Colin had no idea if soulmates were real. At least, if they were, he swore the fates must have skipped his. He was born with a soul mark and had watched his parents love story through the lens of a naive young boy, longing for the day when he could achieve the same thing.
He grew older, still just as naive as he was then, and mistook a mere facade for fate, and broke his own heart. He turned bitter, watching his siblings find their soulmates and basking in the love he always wanted. He'd been through too much pain, searched too long and fought too hard for a person who might not even exist.
They say your soulmates are not found, but recognized. Well, nothing could be truer than his story with Penelope. And when Colin recognized it at the age of thirty-three, suddenly he was hopeful again. He had no way to know if she was truly his soulmate, but he knew he could see a future with her.
He often wondered if it was possible to love someone who wasn't your soulmate, to choose that path in life for yourself. He and Penelope were friends for years with an inkling of romance between, yet after that kiss they shared, there was no doubt left in his mind. Screw soulmates. Screw fate. He wanted Penelope. It all seemed so simple when he realized.
Now, it was anything but. He was standing outside a run down church in Hackney at ten o'clock at night, trying to convince Penelope to leave with him.
"Penelope, get it the damn car. Now," Colin growled, his patience wearing thin.
He didn't know why he was acting like this, and to Penelope of all people. No, he did know. Of course he was angry. He was pissed. How could she be so reckless? What possible reason could she have to be in this area of London at such an ungodly hour?
"No," Penelope said firmly, refusing to move from her spot on the steps outside St Bride's. "Not when you're like this," she continued, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked quite adorable when she was mad, though she had no right to be at that moment.
"Christ, Penelope," Colin grumbled tiredly under his breath. He took a step towards her, holding out a hand to help her up. Once again, she refused. "I'm not going to do anything! I just want to talk," he insisted.
"Then I really don't want to because I don't think either of us is in a good state to talk," Penelope replied stubbornly.
Colin let out a deep sigh of frustration, then ran his hands through his hair and across his face. This woman would be the death of him.
"Pen, please get in the car. I don't want you wandering around here at night by yourself," he said softly, trying a different approach.
"I'll call an Uber."
That petulant little brat, he thought. He ought to just throw her over his shoulder and carry her home. Colin shook himself from his caveman-like thoughts.
"Are you trying to get kidnapped?" He asked, genuinely concerned that she might be, considering what part of town they were in.
"Why do you care?"
Colin scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. Did she really just ask him that? He thought it was rather obvious. "Are you kidding me, Pen?! Whether you like it or not, I-" He stopped himself, and before Penelope could ask what he was going to say, he continued. "I care about you. Now please let me drive you home," he asked again, practically begging now.
"Fine," she relented.
"Thank you." Colin exhaled, his shoulders sagging with relief. He pulled her up from the curb, helped her into the passenger seat, then hopped into the driver's side and started towards her apartment.
Several minutes went by without either saying a word. It was near silent, save for the occasional passing car and the quiet static of his busted radio. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, too tempted to touch the gorgeous, infuriating woman next to him. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she nervously picked at pieces of lint on her jeans.
