New York, around 2 years ago. A busy stadium, but they're in his dressing room, away from the crowds. Penelope is excited, but nervous all the same.
"This is a joke, right?"
"No," Penelope said, her tone nervous. The skin on her wrists was red from where she'd scratched it, a coping mechanism she'd developed since they'd been together. "Britney sent it through yesterday. I auditioned for it so long ago, but I never heard back. I just figured they'd chosen someone else, but they didn't. They chose me."
"Right."
"And, you know, it'll be hard, sure, but this is a proper role. This isn't another TV show, this is an oscar-worthy movie role. This could be my big break."
When he looked at her, his eyes were cold. Outside the dressing room, the arena bustled with life. He was already dressed for the show, and maybe his mind was elsewhere but it didn't matter. This was the only time they'd spent together in weeks. He was either too busy touring or she was working, and they could never seem to find a happy in between. There was plenty of time before he had to be on stage, but that didn't seem to matter. "It's in London, Penelope. We live in L.A."
"I know that, but-"
"For nine months. What about me?"
Penelope felt like she was fighting against the current, struggling to stay above water as her head was forced under water from above. "We'd still be together. We'll do long distance! But this is my dream. This is my big break, and-"
"You said that already," he snapped. "I just don't understand why you can't do something here, in L.A."
"The movie is filming in London. I can't change that."
He shrugged, like it wasn't his problem. "So don't take the job then."
Penelope knew she was fighting a losing battle. She could scream at him until her voice gave way and he still wouldn't hear her. Still, she kept trying. Story of her life. "Do you understand what you're telling me to do?"
"Do whatever you want, Penny, but I can't promise you I'll still be here when you're done."
"You're asking me to give up on my dreams. This could change everything for me-"
"If you loved me, you wouldn't even be considering this."
For a moment, they just stared at each other, his expression a glare and hers on the verge of tears. There was no universe, no plausible reality where she would have said that to him. She should have walked out, but she was too much of a coward. She hated herself for that.
"That's not fair, Harry. You're being mean."
"Stop playing the victim for once. You don't think this is hard for me, too? I'm just trying to make us work, Penny, but it won't. Not if you're not going to try."
"I am trying. This is me trying."
"Really? Taking a job halfway across the fucking world is trying then, is it?"
A tear slipped down her cheek as she shrunk into herself, standing small against the wall like a schoolchild being scolded by the headmaster. "I think I should go. Enjoy the show. I hope it's everything you wanted it to be."
"Great, so now you're leaving. I'm playing Maddison Square Garden, and you're leaving?"
"I don't want to argue anymore. If I stay, that's all we'll do."
"Fine. Walk away, Penelope. You're good at that."
It wasn't often that Penelope raised her voice. Sure, she was passionate and she could get angry sometimes, but it was rare that she lost it. But in that moment, hearing him say those words, make her choose between him and her career, forcing her into something she didn't want...it was safe to say that her emotions were far from being in check.
"You don't want me to take the job? Fine, I won't. Are you happy? Are you fucking happy, Harry?" She grabbed her backstage pass from the dressing room table, waving it in front of his face, so furious that she wasn't thinking straight. "You want me to follow you around, play the happy fucking girlfriend while you do what you want, while you follow your dreams? Fine! Because it always has to be about you. You never think about what I want anymore. God, I was so excited to tell you about this because I thought you'd actually be happy for me. You can say whatever you want about me, call me a bad girlfriend or whatever other insults you can cook up in that twisted brain of yours, but don't you ever, ever, say that I don't love you. Don't you ever use that against me."
He tried to touch her, but she pushed him away, trembling. "I'm sorry."
"No you're not. You're never sorry."
"I am, Penny. I swear." He reached for her again, and this time she let him. He wrapped her in his arms, but it felt more like a prison than a safe haven. "I'm sorry."
"I do love you," she sniffled, though as she said the words she knew a part of her wasn't sure if they were true anymore.
"I know. And I love you. So don't take the job, okay? Something else will come up. We're more important right now."
"Okay," Penelope whispered, another tear tumbling down her cheek. A part of her died when she gave that up, another piece of herself gone. "I won't take the job."
"Thank you. Let's just forget about this, okay?"
"Okay Harry."
"I love you, Penny."
Her eyes stared into empty space, lifeless and dark. "I love you, too."
********************
"Ooh," Charles laughed, blissfully unaware of what was about to unfold. He looked so happy, bathed in sunlight, his cheeks rosy with life, his smile bright. It was poetically cruel that she was about to ruin that. "Sounds serious."
He kept laughing until he saw her face. Just like that, he wasn't smiling anymore. "What, Penelope? Come on, it can't be that bad."
"I didn't know how to tell you," she whispered. "I didn't want...it was all so fast, and I just thought I was doing the right thing."
"What did you do?" he asked, his grip on her hand loosening slightly. That made her feel worse. "Penelope?"
"I chose you," she said, smiling, though her eyes stung with the familiar feeling of tears. Although she was telling him, it was almost though she was convincing herself at the same time. "The same way you said you'd pick me. I had to. There was no other way, I couldn't lose you."
Charles was studying her, like she was a jigsaw puzzle but a piece wouldn't fit, mismatched and imperfect. "Chose me over what?"
****************************
"Hey Brit!" Penelope called, poking her head round the office door as her manager looked up, surprised. "Sorry, I know I'm a little early."
"No, it's fine. Not like you to be on time though, Penelope, much less early! You feeling okay?"
Penelope gave her a look, rolling her eyes. "Ha ha. Very funny. Listen, can we make this quick? I have to be back on set in an hour."
"Sure. How long are you in town for, remind me?"
With a tired exhale, she sat in the chair on the other side of the desk, running a hand through her hair. She checked her watch, knowing she couldn't be late back. Li had been clear - everyone needed to be back on set by 2:00pm and she didn't feel like facing the consequences of disobeying that instruction. Still, Britney had called her in a hurry, saying it was too important to discuss over the phone. That was rare. "A few more days. Charles is in Azerbaijan for the weekend, so it's just me. Feels weird, being back."
Britney nodded like she could understand. "You like it in Monaco?"
"I love it. I think it was the right decision."
Suddenly, the door to the office opened again. Carlisle, Penelope's skating coach, breezed inside, carrying his standard notebook and the same sour expression as always. He squeezed her shoulder as he passed, not seeming to notice her staring. "Hey, kiddo. Good to see you. Thanks for coming in, I know it's short notice, but I wanted to tell you in person."
"What are you doing here?" Penelope said, almost incredulous. "What's going on?"
With a small smile, Britney slid a sheet of paper across the desk. She and Carlisle exchanged a knowing look as she said: "Just open it."
"What do you mean?" Penelope frowned, not following.
"Just open it," Britney told her, nodding to the paper. "Sure, Monaco's great. But this? This is better."
Reluctantly, Penelope's eyes skimmed over the writing, having to read the same sentence over and over again in an effort to actually take it in. She couldn't believe what she was reading. This couldn't be real.
"I don't understand," she said slowly, her eyes as wide as saucers. "This says that I've been scouted by the Spanish Olympic Skating Team. That...that can't be right. I haven't even been out on campaign yet."
When she looked up, both Carlisle and Britney were beaming at her. Britney had tears in her eyes, like she'd never been more proud. "They want you, Penelope," she explained, squeezing her hand across the table. "This is it. You made it, honey. Congratulations."
Penelope sat in shocked silence, her hand over her mouth as she tried to process what she was hearing. She never could have imagined it would be like this. Completely overwhelmed with emotion, Penelope burst into tears, the reality of achieving everything she'd been working towards for the last ten years hitting her like a train. She began to sob as Carlisle pulled his chair closer to hers, wrapping her in his arms and patting her methodically, about as caring as he could manage.
"They want to meet with you next week," he said, kissing the top of her head. He only ever did that when she cried. "They're interested in Jasper, too. We can fly out, look around where you'll be living. I know it'll be a big change, but it's worth it. You can do this, Penelope, I know you can."
Instantly, her heart dropped. She sat up, pulling herself free, trying to recover enough composure to talk. "I...that's a big change."
Carlisle shot a glance at Britney, as though he was saying 'I told you so.' It was like they knew that whatever they were going to say next, Penelope wouldn't like. "It's the Spanish team, Penelope," he said, his words clear and slow. "You'd make it to the Olympics, you'd get to compete with people who have the same heritage as you, represent your country just like you've always wanted to do. To do that, you have to meet their demands. One of which is that you move to Spain."
"I can't commute? Monaco and Spain, I mean they're not that far apart, it'll be a lot of work but-"
"Penelope," Carlisle said, his tone firm. "No. If you want this, you have to make sacrifices."
Although she was still buzzing with excitement, she was nervous, too. The only thing she could think about was having to live without Charles, in a place she didn't know, committing to a team she'd never worked with, not knowing if it'd even be worth it when the competition rolled around. "They want me on the team? Full time?"
"Well, it's a reserve position at first. Prove yourself in training and qualifiers and they'll consider-"
"You want me to uproot my entire life for a reserve position?"
"Not just a reserve position, Penelope," Carlisle said, the irritation evident in his tone. He couldn't understand why she wasn't biting his hand off for this opportunity. "This is your chance to build something better. The start of something new."
"Something new..." she repeated, her voice trailing off, lost in thought. "I'm sorry, you guys. I'm just so happy, I...it's a lot to take in."
Britney nodded in understanding. "I know, honey. We're just so proud of you, and this really is legit. I wouldn't let you accept a bad deal, you know that."
Carlisle was giving her a look, like he was worried something was holding her back. She knew how much he wanted this for her, maybe even more than she did. "I know it's a big change, kiddo. I'll be honest with you, there will be things that might not work out. But remember, there'll be other boys, other relationships. There won't be other offers like this."
In a way, she knew he was right. She was a pretty girl - rich, famous, kind. She could find a thousand boys who fancy her, one night stands or meaningless relationships that didn't matter but were fun for a while. The truth is, there could always be another boy, but there would never be another Charles.
Her eyes flicked to the contract letter on the table, skimming over the words again. "I still have time? To think about it?"
"I can buy you a few days," Britney said, scribbling a note down in her journal. "They won't wait forever, though. It's worth keeping that in mind."
"We don't need to worry about that," Carlisle boasted, patting her shoulder. "You'll take it. I know you will. My girl doesn't back down from a challenge."
She gave him a forced smile, aware of Britney's eyes on her, seemingly knowing that perhaps there was more to the story than Carlisle was anticipating. She didn't want to let him down, not after everything he'd done to get her to this point. He was right; this was everything they'd ever wanted, practically being handed to her on a platter. So, if was all so easy, why was it so hard for her to say yes?
"Look at the time!" Britney said suddenly, tapping her watch. "You should get going, Penelope. Back to the studio for you."
It was a small gesture, but she knew it was Britney's way of trying to help her out. In her heart, she already knew what her decision was. Saying it out loud? That was a different story all together.
"Right," she said, laughing nervously as she grabbed her bag from the chair. "I'll see you guys later."
Carlisle grinned at her, looking happier than usual. "Hey, next time I see you, you'll officially be an Olympic athlete!"
"Yeah," Penelope muttered. "Guess I will."
****************************
"I was offered a place as a reserve on the Spanish Olympic squad," she told Charles, not meeting his eyes. Instantly, he broke into a smile, reaching to embrace her. His excitement was pure, like he couldn't have been happier for her.
"Are you kidding me?" he exclaimed, practically buzzing. "That's amazing, Nell! Oh my god!"
"Charles-"
"We're going out. Call Jasper, call your friends, we can fly back to L.A. tonight, I'll sort flights. Get dinner, go dancing, I promise not to stand on your feet this time! Holy fuck, Penelope! Olympic squad! You're amazing. I can't believe you didn't tell me before-"
"I turned it down. I didn't take it."
Sitting there, Penelope watched the joy drain from him, drop by drop, until his expression was nothing but saddened horror mixed with confusion. She wished the ground would open and swallow her up so that she didn't have to face this anymore.
"What? Why?"
"It's in Spain, and-"
"So? Why does that matter?"
"Because we matter, Charles, and I didn't want to do this without you. Monaco is your home, it's our home, and I can't just leave that behind."
Slowly, her hand slipped from his. He was looking at her like she was a stranger, unrecognisable to him. "You have to take it."
"What?" Penelope said, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. She tried to touch him, but he pulled away from her, like if he let their hands touch he'd never be able to say the words. "I can't. I can't leave you."
"Yes you can. You have to take it."
"No! What about us? I choose you, Charlie, I don't care about the offer, can't you see that?"
Charles got to his feet, his head in his hands. The distance between them was so obvious that it was painful. His eyes glistened with the promise of tears, like he was trying so desperately to keep it together, but for whose sake she wasn't sure.
"That's the problem, Penelope! I never wanted it to be like this."
"Be like what? I've never put anyone above work because I never wanted to, but I want a life with you. That's important, more important, than some reserve role-"
"But it's not just some reserve role, is it? It's your chance at everything you've ever wanted and you're turning it down because of me. You really think I'd want you to do that?" he yelled, his voice loud enough to attract the attention of some of the passers by in the paddock, though they were still out of view for now.
"Why are you yelling at me? I thought...I thought this was a good thing. I did this for you. I thought you'd be happy."
Charles shook his head, a single tear rolling down his cheek. "And I thought we knew each other. Clearly we were both wrong."
"No," she protested, her voice cracking as she tried to desperately piece them back together before the damage became permanent. "That's not true-"
"I would never ask you to chose between me and your dreams. Not ever."
"You didn't have to ask me! Don't you see? I chose you, the same way you said you'd chose me-"
"That's different," he snapped, taking another step backwards.
"How? Tell me Charles, how is it any different?"
"God, you always do this! You always run away when you're scared!"
"I'm not running from anything! This is the first time in my life where I've been sure about something, Charles, and I'm sure about you! I'm trying to make this work! I knew I shouldn't have told you. I wish I'd just kept my mouth shut!"
Charles scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. "Oh, so we lie to each other now? That's who we are?"
"I don't know what you want from me, Charles!"
"I want you to take the job!"
"Why?"
"Because your dreams matter, Penelope! They matter to people, and they matter to you. I don't become world champion? Fine, I'll have driven for Ferrari, I would have made it to F1, I would have had my chance. If I didn't use that chance to win then that's on me. But you? You haven't even made it yet. All that talent you have, all that passion and drive and hard work is being wasted because you haven't been able to show it. You haven't had your chance, and now here it is and you're throwing it away. And for for what? For me? I don't matter, Penelope, not the way that you do."
"You matter to me," she said pressing her finger to his chest, her tone ferocious. "You matter to me."
Charles shook his head, still as emotional as before. "It's not enough, Nell."
There were no more words left to say between them. For a moment, they held each other's gaze, Penelope's hand slipping from his chest as she stepped back, silent. The tension between them was so intense that it was almost palpable, an invisible wall that tore them apart like a crevice in ice.
"That's it then," Penelope said eventually, in a small voice that barely sounded like her own. "It's done. I'm not going to Spain."
"I can't change your mind?"
"No."
"Then yeah," Charles concluded, another tear shining on his cheek as he angrily wiped it away, like he was furious at himself for being so emotional in the first place. "We're done."
Penelope flinched, the words like fire against her skin, frying her nerves and leaving her scarred. "So what now?"
"You tell me," he said, sounding exhausted. "You seem to make all the decisions around here anyway."
He opened the door, unzipping his race suit like it was getting harder to breathe. Penelope stared out at the Canadian horizon, wishing she could be anywhere but here. Her voice was small when she spoke, but the words were heavy. "I did this for you. Everything I do is for you."
Charles stopped in the doorway, shaking his head sadly. "I never asked you to do any of this."
She met his eyes one last time, pulling her jacket around her shoulders, suddenly cold. "You didn't have to. Maybe that's the problem."
Silence fell again as he turned his back on her, the door slamming as he retreated inside, leaving her alone in the cold with nothing but the potted plant to comfort her in the soft orange glow of sunset, even the sun leaving her now.
***************************
Originally, Penelope and Charles had planned to stay in Canada for the night, go exploring the next day before flying back home to Monaco. The next race was in England, but it was also Penelope's birthday that weekend, too. They'd had all these big plans, and now they weren't even speaking. Charles had already left for the airport when she'd gotten back to the hotel, but she'd been expecting that. Whenever they fought, she always knew to give him space. Still, it didn't make it hurt any less.
She ended up catching her flight alone, sleeping through most of the journey. She wasn't sure where Charles was, and he made no effort to tell her. She'd expected a message or a call, but he was silent. Normally, arriving back in Monaco was a good thing, but this time it felt like taking a casual stroll straight into a lion's den. Press were waiting for her at the airport, calling her name as she walked straight past, asking her where Charles was or why she was here and not Los Angeles. Maybe if she'd had more energy, she would've put some effort in, put on a brave face, smile and wave to fool people into thinking everything was alright but she didn't have it in her to do that today.
When she got back to their penthouse, it was silent inside. It was dark bar the yellow glow of the bedroom light coming from down the hall. Car keys sat on the kitchen countertop and a jacket was hung on the peg by the door, the red colour stark even in the low light. He was here.
When she walked into the bedroom, she found him sitting on the floor, unpacking his suitcase. It wasn't until she looked a little closer that she realised he wasn't unpacking his Canada suitcase, but instead putting clean clothes into an overnight bag. He didn't even look up when she came in.
"You didn't wait for me at the airport."
"I figured we both needed space," he muttered, his expression hard to read as he zipped the bag shut. Penelope noticed that his pictures on his nightstand had moved, the one of her angled away, like it was painful to look at.
Penelope nodded to the bag on the floor, ignoring his comment. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going over to my mum's tomorrow, stay for a while. I'll stay here tonight and I'll go in the morning. I think it's for the best."
Penelope felt her legs turn to jelly, her hands shaking as she stuffed them in the pockets of her jacket, hoping he didn't notice. This wasn't them. They didn't spend time apart like a couple on the verge of divorce trying to keep it together but failing miserably. In the midst of everything she was feeling, one emotion stood about above everything else - fear. She didn't want to be alone.
"Don't go," she said, her voice so small it was barely above a whisper.
Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Penelope-"
"You don't have to go."
"I do. I need time to think. I'll be back in two days. You should think about things, too. It's not too late."
Penelope stared at him, her eyes stinging. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, so afraid of doing the wrong thing or hurting him again. Charles stood, walking to stand before her, his eyes sad. "I love you, Penelope. But I can't be the person that's holding you back."
Penelope could have said a million things, but instead she said nothing. She walked past him, straight into the bathroom, the door shutting behind her. The rim of the sink was cold against her fingers as she gripped it, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. When she looked up, she found her reflection staring back at her, but she was barely recognisable anymore. Her face was pale, mascara rimming her eyes, her hair a mess, still wearing her race-day outfit. She looked hollow - like someone had drained all the life and happiness right out of her, leaving only a husk behind.
Trying to pull herself together, she grabbed her washcloth off the counter, running the water until it was cold. It was jarring, but the cold sensation against her skin was soothing too. She tried to muster a smile, putting on a brave face, but she couldn't do it. Slowly, her smile collapsed into misery, more tears falling as the washcloth slipped from her fingers, her body sliding down until she was sitting in a heap on the floor. Her body heaved with sobs as she let it all out, knowing that she'd probably ruined her one perfect thing all by trying to save it.
Outside, she heard his footsteps on the carpet, a shadow under the door. She thought he might knock, check if she was alright, put everything aside and just hold her for a while, but she was wrong. There was a dull click as he switched off the big light in the bedroom, retreating to bed, leaving her to cry in the bathroom as though he couldn't hear her in the first place. Maybe he didn't care, maybe he did. Either way, she was alone again.
Maybe this time, they were broken for good.
******************************