Percy wasn't able to keep his promise to give Penelope more information the next day because she was released to her fake husband's care and sent home. Roman hovered over her in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable.
"I'm really fine," she tried to reassure him. "You already took the day off yesterday. You can go back to work. I've got books, Netflix, and a whole bunch of snacks and water. I'm set for the rest of the day."
He had set her up in what she could only refer to as a nest with blankets, pillows, food, remotes, and so on. She was perfectly comfortable if she ignored the pain in her abdomen.
This sectional couch was obviously expensive. Penelope was set up on the end cushion, which also happened to be a recliner. As long as she didn't have to get up and go to the bathroom, she could lie here indefinitely.
A frown marred Roman's perfect features. "Are you sure? What if you need something while I'm gone?"
"I'm a big girl; I can handle it," Penelope said confidently. "Go on, the hospital needs you."
He left, albeit reluctantly and she blew him a kiss on his way out the door. He cornily pretended to catch it but seemed pleased that she was 'back to normal.'
She would have to thank Percy for the tip about the goofy nature of their relationship later. Since he hadn't been able to visit her in the hospital, he ended up texting her a bunch of information he hadn't covered the day before.
Well, they had been best friends for most of their lives. Wasn't she the same way with her old friend Missy Davenport that she met in seventh grade?
Oh yeah. She didn't even know Missy here because this Penelope had gone to school in Brentwood.
This whole thing was so weird. Her father was alive, all the people she knew outside of her family were different, and she had been married for three and a half years.
Different lives, different memories. That was the gap she hoped to account for by reading her other self's journals. All she had to do now was find them using the information Percy left her.
Painfully prying herself off the couch, Penelope found the journal currently in use on the bedside table. It was the same place she would have put hers if she had a bedside table. As it was, she kept her journal on the floor near the head of the bed.
Should she start recently and work her way backwards or start from the beginning? She supposed she could figure that out once she located all of them.
Percy said there should be a box full of journals dating back to her childhood in the closet. Those wouldn't be as important unless they specifically mentioned Roman. She would have to do a lot of skimming to get through so much reading material in the next couple of weeks while he wasn't home.
Penelope opened the door and gasped. This was the biggest walk-in closet she had ever seen in her life. It even had mirrors and built in drawers in it.
She already knew Roman must be well off because his parents owned a hospital and he had grown up in Brentwood but that revelation was nothing compared to seeing the house he took her to after her discharge.
This house was located in Glendale, which was even nicer than Brentwood. The front yard and backyard were both huge and there were four bedrooms and three bathrooms based on her quick inspection.
There was an actual chandelier in the entryway. A chandelier! And the living room was huge and equipped with the largest entertainment center she had ever seen.
Penelope was equally baffled by the clothes she was seeing inside this massive closet. There were real Jimmy Choos and Louboutins in here! Not to mention a Prada bag or two. And those were only the brands she recognized.
Who on earth was this man she had married? Why had he spent so much money on her?!
Well, her other self. There was no way a graphic designer would be able to afford these sorts of clothes and accessories on her own. This was completely insane!
Trying not to hyperventilate because that would definitely make her incision hurt more, Penelope was grateful that the box of journals was on the floor in a corner behind some evening gowns—what would she even need those for?!—because she wasn't supposed to lift anything heavy for the next few weeks.
She took the journals out one by one and checked the dates she always wrote inside the front cover. She was very efficient, writing the month and year that she started and ended the journal with underneath her name.
It was very strange seeing 'Penelope Cross's Journal April 2018-December 2018' instead of 'Penelope Logan' in her own handwriting. They even both used different colored Sharpies for each word.
The main difference was that she used five subject spiral notebooks because they had a lot of space and this Penelope was able to afford nice thick leather-bound journals with cute covers.
They both wrote small so a single page could fit two days' worth of entries; sometimes more if nothing interesting had happened that day. Penelope was a fast reader but these would take a very long time to go through if she read every word.
She typically went through 1-2 journals a year since getting into the habit of writing daily. Adding in the handful of childhood journals dotted with periodic entries and the grand total was around thirty.
Thirty journals in three weeks was a tall order, especially considering she had hours of home video footage to go through as well. It would also be helpful to go through her social media accounts and see who this Penelope associated with most.
She had her work cut out for her. With a sigh, Penelope decided she may as well start from the beginning and brought down the small stack of childhood journals with cutesy cartoon covers and clasps for little locks that had been lost ages ago.
She remembered those. She got one for her birthday when she was eight and kept the habit of buying locked ones up until she was fourteen and it got too annoying to unlock her journal every day.