, telling her that all the hard work would be worth it. That time in her life felt so far away now.
The lights in the rink were so bright that Penelope had to squint to see as she walked in. It was completely empty, almost eerily so, but right now that was a good thing. Being alone helped her to think.
As soon as her feet hit the ice, all her problems began to feel insignificant. Suddenly, she was back on the podium at Nationals, achieving everything she'd ever wanted. All that mattered was the ice, the adrenaline coursing through her veins as she threw herself into jumps and spins, holding nothing back. It was old choreography, something Carlisle and herself had put together a few years ago, but she made it look brand new. Anyone watching her would think she was the best figure skater on the world stage. Maybe she was.
In the end, she danced for hours. By the time she glided to the side of the rink and emerged back onto solid ground, the sun was beginning to shine through the windows, signalling the start to a new day. She hadn't slept, but she felt more awake than she had in months. Jasper was right. She couldn't run from this.
She pulled a t-shirt out of her skate bag, shrugging it on as she pulled her hair loose, letting it fall down her back. She grabbed her keys, slung her skate bag over her shoulder and headed for the exit, expecting a departure as peaceful as the arrival.
She was wrong.
She saw the cameras flashing before she heard the noise. As soon as she opened the door, they were on her, lenses in her face as the paparazzi called questions at her, trying to get exclusives they could use as headlines. She wasn't sure how they'd found her, but she had a theory. Monaco was small, and her presence here was well-documented, and news of where she was often spread quickly. Someone must have seen her car in the parking lot, tipped the press off that she was here. After the race yesterday, she and Charles would be the talk of the city. She should have known better than to think she could be treated like a normal person for a day.
"Penelope! Penelope! Give us a smile!" a cameraman called on her right as she held her hand up in front of her face, trying to shield herself from the lens. She just tried to keep her head down, her car looming in the distance. Shutting the voices out, however, was easier said than done.
"Any comment on the altercation that happened between your boyfriend and Pierre Gasly last night?"
For a moment, Penelope's composure crumbled. How did they know about that? It was a private event, phones weren't even allowed in the venue. This was bad. The amount of politics involved in racing was insane. Two of the most promising young drivers scrapping with each other outside a nightclub was a PR nightmare. Bad press meant less sponsors, and the teams couldn't afford to lose the income associated with that. Shit.
It was hard, but she kept walking. The moment she said anything, it would make everything worse. Head down, keep walking. Don't let them see you sweat.
"Have you seen the video circulating on social media, Penelope?" they asked her again, really pushing now. "What were they fighting about? Were they fighting over you?"
Were they fighting over you?
She wished she knew the answer to that. She'd never seen Charles angry enough to hit anyone before. Even when Xavi and the team had squandered his victory yesterday, she didn't believe he would ever actually lay a hand on any of them. For him to react like he did...she knew that it must have been about something he cared about more than racing. The only thing that he cared about more than racing was Penelope.
"Penelope! Penelope, anything to say? Are you and Charles still together? What could this mean for his future on the track? Will you be staying in Monaco for the rest of the season?"
Finally, Penelope had reached her car. She pulled the door open, turning to face the camera just as she climbed inside. "No comment," she said swiftly, slamming the door in the reporter's face and driving away, knowing that whatever was about to be said when she got home would decide the future of her relationship, whether she wanted it to or not.
**************************
When she walked in, Charles was waiting for her.
He was sat at the table, drumming his fingers the way he did when he was nervous. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised, and there was a graze along his cheekbone that looked painful. His hair was messy and his t-shirt was inside out, like he'd barely slept. As soon as the door opened, he sat up straight, his eyes wild.
"I've been calling you," he said, taking a step towards her like he wanted to hug her before thinking better of it. "I woke up and you were gone. I thought...I thought you'd left me."
The break in his voice made her heart ache, but she had to stay strong. As much as she wanted to run to him and pretend none of this ever happened, she couldn't. Last night was a pivotal point in their relationship. Either they'd overcome it, or they wouldn't.
"I needed some space," she said calmly, keeping her tone level. "Had to clear my head. I was wondering if we could talk, actually."
Charles nodded, sitting back down at the table as she pulled out the chair beside him. There was a notable distance between them, like a reminder that something had changed. "Last night was a mess."
"I'm sorry, Penelope. You have to believe me. Everything got so out of control-"
"My friends were there last night, Charles. People that I work with."
"I know. And I'm so sorry-"
"Stop, okay? Just stop. Stop saying sorry. You fight with your best friend but won't tell me why, you won't look at me...you think I'm stupid? Pierre told me not to sign that deal and two days later you're fighting outside a club. I heard what he said about telling someone the truth. So I don't want empty apologies, I want to know what's going on."
"I never meant to hurt you."
"So then tell me the truth."
Charles took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. His knuckles looked worse in the daylight, and she could tell he was in pain. Silently, Penelope made her way to the kitchen, rooting through the cupboards as Charles called after her.
"Penelope, where are you going? Just give me a chance to explain-"
"Sit down. Here, put this on your hand. It'll bring out the bruising."
Charles looked confused but thankful as she handed him a packet of frozen peas she'd retrieved from the freezer. Penelope grabbed paper towel from the side and a packet of plasters before sitting beside him again, making sure that he was doing as she said. Gently, she pressed the damp towel to the cut on his cheek, ignoring his hiss of pain.
"You don't have to do that," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes closed.
"No," she agreed, her fingers lingering on his cheek. "But I want to. Still love you. Even if you pissed me off."
"How'd you get so good at this stuff?"
"I've been a dancer my entire life. I've had my fair share of sprained ankles. Andy is gonna kill you when he sees this."
"Yeah, well he'll have to join the queue. Turns out there's a video of last night. Mattia called me this morning...let's just say I'm in trouble."
"I heard. The press were outside the rink this morning when I left. I didn't say anything though. No comment and all that shit."
"Thank you," he said genuinely as Penelope gave him a small smile. "I guess I owe you an explanation."
Penelope nodded, smoothing the band-aid against his cheek. It was red with a race car on it, something one of Charles's brothers had gotten him as a joke, but it was that or nothing. He looked pained, like it was more than just his injuries that were causing him discomfort.
"It was Pierre, Penelope. Pierre leaked your contract."
For a moment, she was silent. As much as she didn't want to admit it, that made sense. Pierre was the only person outside of Ferrari that she'd told about the deal, and paired with his reaction, it didn't exactly look promising. But why? What would he stand to gain from betraying them? Charles and Pierre had been friends for years, and she'd always had a good relationship with him herself. Why would he do this to them?
"What?" she said in disbelief, shaking her head. "No. Why? Why would he do that?"
"He didn't want you to sign. He thought that if he leaked it to the press you might rethink it."
"That doesn't make any sense. Why does he care so much?"
Charles shrugged his shoulders as Penelope watched him carefully, still niggled by the feeling that something was off. "I was too mad to ask. He was drunk, he told me that he did it and I just saw red. I know you guys were friends and you trusted him, but he was my mate too. He sold me out."
"So you thought that hitting him was the best option?"
"At the time. Now...well, I was wrong, and I'm sorry. I...actually, no I'm not. I'm not sorry."
Penelope raised an eyebrow, stunned. "Qué?"
"He messed with you. He hurt you, and that's not okay with me. Maybe I shouldn't have hit him, but I brought him into your life and he hurt you. That makes it my fault. He couldn't just get away with it."
"It's not your responsibility to look after me."
Charles's eyes were stern, burning with passion. It struck her then, just how serious he was. If Pierre had just betrayed Charles, then he could have walked away. But the moment he involved her, things changed. It mattered more when it was her. "Yes it is. I love you, Nell. Of course I want to look after you."
Penelope met his eyes, holding his gaze for a while. She wanted to believe him. She really did. If she let it go, told herself he couldn't be lying, then things could go back to normal. She got to live her romantic dream life again, her Instagram-perfect life that made her fans write stories about them and drove people mad with jealousy. All she had to do was believe him, and she'd get her happy, fairy-tale ending.
"Fair enough," she said, tone plain. "I understand."
Now it was Charles's turn to be surprised. "You're not mad?"
"I was. But I can't punish you for being angry at your friend. In fact, if I was in the same position I probably would have hit him too. I would have yelled a lot, too, let's be honest."
"So you forgive me? We're good?"
With a soft smile, she reached out and pulled him to her, kissing him tenderly. "We're good. Thanks for looking out for me, dickhead. Just tell me the truth next time, okay? When it happens, not twelve hours later."
Charles's eyes lit up, smiling as he kissed her again, his tongue in her mouth as his fingers tangled up in her hair. Penelope bit her lip as she smiled at him, lifting her shirt over her head as he watched her, mesmerised. The rest of her clothes fell away until her skin was bare, his eyes drinking in the sight of her as though she were made of solid gold.
"I'm going to shower," she told him, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in to kiss her. Her fingers moved downwards, feeling him harden against her touch. "You wanna join?"
Charles had never moved as fast as he did then. In one swift move, he lifted her, her legs hooked around his waist as he kissed her, hot and feverish, like he'd never wanted her more than he did then.
"We should fight more often," he breathed, carrying her through to the bathroom and pushing her up against the door. He pulled her hair as he kissed her, a moan escaping her lips, enjoying the roughness of it all. "I like this side of you."
Penelope grinned as she kissed his exposed skin, sucking and biting as she worked her way down, his skin hot against hers. "Are you saying you like me better on my knees?"
Their eyes met again as he winked at her, sending a jolt down her spine. "I like you best when you're smiling," he said sweetly, though there was a devilish look behind it. He leaned in close to kiss her, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered "But naked is a close second."
"Just kiss me," Penelope laughed, so close that she could make out the shape of every individual freckle on his nose. "And turn the water on. I'll make it worth it, I promise."
***************************
Later, once Penelope had braided her hair and had finished a very long conversation with her manager Britney, she decided to go and find Charles. He'd given her space to answer the call, and she'd figured he'd gone to workout or play piano. He always played when he had things on his mind, and today of all days that seemed fitting. However, much to her pleasant surprise, she found him in the kitchen, putting utmost effort into flipping a pancake without dropping it on the floor.
"Hey!" he said when she walked in, the floor cold against her bare feet. He was humming a little tune, wearing a pink 'kiss the chef' apron that never failed to make her smile. "Hungry?"
"You made me breakfast?" she asked with a grin, kissing him in thanks. He tasted like strawberries, his hair still wet from the shower.
"Pancakes," he said as Penelope sat at the island, stealing a raspberry from his plate. "Just like-"
"When we started dating," she finished, a happy but faraway look in her eyes. "You used to cook for me every time you were in L.A. Even when I had to leave early for training."
Charles smiled at her, passing her a plate. He'd drawn a strange shape on hers with whipped cream, something she couldn't quite make out. "It was meant to be a heart," he said sheepishly, handing her a glass of juice.
"It's, uh..."
"Hideous?"
"I was going to say sweet."
Charles kissed her forehead as he sat beside her, glancing at her every couple of minutes to make sure she was eating. It was something she'd noticed him doing ever since Barcelona, checking in on her to make sure she wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes, she'd noticed him waiting for her to fall asleep first at night, or keeping tabs on how much work she was doing for Li. That cautious side of him was something she had come to terms with, knowing that there was a little part of him that would never recover from what happened that weekend. The guilt she felt about that would never go away, either.
"How did it go with Britney?"
Penelope gave him a look, shaking her head. "Lots of yelling. Apparently we're trending on Twitter."
"She didn't manage to get the video taken down?"
"No. She said to try and let it blow over. Post some pictures or something, distract from the scandal."
"We could go out on the boat? Take some on the water."
A twinge of surprise flickered in Penelope's brain at his response. Normally, he complained about posting them together, saying he wanted his private life to be private. It wasn't like him to suggest something like that. "Oh, yeah sure. If you want. We have that dinner too, with your sponsor."
"Yeah."
"Hey," Penelope said after a moment of silence, biding her time. "We never had that talk about Monaco."
Instantly, his expression became guarded. "There's not really anything to talk about."
"I know how much you wanted to win. I'm sorry that it didn't happen."
He angled himself away from her slightly, shutting her out. "I'm used to going home disappointed. I'll get over it."
"Charles-"
"I have a meeting with Xavi and the guys," he said quickly, leaning in to kiss her before hurrying to his feet. "I'll see you later."
"Oh. Sure. But you're okay?"
He grabbed his jacket from the coat rack, shrugging it on as though he couldn't wait to get out of there. "Yeah. On to the next one, I guess."
She didn't even have time to respond before he was gone, the door shutting behind him with a decisive thud, putting a swift end to the conversation even though it felt like there was still so much to be said.
*****************************