Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One

Saturday April 8, 2017

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

Rory Gilmore had been waiting with rapt anticipation for this moment all morning long.

After a seemingly never-ending night of restless sleep, back aches, and slight nausea, she had finally made it through to the other side. The sun was up, the sound of birds chirping filled the morning air, and the single most anticipated moment of Rory’s new daily routine was fresh at hand. She looked forward to this moment every single day. But after the night of pure exhaustion she’d had, this morning’s ritual seemed even more paramount than usual.

She was taking her time to savor this moment. The fact that it was the one and only time she would be able to indulge in such a prominent and important life event for the next twenty-four hours left her relishing every single second of the anticipation and delight that accompanied it.

She ran her fingertips lightly over the crisp cardboard. The warmth bursting from underneath the surface coursed through her entire body, giving her chills and a sense of euphoria akin to standing in front of a warm fire after getting caught in a cold rain. A trail of steam rose from the small opening on the plastic lid adorning the top of her cup. She breathed it in. The moist air coated her lungs and the smell traveled through her olfactory senses straight into her soul. The scent alone was a healing balm unlike anything else.

Slowly, she brought the cup upward. She wrapped her lips around the lid, caressing it like a kiss to a gentle lover. She tilted her head ever so slightly backward, welcoming the feeling of unity with the universe she felt while the warm bitter liquid was about to coat her tongue. Contact was made. And then, as quickly as the drink hit her taste buds, it was spewing out of her mouth and into the air around her.  

Betrayal.

Deception.

Sedition.

“Hey, preggo!”

Her mother’s voice broke her reverie. Somewhere in her disillusioned state, she must have whipped her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed.

“Will you please tell your husband for the millionth time that I am allowed to have one cup of regular coffee a day?!”

Lorelai’s response was a mewl of sympathy. “Oh no, sweets. Don’t tell me you got Danesed again.”

“I’ve been looking forward to this cup of coffee all night!” Rory cried.

“I’m sorry, hun,” Lorelai commiserated. “I know it’s frustrating, but he’s just going overboard to make sure that you and baby stay healthy.”

“Well, baby is not going to be very healthy when her mom falls over dead from exhaustion and caffeine withdrawal,” Rory countered.

“Rough night again?” Lorelai asked. Rory sighed.

“I just can’t get comfortable. My back was killing me all night.”

“Well…” Lorelai trailed off with a lilt to her voice. Rory rolled her eyes. She was in no mood to have the same conversation for the tenth time this month.

“No,” she answered.

“Rory, you need a new mattress,” Lorelai stated emphatically. “I know this hurts to hear, but you’re not a spring chicken anymore. Being six months pregnant is uncomfortable enough without sleeping on a bed of steel.”

“It’s not that bad,” Rory grumbled.

“Well apparently, your back and your REM cycle disagree.”

Rory sighed. Deep down, she knew that her mother was right. The mattress that her grandparents had picked without her input when she was sixteen years old was never her favorite place to sleep. It was overly firm and uncomfortable to begin with. And now that the mattress was sixteen years old itself, she was starting to notice the feel of the springs and the lack of cushion more than ever before.

The truth was she would love nothing more than to have a brand new mattress with a memory foam layer and cooling technology. But, she had her reasons for refusing to entertain the thought in reality.

“I’m not going to buy a new mattress for the bedroom that I’m squatting in,” she explained, once again.

“Rory, you know Grandma wouldn’t mind,” Lorelai pleaded.

“Yes, I know that Grandma wouldn’t mind. That is exactly the problem,” Rory said. “First, it’s a new mattress. And then it’s a new bedroom set for the mattress. And then it’s a ‘just for now’ crib that I put in the other room for the baby. And then it’s a high chair and kitchen appliances and a more baby friendly couch. And then, suddenly, I am permanently moved into my grandmother’s gigantic house where I live alone with an infant. I haven’t paid for anything. And Grandma has a massive real estate investment just sitting there because her deadbeat granddaughter can’t pick herself up and get on her own feet.”

“That’s a lot of expectations to put on one mattress.”

“This is just temporary, Mom,” Rory insisted. “I’m staying there to work on my book until the house sells, and that is it. I can live with an uncomfortable mattress in that very short amount of time. Besides, I would much rather put that money toward getting my own place.”

“Okay…” Lorelai sing-songed in a tone indicated to Rory that she did not agree. “Well, what brings you to the Hollow today?”

Grateful for the change in subject, Rory smiled.

“I’m heading over to Mrs. Kim’s to meet Lane. She’s dropping off the twins and we’re going to grab lunch. It’s gyro day at Al’s.”

“I thought the smell of tzatziki made you sick.”

“It wasn’t the smell, it was the sight of the pool of oil that was sitting on the top of it. And, besides, that was three months ago. I haven’t had any foods send me to the bathroom in a solid two weeks. So, I’m optimistic.”

“If you say so…” Lorelai said.

Rory’s morning sickness had never completely gone away. There were a few weeks in her second trimester where she’d thought that maybe it was over. But, that was a distant pipe dream that was too good to be true. Paris - Rory’s self-appointed pregnancy coach - had been concerned at one point that it was hyperemesis gravidarum. But, her doctor had assured her that her symptoms were nowhere near severe enough for that to be the case. It was mostly just an annoying case of bad luck.

“I say so,” Rory said as she crossed the street from the town square and started walking toward the ever familiar sign advertising Kim’s Antiques. “Anyway, I’ll talk to you later. I’m heading into Mrs. Kim’s now.”

“Alright, hon. I will make sure to give Luke a stern talking to.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Bye.”

When the cheerful sound of the door chime met Rory’s ears, a smile instantly burst onto her face. Even after the many months of being back in the Hartford area, she found that the smallest things around Stars Hollow filled her with nostalgia and made her feel home. She’d never realized before how much she cherished the memories of Mrs. Kim’s house - but then you don’t realize how much some things can mean to you until you no longer have them.

Mrs. Kim was in the process of making a sale. Her sharp tone echoed through the foyer, detailing the historical relevance of whatever piece of furniture had met the eye of her customer. Rory could tell by the slight urgency in Mrs. Kim’s voice that whichever piece it was, it was likely very valuable. She seemed excited – as excited as Mrs. Kim got about anything in any case. 

Deciding to postpone a greeting until after she’d found Lane as to not disturb Mrs. Kim doing business, Rory closed the door softly behind her and started to tip toe toward the staircase. Yet, as soon as her foot touched the first step, she heard something that sent a rush of chills down her spine.

“I assume you have a certificate that can attest to that fact.”

The voice was pleasant in a saccharine and fake sort of way. It was familiar – familiar enough that Rory’s body was filled with sense of unease. She couldn’t put her finger on what was causing her strange and anxious reaction to this woman, but her entire body was crying out for her to flee or freeze. And she seemed to be stuck on freeze.

“Of course,” was Mrs. Kim’s sharp response. Through her peripheral vision, Rory saw Mrs. Kim’s head bob up and down in a curt nod. She was blocking whomever it was that was she was speaking to, but Rory dared not move to get a better view.

“And you can have it delivered by next weekend?”

“I can have it delivered Monday.”

“Wonderful,” the voice chimed.

How did she know that voice?

She started to feel her an uptick in her heart beat. She was nervous – nervous in the way she was when she was about to give a speech or walk into an interview - and she couldn’t figure out why.

She did, however, figure that it was best not to find out. Breaking free of her frozen state, Rory took one step forward, pushing herself upward to ascend the stairs to Lane’s old room where she was undoubtedly getting the boys settled for the afternoon. A cacophonous squeak pierced the lower story of the house, and Rory realized instantly that staying frozen would have been the far superior choice.

“Rory?” the voice called.

The familiarity was growing, and along with it the rate of her beating heart.

“Rory Gilmore is that you?”

Panic couldn’t accurately describe the feeling of sheer terror that came over Rory as she slowly turned herself toward the mystery woman. And, then, in one second of profound recognition, she was a mystery no longer.

A head of long blonde hair falling in gentle Hollywood like waves. A pair of twinkling brown eyes. A light mauve lip. A white chiffon blouse tucked into a pair of smart but casual cropped slacks. An Yves St. Laurent handbag hanging off a shoulder.

“Mrs. Huntzberger…”

“My goodness it is you!” Shira exclaimed as she started moving toward Rory. “Well isn’t this the most wonderful surprise!”

The niceties coming out of her mouth were dripping with falsity. Rory had to wonder if she’d had the smile plastered on her face surgically attached in an effort to display to others that she was capable of producing emotion. Regardless, she had to commend Shira’s uncanny ability to act as if she was happy to see her. Rory could only hope that she was fairing half as well.

Before Rory realized what was happening, Shira Huntzberger’s botoxed face was coming closer and closer to her own. The woman’s freshly manicured hands wrapped around Rory’s arms as she leaned forward and planted two European style kisses to either side of her cheeks.

“I didn’t expect to run into anyone in this small little town, let alone you! What brings you here?”

“Oh, I grew up here. I’m just visiting a friend,” Rory explained. She tried to keep her tone light and casual, but on the inside she was starting to feel an irrational anger.

How dare Shira Huntzberger ask her what she was doing in Stars Hollow? Rory was suddenly very possessive. She didn’t want this woman here, tainting the air in the one place that she considered home. The fact that Shira had even stepped foot inside the city limits made her feel violated.

“Hello, Mrs. Kim,” Rory added, turning toward the older woman still standing in the other room. She looked none too happy about the fact that Rory had distracted her customer. Still, Rory would rather spend an entire year stuck inside a room alone with Mrs. Kim than speak to Shira for a minute longer.

“Hello, Rory. Have you been eating the banana kale muffins I gave you?” Mrs. Kim asked.

“Oh… I…”

“Bananas and kale are good for pregnancy. High in potassium and iron,” she explained through narrowed eyes with her chin high in the air.  

“I eat one every morning,” Rory lied.

“Hmm…” Mrs. Kim said, narrowing her eyes even further. Deciding that she’d spent enough time talking to Rory, she glanced over to Shira and gave her a sharp nod. “I will get the paperwork together,” she said before slipping out of the room.

Rory could have cried at the loss of her only ally. She was left alone in a room with the woman who had made her life a living hell the entire time she was in a relationship with her son – the woman who also unknowingly the grandmother of the child that she was carrying. She tried not to panic at the thought. Keeping her wits about her at this moment seemed more important than anything Rory had ever done before.

“This is such a nice little place. And so close to the city. I just can’t believe my antique hunting has never brought me here before,” Shira droned.

“Well… You’ve found it now.” Rory mumbled. Shira’s forced smile grew even wider. She then tipped her head to the side – scrutinizing her.  

“That I have…”

Rory watched with icy horror as the older woman’s eyes drifted down to her protruding stomach. Her heart seemed to explode inside of her chest. She had a hard time hearing anything other than the steady beating inside of her ear drums. All she could do was pray that her blatant fear wasn’t showing all over her face.

“May I?” Shira asked, inching her hands toward Rory’s stomach. Rory wasn’t aware that her terror she had been feeling just two seconds ago could grow any greater than it already was. Apparently, she was wrong. She had to force herself to breathe.

Inside her mind, her internal dialogue was engaged in a raging battle with itself. Her mind was simultaneously screaming at her to keep Shira’s fingers away from her unborn child at all costs, while at the same time insisting she play it cool. Rationally, she knew that Shira lacked the clairvoyance needed to instantly know this baby was Logan’s just by touching her. After all, for all Shira knew Rory hadn’t even seen her son’s face in ten years – let alone other parts of his anatomy. Still, she couldn’t hold her panic at bay.

There was nothing that Rory could do to stop Shira in the small amount of time it took for her hands to reach her round belly. She took in a sharp breath as they made contact. It felt as if ten icy sticks were being jabbed through her middle. She even felt the telltale sign of her precious little bean jerking away from the hands toward her spinal column.

“You’re absolutely glowing!”

“Thank you,” said Rory.

“When are you due?”

“Um. The end of June,” she answered.

“A summer baby. How nice,” Shira praised. “Well congratulations to you and your…” Rory watched as Shira’s eyes flitted to her left hand and her brows raised at the sight of seeing it empty. “…husband?”

“Oh… no. No husband.”

The smile remained on Shira’s face, but Rory saw the corner’s of her eyes and brow move up in the most subtle of ways. Rory could tell that she was absolutely reveling in her discomfort. She didn’t know what had come over her, admitting out loud that she was unmarried and pregnant. Perhaps it was the knowledge that at the end of the day, Shira would almost definitely find out that she was lying if she chose to ask around the right channels. Perhaps it was just that her mind was so filled with anxiety and terror that she wasn’t able to think through the words that were coming out of her mouth.

Thankfully, Rory was saved from having to formulate any more speech by Lane’s voice bellowing from above, reminding Steve and Kwan to behave for their grandmother.

“Rory are you ready to go?” she asked as she descended the staircase.

“Yeah,” Rory squeaked.

Lane landed at the end of the stairs and the three women stood in an uncomfortable silence. Shira didn’t seem at all interested in putting Rory out of her awkward misery and did not excuse herself from the conversation. So, Rory, with years of training from Emily Gilmore herself knew that her only option was to move to introductions.

“I’m sorry,” she said, awkwardly. “Mrs. Huntzberger this is my good friend Lane Van Gerbig. Lane, this is Shira Huntzberger.”

Lane’s eyebrow reached the sky.

“Huntzberger?” she asked. “Like…Logan?”

Rory was about to answer in the affirmative when Shira cut her off.

“Yes,” she said. “You know my Logan?”

Rory seethed. My Logan. Shira’s maternal act might be well rehearsed enough to fool the people who frequented in her social circles, but Rory knew full well that Logan could barely stand to be in the same room as his mother for more than a couple hours.

In addition to the annoyance and anger she felt at Shira’s question, Rory was also overcome with an alarming feeling of possession. How dare this woman who barely spoke to her son outside of holidays and family obligations stand here and say that he was hers? Logan was Rory’s.

A sharp pain cut through Rory’s heart at the thought. She willed the tears to stop forming in her eyes. Because Logan wasn’t hers at all anymore.

“Oh we’ve met,” Lane answered with a nod. “It’s been a long time.”

“Well what a small little world this is,” Shira continued. “To think I just came here looking for some colonial antiques and I run into two of my son’s old friends.”

Friends.

At this point Rory wanted to jump in a lake.

“I’ll be sure to tell him you both said hello.”

“That won’t be necessary,’ Rory bit out. She was firm, resolute, and slightly panicked. If Logan found out that she was six months pregnant, the wheels in his head would certainly start turning. Thankfully, knowing what she did about Logan’s relationship with his mother, the chances of her getting him on the phone for a casual conversation were slim to none. By the time Logan spoke to his mother again, she probably would have forgotten all about this chance meeting.

There was also the fact that Rory knew that Shira wasn’t a stupid woman. She and Logan ended their college relationship at a time when they were both still very much in love with each other. And, obviously, his relationship with Odette was not built on solid ground. Shira would most likely understand that mentioning Rory to Logan before the vows were said and the marriage certificate was signed would do more harm than good for the future of the Huntzberger’s dynastic plan. Even if Shira had no cause to believe that Logan would come running to her, reminding him of the girl that he actually did want to marry at one point in his life would probably make him less than enthusiastic about his upcoming nuptials.

She had no realistic reason to worry about Logan finding out about this meeting. Even so… she was anxious all the same.

“He’s getting married in a month, you know.” Shira twisted the knife.

“I heard something about that,” Rory replied.

She left out a biting remark about how all of Hartford had ‘heard something about that.’ Shira knew what she was doing. She was dangling the fact that Logan, her most significant ex, was ‘happily’ engaged and getting married in front of her unmarried and pregnant face. If Rory wasn’t on the receiving end of the gesture, she might actually be surprised at how twistedly maternal Shira was a being. Surely in her mind, she was taking this moment to get back at Rory for hurting Logan ten years ago.  Rory hated more than anything how well it was working.

“To the most delightful French girl. Beautiful. Intelligent. Her uncle is Matthieu Pigasse.”

A girl like Rory has no idea what it takes to be in this family, Logan…

“How convenient.”

“Indeed,” Shira chirped. “Well, I don’t want to keep you girls from your plans. I’ll just wrap up my purchase and be on my merry way. It was so nice to see you, Rory.”

“Yes,” Rory mirrored. “Nice.”

Shira started to walk away, and Rory and Lane made their way to the front door. As it opened and the chime rang through the house again, Shira turned around and stopped them with one last comment.

“You know, I never did dislike you, Rory. I thought you were a smart girl. I just always thought that at the end of the day, you would be happier somewhere like…this,” she gestured vaguely into the air around her. “I suppose I was right. Congratulations again.”

Since the day he packed his bags and left at the age of eighteen, being inside of his childhood home had always filled Logan with a sense of unease. The older he got, the more comfortable he felt among the marbled columns and priceless works of art. Yet, no matter how independent he became there was always a certain tension that seemed to penetrate the air around him as soon as he walked into the door.

Rationally, he knew that there wasn’t any reason why he should be feeling uncomfortable. So far, his entire trip home had passed by pretty uneventfully. His mother was still high off of his nephew’s fifth birthday party and she had wedding dress shopping in New York and Easter Sunday to look forward to over the weekend. His father had been in a consistently good mood since January, touting that being in the Newspaper business hadn’t been this fun since Watergate. He watched the White House press briefings like they were the 1998 Yankees.

Personally, Logan didn’t find the spectacle quite as amusing as his father, and he’d never been happier to live outside of the United States – even with Britain’s issues.

All in all, the overarching mood at the Huntzberger house over the past week had made for a relatively uneventful and pleasant trip home. And, yet, perhaps that was the issue all together. Because, as always, when his parents were in a good mood he was waiting for the other shoe to drop – and the shoes his parents dropped tended to be Manolos.

As the sound of Mitchum’s booming laughter filled the living room once again, Logan made his way over to the drink cart for the third time that evening. He hadn’t been paying attention to whatever the topic of conversation was that had Mitchum so amused at the moment and, frankly, he didn’t really care to know. His primary focus was on making this entire week pass by as quickly as possible.

“Darling,” Odette whispered, shooting him an intense look. Her hand brushed his arm as he strolled passed her and he stopped momentarily at her bequest. “I brought a lovely bottle of Bordeaux with me for dinner…”

Two years of his relationship with Odette and a lifetime of education in the art of passive aggression had implanted Logan with the knowledge that that phrase was French for ‘you’re drinking too much.’

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

Odette, to her credit and dissatisfaction, also knew that that phrase was American for ‘ne donne pas une merde.’ Her shoulders dropped. She shifted in her seat and a heavy exhale came out through her nostrils. This was certainly going to be an argument later, but Logan found that he couldn’t quite bring himself to care. She knew how he was with his family when she agreed to marry him.

“Odette,” his mother chimed, beaming over at his fiancé. “It’s really too bad that you weren’t able to come shopping with me this afternoon. I found the nicest little hole in the wall antique shop just outside of town. I can’t wait for you to see the armoire I bought. It’s absolutely stunning. I had planned to get it for you as a wedding gift, but I just had to have it for myself!”  

Logan rolled his eyes. The last thing he needed – or wanted - was his mother filling his house with antique furniture and turning his space into a carbon copy of the home that never failed to put him on edge. She was in rare form tonight – oddly bubbly. It made him suspicious. Her good mood coupled with the fact that she’d abruptly changed the subject out of left field made Logan nervous. She was up to something.

“Actually, Logan…” she said.

Logan’s Spidey senses were tingling. He was Stanely Yelnats, and he could feel a shoe falling out of the sky and heading directly for his head. Preparing for the worst, Logan paused from his task of pouring himself a new drink and set his empty glass on the cart before turning around and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What, Mom?” he asked.

“You’ll never guess who I ran into while I was there..”

“Who did you run into, Mom?” Logan asked.

“Rory Gilmore!”

Logan wasn’t sure how long the silence that followed lasted.

Based on the white noise that suddenly filled his ear drums and the uncanny and imaginary sight of his mother being brought into his focus through the use of a dolly zoom, he had to assume that time was moving much slower in his mind than it was in real life. At least he hoped it was.

He swallowed. He could feel the dry lump moving down his throat at a glacial pace. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father discreetly look over to him with scrutiny. Odette looked confused. His mother… well his mother was sadistically delighted. Her face was like a mirror image of Malcom McDowell on the cover of A Clockwork Orange. He cleared his throat to try and help the lump move down quicker.

“Oh?” he forced out, trying to sound as non-chalant and unfazed as he possibly could.

His mother couldn’t possibly suspect anything, could she? Certainly she couldn’t. With as thrilled as she was about his marrying Odette, it wouldn’t make any sense for her to attempt to out his indiscretions in front of his fiancée. His father on the other hand… well he had a bit more cause for suspicion.

“Yes! Isn’t that something?” Upon Odette’s look of confusion, Shira leaned toward her to explain. “Logan had a fancy for her in college.”

Logan lightly scoffed and shook his head. A fancy for her. He asked her to marry him.

“Oh! How sweet!” Odette exclaimed with teasing smile. No doubt, she was excited at the idea of learning more about what Shira was framing as an innocent puppy love. Logan, on the other hand, felt like the oxygen in the room was disappearing.

The only thing that he could think to do at that moment was turn around and finish pouring himself a drink. There was a slight tremor to his hands. And with his mind racing a mile a minute, he found that otherwise simple task of locating the bottle of Macallan on the cart almost impossible. Over his left shoulder, he could feel his father’s eyes boring into him with interest. He knew. Logan had suspected this his father might know since he’d run into them at lunch months ago. But now, thanks to his clumsy attempts at looking calm, he was certain that his father knew.

“Anyway, she looks well. I thought you might like to know.”

Logan finally came upon the bottle that he was looking for.

“That’s good to hear. Thanks,” he said as he tried to wrap his hands around the cap to remove it. It took longer than it should take a thirty-five year old man to remove, but he managed it all the same. His hands were starting to tingle and he seemed to have lost a fair amount of his grip strength. He pushed through, shoving his nerves deep down into his chest. With the utmost focus, he lifted his glass to the bottle without letting it be seen that he was shaking.

“Very well, actually,” Shira said. “She’s pregnant. Due at the end of June.”

Logan wondered if this is what is felt like when a person sees an incoming freight train moving toward them. His entire mind was shutting down. All he could think about were the flying pages of a calendar.

June. May. April. March. February. January. December. November. Oct -

A sudden onset and distinctly real pain shot through his heart. The glass he was holding in his left hand dropped to the floor, shattering into thousands of pieces on contact.

“Logan! That’s Baccarat!” his mother shrieked. Odette jumped to her feet the instant Logan’s hand went for his heart.

“Mon dieu! Logan!” she exclaimed as she attempted to support the body that he was having a lot of difficulty controlling at the moment.

“I can’t breathe…” he whispered.

Was he having a heart attack? Surely, he couldn’t be having a heart attack, right? He was thirty-five years old. He worked out four times a week. Sure he had the occasional cheeseburger, but for the most part his diet was relatively healthy. Was he old now? Was he past the point where it even mattered how healthy he was? How old was his father when his heart problems started?  

“Mitch! Call an ambulance!” Shira yelled. His father just sat there – still watching him. Unmoving. Unconcerned.

“I don’t need an ambulance,” Logan whispered.

“He doesn’t need an ambulance,” Mitchum said simultaneously with a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

Odette moved him back over to the couch, carefully avoiding the shattered crystal on the floor. A few seconds later, a maid rushed into the room with a rag and a dust pan to clean up the mess that he’d made.

“Mitchum your son is having a heart attack!” Shira yelled. It seemed, to her credit, that by that point her concern for her youngest child was outweighing her concern for her crystal collection.

“He’s not having a heart attack. He’s thirty-five years old for Christ’s sake!”

“You can’t possibly know that! He needs a paramedic!”

“Damn it, Shira. Calm down! You’re making it worse!”

The sound of his parents fighting was distant, almost as if he was hearing it from underwater. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest while at the same time everything around him seemed to be moving in slow motion. People were blurry. Voices were muffled. Odette was undoing the tie around his neck and asking him questions that he couldn’t answer because he wasn’t exactly sure what they were even though she was standing right next to him.

He made out the word panic coming from someone. His father? The valet? It sounded like a man whoever it was. Shortly after, he heard the word attack.

Was that what was going on? A panic attack?

It seemed to make a lot of sense, considering the circumstances.

Rory was pregnant. Rory Gilmore was having a baby. His baby?

There was no way to know for sure, short of a conversation with her or a paternity test. Yet, Logan had passed elementary math and had the ability to count to nine. The chances that this child was his seemed greater than the alternative. Rory had been seeing that Paul guy – but that didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Were they even still sleeping together in October?

Would she have slept with someone else so soon after saying goodbye to him?

Every molecule in Logan’s body wanted to scream out no - that that couldn’t be possible. Rory would never do that to him. But, then, his rational mind knew differently. Logan had learned the hard way ten years ago that his capacity to love Rory Gilmore far outshone hers. He didn’t even hold it against her. He was just happy to have her in any way that she would allow.

She’d made it very clear since that day in Hamburg that they had an arrangement. They were free to sleep with whomever they pleased whenever they pleased. He was engaged for crying out loud. Logan had no right to feel betrayed by her. He knew he was putting his heart in a fragile vice the moment he took her to bed for the first time after their reconnection.

And now he was paying the price for allowing himself to be so pathetic.

‘Xanax’ was the next word that he was able to make out. As he continued to stare into the void, he saw the blur of his mother running up the stairs. Next he heard the word ‘water’ and the pressure of Odette’s comforting hand on his shoulder slipped away as she left for what he assumed was the kitchen.

As the women left the room and the commotion died down, Logan was able to get a better handle on his breathing. The more oxygen he was able to get into his lungs the more his world returned to focus. The first thing he consciously observed once he returned from his dissociative state was a new tumbler of scotch being held in front of his face. He took the glass, looked up, and met the knowing and yet oddly placid face of his father.

“Congratulations, Daddy.”

TBC...

Chapter Text

"But at the length, the truth will out."

"Candidate Trump had said that he would never get involved in the Syrian civil war. He told President Obama 'you cannot do this without the authorization of Congress.' He seemed unconcerned with global norms –"

"Okay stop. Stop the tape. Um… do you think he understands what the term 'authorization from Congress' means? I'm – I'm not kidding. I don't think - "

With an aggressive touch of his finger, Logan reached forward to the display on his center counsel and shut off the stereo. This morning when he'd climbed into the car to make his way to Stars Hollow, putting on a podcast had seemed like a good idea. He thought it would keep him engaged – keep his mind from running in a thousand different directions that he didn't want it to go. But all it ended up doing was put him more on edge.

Logan's own personal life was crumbling all around him. He really didn't need to listen to more punditry about how the entire world was falling apart as well - even through the lens of Jon Lovett's sardonic wit. He got enough of that content every day at work. It was the hazard of owning a media company.

He didn't feel like putting on any music either. Attempts at distraction were proving useless. The noise in his head was just too intense to focus on or be distracted by anything.

He'd barely slept the night before. What little sleep he did get was plagued by hyper-realistic dreams about the inevitable confrontation he was going to have with Rory. Some of them involved him panicking over being a father. Some of the involved him being heartbroken over her being with another man. The weirdest one involved him showing up to Stars Hollow and seeing her with two already born children, yelling at him over why it took him three years to show up to soccer practice. As if it was his fault.

Questions around the subject of his future bombarded him at every moment. Was he going to get answers today? What would those answers be? Was this baby his? If the baby was his, then what was he going to do about it? How was he going to tell Odette? How was he going to tell his mother? His sister? Was he going to have to move back to the States? Where would he move if he did move back to the States? What did Rory want?

What did Rory ever want?

The answer to that question had alluded him for thirteen years.

But there was one massive all-consuming question that Logan couldn't stop asking himself.

"Why didn't she tell me?" he whispered out loud. He lifted up his hand to rub at the pressure building up under his eyes. A loud honk sounded less than a moment later, startling Logan out of his stupor.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed as he turned his head to the left and saw some twenty-something lift up a middle finger at him as he passed. Logan wasn't even mad about it. He'd been drifting. Tilting the wheel back over to the right, Logan merged back into his proper lane just as he passed a green sign on the road stating he had ten miles until the exit to Stars Hollow. Ten miles to attempt to get his thoughts together.

He'd never faced a more impossible task.

He'd been trying to get his thoughts together all night. After he'd swallowed down his mother's proffered Xanax, his body had been released of the symptoms of his panic, but his mind was still trapped in a cycle of anxiety.

Odette had been quiet for the rest of the night. There was no doubt that she was suspicious – if not of the fact that'd he'd been having an affair then at least of the fact that he still had feelings for his college girlfriend. Both, of course, were true.

Shira had spent the remainder of the evening urging Logan to go to the doctor and start on an SSRI. She then recommended three different books on enlightenment, two different meditation apps, and had given him the address of a Bikram Yoga studio that one of her DAR friends' daughters said changed her life. He was starting to miss the stress smoking. At least she hadn't seemed to put any of the pieces together – unlike his father.

After Mitchum's tongue-in-cheek toast to his son's newly discovered paternity, he'd spent the rest of the evening as quiet as Odette. Watching. Waiting to see what Logan was going to do or say as the night went on. If Mitchum was waiting for Logan to open up about anything, he far underestimated his son's ability to be tight lipped. But then, it wouldn't be the first time Mitchum underestimated Logan's ability to do something he put his mind to.

It seemed cowardly, and maybe it even was. But, the truth was that Logan didn't want to say or do anything at all until he talked to Rory. Even though he thought it unlikely, he kept thinking about the possibility that this child might not be his. And if that was the case then things could progress as planned… right?

Was marrying Odette right thing to do?

His sense morality was in such a downward spiral lately, he didn't know which way was up from down, North from South, right from wrong, or anywhere inbetween. There was something about the events of last night that made him feel so dirty about marrying Odette regardless of the outcome of today's confrontation. But then… if Rory's baby was someone else's then he was in exactly the same boat that he was in two days ago. And, for whatever reason, it didn't feel as dirty then.

Or maybe it did.

Maybe he'd just reached a point now where he couldn't keep lying to himself.

Feeling the overwhelming and somewhat irrational urge to do some kind of physical action with his body, Logan violently grabbed the Starbucks cup from his cupholder and brought it to his lips. It had grown cold during the commute, but he didn't care at the moment. He guzzled the contents down, delighting in intake of caffeine. Stronger drugs would be preferable at the moment, but he would take what he could get.

Once the cup was empty, he tossed it into the back seat. He knew full well that there was no reason for him to do that - that he would regret that decision later when he was cleaning up dried spots off the seats from the left over moisture still moving about within the cup. He knew that the holder the cup was sitting in just moments ago when it was full was just as operational as it was now that the cup was empty. But, none of that mattered. Logan just wanted to throw it.

He wanted to throw more things if he was being honest with himself.

Seconds later, Logan could feel the effect of the caffeine coursing through his body. His left knee started bouncing and he kept drumming his fingers against his steering wheel.

Maybe caffeine hadn't been the best drug of choice. Because, as he flicked on his right turn signal and merged onto the entrance ramp to the town of Stars Hollow, he realized that the jitters on top of the soul crushing anxiety he was experiencing were not a good mix.

For whatever reason, the Sunday breakfast rush was feeling significantly more rushed than usual today.

Luke had been fielding orders non-stop all morning long, and Caesar was starting to falter under the pressure if the two orders he'd had to take back to the kitchen over the last fifteen minutes were any indication.

It seemed like people were also being particularly impatient today. Or maybe it was him that was being particularly impatient. It took all he had inside of himself not to snap at Babette when she asked for a refill of orange juice for the third time in under two minutes.

"It's coming up, Babette!" he said as he snaked through the tables, depositing plates as he went. As he dropped off one order of waffles in particular on the table by the door, he paused.

"You know…" he said. "If you're going to sit in here all day avoiding the mother you're supposed to be visiting, you could at least be helpful."

Jess marked the page in the book he was reading before placing it on the table and sat up straight.

"And why would I want to do that?" he asked. He picked up a fork and started digging into his breakfast, giving Luke a sidelong glance the entire time.

"Jess..." Luke sighed. He nephew just smiled and sat back in his chair.

"You know, I'm not seventeen anymore. You can't just order me around. If you need my help, all you have to do is ask for it."

Luke took a deep breath. Jess was pushing his buttons on purpose. That much was apparent by the twinkle in his eyes and the smirk on his face. He knew that the last thing Luke wanted to do was admit to him that he actually needed and valued his assistance on occasion. Of course, it was true. But Luke didn't need to say that out loud.

"Besides," Jess continued. "I'm not here to see Liz."

Luke rolled his eyes at his nephew's casual use of this mother's first name.

"Then why are you here?" he asked.

"To see my favorite uncle, of course," Jess answered. Luke rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Jess sighed.

"At least let me finish my breakfast."

"Fine," said Luke. He turned to walk toward the kitchen for Babette's orange juice. Half way to the counter, Luke stopped. He turned back around and cleared his throat. "Thanks," he added.

He and Jess were getting much better at the whole 'being nice to each other' thing. Of course, they still had their moments of bickering and sarcasm, but their relationship had mellowed to something that was actually… good. Luke was proud of him – prouder than he'd ever thought he would be. He wasn't happy about the way that Jess had chosen to carve out a path for his life, but he was thrilled that his hard work and smarts had managed to pave the road to unconventional success. His nephew was a self-made man. And he couldn't have been any prouder than if Jess was his own son.

He'd been spending a lot more time in Stars Hollow lately, claiming that he was making a better effort to check in on his mother and get to know his little sister. But, Luke had a distinct feeling that that wasn't entirely the impetus for his visiting so often. He tried not to think about it too much, because he didn't like the feeling of unease that came along with it.

He was worried.

Luke himself had spent over a decade pining after one woman. And in his case, it had worked out. But he was acutely aware that he was an exception to the rule. The fact that he and Lorelai had managed to finally get their acts together seemed like a miracle on the best of days – in many ways it was. Their story was not the way situations like that usually panned out. And even so, their happy ending came with years of break ups and reconciliations and a wedding that just managed to happen only six months ago.

The truth of the matter was that he didn't want Jess following his example. Jess had been hooking worms on to a line for six months and getting nary even a nibble. It was time to fish or cut bait.

Shoving down the paternal instinct to shelter Jess from any more pain than he'd already experienced in his tumultuous life, Luke went back to his daily grind. He ran back to the kitchen and exchanged three order slips for two plates and Babette's orange juice.

Just as he dropped the glass of at her table, the bell on the door chimed, signaling the arrival of yet another customer. He almost groaned. It wasn't that he was angry to have the business, he just wished whoever it was could wait about fifteen minutes before deciding to come in.

"Sit where ever you'd-" Luke cut himself off as he turned around to address his newest customer. "-like."

For a moment he was wondering if he was seeing things. He hadn't seen or even thought about the blond young man standing in the entry way to his diner for ten years now. But, he knew that it wasn't a coincidence that he'd come in here. He just wasn't sure why.

He was sure of one thing, however, and that was that the same paternal instincts that were just moments ago screaming out at him to protect Jess, were now screaming at him to get this man out of here and protect Rory at all costs.

"Logan?" he asked, incredulously. He plopped the plates in his hands down at the table beside him without any consideration for who he was actually serving them to.

It was definitely Logan. He was dressed in an expensive looking but casual black leather jacket. Underneath was a grey V-neck shirt with a pair of sunglasses perched in the collar. The jeans he was wearing were tight enough that Luke strongly considered adding an anti-skinny jeans clause to his new man bun policy. All in all, he looked like he'd walked off the pages of an Express Men catalogue. And if his yuppy fashion sense wouldn't have been enough to give it away, his seemingly unchanged face definitely would have. Other than his features being a bit more chiseled, his face being a bit thinner, and his hair being a bit neater the kid looked like he hadn't aged a day.

"Hey, Luke," Logan greeted with the pursed lips of someone who was trying to replicate a smile but really just ended up looking a sad alien doing an impression of human behavior. His hands were in his pockets and he looked around as if he was at a complete loss of what to do with himself.

By this point, Luke had seen Jess sit up at attention from his table. He staring so intently at his meal that it was completely obvious that his attention was elsewhere. Suddenly, Luke was nostalgic for three minutes ago when his only obstacle for the day was getting through the morning breakfast rush. Now, he was going to have to deal with hungry customers while also playing referee to what could potentially turn into a very dangerous and violent game.

"Um, Luke…I ordered an omlette. These are pancakes."

"Shut up, Kirk," he said before ignoring him completely and walking over to Logan. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I really need to talk to Rory," Logan answered, his head shifting around to see if he might catch a glance at her.

Luke's eyebrows shot up into the sky. Why on earth was he coming here demanding to speak to Rory after they'd been broken up for ten years? If he really needed to talk to her after all this time, couldn't he have called her? Found her on social media? Written a letter? Why was he walking into his diner on a Sunday morning and running the risk of creating a scene?

"In person," Logan clarified.

"Okay…?" Luke replied. As Luke walked back behind the counter, Logan followed fresh on his heels. The younger man grabbed a seat and leaned over the counter, fixing him with an intense look that wasn't helping to calm Luke's trepidation.

"I didn't want to bother you here," Logan continued. "I was hoping to find her at the house. I even tried the Inn. I just didn't know what else to do…"

So Logan Huntzberger… a kid that he hadn't seen in ten years and who he just barely got along with on the best of days, had shown up to Stars Hollow and had staked out his home, his wife's place of business, and now his diner? He felt uneasy about this entire situation.

"She and Lorelai went mattress shopping," Luke explained, hoping that it might get him to leave.

"Oh…" Logan looked dejected. "Then can I um…" he started flipping through the pages of a menu. His hands were slightly shaky. "Can I get some bacon and eggs? And a coffee?"

Luke didn't acknowledge his order. He just kept staring at the young man sitting in front of him, waiting for some hint of information as to what was going on and what it had to do with Rory. He couldn't let him stay here and see her when she got back. Judging on his mental state and clear desperation, seeing Rory pregnant might throw him over a ledge. And with Jess being here as well, the scene that would commence would put too much stress on Rory. He wouldn't want to put her through that in normal circumstances, but definitely not now while she was three months away from giving birth.

"Logan…" he said, firmly. "I need you to tell me what you're doing here."

As Logan looked up from his menu and made eye contact, Luke could see surprise etched on every single corner of his face. His mouth opened and closed like a fish a couple of times, as if he wasn't exactly sure what he should say. Finally, he took a deep breath and dropped a sentence that Luke didn't even begin to know how to unpack.

"You don't know."

It wasn't a question, exactly. It was more of a statement said in a questioning tone. It was followed by a sardonic laugh.

"That's okay," Logan said. His fingers found his way to his scalp once again. "I didn't either."

Luke's heart dropped to his knees. He was filled with a sudden and alarming sense that despite the fact that Logan was being vague and talking in riddles, he was now acutely aware what he was doing here.

At that exact moment, the bell on the door chimed. Logan turned around. Luke watched his wife walk in the door, talking a mile a minute about how she was glad she'd finally worn Rory down and how a new mattress was going to make all the difference. She grabbed an open table by the window. Rory had been following behind her, but with one look at the new customer sitting at the counter she had frozen in place in the doorway. Her skin turned more pallid than a ghost.

There was a sharp intake of air, and then she was suddenly wobbling on her feet. Luke surged forward on reflex but was blocked by the counter in front of him. Logan stood from his stool. But, it was Jess, due to his geographic proximity to Rory, that caught her before she hit the ground.

"Drink your juice, Shelby," Lorelai said with a teasing tone as she gave Rory a glass of orange juice that Babette had hurriedly handed to her from her own table.

Rory happily took the drink and swallowed it down. In addition to the fact that she definitely needed it, she was also incredibly grateful to have something to do with her hands. Awkward wasn't the word for how she felt, and unfortunately her $300,000 Ivy League issued English degree hadn't provided her with an appropriate one.

She was anxious and humiliated. Humiliated because half of Stars Hollow's eyes were glued to her after she'd almost fainted in front of them in the middle of Luke's. And anxious because… well because one pair of eyes in particular were currently setting fire to her soul.

"Are you okay?"

Rory looked over at Jess and nodded. With lightening like reflexes, he'd leapt up and kept her from crashing down to the floor at the sight of Logan. He'd then helped her over to the table where he'd been sitting, sat her down, and made room for Lorelai as she rushed over to her faster than Usain Bolt.

Lorelai wasn't the only one. Babette was hovering over her and hadn't stopped yelling about drinking the orange juice. Miss Patty was fanning her with a menu. Kirk was prattling on about how he'd learned CPR during his days as an EMT. Basically, she was the center of everyone's attention in the small diner, and she wasn't happy about it.

"Alright! Alright! Give her some room!" Luke yelled. He moved over to the crowd that had surrounded her and started pushing them back to their respective tables. "Everyone back to your breakfast. She needs some air for crying out loud."

Rory was grateful for the dispersal, but at the same time she missed the wall of people around her – protecting her. Now, with open space between her and the counter, she was suddenly much more vulnerable to Logan's presence. There was nothing keeping him from walking over to her table, and she didn't know if she would be able to remain conscious this time if he did.

She couldn't believe this was actually happening. Rory had spent her entire Saturday distracted and anxious. She'd managed to convince Lane that she was just weirded out by seeing Shira, and it was bringing back unpleasant memories. She'd managed to convince Lorelai that the reason for her off mood was just fatigue. She'd even gotten her mother off of her back about it by agreeing to spend the night and go mattress shopping in the morning. And, finally, after spending all night tossing and turning in her childhood bed, she'd managed to convince even herself that she had nothing to worry about.

Logan lived in London. Logan didn't talk to his mother. Logan wouldn't find out she was pregnant.

But now Logan was standing in Luke's diner the very next morning – staring at her through the eyes of a man who looked completely lost and betrayed.

This had to be some kind of sick nightmare.

"Are you sure?" Jess asked again, placing a hand on her forearm. She couldn't blame him for being concerned. Judging by the state of her mind on the inside, she highly doubted that she was looking very bright-eyed on the outside.

"Yeah…" she wheezed.

Once she finished her orange juice, she set it on the table and summoned the courage that she needed to meet Logan's piercing and unwavering gaze. His eyes had been glued on her from the moment she'd walked into the door. She'd watched him try to get to her as she almost fell, and then she watched him sit back down and his shoulders sag as Jess beat him to her.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

Lorelai's accusatory voice bellowed through the room. Anxiety had now turned to dread. She'd been so concerned with Logan finding out about the baby, that she'd failed to think about the consequences of other lies she'd told – lies that she was just as ashamed of. Logan looked utterly lost at the intensity of Lorelai's aggression – and Rory knew why.

"Mom," she said. She grabbed Lorelai's arm and just shook her head as tears started to form in her eyes. Thirty-two years of intense bonding with her mother had made it so words weren't always required for them to effectively communicate. She could trust Lorelai to know exactly what she was saying.

He doesn't know.

I lied to you.

Lorelai's gaze shifted from Rory to Logan, and Rory watched as the anger she'd displayed just moments ago started dissolving into disappointment.

"I think we need to talk," said Logan.

He chose to ignore Lorelai entirely. He didn't even glance over in her general direction. His eyes remained focused solely on her. He'd always had a one track mind. In more carefree days, that was just something she'd tease him about when working blue. Now, it felt completely humorless.

"Do we?" he asked. And then, for the first time since she'd arrived, Logan's gaze left her face and traveled to the hand that was still covering her arm. It lingered there for a moment before returning to her. "Need to talk?"

The subtext was more than clear. She knew exactly what Logan was asking.

Rory took a shaky breath. She found herself at a crossroads. With one simple word, she could make all of this go away. One simple word and her plan to raise her child without a father and stay completely uninvolved in the Huntzbergers' dynastic plan' would once again be back on track. It was a life raft – an oxygen mask – a fast and speedy antidote to the poisonous situation that she found herself in. Her mouth formed around the word. Her tongue perched itself behind her teeth to form the letter.

But then her voice caught at the sight of Logan's face. He looked helpless. Desperate. Hurt. She couldn't stand that he was hurt. The thought of hurting him even more was unbearable. Tears rushed to her eyes and one fell down her cheek.

Gods above, why did she have to love this man so much?

It hurt. All it ever did was hurt.

All of this would be so much easier if she could just stop loving him.

"Yeah," she said as she wiped the offending water pouring out of her eyes away on her sleeve. "Yeah, we need to talk."

Rory had never been inside a Tesla before.

It was nice. Comfortable. Clean. Luxurious. It still smelled good. It was everything she expected one of Logan's cars to be.

She'd been a little disappointed that he didn't have one of models with the doors that open like the car from Back to the Future, and she was a little confused as to why the touch screen on the dashboard had to be so weirdly huge. But, overall, she couldn't complain about her newly found digs.

And they did feel like digs. Because she was pretty sure she lived in this car now.

At this point she wasn't sure how long they'd been driving or where they were even going. Truth be told, she had a suspicion that Logan didn't know where they were going either. After their run in at Luke's, the two have them had simply walked out the door, slid into the car he'd parked on the street next to the diner, and left without a single word between them.

Since then, they had been driving aimlessly through the highways of Connecticut. She was reminded briefly of the impromptu road trip that she'd taken with her Mom in high school after the entire mess with Max hit the fan. She remembered how fun it was to set aside her need for planning momentarily and embrace a weekend of wandering where ever the wind took them.

But this felt distinctly different.

Neither she nor Logan had said a word to each other the entire time they were traveling. Logan was so single-mindedly focused on the road in front of him that Rory honestly had to wonder if he'd been body swaped. She'd expected screaming. She'd expected crying. She'd expected something. Something more than the endless driving to nowhere at the very least.

He didn't even have the radio on.

Silence had never been coveted in the house of Gilmore. Rory and her mother had spent their entire lives committed to the destruction of silence in all its forms. What few moments weren't taken up with their talking were almost always taken up by the television or the radio. Rory didn't know what to do with herself in silence. She didn't know how to act. She felt exposed and vulnerable. And she knew that she wasn't going to be able to last much longer in the silence.

Logan didn't seem to be as bothered by the lack of noise as she was. But, then, his stoic and forebodingly calm demeanor was proving difficult to read. She'd been tempted hundreds of times to ask him what was going on his head. But, the fear of what might come out of his mouth if she opened that door kept her quiet.

Just when she was starting to feel like Logan would drive straight through to California if she didn't stop him, he suddenly and without warning pulled over to the side of the road next to a stretch of woods, turned off the ignition, and slammed the back of his head against the headrest.

Apparently they were done driving now.

Rory was so nervous she could scream. She knew how to handle angry Logan. She knew how to navigate fights with Logan. What she didn't know was how to deal with whatever was going on with this unfamiliar person next to her. As the nerves continued to stir inside of her, she could feel a part of herself coming to the surface that she absolutely hated. She'd tried so hard for this entire trip to keep it squashed within her but there was no stopping it now. She opened her mouth and just started vomiting words.

"Is this where you murder me?" she asked. Logan wasn't amused. He didn't crack a smile. He didn't laugh. He didn't do anything.

"I mean… it's a good place. Not too busy. Lots of greenery. You could bury me in the woods and no one would ever find me. Just… you know… if you're going to call Colin and Finn to help you hide my body, avoid Best Buy pay phones. In fact, maybe don't use a pay phone at all. Burner phones are probably your best bet. Though, Colin is the criminal defense attorney, so he'd probably have better advice than me."

Logan didn't flinch.

"Did you listen to Serial?" Rory continued. "It was so good. It actually kind of made me hate Sarah Koenig it was so good."

Crickets. Literally. All she heard were the sound of crickets coming from the woods right outside the car window.

"What am I talking about? Of course you listed to Serial. You're a Huntzberger and it's probably one of the most significant pieces of journalism in the last decade. I just wasn't sure if you got the Best Buy thing cause - "

"Why didn't you tell me, Rory?"

Apparently, Logan wasn't pulling any punches.

A younger Rory would have answered with a deflection. She would have said that she didn't know. She would have cried and said that she was just so scared and confused that she didn't know what to do. She would have accepted all the blame and beat herself up in front of him for doing something like this. But that Rory had grown up quite a bit.

"I don't think that's a fair question."

Logan's calm and emotionless demeanor crumbled. The face he gave her as he turned in her direction rivaled Nicolas Cage in – well in just about anything.

"You don't think that's a fair question?!" he asked. His brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean you don't think that's a fair question?!"

"What was I supposed to do, Logan?" Rory asked. "Did you want me to show up to the London apartment you share with your fiancée and explain to you both that I was pregnant with your love child? Send you a text message? Tag you in an Instagram post? Send a memo to your secretary?"

"Any one of those things would have been preferable to this."

"Don't be ridiculous," Rory bit back. "We were done. That was the agreement."

"I think the terms of the agreement changed when you peed on a stick."

"Did they?" Rory asked. "Are you still marrying Odette? Are you still living in another country?"

Logan didn't answer. Rory knew that he couldn't answer. Because the answer was yes. The answer was yes, and he hadn't shown any interest in that answer changing the last time they spoke to each other.

"It seems like I had two options," she started. "Either watch your entire life blow up to pieces by dropping this bombshell on you, or accept fate as some clandestine second family that you sneak off to visit every time you come home to visit. I don't think you can blame me for coming up with a third option."

Logan scoffed. He shook his head and rubbed his hand over his chin. He was still angry. He was making the face he always made when he knew Rory was right, but he didn't want to listen to it. He was defensive.

"I would have never done that to you," he said.

"We were having an affair, Logan," Rory reminded him.

"You don't need to remind me!"

The volume of Logan's assertion seemed to have a worse effect on him than it did her. He pressed the palms of his hands into the tops of his eye sockets – a sure sign of a headache coming on. Rory was suddenly filled with a burst of compassion. As upset as she was and as much as she didn't want to be in the situation, she knew it was probably even worse for him.

"It's not that I didn't want you to be involved," Rory, conceded. "But it just seemed impossible."

Logan's hands didn't leave his eyes. He sat there, still silent. Still at a loss of words. Rory felt that she at least owed him a more detailed explanation.

"I knew that if I told you, you would try to be there in whatever small way that you could. But I know first-hand what it's like to have a father who can only dedicate a tiny fraction of his life to his kid. I can't put my daughter through that, Logan."

Logan inhaled. He turned his head away from her and spent a few good moments looking out the driver side window. A few cars passed by in the time that he was thinking about… whatever he was thinking about.

"It's a girl?"

His voice sounded so meek.

Rory's heart shattered into a million pieces. Never in her life had she heard Logan Huntzberger sound meek. Confidence was the center-point of his personality. It's what made his friends flock to him and his enemies detest him. It was what made her fall for him thirteen years ago.

"Yeah," Rory confirmed. "It's a girl."

Logan sniffed. Rory wondered if he was crying. His face was turned away from her so she couldn't know for sure.

Another period of silence fell between them. He bit his lip and took a few moments trying to regulate his shaky breathing. Then, he turned his attention back to Rory and nodded his head.

"Okay," he said.

With that he put the car back in drive, turned on the ignition, and did a U-turn as he pulled back on to the road.

Okay? Was that it? Did he have nothing else to say? She didn't even know what that meant. Did it mean "Okay, it's a girl?' 'Okay, I understand why you didn't tell me?' 'Okay, I'll stay out of it.' 'Okay, we're done?' 'Okay, let's figure out where to go from here?'

She was more confused than ever.

She needed something more than just 'okay.'

"Where are we going?" she finally asked.

"I'm taking you home."

Save for the explanation that she was staying at her grandparents' house and not Stars Hollow, the entire trip back from their spot on the side of the road in Nowhere, Connecticut was as silent as the trip there.

Rory picked at her nails for the forty-five minutes it took to get back to Hartford. Logan turned his car through the streets on the way to the casa Gilmore with ease, never once needing to ask her for clarification or confirmation of where he was going. Twelve years later and he still knew the route like the back of his hand.

He pulled up into the circle driveway, stopping the car in between the slightly pornographic fountain and the front door. He put the car back in park and the sound of a click echoed as he unlocked the door.

Logan was doing the staring thing again. His head didn't even nudge to the right to watch her as she unbuckled her seatbelt, slipped her fingers through the door handle, and started to climb out of the vehicle. He didn't get out of the car to open the door for her. He wasn't even saying goodbye.

Rory lingered outside of the car. She didn't dare close the door behind her right away. She was still waiting for him to say something, anything other than 'okay.' The longer she stood there in silence, the closer she got to summoning the courage to say goodbye on her own. She was just about to open her mouth when he interrupted her.

"I'm not walking away from this, Rory."

Rory's breath hitched in her throat. Her hand clenched the side of the door, and she looked at him with wide eyes full of… Shock? Relief? Alarm? Gratitude? Confusion, it seemed, was the most appropriate.

"I'll get a lawyer if I have to," he continued.

White hot fear coursed through every single millimeter of her body. She could feel it from the tips of her toes to the tops of her head, all the way down to her finger tips and the split ends on her hair.

"I don't want to. But I will. If I have to…" said Logan as he finally turned his head toward her. Rory took a deep breath and her chin started quivering.

"I'm not your father, Rory. I'm not going to let you turn me into your father."

Speechless, Rory finally closed the car door and took a step back toward the front entrance of the house. She watched as Logan put the car back into gear, and peeled away down the driveway. Her heart was racing faster and faster the further away he drove from the house.

Then, realizing that more than two hours must have passed since she left Luke's that morning, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse for the first time and checked the screen. Seeing text notifications waiting for her, she slid her finger over the lock and opened them.

Jess Mariano

Today 11:29 AM

You okay?

Today 12:07 PM

Do you need me to come get you?

Today 12:56 PM

I'm starting to get worried.

Today 1:24 PM

Rory please just call me and tell me you're okay.

With a heavy sigh, Rory tapped the text box at the bottom of her screen and started typing out a response. Three sentences in, she erased everything that she'd typed and started over. Another two sentences in, she once again erased everything she had typed. Another sentence – erased.

Finally, after far too much effort, Rory typed out her final response.

Jess Mariano

Today 1:38 PM

                                                                                                                                                                                                               I'm fine.                       

Rory Gilmore was becoming extremely skilled at lying.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

Sunday April 9, 2017

“You have the moral backbone of a chocolate éclair.”

“It’s mine.”

The statement hung in the air between the two men for a solid few seconds.

Logan stood in the dimly lit wood-paneled office with his hands in his pockets. Ten feet in front of him his father was sitting behind an executive desk in a plush green leather office chair. The light from his computer screen was illuminating the stoic expression on his face, and his arms were crossed pensively over his chest.

It was a scarily uncanny recreation of a previous moment about eighteen years ago when Logan had arrived home after being expelled from Andover due to the stash of weed they’d found stored in his dresser drawer.  Of course, there were some key differences between now and then.

Firstly, Logan distinctly remembered that the words he’d uttered on that specific occasion were ‘It’s not mine.’ His father, of course, knew immediately that he was lying. And, secondly, Mitchum was now wearing a pair of reading glasses to - in the immortal words of John Mulaney - show that time had passed.

There was also, of course, the element of his father’s reaction to his statement. Whereas eighteen years ago Mitchum had yelled and screamed at him for being a reckless idiot who was throwing away the chance a world class education that many people would kill for, he now simply shrugged his shoulders and quirked and eyebrow.

“Tell me something I don’t already know, Logan,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said with a shrug. “I don’t remember you being there when it happened.”

“Don’t be gross.”

“Don’t be glib,” Logan fired back. “Don’t sit there and act like you’re some sort of omniscient god who sees and knows everything. I didn’t even know for sure myself until about an hour ago. So, I fail see how you could have possibly known before me.”

“And yet I did know, and I was right.”

Logan seethed.

“Fine, Dad,” he said with a shake of his head. “You are the almighty harbinger of wisdom. You are never wrong. We should all fall down and worship at your feet. Are you satisfied?”

“Not really, no,” Mitchum answered.

Logan took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and started counting backwards from ten. After the morning he’d already had, dealing with his father’s pig-headed sarcasm was not top on his list of things to do.

“You know, when I saw you two at lunch that day I was certain you were sleeping with each other,” Mitchum continued. “But then I started to doubt myself, because I kept thinking… there’s no way that my son would be stupid enough to bring his mistress to our restaurant on a day that he knew I was in town. But sometimes you really astound me, Logan.”

“She’s not my mistress,” Logan said, glaring at his father for the use of the term. “I’m not married. I can’t have a mistress.”

“You’re engaged, Logan!” Mitchum shouted. “You’re engaged, and you’ve been involved in a prolonged affair with this girl. What else would you call her?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t want you saying that about Rory!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Mitchum said with an exaggerated eyeroll. He threw his head back and leaned into his reclining office chair, making it look like his entire body was moving along with his eyes.

Logan bristled. He was always like this when it came to Rory – when it came to his feelings for Rory. He treated Logan like he was some twelve-year-old school boy with a crush. He resented and belittled their relationship the entire three years they were together. And Logan was just about sick of it.

“Alright,” he said. “Here it comes. Don’t be shy, Dad. I know you don’t like Rory. You’ve never liked Rory. So why don’t we just get this out of the way, and you say whatever it is that you want to say?”

“I never had a problem with Rory.” Mitchum scoffed. Logan fixed him with an incredulous stare. “I didn’t!”

“Oh please!” Logan said. “From the second I brought her home - “

“That was your mother! And your grandfather. I wasn’t even there!” Mitchum said. “And if I remember correctly, after that all happened I went out of my way – I drove all the way to New Haven – to offer her an internship at a paper that any kid in that newsroom would have jumped at because I felt bad. I – just a few months ago - used up a favor from Bob Sauerberg to get her a meeting with Conde Nast! Those favors don’t come easy, Logan.”

Logan glowered and shook his head slowly back and forth.  

“That’s not the reason you gave her that internship, and you know it,” he said, accusingly.

“Good, God! How are we still on this?” Mitchum asked. “It was thirteen years ago.”

“You crushed her self-esteem.”

“I gave her some much needed criticism, and she couldn’t take it. This is a tough business, Logan. You need to have a thick skin. You know that.”

“She didn’t need it from her boyfriend’s father!”

“Then she shouldn’t have taken the internship!”

“She turned down the internship, and you hounded her into saying yes!”

“Because it was a good internship!”

“Oh my God!” Logan yelled as he fell into one of the chairs in front of Mitchum’s desk. He placed his hands on either side of his head and pulled at his hair. He was starting to lose the energy he needed to keep this conversation going.

“Fine, Logan,” Mitchum said. “You want me to come clean with my feelings about Rory Gilmore? At the beginning, I didn’t really care about her one way or the other. I thought she was smart – but a little meek. Timid. And then, for a brief period of time, she started growing on me. I thought she was good for you. I even started to like her. But I’ll admit, my positive opinion of her shifted after she turned you into a pathetic puddle of depression for a year and a half.”

Logan scoffed.

“If I remember that time correctly, you were so angry at me that you barely spoke to me for a year. So, forgive me if I find your attempt to sound protective less than authentic.”

“Yeah, well, it turns out that at the end of the day when it comes to your kids even the worst of your anger is pretty irrelevant. Seems like you’re about to find that out.”

Logan lifted his head and looked at his father. They locked eyes for a brief moment, the man’s last statement hanging heavily in the air between them. It was about as close to an ‘I love you’ as Mitchum Huntzberger could give.

Logan could only remember two times in the last five years when Mitchum had said anything that even came close. The first was during the phone call he received after he and his partners in Silicon Valley sold their startup to Facebook for a hefty $250 million. Mitchum’s exact words were: “It’s not Instagram, but it’s nothing to spit at.” Which loosely translated into: “I’m proud of you.” The second time was when Mitchum asked Logan if he would consider coming back on board with HPG, claiming that they were in need of someone with an eye for digital media that wasn’t “entirely incompetent.”

He was softening with age.

After a lot of deliberation, Logan had eventually agreed. Since the sale of his company, he had been jumping from unfulfilling venture to unfulfilling venture, throwing money at incubators with minimal return on investment, feeling aimless and unsatisfied. He was actually shocked to find that the prospect of returning to the family business felt… right.

Plus, with the sum of money he was sitting on from his fraction of the sale, Logan had a sense of power that he hadn’t had when he was fresh out of college. Mitchum didn’t have the control over him that he’d had once before. Logan didn’t need to work for HPG, and that made it so he able to feel like more of an equal than a subordinate – at least as much as that was possible between a father and son.  

And that was how he found himself here now, sitting in his father’s office during a trip home from his life in London where he’d agreed to return on re-signing with the company, engaged to a woman whom he met at a business event in France being held in honor of her uncle, wracking his brain about how to handle the fact that Rory Gilmore - his college girlfriend - was pregnant with his child after they’d reconnected in Germany during a conference that his father had sent him to.

Sometimes he missed the easy access to avocados.

The guacamole was so good.

“So where do we go from here, Logan?” Mitchum asked.

“Well, I’m not getting married,” Logan answered with a shrug.

Mitchum sighed heavily. Apparently, that was not the answer he wanted to hear.

“Logan,” he said. “I need you to think very carefully about this…”

“I have thought very carefully about this,” Logan replied, incredulously.

“Logan, you can’t just-”

“I ‘can’t just’ what, Dad?” Logan interrupted. “I know what I ‘can’t just’ do. And that’s ignore the fact that I’m about to have a kid with a woman who is not my fiancée. I’m sorry that that causes problems for you and your relationship with one paper. But excuse me if I’m not interested in missing out on the life of my own fucking child just so you can keep enjoying dinner with Matthieu Pigasse at Le Chateaubriand!”

“It’s not one paper! It’s fucking Le Monde!” Mitchum yelled. “I swear to God, Logan. I swear to God, you will be the death of me.”

The air was thick with tension. Logan would almost be hurt by that statement if he hadn’t spent his entire life with Mitchum as his father. He held on tightly to the fact that he’d just reminded himself of – that he didn’t need to work for HPG. He had the power to walk. He had the money to walk. He could walk if he needed to walk.

He just didn’t want to.

Twenty-two year old Logan would kill himself for thinking this, but he actually liked his job.

“Dad…” he said softly, imploringly.

He had one card in his pocket, and he had no choice but to play it. And the nature of his father’s response to it would have implications far overreaching this single argument. It would affect their entire relationship from here onward. If he reacted the wrong way to this, Logan wouldn’t just need to walk away from HPG. He would need to walk away from Mitchum entirely once and for all.

“This is your granddaughter.”

The room was struck with silence. Mitchum, who had just moments before looked as if he was going to burst a blood vessel in his forehead, was suddenly disarmed. He was struggling to find something to say. Logan saw that in that moment his father had stopped thinking about Rory’s pregnancy as a situation to be handled, and started thinking about it as a living breathing baby – one to cuddle, and spoil, and pressure into being accepted by Yale.

It would be his first granddaughter. The first little girl in their family since Honor – Mitchum’s indisputably favorite child.

“It’s a girl, huh?” Mitchum asked. Logan nodded.

“It’s a girl.”

Mitchum took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his chin.

“So I guess I get to spend my upcoming weeknights glued to the phone and dealing with the fallout from France…” he said.

“I’ll deal with France,” Logan said. “I’ll get a flight to Paris and - ”

“No,” Mitchum said emphatically, his brief slip into sentimentality already behind him.

Logan was taken aback. All Logan’s young adult life Mitchum had yelled at and shamed him for not being able to take responsibility for his own poor choices and now that Logan was stepping up to do exactly that, his father suddenly didn’t want him to?

“No?” Logan asked.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Mitchum continued. He leaned over his desk at his desk and opened up his laptop. “You’re going to write a check to Odette’s father to cover the cost cancelling this wedding. And then you are going to stay as far away from France as physically possible. I want you to stay so far away from France that you forget the entire country is even on the map. If I had my way, you would never set foot on French soil again. I want you to burn any novels by Victor Hugo or Proust that you might have sitting on your shelves. I want you to donate your Givenchy suits. I want you stop eating French fries! France does not exist to you, Logan. You lost France. Do you hear what I am saying to you?”

“You’ll deal with France,” Logan agreed.

“I’ll deal with France,” Mitchum parroted.

His father started typing away, presumably immersing himself in whatever he had been doing before Logan walked into his office. Logan got the distinct feeling that - at least in Mitchum’s eyes - this conversation was over. And, yet, there was something keeping him from getting up and walking out the door. And it wasn’t just the fact that he was avoiding his upcoming conversation with Odette.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve had to bail me out of one of my messes,” Logan joked. “It’s just like the good old days.”

The ‘joke’ fell on deaf ears.

He wasn’t sure exactly what possessed him to say something like that. Maybe he felt like self-deprecation would mellow his father’s anger ever so slightly. Maybe it was a perverted way of communicating to Mitchum that he was very much aware of how badly he’d fucked up.

Mitchum’s eyes glanced to his over the screen of his computer. His brow furrowed. He leaned back in his chair and gave Logan a slow and withering stare. But, he didn’t seem angry anymore. He almost seemed… remorseful.

“I can’t bail you out of this one, Logan.”

Logan swallowed. This entire situation was so far from solved, and he was keenly aware of it. Today alone he’d already had two major confrontations and it was just past 2:00 PM. He still had admitting he was having an affair, breaking up with his fiancée, and telling his mother that the wedding she’d been planning for a year was off to look forward to.

And these were just the things he needed to get out of the way before he could actually start dealing with this situation.

“I know…” Logan whispered.

“So, what are you planning to do about Rory?”

Rory. Logan hadn’t even begun to think about how to handle his current relationship with Rory. He was so angry at her. So hurt by her. And yet…

Logan rubbed at his eyes. He could almost hear the voice of Russel, his friend and business partner from California, yelling at him over the sound of Daft Punk through a cloud of smoke and flashing colored lights

“Dude, come on! You seem like you used to be fun! When are you going to get over this chick from Yale?!”

“I don’t know,” he said.

Logan’s felt a sting in his eyes that would most certainly turn into tears if he couldn’t get himself together. He glanced over at the bookshelf in his father’s office, scanning over titles in an effort to distract himself. He couldn’t cry in front of his father. Not over Rory Gilmore. Not again.

Mitchum leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t say anything. Not even a quip or a pot shot.

Logan was suddenly angry.

The one time in Logan’s entire life that he actually needed his father to tell him what to do,  Mitchum didn’t seem interested. Ever since he was a child, Mitchum had no problem sitting Logan down and telling him exactly what to do – what schools to go to, what friends to make, what sports to play, what articles to read, what subject to major in, where to work, where to invest his money. And, now, he had nothing to say.

It was unfair. He was so angry at how unfair it was. And he was angry at himself for finding it unfair to begin with. He was supposed to be a grown man for fuck’s sake.

There was only one thing that Logan knew for sure at this moment. And that was regardless of how his personal relationship would pan out with the mother of his child, he was going to be fully involved in his child’s life.

“I can’t go back to London,” he said, making eye contact. They were probably red rimmed and glassy. But, Mitchum, in a rare moment of grace didn’t say or do anything about it.

He simply nodded

“We’ll figure something out.”

The walk from his father’s office to the guest house across the pool was a death march unlike Logan had ever experienced in his life. And he had experienced many

Several expulsions. Shanghai dinners. Failed business ventures. Rejected proposals.

He was no stranger to walking into or away from a terrible conversation and the feelings of anxiety, awkwardness, and – frankly – nausea that accompanied it.

But this time, it felt so much worse.

This time, overwhelming guilt and shame plagued him with every footstep. In past situations, Logan had always had at least a sliver of righteous ground to stand on. Whether it was an overreaction on the part of school administrators, being an unwitting victim of his parents’ unwarranted meddling in his life, or genuine good intention - in the worst moments of Logan’s life he’d usually had some way to defend himself.

Today, however, he did not have that at all.

Today, he was completely and totally culpable. And he was going to have to accept whatever wrath was about to be bestowed upon him because of it.

As he opened the door to the small house, he found his fiancée in a pair of jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt. Her wavy black hair was tied into a high pony tail on the back of her head – one that looked more like a deliberate choice than a rushed attempt to get it out of the way. A wine glass was dangling in her left hand, filled with orange juice and what he had to assume was champagne. The ring he’d given to her was perched on her finger - something that somehow managed to me him feel even worse about himself at the current moment. And she was standing in front of a large box perched on the couch, slowly rifling through the contents of whatever was inside.

“Where did you slip off to this morning?” she asked without turning around. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a drink. 

“I uh…” Logan said. “I had some business to take care of.”

Logan watched as Odette’s head bobbed up and down in a nod. She took another sip of her mimosa and reached back into the mystery box.

“Business…” she repeated.

Logan took a deep breath.

He briefly considered pouring himself his own mimosa – or better yet maybe a glass of plain champagne – or better still a glass of scotch – but he decided that doing this sober was probably in the best interest of everyone involved. He owed that to Odette at the very least. He owed her far more than that, actually.

“I…uh…” he started as he moved from the entrance way of the house toward the living area. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Odette took another sip of her drink. She nodded her head again – this time in an oddly dramatic fashion - and looked intensely at whatever it was she had just taken out of the box she was going through. Her head tilted a little and she hummed.

“She’s pretty,” she said.

Logan was confused.

“What?” he asked.

“I said she’s pretty,” Odette answered.

She turned around to face him for the first time since he’d returned home. She lifted up a picture that she was holding in her right hand and waved it at him. He couldn’t see it, but she made it clear that she was referring to whomever was photographed.

For a split second, Logan was still confused. He was about to ask her what she was doing, but as her body shifted ever so slightly to the right, he was able to make out the words written in Sharpie on the side of the box.

Logan – Yale

He was starting to become uncomfortably familiar with the feeling of his heart crashing through his rib cage and plummeting to the floor.

The boxes.

He’d forgotten about the boxes.

The boxes that he didn’t want to pack up and take with him to California and was too broke to pay to store.

The boxes that his mother had agreed to let him leave in one of the rooms in the guest house on the condition that he did actually come home for Christmas regardless of how much he and his father hated each other at that moment in time.

The boxes full of memories of he and Rory that his fiancée had now found after a dinner wherein hearing that she was pregnant had given him a panic attack.

Logan couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about the boxes.

“There are a lot of pictures of her in here. Rory Gilmore,” Odette continued.

She was flipping through an entire stack of photos and throwing them on the couch cushions as she went. As Logan moved closer to the couch, he could some of them out. He and Rory on the couch at his going-away-party before he moved to London – the first time. Rory sipping on champagne in a limo wearing a gorgeous black and blue dress marred by a cheesy tiara and necklace combo. He and Rory hand in hand jumping from a piece of scaffolding in the middle of the woods. Rory barebacked in bed, sleeping while the morning sun shone on the hair cascading over her shoulders. 

“I never thought I would say this about anyone, but I think she looked better with the bangs. Strange for me, non? I usually hate bangs.”

Odette turned around. Her bright green eyes met panicked brown. She looked completely unphased.

“Do you agree?” she asked.

“’Dette…” he said, cautiously. She shrugged.

“I suppose it does not matter,” she said. “She is pretty either way.”

She continued rummaging through the box, pulling out items and examining them as she went. Most of them were innocuous – some copies of the Daily News, a gorilla mask, a couple books, nick knacks. But one item in particular was something he really never wanted to see again.

“Ah. My,” she said as she held the small box in her hands. She turned it over and examined every side of it before she popped it open at the crack in the middle, exposing the white gold band incrusted with a solitaire diamond to the light for the first time in ten years. “Seems like more than a fancy, yes?”

Without thinking, Logan lurched forward and tried to snatch the box from her hand. Odette jumped away and raised her hand in the air to keep it from him. Logan grabbed her hip, trying to keep her steady so that she couldn’t wiggle away from him. But as soon as his hand made contact, she pushed him away with a fury that Logan didn’t realize was possible from the 5’5’’ 120 pound woman in front of him.

“Do not touch me!” she yelled. “Get your filthy hands off of me, you fils de pute!” 

Logan backed off instantly. He raised his hands in surrender before running one through his hair, mumbling an apology, and plopping himself down on the couch. He hung his head in his hands.

“Odette, please. Let me explain - “

“I do not have to let you do anything!” she yelled. Her emerald eyes were turning red. “Are you not even going to try to deny it? That you’ve been sleeping with this girl? That you are the father of her baby?”

All Logan could do was close his eyes and open himself on to the onslaught of curses and accusations. He was, after all, guilty. He deserved every ounce of her wrath.

“I have ignored so many things!” she continued to yell. “Jewelry in your couch. Late night phone calls. The smell of perfume on your coats. But, now that display at dinner last night! Do you think I am stupid?”

Logan cringed. Apparently his attempts at subtlety had failed spectacularly. But then he had to admit that he had been foolishly reckless at times. Taking Rory’s calls while Odette was asleep in bed right next to him. Not even giving the apartment a once over before Odette would come. And - as his father had pointed out just minutes ago - bringing her to lunch in their family restaurant when he knew Mitchum was likely to be there.

He almost had to wonder what his own motivations were.

Did he want to get caught?

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he answered, shaking his head.

“I told myself I could live with you having affairs. I told myself that it didn’t matter how many vapid putains you brought into our bed. As long as I was the most important woman in your life. As long as I was the mother of your children. You could not even give me that.”  

Most men might be surprised by the odd boundary she was drawing – being okay with him sleeping around as long as whomever he slept with was meaningless to him at the end of the day. But, Logan could understand where she was coming from. Love had never been the center of his relationship with Odette. Both of them were aware from the beginning that neither one of them were madly in love with each other.

It was a very businesslike arrangement. When they met in Paris at a party for Odette’s uncle, they were two unmarried people in their mid-thirties whose families both had high expectations for their choices in partners. They’d hit it off of their own accord. Odette had been charmed by Logan’s clumsy attempts to flirt in French, and Logan had been taken in by her 14 carat smile and the sight of her long lean back through the sheer lace of her emerald green dress.

They were attracted to each other. They liked each other. Their parents were all thrilled with the business related implications of their engagement. Both of them had been unlucky in love and had stopped holding out hope that they would find it again. It was a win for all involved. It just made sense.

They were running out of time, and it made sense.

Rory had made it clear that she only existed to him in Vegas, and so… it made sense.

Settling. That’s what most people called it.  

In a different lifetime, Logan could have loved Odette. She was beautiful. Smart. Witty. But, Logan, in the arrogant folly of his youth had chosen to give away his whole heart to someone else. He hadn’t thought to save any pieces of it for later.

“I had a suspicion that you might be in love with another woman the last time I visited before I moved to London and you would not even touch me. I should have confronted you then.”

Logan could hear the pain starting break through the anger in her tone. A tsunami of self-loathing crashed over him, consuming every thought and every feeling he could muster. Why did he always have to destroy everything that he touched? Why did he have to prove his worst critics right all the time by being such a complete and total fuck up?

“I don’t know what to say, ‘Dette,” he said.

“You could say what you are planning to do about this,” she answered. “I will not raise your love child, Logan.”

“I would never ask you to,” he said.

Odette looked momentarily relieved. The thought that this baby would never become an active part of her life was a momentary comfort to her. Of course, Logan was about to pull that comfortable rug right out from under her feet. Because the reason why his child wouldn’t be a part of her life was something entirely different than what she assumed.

“I… uh… I just talked to my Dad about getting transferred back to the States.”

Odette was utterly and completely taken aback. This wasn’t the response she had been expecting. Logan knew exactly what she was expecting. This was hardly the first pregnancy scandal to occur between two wealthy and connected people marrying for convenience. She expected him to get out his check book and write out a hefty sum to Rory Gilmore in exchange for her silence and a solemn promise that she would never come darkening their door again – either for help raising their child or for Logan’s wayward affections.

Even after looking through his old things, it seemed that Odette still underestimated just how in love he was with Rory Gilmore.

Logan, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eye, lifted his head and met her gaze straight on. Her chin was quivering and her hands were shaking. He genuinely didn’t know if it was from sadness or anger.

“I think you should…” Logan paused and took a deep breath. “I think you should get a flight home. You can take as long as you need to pack up and… get back to Paris.”

The next thing he knew there was an orange blur flying past his face and the sound of glass shattering against the wall behind him. He flinched and closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself before he stood up off the couch and made his way back to the door.

Odette was still yelling at him as his back turned to her. Vague threats and French swears were pouring out of her mouth, but there was no point letting himself get goaded into more confrontation. He’d made himself clear. They were over.

There was no need to drag this out. He wasn’t going to change his mind, and it’s not like he could defend himself from the accusations she was throwing at him. They were all true.

He paused when he reached the door. Hanging his head low and closing his eyes, he summoned up the courage for one parting sentiment before he walked away.

“I’m so sorry, ‘Dette. You deserved so much better than me.”

Unfortunately, the statement did not have the desired effect. Instead of being mollified, Odette only seemed to get more enraged. She followed him as he crossed the pool area and walked toward the main house, her colorful language tagging along with her.

“Don’t you fucking walk away from me! We are not finished!” she bellowed, her voice carrying over the water. “Logan, if you walk away and leave me in this house, I will make you regret it for the rest of your life!”  

Keeping up his commitment not to engage, he opened the French patio doors into the living room and walked inside. As soon as he stepped foot in the main house, he saw his mother jump up at attention from the couch with a look on her face like a deer caught in the headlights. The book she was reading tumbled to the floor.

“What on Earth?” she asked, referring to the commotion that - as far as she was concerned - had come out of nowhere.

“Where are you going?!” Odette continued. Logan started to push the door closed behind him, but it remained open long enough for one more parting shot.  “Are you going off to see your little slut!?”

Logan watched as his mother’s face blanched at the implication his now ex-fiancée threw at him.

Even with the door closed, Odette’s displeasure was still audible in the house. As her muffled shouts and accusations filled the air, he watched as Shira became more and more scandalized.

“Logan!” Shira yelled as she followed him down the hallway. “What is going on?!”

“The wedding is off,” he said, deciding not to mince any words.

Shira froze in place. Her face became white as a ghost. Her mouth gaped open and she kept whipping her head back and forth between Logan and the door that he’d just closed behind him. Logan wasn’t interested in wasting time waiting for his mother to process what he’d just said. He put one foot in front of the other and walked.

“The wedding is…” she repeated, softly – disbelieving. “What do you mean the wedding is off?!”

Logan kept walking. He weaved his way through the massive home, passing marble columns, giant floral arrangements, and massive portraits of people he didn’t even know as he went. His mother wasn’t happy at all with his attempt at a quick getaway.

“Logan get back here!” Shira yelled, her stupor broken.

Logan didn't listen. He maneuvered himself through the halls and into the foyer, stopping only when he reached the table in front of the door where he grabbed his keys.  

“Where are you going?!” Shira asked as she caught up with him.

Logan looked at her and sighed. Shira was not going to like what he was about to say.

He needed to go see Rory. He’d so royally messed up their conversation that morning, and he felt an overwhelming need to do something about it. Between his panic and shock at finding out he was going to be a father and his uncertainty about the future of his career and his engagement, he’d been so utterly quiet. He’d said next to nothing the entire time, and then he’d ended the encounter with a vague threat about lawyers.

He handled it all wrong.

He needed to fix it.

He took a deep breath and fixed his jaw before answering his mother.

“I’m going to the Gilmores',” he said.  

“The Gilmores?! Why on Ear - ”

Logan watched the epiphany happen in real time on his mother’s face. The drama kids at Yale would have surely paid extra tuition to witness the display of human emotion that was occurring in front of him.

In that exact moment, all of the pieces had come together for her. Rory’s lack of a partner. His panic attack at dinner. The fact that he’d slipped out of the house alone so early this morning without an explanation. Odette’s accusation of him going to visit his - well he didn’t want to think about what she’d said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Shira.

Logan’s only response was to take a step over the threshold and walk out of the house. His mother was right behind him, hanging in the doorway as he clicked the button on his key fob and unlocked the doors to his car.

“There’s absolutely no reason for you to get involved in this. It has nothing to do with you!”

It was almost as if Shira thought that she could will her preferred truth into existence if she shouted it down the driveway loudly enough.

“You haven’t seen that Gilmore girl in ten years!” she continued. “It’s not possible. Tell me it’s not possible, Logan.”

He said nothing. He made his way to his car, placed his hand on the door handle, and opened. But before he could bend down and slip inside, his mother commended one last piece of his attention.  

“Logan Elias Huntzberger,” she seethed, slowly, in the manner that only a mother could. “If you get into that car right now, I am going to start thinking that you might be the father of that baby. Is that really something that you want me to think?”

Logan fixed her with a stare. He took another deep breath.

“I don’t know if I’ll be back for dinner,” he said.

Then, he ducked down, slid into the vehicle, and peeled off down the driveway.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

Sunday April 9, 2017 Part III

"It's not easy to know I'm not anything like used to be. Although, it's true I was never attentions sweet center, I still remember that girl."

The flashing cursor was mocking her.

Rory Gilmore had been in love with the written word since she first learned how to recognize the shapes of letters.

She had devoted her life to reading the writing of the greatest minds to put pen to paper.

She had dedicated her education to learning how to write in the most succinct, eloquent, and insightful way possible.

She had earned her living writing and selling freelance articles and op-eds.

And there was nothing Rory Gilmore hated more than sitting down and writing.

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there. The blinking vertical black line had nudged her into a state of hypnosis. That, combined with the never ending rush of thoughts in her head, was making it absolutely impossible to form even a cohesive sentence let alone one worth publishing. She was insane to think that she could possibly get any work done on her book today.

With a deep breath, Rory reached forward and flipped the screen of her laptop closed. She sat back in the chair at her grandfather's desk and stared into the void. As her eyes scanned the mostly empty room, they landed momentarily on the portrait that was still hanging on the wall. The one that Emily didn't want to pack up and put in a dusty storage facility and decided to leave there for the time being.

Rory stared at herself for a few moments. Her eyes narrowed at the girl perched in her chair, an open book in her hands and her thoughtful glance aimed upward. What an idiot that girl was – thinking that her life was full of promise and opportunity. Thinking that great things lay ahead for her.

What would that girl have to say about her now?

She felt a sharp jab against her rib as soon as the thought entered her mind. With a sigh, she looked down at her belly and placed a hand on the top of her bump, rubbing in circles. Apparently, nap time was over and the bean was not happy about her less than generous thoughts.

"You're right, little girl," Rory said. "I shouldn't be so hard on myself, should I?"

She could say that out loud as much as she wanted, but she didn't think that would make her stop any time soon.

Rory was already feeling like a failure before this entire situation unfolded itself.

Her career was stagnating. She was lost and going nowhere. She was broke. She was in love with the man she was having an illicit affair with. She was paralyzed by the death of her grandfather. She was essentially homeless. She was lying to her friends and family. She was stringing along a perfectly nice and decent man just to make herself feel like she had some sense of stability in her personal life.

And now… now she had managed to somehow make her situation even worse.

Would Logan really sue her?

She couldn't even imagine it. The entire concept of it seemed so completely unbelievable.

Just twenty-four hours ago she was going about her life completely and totally confident that she would never see Logan Huntzberger again, and she would be raising her daughter entirely on her own. And now she was sitting here contemplating the possibility that not only would Logan be back in her life significantly, but also that she would be involved in a prolonged custody dispute with him and end up having to hand off her baby to him and his wife every summer and on alternating holidays.

She was starting to understand why her mother had totally wigged out that one time about her spending one Christmas with Sherry.

None of this seemed real.

Deep in her heart, she had the feeling that Logan would never do that to her. She was clinging on to the comment he'd made about not wanting to get an attorney. But was she being idealistic? How far would his affections for her go now that she'd kept this secret from him? Was she blinded by the fact that she cared about him? Was she giving him too much credit?

The Huntzbergers did not like to look they weren't in control. The Huntzbergers did not like to lose.

The thundering sound of her phone vibrating on top of her grandfather's solid wood desk startled her out of her trance. She jumped in her seat and straightened out her back as she looked down at the screen to see who was calling her. As she read the name, she sighed.

It seemed that the other source of the day's profound unease was tired of waiting for her to reach out on her own.

"Hi, Mom," she said as she accepted the call and lifted her phone to her ear. She took a deep breath and steeled herself. Lorelai was quiet for a couple of moments.

"Hi, kid," she finally said. "Um…. How are you doing?"

"I've… been better," Rory admitted. "But I'm alive. So…"

"Right. Alive. That's good," Lorelai said.

Rory could hear the tension in her tone, and she could almost see the look on her face as she spoke. She was doing the tight lipped thing – the thing she did when she had a million opinions about whatever the subject of conversation was but she didn't want to actually voice them out loud. But after a couple moments of silence, it seemed like Lorelai was no longer able to keep her thoughts inside.

"You lied to me, Rory."

"I know…" Rory admitted, softly.

"You told me that he knew. That you told him and he didn't want to be involved."

"I know," she repeated.

"I don't understand why you would lie to me about that. What were you thinking?"

The truth was, Rory didn't know what she was thinking. She was thinking she didn't want to deal with any of this at all and lying was the easiest way to get people to stop talking to her about it.

"I don't know," she admitted. "It just… seemed easier. I'm sorry. I went to talk to Dad and - "

"You talked to your Dad about this, but not to me?!"

Rory squeezed her eyes closed and sighed. She had enough on her plate right now without having to sooth her mother's ego about the fact that she had the audacity to speak to her own father. But, right now, it didn't seem like she had a choice.

"Not explicitly," she said. "I just… It was before he even knew I was pregnant. I asked him if he thought that you raising me alone was the right move. And he basically said yes. And I… I thought it would be easier on the baby if I just cut the cord completely rather than having Logan be this unreliable and fleeting presence in her life."

The line was quiet for a moment.

"Rory…" Lorelai said. "Your Dad loves you. More than anything. Except maybe Gigi. It might be a close tie."

"I know he does," Rory said.

"Did you ask him if he would have preferred not having you in his life at all? Because I can promise you, his answer would have been no."

Rory sniffed. As hurt as she was by her father's lack of presence in her early life, she did know that he loved her. And she knew that he wouldn't have changed anything about her coming into his life. But, if she was being honest with herself, knowing that didn't make up for the pain she felt as a child every time he walked away.

"I know that," she admitted. "But, I wasn't really concerned with how he felt about it. I was concerned with how I felt about it. And I don't ever want my daughter to feel that way."

"So you thought that her not having a father at all was the answer?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I was thinking," Rory admitted.

"It's not right, Rory. Logan had a right to know," Lorelai continued.

"I know."

"And you know that hating Logan is like… my favorite sport. But I'm starting to feel a little bit like the NFL after that whole concussion thing. I'm not sure it's ethical to keep playing."

Rory rolled her eyes. She was more than aware that there was nothing Lorelai liked to do more than list all of Logan Huntzberger's innumerable faults. It had been one of her favorite pastimes since Rory was twenty years old. She'd gotten more quiet about it toward the end of their relationship, but Rory know her mother well enough to know that her silence did not equate to an actual change of mind. And, now, with the impression that Logan had impregnated her and bailed, she had been reverted back to a state of post Great Yacht Incident of 2005 loathing.

Obviously, it was entirely fair considering the fact that Lorelai was under the impression that he'd run out on her. But she couldn't have a fight with her mother about defending Logan right now. After the way he'd ended their conversation this morning, Rory wasn't exactly Logan's biggest cheerleader either. And even if she was, she just didn't have the energy. She was too busy thinking about all of the ways that she'd disappointed all of the people that loved her the most – her mother. Jess. Logan. And one person especially.

"Is Luke mad?"

Lorelai's pause was answer enough, but nevertheless she answered the question.

"He's upset," she confirmed. Rory could almost start crying right there and then. Luke had never been mad at her in her entire life. At least not that she could remember. "Right now, he is more mad at me for telling him that the father was a one-night stand at some nerd con to begin with. But… he's pretty upset, kid. I can't lie to you about that."

"Does he hate me?" Rory's voice was quivering as she willed her eyeballs to soak up the moisture that was pooling in them.

"Aw, Rory," Lorelai said. "He could never hate you."

She started crying in earnest. And with the amount of sniffing and shaky breathing she knew that her Mom definitely could definitely tell she was in the middle of a breakdown.

"It's going to be okay, hon," Lorelai comforted. "We're gonna figure it out. And Luke won't stay mad at you forever. It's impossible."

"It's not going to be okay," Rory cried. "Logan is going to get a lawyer and…"

"He said that to you?!" Lorelai interrupted, forcefully. "That unbelievable asshole! Rory, if that is what he chose to say to you today then - "

Rory's focus was suddenly stolen from her mother's angry ranting by the sound of the doorbell. Confused by the fact that someone was at the door when her grandmother didn't tell her she had anyone coming by the house today, Rory leaned back and looked out the window to see if she could make out who it was. Unfortunately, the bush in front of the office window blocked any view she might have had to the front door.

Lorelai was still going on a diatribe about all of the ways Logan was sure to be a disappointment. Rory wasn't sure she really wanted to engage in the conversation anymore, and her grandmother would surely be upset if she failed to let a home inspector or a real estate agent into the house to do whatever it was that she'd asked them to do.

" – I get that he's upset, but he doesn't just get to come in and start throwing his money around and making big threats like this to upset and intimidate you - "

"Mom, there's someone at the door. I'll call you back."

Rory hung up without giving her mother the opportunity to say good-bye. She felt momentarily guilty, but at the same time she was grateful for the out. Handling her own emotions about Logan's reaction was enough to deal with. She really could not be responsible for managing her mother's anger at the same time.

She threw her phone back down on the desk and gave a big sigh. The doorbell rang again

"I'm coming. I'm coming," she mumbled to herself as she slapped her hands on the desk and lifted herself up from the chair.

Walking out of the office, Rory made her way through the foyer and toward the front door, peeking into the windows the entire time to see if she could make something out through the layers of lace curtains. It wasn't the first time she wondered what the point of having windows was if there was so much fabric around them that you couldn't see outside.

When she got to the front door she stopped, placed her hand on the handle and pulled the giant wooden monstrosity open. She was about to greet whomever it was on the other side with a polite, "Hi, can I help you?" but the words got caught in her throat the second that she opened the door.

Standing in front of her with a contrite look on his face was not some painter, repair man, or home inspector, but instead a very blonde, very rich, and – to Rory's current predicament – very handsome young man.

Rory was struck dumb.

What on earth was he doing here after the way that he'd left things?

She had no idea what to say to him – no idea what he wanted her to say to him after they way that he'd behaved and then driven away with lingering threats hanging in the air. She couldn't even begin to get her thoughts together enough to properly address the fact that he was standing here in front of her.

And, yet, it seemed like it didn't matter if her brain was able to get her thoughts together or not. Her body, was able to form the perfect thing to say all on its own. It rose up from her vocal chords entirely of it's own volition and escaped her mouth in a loud huff.

"No!" she yelled.

And then she turned around, stepped back into the house, and walked away from him.

"No!"

Logan didn't quite know how to respond to that.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should follow her. After a few moments of deliberation, he finally decided that following her was what she most likely wanted him to do since she had left the front door open behind her.

"Rory…" he said as he hung a left. He followed Rory toward the stairs and then walked into the living area. 

"No!" she repeated, her voice slightly higher in pitch this time.

"Rory, please," he continued. "I'm sorry about this morning. I don't know what came over me – why I was acting so strange. I guess I just needed to process. I was so rattled by –"

"I know exactly what came over you," Rory said. She turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. Logan felt a flutter as he noticed how her forearms balanced on top of her belly when she did it.

God…his baby was in there.

"This is just like you, Logan."

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"You don't get to do this," Rory continued. "You don't get to act all unreadable and aloof because you need time to process, leave me hanging in a lurch worrying about what you're thinking and what's going to happen, and then show up an hour later with an apology expecting me to welcome you back with open arms and tell you that it's okay and I understand. If you needed more time to process, then you should have taken it before you bombarded me in the middle of Luke's."

"I didn't - "

"I'm not twenty-two years old anymore. I'm not going to let you jerk me around like this."

Logan was struck out of left field by that statement.

"I'm not trying to jerk you around. I've never tried to jerk you around. I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

Rory scoffed.

"Um!" She stuck her hands out in front of her and started dramatically counting on her finger tips. "After the dinner at your parents' house. That time you went to Omaha. The coffee cart. Costa Rica. Let's not even talk about when you showed up to Mia's wedding out of the blue after I got mad at you for running off to Vegas when you lost millions of dollars!"

"I made it back and then some!" Logan yelled.

"Oh, that's right. You sure did. Aren't you the big man now?" Rory said, condescendingly.

Logan rubbed at his temples. He understood why Rory was annoyed. The issue of his losing the money and earning it back was so far off of the point that she was trying to make. But he couldn't help that the comment hurt. He was still so sensitive about it. After years of therapy, he was still sensitive about it.

Even so, he didn't come here to get into a screaming match with Rory. He had no choice but to take a deep breath and shove down his bruised ego.

"Rory…" he pleaded, sitting down on the couch. He looked at her imploringly. "I didn't come here to argue. And I didn't come here to dredge up the past. Please. I've had a really long day."

"Yeah. Well, I've had a really long six months. So…"

Rory turned her head to the side and looked out through the glass doors to the patio as she said it. Logan could tell she was upset, and after he'd behaved this morning he couldn't blame her. But, he also couldn't help but feel that that it wasn't entirely fair that he was being made out to be the sole guilty party in this situation.

"Well, that was your choice," he accused.

Rory flinched at the tone. Logan rubbed at his brow. He was already failing at his mission not to turn this into an argument.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I really didn't come here to argue."

Rory's crossed arms tightened. She sighed deeply and glanced away from him. Her head shook ever so slightly from side to side.

"Rory, will you please just sit down and talk to me about this?"

"Are you sure you don't want your attorney present?" she asked. Logan cringed.

"I shouldn't have said that," he said.

Rory did budge. She was still standing, resolute. Her arms still crossed angrily over her chest and her jaw clenched in frustration. Logan didn't push. He just leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he watched her. He could tell the gears in her head were turning as she made a mental pro/con list about whether or not to let him stay and talk. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she broke her silence.

"What are you even doing here, Logan?" she asked. Logan blinked.

"I told you," he responded. "I came here to apologize about this morning and talk - "

"No!" she said, her tone dripping with exasperation. She was shaking her head and furrowing her brow. "I mean, what are you doing here? In Hartford. In America!"

"It was my nephew's birthday. I had wedding plans to finalize. Easter is next weekend."

Rory looked absolutely pained. With a massive sigh, she flopped down on the couch across from him and held her head in her hands.

"I do come home to visit on occasion, Rory," he said. "I wasn't banished."

"I know you weren't banished!" said Rory, rolling her eyes.

Logan had to admit, it did feel slightly odd – being here in the Gilmores' house talking to Rory. For the duration of their clandestine relationship, London had been their one and only stomping ground. They never talked about Hartford. They didn't brush topics that reminded them of the very real and tangible life they'd had in the States. London was neutral ground – a sort of fantasy escape. They didn't see each other when he was home. It would have been too….real.

Now, reality had come crashing down on them. And for the first time in ten years, they were sitting together in a setting that belonged to their old life. It was unsettling. It made him feel like he was traveling through time. Except that he didn't feel like he was going backwards. It was actually as if he was moving forward at unparalleled speeds. Walking into the foyer of this house had made him feel as if he'd jumped from 2007 to 2017 overnight, and all the memories he had in-between were nothing but strangely vivid dreams. The only thing that would have made it more eerie is if they were having this conversation in the pool house.

"So…" Rory continued. "I'm assuming that it was your Mom who mentioned - "

"It came up."

"Right," Rory said with a nod. She then let out a small sardonic laugh. "I bet she just couldn't wait to tell you and your entire family that I was knocked up and in Stars Hollow. She probably made a PowerPoint presentation about it."

"She's actually more of a Prezi fan," Logan said. Rory just fixed him with an unamused stare. Realizing that jokes were not going to endear him to Rory at the current moment, Logan dropped the playful glint in his eye and picked up a more somber tone.

"I think she was trying to a drive a final nail in the coffin of any lingering feelings I might have had for you before the wedding," he said.

For the first time since she'd let him in the house, Logan saw her facial features start to melt into something a little more peaceful. Her anger and annoyance at him was starting to fade away, but he could tell that she was still feeling uncomfortable and distressed. He felt the sudden urge to wrap his arms around her, but thought better of it.

"Well," Rory said. "Joke's on her…"

Logan's heart jumped in his chest as Rory's bright blue eyes flicked upwards and met his. He swallowed. A small moment of silence lingered between them.

"Jokes on her," he repeated, softly.

Rory's lips pursed and moved upward in a solemn smile. Logan was at a complete loss with what to do with himself. Just six months ago, he wouldn't have hesitated for a moment before going over to her and gathering her in his arms. But now… now he wasn't sure if the gesture would be appropriate let alone welcome.

He never would have imagined that their relationship could grow more complicated than it had been up until now. Clearly, he was wrong.

"So…" Rory continued. "So do they… do they know that it's…"

"Yeah. They know," Logan confirmed. Rory took a shaky breath.

"Wow. Okay. Wow. They know," she said as she started wringing her hands.

"My Dad pretty much guessed after…" he trailed off, knowing that Rory would understand the implication.

"Right," she said with a nod.

"And my mom just found out about twenty minutes ago."

"I'm sure she was just thrilled," Rory said.

"She's planning the shower as we speak."

"Logan…"

Rory trailed off, but Logan didn't need to hear words to understand what was going on in her head. It was the same thing that had been going on in his head since yesterday. There were so many questions – so many unknowns – it was impossible to formulate all of them into one single question. This morning when they were in the car together, Logan didn't even know where to begin. It was part of the reason why he was so quiet. It seemed that Rory was experiencing the same feeling.

"I'm not going back to London," Logan offered, thinking that the best way to handle this conversation was to take it one talking point at a time.

"What?" Rory asked, eyes wide. "No! No. This is exactly what I didn't want to happen. I can't let you derail your life because of this."

"I meant what I said before," Logan said. "I'm not walking away from this."

"And what does your fiancé have to say about this?" Rory asked.

"I don't have one."

"Logan!" Rory exclaimed as she jumped from her seat on the couch. Her hand went to her forehead and she started pacing around the room.

"Rory, you're pregnant with my child. Did you really expect me to go ahead and marry someone else right now?" Logan asked.

"Yes!" she answered. "I asked you in New Hampshire if you wanted to marry Odette. And you said yes. That shouldn't change just because of this!"

"You asked me if I was going to marry Odette," Logan said.

Rory sighed and shot her hands into the air in a questioning gesture.

"What's the difference!?" she asked.

"You asked me if I was going to marry Odette. Not if I wanted to marry Odette," Logan answered.

"Logan…"

He could hear the annoyance and frustration dripping from her tone. He could tell that she didn't feel like arguing semantics. But in this particular case, Logan felt that they were pretty crucial.

"I've only ever wanted to marry one woman in my life, Ace," said Logan.

Rory's gaze snapped to his. They held eye contact for a long moment until Rory's lip started quivering and her eyes started to glass over with tears. As she broke eye contact and looked away, he started to hate himself for creating that look on her face.

"I don't know what you want me to say to that, Logan," Rory said, her voice sounding meek and insecure. Logan sighed. It hadn't been his intention to make her feel uncomfortable.

"You don't need to say anything," he said.

"I - "

"Rory," Logan said, holding up a hand in a physical effort to stop her from continuing. "I said before – I didn't come here to dredge up the past. I didn't say that to put you on the spot. I just… I need you to understand that the choice between helping you raise this baby and marrying Odette was an easy one. It could hardly even be considered a choice at all."

Logan watched as a single tear silently fell down Rory's face. She reached up and quickly wiped it away, and Logan actually managed to feel jealous of a few fingers. He wanted to be the person to wipe her tears away. And he definitely didn't want her to have to do it herself.

He ached to tell her more. To tell her that the choice between being with her or Odette wouldn't have been a choice at all. That if she'd said the word he would have left her years ago and never looked back. That the choice had always been hers.

But, he shoved the impulse deep within him. Rory had spent the last several years reminding him that she was not interested in pursuing another committed relationship with him. She was deep in the muck of her career, traveling, freelancing, seizing opportunities wherever she could find them. He knew that he would get in the way of that. It's why she didn't marry him to begin with. He couldn't ask her to do it again.

He couldn't survive being turned down again.

"I don't have any idea how to do this, Logan," Rory admitted. "This co-parenting thing. My dad…"

"I know," Logan said.

"I need you to promise me that you are actually going to be there. Not just show up every once in a while. I mean be there. Every weekend. And some weeknights. Holidays. Soccer games. If you want to raise this baby with me, then you need to raise this baby with me. You can't just decide to show interest when it fits in your schedule."

"Rory, I meant what I said in the car. I'm not your father."

"You say that now. But - "

"No," Logan interrupted. "I'm not your father, Rory. I'm not today. I won't be tomorrow. And I won't be thirty years from now. I have no intention of ever becoming your father."

"My dad always had the best of intentions too. But intentions aren't enough…" Rory said.

"Your dad was a sixteen-year-old kid!" Logan exclaimed. He sighed, ran his hands over his face for a moment, and then lowered his voice back to a regulated tone. "He was terrified. He was young and stupid! And when he eventually did grow up and get his act together he was too late. Your parents were children, Rory. You can't compare us to your parents."

"I know that."

"I can understand how tempting it is because on paper your dad and I have a lot in common. I think it's one of the reasons why I was able to turn him around on the concept of murdering me. But our superficial similarities aren't enough to cancel out the fact that I'm a thirty-five year-old man with more than enough financial stability to support a child."

"I know you are," Rory conceded. "And I know that we're not my parents…" Rory said.

"I think part of you knows that, but you're dealing with a lot of unresolved trauma around the subject of unplanned pregnancies."

Rory gave him an overly dramatic look of shock at the words that had come out of his mouth. Her eyebrows shot up and she blinked at him in disbelief. Logan only shrugged.

"I've had some therapy," he offered as an explanation.

"You've had therapy?" she asked. "Mr. Jump-off-a-cliff-rather-than-deal-with-my-feelings Huntzberger went to a therapist?

"Hey, I haven't jumped off any cliffs in over a decade." Logan sighed as Rory's raised eyebrow remained erect. "My sister convinced me to go about a year after I moved to Palo Alto. I was…"

Depressed. Anxious. Not sleeping. Obsessive. Working too much. Drinking too much. Still not over Rory. Still not talking to his father.

"Let's just say Tech can be stressful."

"I've seen Silicon Valley," Rory said with the understanding nod of a person deeply within the know. Logan almost laughed. Leave it to Rory to filter an entire six years of his life through the lens of a television show.

He missed her.

"We'll figure it out, Ace," he said.

"Yeah," Rory agreed with a whisper. "We'll figure it out."

Logan felt every muscle in his body unclench in relief. There was still so much to be afraid of. Moving his life back to the States. The wrath of his mother. Being a fucking father. But, at least he could rest easy that he and Rory weren't going to go through this as adversaries.

He wouldn't have been able to handle that.

Rory's tension seemed at have dissipated as well. Her pacing stopped, and she now stood peacefully in front of him with a sad but optimistic look on her face. Logan wanted desperately to get up and embrace her. In fact, he was just about to stand when Rory suddenly flinched.

"Ugh! Ow." she said as she winced. Her hand went to her back. Logan launched out of his chair faster than he'd ever moved in his life.

"What?! What's wrong?! What's happening?! Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Are you hurt?"

When Rory opened her eyes, the look she gave him was one of total surprise. Then her lips curled in the most genuine smile he'd seen from her since he'd shown up to talk to her this morning and a small laugh poured from her lips.

"I'm fine, Logan," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "It was just a kidney shot."

Logan blanched.

"What?" he asked.

"Sometimes she likes to play Rocky with my kidneys."

"…What?" he asked again. Rory rolled her eyes.

"She's kicking," she explained.

Logan was stunned. He didn't know why exactly he was stunned. Babies kicked. He knew that. Everyone knew that. He had two nephews. He'd felt Honor's babies kick before. And, yet, still… he was stunned. Apparently, despite how much he loved them to pieces, the idea of feeling his nephews kicking was a meager triviality in comparison to the idea of feeling his own baby moving around inside of Rory Gilmore.

"She's…." Logan didn't finish the thought out loud.

His entire attention was glued on Rory's stomach. His eyes were so singularly focused on her belly, that he didn't even see Rory reach out to grab his hand. The next thing he knew, Rory was pulling him closer and guiding his hand to her stomach.

As quickly as his hand made contact, he felt a sharp jab underneath Rory's skin pushing up against him. He took a sharp breath. In just a couple seconds, he felt two more kicks. A wide smile broke over his face, and he looked up at Rory. He could tell that she had been watching his reaction. And she was smiling.

"She's definitely not shy," Rory said, referring to the frequency of kicks. "She likes to make her presence known. Kind of like someone else I know…"

Logan's heart was bursting out of his chest. He'd never felt anything like this before – this sense of pure awe, wonder, and excitement. The idea of becoming a father was still scarier than he would care to admit. The countless number of ways he knew he could fail spectacularly at the entire endeavor would probably haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.

But, as he stood there next to Rory with their baby girl moving around inside of her between them, he knew that it all would be worth it. All of the fear, the heartache, the stress, the derailments of the dynastic plan that he'd expected his life to follow – he would live through it all again a thousand times over just for this moment.

He didn't know how exactly – but they were going to figure this out.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

Sunday, April 16, 2017

"Look at all my trails and tribulations, sinking in a gentle pool of wine. Don't disturb me now, I can see the answers. 'Till this evening is this morning, life is fine."

If today was Easter Sunday, Logan had the distinct feeling that he was the Judas Iscariot of the Huntzberger clan.

His mother still wasn't speaking to him. It had been a week since he'd dropped the bombshell on her regarding his wedding and his affair, and she was still being as icy to him as she was when he was eighteen-years-old and had gotten drunk at one of her charity auctions and accidently shattered some crystal sculpture thing that was apparently worth thousands of dollars.

His father was still talking to him, but he was keeping his distance from him in public – probably trying to smooth over the very rocky waters he was treading with his mom. Too big a display of comradery toward Logan right now would put him in the dog house longer than he already was. As it was, Logan would catch him casting glances over in his direction occasionally while he was talking to his siblings, but he hadn't invited him into any conversations.

As for the extended family, they had been keeping their distance as well. Logan had seen the eyes of his cousins shifting to him during hushed conversations all day long. The only family member that had gone out of their way to show him any display of affection was his Uncle David who had clapped him on the back and flashed him a sympathetic smile when he arrived at the house.

Of course, his Uncle David's wife left him fifteen years ago after she had discovered he'd gotten his secretary pregnant with twins. So… the gesture hadn't exactly made Logan feel better about himself.

Essentially, the only person who had seemed genuinely happy to see him was the priest that had shaken his hand after the family had made their biannual appearance at the Holy Communion Episcopal Church in order to renew the Protestant certification at the end of their W.A.S.P. degrees. But, he was pretty sure that the priest was required by nature of his profession to pretend to be happy to see everyone.

The bright side was that Logan was actually taking pretty well to his newly found status as the family pariah. He'd avoided countless hours of small talk and he'd been left alone to drink his cabernet and pilfer Reese's eggs out of baskets in peace. Plus, the massive Huntzberger family egg hunt was now well underway so he even had the benefit of having something to watch to break up the feelings of awkwardness.

And he really was watching, more than he ever had in years previous.

Children of varying ages were all running amok around the yard. His two and a half-year-old nephew Ethan was being escorted by his older brother Carter as he toddled around picking up eggs at ground level. Carter was obviously doing this at great personal sacrifice, and Logan had to smile at how cute it was.

But even with his nephews being adorable, his attention kept slipping somewhere else. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his cousin Charlotte's daughter. At two years old, she was moving at a pace similar to Ethan's, but she was entirely on her own. Her older relatives were whipping past her and nabbing colorful eggs out of every nook and cranny in the yard, but she was taking her time.

The concept of an egg hunt seemed to be pretty lost on her. She was just as enthralled with every dandelion, bug, or chunk of dirt that she saw as she was with the eggs that had been hidden all over the yard. One chunk of dirt had been so mesmerizing that she had picked it up and smeared it all over her pale blue and white Easter dress. He was sure her mother would be thrilled about that as soon as she saw it.

He was completely taken with her. But he had to admit as he watched her wander around the yard, that her strawberry blonde hair and green eyes were morphing to brown and blue in his mind. And instead of seeing her walking around alone, he was imaging Rory holding her hand as she pointed out where all the eggs were hiding and helped her slip them into her little basket.

Addison, the current subject of his attention, seemed to notice that he was watching her. She looked at him and giggled before picking up a purple plastic egg from the ground. She toddled over to him as fast as her little legs could carry her and she slammed into his shins, holding up the egg to him as she did.

"For me?" Logan asked with a smile, taking the proffered egg and thanking her for her generosity. Addison giggled again and lifted up her arms. Logan's heart started to flutter, and he picked her up, settling her on his hip.

"Are you having fun, Miss Addie?" he asked, tickling her around the middle as he did. Addison laughed and buried her face into his arm. He was just about to ask her if she'd gotten enough candy today when he heard a clicking shutter sound to his right.

He turned around and found Honor standing next to him. She was holding her phone in front of her face and was thoughtfully examining the screen.

"Oh, yeah, that's one for the books," she said. Logan rolled his eyes. Ever since she'd had kids, Honor had taken it upon herself to become the unofficial Annie Leibovitz of the family.

Addison's attention span had clearly run out by that point, and she was wiggling in Logan's arms. Relenting, he put her down on the ground and watched her toddle away from him over to her mother who was chatting with a few of his other cousins and nursing a Bellini. As soon as she saw the little girl, she squatted down to the ground and started inspecting the spot of dirt on her dress while asking someone to fetch her a Tide pen.

"Since when are you so into watching kids run around and grab eggs?" asked Honor. "Aren't you usually inside watching the baseball game by now?"

"It's night game," Logan explained with a look of annoyance. "Besides, I don't know if you've noticed but I've officially been ostracized."

"Oh, I noticed," Honor confirmed. Logan followed her glance as she looked around the yard and took in all of the faces still watching him and whispering into their drinks.

You'd think a house full of Huntzbergers would be used to scandal by now.

"And not just you," Honor continued. "I haven't seen Mom and Dad this cold to each other since the Montauk Incident of 1997."

That was the incident in which Shira had caught the maid leaving the bedroom of their rental house two hours after she was supposed to have been done working for the day. Shira, Honor, and Logan had left New York early that year.

"Well that would also be my fault," Logan said, taking a sip of his drink and wincing.

"Aw, baby brother," Honor cooed, mockingly. She then reached up a hand and started patting his cheek. "Haven't you had enough therapy by now to know that Mommy and Daddy fighting is not your fault?"

Logan twitched his face away from her touch and rolled his eyes.

"Well Mommy and Daddy are fighting because Mom is upset that Dad knew I was sleeping with Rory and was also pretty much certain that the baby she mentioned at dinner was mine and didn't say anything about it. So… actually, yeah. This time it's pretty much my fault."

"Oh please," Honor said with a roll of her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."

"I think the exact words that came out of her mouth the other night were 'You've turned my son into a carbon copy of you. I hope you're happy with yourself, you God damned son of a bitch.'"

"Well…" Honor said, flinching. "She's never been one to mince words…"

Logan and Honor were quiet for a second as the moment settled between them. Neither one of them were strangers to the dramatic upsets that occurred between their parents. It was part of the reason why they were so close. For the sixteen years that they lived in that house together, they were each other's only allies in a home that felt more like a battlefield. They survived by staying in the trenches together.

Logan trusted his sister more than anyone else on Earth. She had never left his side. Through all his screw ups and disappointments, she was always there. Even when she was angry at him – like now – she was always there. She was the one person who loved him unconditionally, something that - as he'd learned from his therapist - his parents were supposed to do. He could always trust her to tell him the truth. Even truths that he didn't want to hear.

And there had been one question that had been plaguing him for an entire week – longer if he was honest.

"Honor…" Logan said, his voice soft and serious. Honor turned to face him with a questioning glance.

"What?" she asked, her brow furrowing in concern at the saddened look on his face.

"Am I turning into Dad?"

Honor was struck silent as she looked at him. Her mouth hung open, and the lack of words pouring out told Logan everything that he needed to know.

"Logan…" she said. "That's a ridiculous question."

"It's not though is it?" he asked. He tried as hard as he could to shove his emotions down. "I was cheating on my fiancé for two years. I work all the time. I'm drinking a glass of wine at 11:30 AM. A couple months ago, my doctor told me to stop drinking coffee in the evenings."

"Logan, look around. Everyone on this patio is drinking wine at 11:30 AM. And the coffee thing - that's not you turning into Dad. That's just you approaching middle age. It happens to the best of us," Honor said with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm turning into Dad," he insisted. "Sometimes I'll be talking at work, and I'll hear something that makes me think that he's in the room. But then I look around and I realize that he isn't there at all. It's me. I heard myself."

"Everyone turns into their parents, Logan. Do you think I'm happy about all the stress smoking I do? The other night I gave myself a cigarette burn because Carter ran outside on the patio to find me and I had no choice but to hide my lit cigarette inside of my fist so he wouldn't see me. It still hasn't healed. Look."

Honor held up the palm of her hand to him and he could see the red and angry skin around the area that she was talking about.

"So you and Dad have some similarities. Who cares? That doesn't mean you're going to make all of his mistakes."

"Well, I've got a pretty good head start."

"Stop it," Honor said. "How many secretaries or interns have you slept with? How many people have you verbally accosted in the workplace? How many loved ones have you tried to subdue and control through coercion and emotional abuse? Because as far as I know, the answer is none. Unless you have some more secrets you'd like to tell me."

Logan didn't respond.

"Look, if you really want me to stand here and tell you that you're an asshole, then fine, I will. Because what you did to Odette was shitty and I'm pissed off about it. And the fact you were stupid enough to sleep with Rory Gilmore after what she did to you makes me want to wring your neck. But at the end of the day, it's nothing like Dad at all because it was Rory Gilmore."

Logan scoffed and shook his head. He couldn't help but feel like his sister was letting him off easy. But then it wouldn't be the first time Honor would be the one to coddle him after he made a massive mistake.

"I'm not sure it's that different at all," he said.

"Oh, Logan. Of course it is." Honor said. "You're still in love with her."

"I - "

"Don't."

Honor interrupted him before he could even present an argument to her statement. Although, it wasn't like arguing the fact would have changed her mind anyway. His sister was always able to see right through him.

"Oh, God," she said, suddenly.

Honor's hand reached out and grabbed at Logan's bicep as she steadied herself for what she was seeing. Following her glance, Logan saw that her attention was focused over at the pool area where her son was leading his little brother directly toward the nylon cover that was still stretched over the top of the top for the winter.

"Carter Joshua Abrahams!" she yelled. "Don't you step one foot onto that pool cover! There aren't any eggs over there!" She then mumbled something about needing to go and rushed over to the pool to stop her children before their mother had something else to lose her mind over for the day.

With Honor gone, Logan once again found himself alone. The egg hunt was winding down as most of the easy pickings had already been claimed. Only some of the older kids capable of finding and reaching the ones hidden in more advanced areas were still going. And with nothing to capture his attention anymore, the awkwardness was starting to settle back in.

Logan reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He didn't have anything to look at, but he thought that it would at least make it look as if something important was occupying his time. Sliding open the screen, he sighed at the sight of a little red "1" at the corner of his Facebook app. Bracing himself for whatever meme Colin or Finn tagged him in, he opened up the app and checked his notifications.

Rory Gilmore has sent you a friend request.

Logan was taken aback.

He started for a second at her profile picture, taking in the brilliant smile and the twinkling lights and pink flowers that surrounded her face. He wondered briefly where it was taken, but he was mostly taken with how beautiful she looked. He also had to laugh at the fact that Facebook thought it necessary to inform him that they had twenty-two mutual friends, just in the event that he wasn't exactly sure who she was.

Logan knew who she was.

Obviously, they were friends… in a loose sense of the word. They were having a baby together after all. But the last few years of their relationship had been so closeted and secretive that they had never jumped over to the side of social media friends. Their relationship had ended before most platforms really took off, and the years immediately following were mostly spent trying to ignore the fact that the other had ever existed. When they'd met up in Hamburg, they decided to refrain from making it known to the public that they were in touch again. That included not following each other on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter.

Up until last week, her number was still saved in his phone as 'Robbie Gilson.'

To most people, something as simple and superficial as a Facebook friend request wouldn't even be worth a second thought. But this was actually a really big deal for them. They were announcing to everyone that they were a part of each other's lives again. They were blowing the door off of the closet.

Logan's thumb hovered over the button for a moment as he steeled himself. Then, he took a deep breath and hit 'Confirm.'

With a dramatic tilt of his head, Logan swallowed down the rest of the wine. He made his way back into the house, dropping his glass off at the outdoor bar on the way. Nobody acknowledged him as he went, which was absolutely fine with him.

Logan was starting to feel like he'd made enough of an appearance at this party.

Rory wasn't sure why today of all days she mustered up the courage to hit the 'Add Friend' button.

His picture had been sitting in the 'People You May Know' section of her profile for ages – years actually. She saw it almost every time she logged on. She'd watched his picture change over the years – beard no beard, waves no waves, selfies to candids. But she'd never clicked the button. Until today.

It had been a week since their talk at her grandparents' house and things were moving along pretty well considering the circumstances. Logan had checked in on her pretty much every day. He'd jumped at the chance to come along with her to her six month scan this Wednesday, and she'd even invited him to come and see the Stars Hollow Easter festivities this afternoon. He'd told her that he had his family party in the morning, but he would try to make it out if he could.

Rory still didn't know if he was going to show up.

She had checked her phone for a text from him about three hundred times that morning, but she still hadn't gotten anything. And when she'd seen his name appear on her Facebook page as her mind was already consumed with him, she just couldn't stop herself from sending the request.

After she had done it, she started to worry that it was too soon for the Internet to start associating their names together. She almost had a meltdown about the possibility that he might get upset about it – especially so close after his break up with Odette. But, when the request was approved not five minutes later, her nerves went flying out the window.

Now she only hoped that he wouldn't find out that she was stalking him.

For the past several minutes, Rory had been sitting at a table in Luke's and scrolling through years worth of pictures. She recognized the people in a decent amount of them. There were dozens of pictures of him with Honor and what she assumed were her two boys. She'd scrolled quickly past a few photos that included his parents, not wanting to dwell on those for a moment longer than she had to. She'd smiled widely at a set of pictures from what looked to be another one of Finn's infamous themed birthday celebrations in 2010. By the looks of it, the theme that year had been Mad Men. Logan was wearing a sharp suit with a vintage mid-century-modern tie and a pair of art deco cufflinks. His hair was slicked back and he was holding a gold rimmed tumbler of scotch in his hand.

But, for every picture of a part of Logan's life that was recognizable to her, there were five that were completely and totally foreign.

His profile was full of countless photos of him with a group of people that she'd never seen before in her life. A girl with pink streaks in her asymmetrical hair, a guy constantly in cargo pants, a guy with an affinity for flannel that might actually rival Luke's. Coders by the looks of them. Part of his Silicon Valley crew.

There was another girl too. A girl that became a common repeating figure the further down Rory scrolled. For one particular chunk of time, it seemed like there wasn't a picture of Logan that was taken without her. They were together at formal events, together at baseball games, together at parties, together on hikes, together in what looked to be Logan's house.

She was pretty. Too pretty. She had absolutely flawless brown skin and thick black hair that cascaded down her shoulders with just a slight curl at the ends. She had curves that most women would pay a small fortune for, but that actually looked to be completely natural. Rory couldn't stop herself from hovering over her profile.

Seema Bhatt

1 mutual friend: Logan Huntzberger

Lives in: San Francisco, CA

Corporate Attorney at: Smithfield, Roberts, and Klein

She didn't like that she was getting so upset over this girl. After all, just a week ago Logan had been engaged. It wasn't like she was stranger to the idea that Logan had been with other women. Honestly, it wasn't even the fact that he'd very obviously been in a relationship with this woman that was causing her dismay.

It was more about the fact that she had no frame of reference for this part of his life. It made her feel like she didn't know Logan as well as she wanted to. She was no longer the person in his life who knew him better than anyone. She knew nothing about his life in Palo Alto… and this girl did.

Rory didn't like that feeling.

And she didn't know how to fix it.

"If you stay in here too long, you're going to miss the show of a lifetime out there."

With a small startle, Rory looked up from her phone and watched as Jess slid into the seat across from her. He gestured out the window to the town square where most of the town had been gathered all morning. Rory smiled, but shrugged.

"It's Stars Hollow," she said. "I'm sure by next week whatever shenanigans going on out there will be topped."

"I dunno," said Jess. "It seems like there was a misunderstanding about whether Kirk or Andrew was supposed to be the Easter Bunny this year."

"Oh boy," Rory said, peeking out of the window.

"It's about to turn into The Rumble in the Jungle," Jess said. "Although I guess it's more like The Rumble in the… Vegetable Garden? I dunno. Where do bunnies hang out?"

"Vegetable garden sounds right," Rory confirmed with a nod. She reached forward and locked her phone screen as it was sitting on the table. When she looked up, Jess was watching her.

"So…" he said. "What are you doing in here all by yourself?"

"Oh," Rory said. "I just needed to sit. My feet were starting to hurt. You know."

"Right," Jess said as he glanced down at the phone screen that was now black. Rory wondered if he had seen what she'd been looking at just moments before. The thought made her nervous. Although she didn't know why.

"I think I'm rested now though," she said. "If you wanna…"

Jess stood up and gestured toward the door.

"After you," he said before holding it open for her. Rory smiled and walked outside.

As soon as the two of them were hit with the fresh Stars Hollow air, they could immediately hear the sound of Kirk and Andrew fighting in front of the gazebo where one of them was supposed to be setting up to take pictures with children. The closer they got, the louder the arguing sounded.

One of the bunnies – Kirk by the sound of the voice – was attempting to tower over the other and poking a furry gloved finger into Andrew's chest as he declared that the gazebo was his territory. Andrew was insisting that there weren't any territories at all and that Kirk knew it was his year to be the bunny. Things got really serious when Kirk ripped the bunny head off of Andrew's costume and a nearby four year old girl started sobbing.

Jess was making a running commentary, but after the first couple of things he said, Rory's attention was completely stolen away by the sight of a familiar black car turning the corner in front of Miss Patty's.

Her heart started racing. She whipped her phone out of her pocket, only to see a screen blank from text notifications. He hadn't told her he was coming. Wouldn't he have told her? She put the thought away after realizing that this was, in fact, Logan Huntzberger and him showing up unannounced should hardly be a surprise to her. Her eyes followed the car all the way until it stopped in a parking spot next to Luke's and he climbed out.

"Maybe I should go around collecting bets… Personally, my money is on Andrew." Jess was saying. "Rory?"

"Hey," Rory said. But she wasn't addressing any of the words that had come from Jess. She'd taken a step away from him at this point and was walking toward the edge of the square where they met up on the sidewalk. Logan bent down and kissed her cheek in greeting.

"I wasn't sure if you were going to show up," she said.

"Three hours of Huntzbergers is enough for any person," Logan said. "Plus, the mood was a bit…icy."

"Can't imagine why," Rory quipped.

"I brought you something," Logan said, holding out a light green cellophane bag filled with candy. Rory grabbed the crinkled bag and peeked inside.

"Cadbury crème eggs!" Rory exclaimed with a smile. "My favorite."

"I remember," he said.

"Where did you land all of these?"

"Stole them from my sister," Logan explained with a shrug.

"Aw," Rory said. "Poor Honor."

"Nah, it's pay back," Logan said. "She stole a piece of cheesecake from Eileen's that my mom saved for me when she was pregnant. Besides this is going to a better cause."

"Sounds like they were both going to hungry pregnant ladies," said Rory with a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, but these are going to you," Logan said.

Rory blushed and twisted the top of the bag closed.

"So…" she started with a tone as if she was looking for something to say. As soon as she landed on it, she lifted her hands in the air and gestured around her. "Welcome back to the Hollow. Not much has changed in ten years."

"Less hay than I remember," Logan said. Rory chuckled. "Besides, I was here six months ago."

"Oh. Right. Duh," Rory said. She could hit herself for sounding so stupid. It was like she was twenty years old and sitting next to him at a bar table filled with hundreds of pages of research all over again. "How could I forget about that?"

She'd only been carrying around the baby that had resulted from that visit for six months.

"Well we weren't here for very long," Logan said, letting her off the hook.

An awkward silence settled between them. The last time they'd spoken, they left on friendly terms. But it was still strange. How does one navigate a relationship that had gone from near engagement to seven years of radio silence to illicit lovers to friendly and mutually single co-parents? If there was a manual, Rory could certainly use it.

"I think we should get out of here before the cops show up. They're still on me about the chalk outline in front of Taylor's."

Had it been anyone else in the entire world, Rory would have been grateful for the interruption. But, as it was, it was the one person who could actually manage to make this situation even more awkward than it already was.

Jess walked right up to her, stopping at her shoulder. She watched as Logan's eyes moved between his face and hers. His hands went instantly into his pockets, something that after years of being with him she recognized as an immediate tell that his defenses were up.

"Um… sure," Rory said. "Jess, you remember Logan. Logan, Jess."

"Of course," Logan said. He pursed his lips and stuck out his hand. "Nice to see you again."

Jess simply stared at the offered hand for a moment. His glance then flitted up to Logan's for a brief second before returning. Rory glared at him, and he seemed to think better of snubbing it.

"Yeah," he said as he reached out and shook Logan's hand. Yet, even as he did, he made it abundantly clear that he was not happy about the newest addition to their group. His eyes were hard and his jaw was clenched.

"Um, Logan, we were gonna go back to the house and watch Donnie Darko. It's kind of our Easter tradition."

"Sounds just macabre enough for Easter."

"Do you want to come?" Rory asked. Jess stiffened next to her, but she ignored him. The last thing she wanted was for Logan to leave after she'd been waiting all day for a text from him.

"Do you want me to?" he asked her. She noted as his eyes glanced briefly over to Jess.

"You drove all the way here."

"That's not what I asked."

Rory took a deep breath.

"Yes," she admitted. She could feel the anger rolling off of Jess. She didn't care. "Yes, I want you to come. If you want to."

"Okay," Logan said with a nod. "Do you want a ride?"

Jeff scoffed, presumably at the idea of getting into Logan's Tesla. She knew the mere thought of it probably made him absolutely crazy. Jess never understood why anyone would spend more than $25,000 on a car. All they did was depreciate in value the second you drove them off the lot. It seemed the ecological benefits weren't weighing out the ridiculous price tag in his mind.

"We were just going to walk."

Logan raised an eyebrow and scratched at his scalp.

"Are you sure that's okay for - "

"Walking is good, Logan," Rory explained. "The doctor said I should walk at least thirty minutes a day."

"Alright," Logan conceded. His head snapped over to his car in front of Luke's and he looked back at them. "I'll give you guys a head start. I'm going to pop into Luke's and get some coffee. I'll meet you back at the house."

"Okay," Rory said. "See you soon."

"Can I get you anything?"

"I got my eggs," Rory said, lifting up the bag in her hand.

Before they parted, Logan smiled and lifted his hand to her upper arm and gave it an affectionate squeeze. Then, he turned around and walked across the street to the diner, leaving Jess and Rory alone again in the town square.

"Really, Rory?" Jess asked. "I have to spend my Sunday with Blonde Dick from Yale?"

Rory was less than amused by the return of the moniker he'd thought up eleven years ago – even if it was well deserved at the time. But, she didn't have the energy to be mad. And the truth was that both Jess and Logan were important parts of her life. They were going to need to learn to be around each other.

"Please be nice," Rory said. "He's the father of my child."

"Me?" Jess asked as they started moving their way through the town square toward the house. "I'm always nice."

"Yeah," Rory said. "Try that on someone who hasn't known you for half your life."

"I'll be nice if you give me one of your Cadbury eggs." Rory scoffed at the response.

"Absolutely not, mister."

"Well then I guess Blonde Dick from Yale is just going to get what's coming to him."

Rory sighed. Jess was partially joking. She knew that by the slight hint of levity in his tone. But she couldn't help but worry about the implications of both Jess and Logan being an active part of her life for the same time. She wasn't exactly sure how to navigate these waters. But then, she guessed she had no choice but to take to the sea.

When Logan stepped into Luke's, it was significantly less crowded than it had been the Sunday before. In fact, significantly less crowded was a bit of an understatement. The place was completely empty.

With most of the town being outside in the square and it being a little bit past the weekly brunch window, he guessed that made sense. But, he couldn't help but feel a little remorseful about it. He'd had enough awkwardness for one day and now he was facing down being alone with Rory's step-father on top of it.

Luke looked up as he walked in the door. From the looks of it he had been writing some kind of inventory list. As soon as they made eye contact, Logan gave him a slightly shy smile and walked over to the counter.

"Hey, Luke."

"Logan," Luke replied.

This was the time that most people usually put an order in. But Logan was completely distracted. As soon as he had greeted Luke, his gaze had gone right out the window and back to the town square where Rory and Jess were walking together.

Was he stupid for leaving them alone?

Was he even allowed to think that way?

"What can I do for you?" Luke asked.

Logan, startled out of his thought process, turned his attention back to the diner owner and put in an order for a to-go coffee. As soon as Luke started pouring into his tall white cup, Logan was right back to looking out the window. They were getting further and further away from him, and he couldn't help but have a terrible sense of foreboding about it.

"Worried about something?" Luke asked. Logan was startled again.

"What?" he asked.

"You look a bit on edge," Luke explained as he slid the coffee over to Logan.

"Oh… I…" Logan trailed off.

And then, from an impulse somewhere deep within in subconscious, Logan found himself sitting down on a stool in front of Luke.

"I'm worried about a lot of things, actually," he admitted, his voice trailing off with sigh.

For a moment, Logan watched as Luke merely nodded. The older man then spread his hands out on over the counter and gave a short and sharp laugh of recognition.

"I know how you feel," he said before he grabbed the towel that was hanging over his shoulder and started wiping things down.

Logan was about to make a sarcastic comment about how no one could possibly know how he felt right now, but he suddenly remembered that wasn't the case. He was sitting in front of a man who knew exactly what he was going through. And even though he and Luke had never been particularly close, he suddenly felt a sense of comfort that – until this moment – he hadn't been aware he desperately needed.

"She should have told you," Luke said. "I'm pretty upset at her about that."

"I don't want you and Rory fighting over me," Logan said.

"It's not really about you," Luke explained.

Logan nodded. He knew what Luke was saying. It wasn't who she didn't tell. It was that she didn't tell. He would have been just as upset if it was him or Paul or… Jess.

"Look, Logan, we're both grown men here," Luke said, gesturing between the two of them.
"There's no point in pretending that everything was sunshine and rainbows between us ten years ago. You made a lot of stupid decisions back then and we were always worried about you tangling Rory up in them."

Logan flinched softly. He was grateful for the honesty, but at the same time he still had a lot of tender wounds around the subject of just how much Lorelai and Luke disliked him when he was with Rory. It took her two years before she even brought him home. He wasn't an idiot.

"But…" Luke continued with a sigh. "With as much as I wanted to dislike you – and believe me I wanted to. You'll get that about sixteen or so years from now – even I eventually came around a bit when I started spending some more time around you and realized that your heart has always been in the right place. Especially when it comes to Rory. If you can remind her of that, then I'm not sure you need to worry about... that."

Luke nodded his head toward the window. Logan turned around. He could still make out the retreating figures of Rory and Jess down the street.

When Logan turned back around, Luke had returned to busying himself with tasks around the diner. Realizing that he'd taken up enough of the man's time, Logan hopped off the stool and reached into his back pocket. He was just about to pull a few bills out when Luke's attention returned to him.

"It's on the house," Luke said. Logan was about to open his mouth to protest, but Luke cut him off with a raised hand. "Family discount."

"Thanks," Logan said, weakly.

Luke waved him away, and he grabbed his coffee and walked out the door.

Family discount.

The words were ringing in his ear. They'd surprised him at first, enough to make him want to argue the fact that he wasn't family. But his response had died in his throat as he realized that it wasn't entirely true. This man was his daughter's grandfather.

As Logan slipped into his car, he was suddenly overtaken with the new reality around the his concept of family and what it meant for him going forward. Ever since he was a child, the word family had been laced with obligation, pressure, and disappointment. It was more about politics than genuine connection and more about alliances than moral support.

Now, Logan had an entirely different idea of what his family was, and it wasn't the group of people that he'd just left all dressed in their Sunday best while getting a morning buzz on a $100,000 patio.

Just as his imagination flashed to Rory and a visual of their future unborn daughter, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and slid his finger across the Facebook notification banner, opening the app instantly.

Rory Gilmore has liked a post that you are tagged in.

A touch of the finger later, Logan was looking at a post from his sister marked with the caption "Proof that Logan actually did show up to Easter this year." Below it was an image of a familiar scene. Logan standing in his parents' backyard. Little Addison on his hip with her face buried into his arm. A wide smile on his face as he tickled her around the middle.

Maybe Luke was onto something after all.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Sunday, April 16, 2017 – Part II

"There are other things that need to be taken into account here, like the whole spectrum of human emotion. You can't just lump everything into these two categories and then just deny everything else."

"Is it deep though? Or is it just confusing?"

Jess wanted to punch this guy.

He'd managed to get pretty far through the day without feeling the intense aching burn for violence. At first, he had been pleasantly surprised with himself. But, he was starting to think that the only reason for that was the fact that up until now they'd been watching a movie. And, as the Gilmore bylaws clearly stated, talking during movies was strictly verboten.

Now, he was opening up his mouth. And with every word that poured from his overly confident rich white prick lips, Jess was getting closer and closer to losing his cool.

It wasn't just what he was saying either. It was his entire demeanor. Currently, he was standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, leaning up against the frame with an 'I don't give a shit' air about him. He was holding one of his uncle's beers in his hand and waving it around as he tried to make whatever bullshit point he was trying to make about one of the greatest cult films ever made – as if he knew better.

Of course he thought he knew better.

"Are you serious?" Rory asked, turning around to face him. Her mouth had fallen open with surprise at his question, but she didn't seem to be nearly as offended by his cocky attitude. She almost seemed cheerful. Jess wanted to shiver. "A movie about quantum physics, time travel, parallel universes, and the satirization of late 80s upper middle class suburbia isn't deep enough for you?"

"I'm just not sure what exactly the guy's goal is," Logan continued with a shrug. "Yeah he mentions quantum physics and the paradoxes of time travel, but it doesn't seem like he actually has anything interesting to say about them. And in the end he has to rely on some weird contrived mythical element in order for any of the chain of events to make sense. Come on, Ace, you're a writer. Just because you have your main character literally call out the fact that you're relying on Deus Ex Machina doesn't make it any less lazy."

"Oh, so, in order for you to like the movie Richard Kelly would have had to actually solve all the mysteries of the universe. Is that what you're saying?"

"No…" Logan said with an arrogant upturn of his lips that wasn't helping with Jess' urge to connect his fist into his face. "All I'm saying is…if you need to release a director's cut in order to have people understand your movie, then maybe it isn't as genius as you think it is."

The smirk that spread on Logan's face after he made his point was one of the most disgusting things that Jess had ever seen in his life. He was looking at Rory as if he'd won. As if she couldn't possibly come up with something to answer that particular point. As if he had trapped her into an intellectual corner and he was getting off on it.

Thankfully, Jess knew Rory better than that.

But, then, to his absolute horror, Rory relented. Rory Gilmore – the girl with the never ending spirit – the girl who was never afraid of an argument – the girl who could face down Paris Geller and laugh - stopped fighting. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish for a couple of seconds. And then, she sagged into the couch, crossed her arms over her chest, and stopped arguing.

The urge to punch was turning into the urge to murder.

"Okay," Rory said. She was shaking her head in disbelief, but she didn't follow up with a statement of defense. She seemed to just double down on her decision to give in. "Fine. I get it. You've made your point. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Logan asked. His eyebrow curled up in a way that made it entirely clear that he had a reason in his mind that Rory owed him an apology. Owed him an apology for disagreeing with him about a fucking movie and having the gall to argue with him over it.

How had Rory ever degraded herself into being with a guy like this? And how had she allowed it to happen again ten years later? The Rory Gilmore he knew would have sliced this guy's balls off and handed them to him on a silver platter.

Jess was about to tell him exactly where to shove his balls when Rory piped up with another remark.

"I'm sorry for that thing that I said that one time after you forced me to watch Blade Runner."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Logan said, taking a sip of his beer.

The mood in the room abruptly changed, and suddenly Jess had the distinct feeling that the only person that didn't know what they were talking about was him. The argument had taken a sharp turn to the left, and he was reeling from the gravitational shift.

"But I'd just like to state for the record that this is in no way the same thing. This movie has one recut. Ridley Scott had to recut Blade Runner like a million times, and each time he somehow ended up having it make less sense than the time before."

"How would you know? We only watched the final cut!" Logan asked with a dramatic lift of his shoulder.

"Because," Rory said. "The only way I was even able to make out what was going on in that movie was to have tabs upon tabs of open research in front of me. And don't even get me started on the new one."

"The new one was great!" Logan argued. "And, what? You'd rather listen to Harrison Ford's terrible voice over?" Logan asked, incredulously.

"I'd rather never have had to watch it at all!" Rory said. "That was the darkest night of our relationship. I can't believe we're still fighting about this, and now you've dragged poor innocent Jake Gyllenhaal into it…"

"I did nothing of the sort. I just stated my opinion on an entirely different movie. You're the one that brought up the Blade Runner argument." said Logan. Rory shook her head again.

"You're so full of shit."

"And you're so easily goaded."

The smiles that they were both flashing each other as they uttered their last statements made Jess' skin crawl. He was starting to feel as if he was trapped in the middle of some sordid foreplay scenario. It wasn't something that he was ready or willing to handle.

"I need a beer," he said as he slapped his hands on his knees and stood up from the couch.

"I can grab it," Logan said, pointing behind him and gesturing to his proximity to the kitchen. Jess rolled his eyes.

"No thanks," Jess mumbled as he brushed past him and walked into the kitchen.

As he entered the other room, he could hear their conversation continuing down the hall. Rory was muttering something about having nightmares full of dolls with Daryl Hannah's face, and how if she ever caught him forcing their daughter to watch Blade Runner then she would call social services.

This was not how he had expected his Easter to go.

He'd left his family early for this – not that spending time with Liz and TJ was his favorite thing to do. But, he was serious when he'd said to Luke that he was making an conscious effort to be a bigger part of Doula's life. When she was little, he hadn't really known what to say or do around her. But, now that she was older, it was starting to feel like she was this little miniature person that he could actually talk to. She was smart and funny. He liked her.

Yet now, he'd checked out of his parent's house early to spend the day alone with Rory and had unexpectedly found himself a third wheel. A third wheel to a guy he really couldn't stand.

The darkest night of their relationship.

Jess rolled his eyes as he popped the cap off of the bottle he'd grabbed from the fridge. Was she really saying that about an argument over a movie?

Jess knew three things about this guy. One – he was a mean and condescending drunk who liked to throw his money and privilege around to make himself feel superior to people. Jess had literally learned that first hand. Two – he'd cheated on her on at least one occasion which had led her to show up at his doorstep crying. And three – he had regulated her to some sort of side piece while he was engaged to someone else and had gotten her pregnant in the process.

And, yet, somehow a stupid argument over the merits of a Harrison Ford movie was the darkest night of their relationship.

If he didn't need the alcohol in his bloodstream so badly right now he would throw his beer across the room.

He hadn't felt his angry and helpless when it came to Rory since… Dean.

When he was seventeen-years-old, he thought that dealing with Dean Forrester would be the worst obstacle he'd face when developing a relationship with Rory. When he'd eventually climbed that obstacle, he even had the audacity to think that he was in the clear. He'd never imagined he would be faced with a person that was a million times worse than Dean could have ever been.

Dean was easy. Dean and Rory didn't really have anything in common. She was lightyears ahead of him in intellect. She was so much more culturally aware than he was. She had lofty goals and aspirations and Dean was a townie simpleton who only ended up leaving Stars Hollow when his second wife got a job somewhere else. Rory had always wanted more than that, and Jess knew that he could give it to her. Dean was a non-issue.

This guy…. Well this guy was different.

As much as Jess hated to admit it, Logan Huntzberger was far from Dean Forrester.

Logan was smart – smart enough that it actually made him wonder whether he could have gotten into Yale on his own without Daddy's money and influence. He'd just watched a movie infamous for being one of the densest films ever made for the first time and followed it without so much as a question. And, when it was over he'd jumped in with a conversation about the mixing of wormholes and Hawking and Joseph Campbell and called it all nonsense.

Logan was worldly. From what Jess had heard, he'd lived in London, New York, and San Francisco. He had a fiancé who lived in Paris. He'd attended school all up and down the eastern seaboard. And he'd traveled everywhere else. He apparently spoke almost perfect French (probably a side effect of having a French fiancé), probably enough Japanese and Mandarin to be able to exchange pleasantries in a business meeting by the look of him, and he'd no doubt studied plenty of Latin at all of his blue blooded private schools.

Logan was culturally aware. Definitely more culturally aware than the average wasp. He hadn't let a single one of Rory's endless references drop since the second he'd arrived in Stars Hollow and most of them involved cult movies and alternative rock bands – things that usually went over the head of most blond white frat boys. He'd even chimed in with a few of his own.

And, lastly, Logan understood Rory. He knew her on her a level that Jess had once thought only he did. He knew how to push her buttons as evidenced by the little display that he'd just walked out of. He knew the Gilmore movie rules. He knew that she loved Cadbury crème eggs. And the bump that was sitting underneath Rory's sweatshirt was a constant reminder of the fact that he knew her in a way that Jess absolutely did not.

Jess cringed at his own thought. It felt dirty. If felt wrong. And he hated himself for thinking it. But he couldn't stop. The idea that Logan Huntzberger knew what it was like to go to bed with Rory and he didn't haunted him. It had been eleven years since he even needed to think about that dick's hands on her. But, the revelation last week that the same asshole she'd been with in college was the father of her baby had sent him absolutely reeling.

It was a living nightmare.

Up until last week, Jess had thought that his future was on a clear path. He'd committed himself to spending more time in Stars Hollow. He'd committed himself to seeing his family more. He was thirty-three and he was ready to commit himself to actually settling down. And he knew who he wanted to do it with. He wasn't even afraid of the idea of raising another man's child. He was ready.

But now… Now Jess wasn't even sure what he was doing here.

Thankfully, he was saved from having to figure that out by the sound of the front door swinging open.

"Okay," the loud voice of Lorelai echoed from the entry way along with the thump of her purse hitting the ground. "The next time I get the crazy idea in my head to let a bunch of small animals into my inn for the amusement of children, please stop me. I'm pretty sure there are still rogue chicks hiding out in there. I thought I heard a peep when I was leaving. Michel is never going speak to me a – Logan."

Lorelai's rant about the Dragonfly's wayward Easter activities was cut abruptly short when she walked through the entry way and noticed Logan leaning against the doorframe. The silence that followed reminded Jess immediately of the atmosphere that used to exist whenever she would walk into a room and see him. Against his better judgement, he actually felt a pang of sympathy for the guy. But he managed to squash it down pretty quickly.

"Hi, Lorelai," Logan said. The playful tone of voice that he'd carried just a few seconds ago was gone. "Happy Easter."

Deciding that he didn't want to miss whatever drama was about to ensue, Jess finally decided that it was safe to leave the kitchen. As he walked through the hall, Lorelai was still talking a mile a minute. Her discomfort with the situation was palpable.

"Right. Yes. Happy Easter," she said, forcing a smile. "So glad you are here. With us. In my house. What a nice surprise."

The moment that Lorelai's eyes landed on Jess, her discomfort seemed to multiply tenfold. She let out a big sigh and her gaze flashed momentarily to Rory.

Jess wasn't at all worried that Lorelai was unhappy to see him. Their relationship had grown quite a bit in the time that she and Luke had reunited. On good days, he could even say that they actually liked each other. Instead, Jess was confident that her discomfort was entirely due to the blond that she had not expected to see today and the fact that Rory had decided to invite both of them over at the same time.

It had made Jess quite uncomfortable as well.

"And Jess…" Lorelai continued. "Wow. Fun…"

"Mom…" Rory said with a tone of warning in her voice. A dispute was now officially bubbling between them. Only an idiot wouldn't be able to feel it.

"Rory, can I talk to you outside for a sec?"

With a heavy sigh and a look of apology to both of them, Rory lifted herself off the couch and followed Lorelai through the kitchen and unto the back porch. Jess was about to address the fact that Logan had brought a pall over the day with his presence here, but he was beaten the punch by the guy himself.

"Well, looks like my welcome is officially worn out," he said with a sigh as he walked back into the living room and grabbed his phone off the table.

"Sure seems like it," Jess agreed. If Logan wanted to leave, Jess certainly wasn't going to try to convince him otherwise. In fact, those words were the first words out of Logan's mouth all day that hadn't made Jess want to punch him.

Logan tilted his head in a nod. The expression on his face illustrated that he was more than aware that Lorelai didn't want him here and he didn't need confirmation of the fact.

"Yeah," he said, checking something on his phone before he slipped it back into his pocket and started rooting around for his keys. "I've never exactly been Lorelai's favorite person. You know how it is…"

Jess did know how it was. But he didn't like the fact that Logan knew that Jess knew how it was. How much exactly did Logan know about his relationship with Rory? How much had they talked about their pasts when they were together?

"Lorelai's shit list is not a good place to be."

"I'm familiar with the territory," Logan said with a deep breath. "Could probably apply for citizenship by now."

Jess didn't respond. He just stood there, having now taken up the spot in the doorway that Logan himself had inhabited just moments before. However, now it was just who held the power of a 'I don't give a shit' lean. It felt good.

"Anyway…" Logan said. "Bye."

Logan brushed past him into the kitchen and toward the backdoor to say his goodbyes to Rory. But, about halfway through the kitchen he suddenly stopped, paused for a second, and then turned around. He had a sheepish look on his face and he started walking back toward Jess.

Apparently their interaction wasn't over.

"Listen, uh…" Logan reached a hand up and started scratching his head. He wasn't making eye contact, and Jess' discomfort was increasing. "I should have said something earlier. But I didn't want to make things awkward in front of Rory."

Every single defense that Jess had was instantly raised up. He stood up straight, squaring his shoulders off in preparation for what was coming. And Jess knew what was coming.

This was the part where Logan told him to back off. Told him to stay away from Rory. Told him that he was the father of her baby and he didn't like the fact that Jess was sniffing around and getting in the way. This is where he made some bullshit claim to both of them and insinuated that Rory was his property.

But Jess had no intention of doing anything of the sort. Instead, he was preparing for a fight. And unfortunately, to his extreme vexation, Logan looked like he could actually hold his own so it was not going to be an easy one.

"I owe you an apology."

That was not the fist that Jess was expecting Logan to throw.

"What…?" he asked, kicking himself for how dumbfounded he sounded.

"For the time we met back at Yale. I know it was a long time ago but… anyway. I'd had a really bad fight with my – actually - no. Sorry. It doesn't matter. I was a dick to you. And I'm really sorry about that."

"Okay…"

"I've felt really bad about that for a long time, actually. And not just because Rory broke up with me for a while after that – which I don't blame her for. I was an asshole. I was feeling really insecure and then I saw my girlfriend with some other guy, and I just lost it. Not that that's an excuse. It was stupid. I made her feel like I didn't trust her which wasn't true. I was feeling like a total fuck up that night and you were there and had written a book. And I just… took all of my insecurities out on you. It was juvenile and stupid. And I'm sorry."

Jess was speechless. In a matter of moments, Logan had managed to turn his entire perception of what was going on completely on its head. He wasn't sure what this was. Was it a genuine apology? Was it was a manipulative trick to try to get into Jess' good graces as to not make Rory upset?

Strangely, judging by the look on Logan's face… Jess was actually thinking that he really meant it.

"Anyway," Logan said reaching out his hand for the second time that day. "I hope we can put it past us."

Jess' eyes traveled down to the proffered hand. But, this time, he didn't scoff. He couldn't have uttered a sound if he wanted to. Instead, by way of some kind of trippy autopilot, he found himself lifting up his hand and shaking it before watching Logan head for the back door.

As he slipped outside, Jess was left alone with his thoughts. His hand was still tingling from the sensation of the handshake.

He'd expected a lot of things to happen as a result of spending this afternoon with Logan. He'd expected to think that he was just as big of an asshole as he'd been ten years ago. He'd expected to think that Rory and her daughter would be so much better off without him. He'd expected to think that all he needed to do was show Rory how much better he was for her than this guy and everything would be fine. He expected to jump up in joy the moment that Logan walked out of the door and left them alone.

What he never expected to think as he was watching Logan walk away… was that maybe he was wrong about him?

It didn't make any sense.

There had to be an angle.

And, yet, he had the distinct feeling in his gut that there wasn't.

What the hell had just happened here?

As soon as the door closed behind them, Rory was immediately on the defense.

She didn't know what her mother was thinking, dragging her out onto the patio for a private conversation the instant she saw Logan in the house.

They'd been having such a great time. Logan and Jess had been a bit quiet around each other, but overall they seemed to be getting along. They'd watched one of her favorite movies. They'd discussed it. She and Logan were talking like they used to – lighthearted and quippy and "argumentative." It had felt so right.

Now that was all out the window because her mother couldn't get past a twelve year old grudge.

"What, Mom?" she asked with a shrug.

"Rory, what are you thinking?" Lorelai asked, flinging her hand back toward the door in a gesture toward the people inside. Rory let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm thinking it would be nice to spend some time with the father my child so we can rebuild a a friendly relationship before she is born."

"Oh my God," Lorelai said. Both of her hands flew to her forehead and she started rubbing her brow. Rory almost rolled her eye, but she was able to contain herself.

"I didn't realize inviting him over here was going to upset you so badly," Rory said.

She honestly was confused. She knew that Lorelai had never particularly liked Logan, and that she was still put off after the comment he'd made about getting a lawyer. But, she really didn't expect her to have a complete meltdown over the fact that he was over here. After all, she knew that Logan was going to be involved in the baby's life. She knew that she was going to have to get used to Logan again eventually.

"Why is Jess here?" Lorelai asked.

"Because we were watching Donnie Darko!" Rory explained. "We've done it like three years in a row. You started the tradition. You told me this morning to go ahead without you because you were going to be stuck at the Inn. Remember?"

"Rory…" Lorelai said with a pleading tone.

"I don't understand why you're so upset. Things have been going really well this week with Logan. We've decided to be friends. And Jess is my friend - "

"They're not your friends, Rory."

Rory was struck by that statement. She gawked.

"Yes they are. We were just watching a movie…"

"Rory. They are not your friends," Lorelai repeated. "They are two men who are both in love with you. I know it. They know it. The only one who doesn't know it is you. God, Rory, you're not seventeen anymore. I shouldn't have to explain this to you."

"You're being ridiculous," said Rory, slowly. Confusion was dripping from her voice. "You're mad that I invited Logan over here without telling you, and now you're spinning this into something that it isn't…"

"I'm not mad that you invited Logan over here!" Lorelai said. "A little notification would have been nice so I wouldn't have been blind sighted the moment I walked in the door, but I'm not mad that he's here."

"Then why are you so upset?"

"Because you invited them both over here alone, and you're pretending like nothing is going on! God I never thought I'd do this, but here goes…" Lorelai murmured while looking up in the air. She then fixed her expression on Rory and took a deep breath. "Jess is family now, Rory. You can't do this to him."

Rory had no idea where to even begin with that statement.

Since the moment Lorelai had dragged her out here, she had been absolutely sure that her problem lay with Logan's presence. But, now she was suddenly upset about Jess? And upset with the fact that she was apparently doing something untoward with him? It made no sense at all.

"What?" she asked, incredulously. "I'm not doing anything to him."

"Yes. You're not," Lorelai said with a nod. "And you need to make it abundantly clear to him that you never intend to."

Rory's mouth dropped open at the innuendo. She didn't like what her mother was implying – that Jess was interested in something that he clearly wasn't. They had been spending more time together in the past few months than they had in years, and he had never said or done anything to make her think that he intended to be anything other than a friend and confidant.

"This is insane…" Rory insisted. "Jess just wants to be my friend."

"Jess has never wanted to be your friend, Rory," said Lorelai. "He didn't when you were in high school. And he doesn't now."

"You're so off base…"

"I'm not," Lorelai said. "Jess is in love with you. Why do you think he's been coming to Stars Hollow so often lately? To see Liz and TJ? You know that he can barely stand to be in a room with them for longer than an hour."

"He's visiting his sister. And Luke!"

"And yet he hardly spends any time with them when he's here."

Lorelai sighed. The anger had gone from her tone by this point, and was replaced with something that sounded more like pleading – as if she was begging Rory to see something that she didn't think was there.

"Rory, Jess has been hung up on you since the moment he moved here to live with Luke. In his mind, you're it. And he's been willing to wait it out and do his own thing while you went to school and traveled the world and sought out your career. But now that's all over. Now you're here and you're pregnant and you're settling down and you're moving on to a new phase in your life. Did you never stop to think about why - out of all the time he's had - he chose now to start haunting Stars Hollow again?"

"Because his sister is getting older and he doesn't want to miss out on a relationship with her!"

"Because he wants to be here to settle down with you. He wants to pick up where you guys left off. He even wants to raise your baby with you – which, hey, I gotta give him credit for."

"You're out of your mind," Rory said. "You can't possibly know that."

"Rory, everyone knows that. Babette and Patty have a pool going."

"Well it's none of Babette and Patty's business!" Rory yelled.

She couldn't believe she was out here having this conversation right now. She couldn't believe that her mother of all people was standing in front of her defending Jess. She didn't understand why her mom had to ruin a perfectly innocent afternoon like this, and she was starting to get more than a little testy about it.

"I invited Logan to Stars Hollow for Easter. I didn't even know for sure if he was going to show up. So, there was no point in cancelling my plans with Jess. And when Logan did show up, I asked him to come to the house with us to watch a movie and we had a good time. I don't know what else you think is going on here. But that was it."

"I don't think there's anything else going on," Lorelai said, shaking her head and looking down at her feet.

"Then what - "

"It sounds like it's exactly what I thought it was. You're using Jess as an insurance policy in the event that Logan doesn't show up the way that you want him to."

Rory could hear her heart beating in her chest. For whatever reason, those words had cut through her like a knife. She was frozen in thought, defenseless. And the only explanation she had as for why was that her mother might actually be onto something that she didn't want to admit to herself.

Suddenly, she was angry. Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe it was the stress of the week getting to her again. Maybe it was the fact that her Mom had come in and ruined her perfectly nice holiday with insights into her personal life that she wasn't even ready to contemplate on her own yet. But, whatever the reason, she felt like lashing out.

"Well you would know something about that, wouldn't you?" Rory asked. Her mother's face fell, and Rory's anger quickly morphed into shame and regret.

"I would," Lorelai admitted with a nod. "So, I'd think you'd be smart enough to listen to me when I tell you that it's not a good idea."

An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Rory didn't know what to say, and she could tell that her mother was hurt by the accusation that Rory had just thrown at her. She wanted to apologize, but her stupid pride was getting in the way.

The sound of two light knocks on the door broke up the tension for them. Both of them startled at the sound and a couple of seconds later the door opened, revealing Logan on the other side.

"Hey," he said as he popped out and closed the door behind him. "Sorry to interrupt."

"You aren't interrupting," Rory said, trying to hide the scowl on her face. The furrow of Logan's brow told her that she was unsuccessful. He could tell that she was upset. He was always able to tell when she was upset.

"I'm gonna head out," he said as he affectionately rubbed his hand along her arm. Disappointment shot through Rory's heart like a bullet. She didn't want him to go. They'd only had a few hours together and most of that time was taken up by the movie. They'd hardly even talked.

This was all her mother's fault.

"You don't have to leave. You're welcome to say," she insisted. The last thing she wanted was Logan feeling like her mother didn't want him here. If he started to think that he had to win over Lorelai's affection again after he'd struggled so hard the first time, Rory was afraid that he might start backing off.

She was confident that Logan picked up on the subtext of her plea for him to stay, but it didn't seem to make a difference. Logan, ever the socialite, smiled at her and then deflected the reality of the situation with a bullshit tone of nonchalance.

"Nah, I should get back. My mom's probably got a PI out on me by now. I slipped out pretty quietly."

"Right, sure," Rory agreed with a nod.

"Thank you for inviting me," he said with a soft smile. "I had a good time."

As they locked eyes, Rory was overtaken by the look of affection on his face. She breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't seem upset. If anything, it seemed like he was trying to make it abundantly clear to her without words that he wasn't upset.

If only she felt the same.

"I'm glad you came."

"I'm glad I came too."

A warm fuzzy sensation spread throughout her at the words. They locked eyes for a brief moment. There was so much more that Rory wanted to say, and Logan looked like he had a few thoughts as well. But, as it was, they weren't alone. Her mother was standing right next to them – a fact that Logan chose the next moment to acknowledge.

"Lorelai," Logan greeted with a pursed smile.

"Logan."

"It's good to see you again. Sorry for the intrusion."

Her mother at least had the good sense to look contrite.

"Oh," Lorelai said with a sympathetic air. "It's not an intrusion. Really. Sorry if I made it feel otherwise."

"Not at all," Logan assured. He was lying. He turned his attention back to Rory. "I'll see you Wednesday?"

"Yeah," Rory said with a smile. "Wednesday."

She couldn't wait. She looked forward to all of her scans – something that had actually surprised her considering how much the concept of pregnancy usually freaked her out. But, this would be the first one that Logan would be attending at her side. It would be his first look at the baby. Rory couldn't wait to see his face as soon as the image lit up the ultrasound screen.

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Yeah, that would be good."

"I'll swing by around 9:30 then," said Logan. "Bye."

Logan bent down and kissed her cheek. She felt his hand land on her stomach and his thumb give an affectionate stroke over it before he broke away from her. With one last polite smile at Lorelai he slipped away around the corner of the porch. She watched him walk away and her hand flew to the place on her stomach where his had just been resting.

When she turned to look back at her mother, Lorelai was watching her with a knowing look on her face. Her mother didn't say anything. She just turned around and walked back into the house.

Rory took a moment to compose herself. Then, she put one foot in front of the other and walked back into the house where her mother was waiting… with Jess.

TBC….

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

"Thought of you as my mountain top. Thought of you as my peak. Thought of you as everything I've had but couldn't keep. I've had but couldn't keep. Linger on your pale blue eyes."

With the swing of a racket and a reverberating pop, Logan sent the ball coursing through the air with a force that he hadn't mustered since he was seventeen and qualified for the Connecticut All-State tennis team. Considering he was about fifteen years out of practice, he actually took a moment to be proud of himself. Although, it was cut short by a dramatic yell of distress from his opponent.

"Jesus Christ!" Colin yelled as he hopped way from the incoming ball and cowered inward on himself to avoid getting hit. "Are you trying to kill me?!"

Colin had never been the strongest tennis player, but Logan had to admit that even if he was the swing had been pretty aggressive. He hadn't meant to serve the ball so hard. He wasn't even aware that he still had the strength to do it. It had just happened.

"Sorry!" he shouted over to his friend. Colin, though, did not seem appeased.

"You know, I'm the one who just signed an alimony agreement. If either one of us should be rage serving, it should be me."

"I'm not rage serving," Logan said with a roll of his eyes. "I didn't do it on purpose."

"What's up with you, Huntz?" Colin asked as he chased after the ball that had ended up bouncing off the fence behind him and rolling back toward the net. "You've been in a mood all day."

"I'm not in a mood."

"Does it have anything to do with the fact that you aren't on a plane back to the UK right now and the future Madame Huntzberger is suddenly AWOL? Weren't you supposed to fly out this morning? Not that I'm complaining about the invitation. God knows I need a distraction from my dumpster fire of a life. "

Colin served the ball, this time with a strength more appropriate for a couple of non-tennis pros in their mid-thirties. Logan easily lobbied it back with a well-trained backhand.

"I'm not going back to London," he said.

"Okay…" Colin answered. His response was short due to the attention that he was paying to the incoming ball headed his way, but his tone laced with confusion.

"Also there is no future 'Madame Huntzberger.'"

"Thank Christ!" replied Colin with a grunt as he reached to hit the ball. "That's the best news I've heard this year. Don't ever get fucking married. It'll ruin your life."

This time, it was Colin's turn for an aggressive hit. As he swung his racket, the ball was sent flying over the net right toward Logan with the perfect height and speed for a swift and clean volley.

"And Rory is pregnant."

Logan nailed the ball with a thunderous smash of his racket, and it started traveling back to the other side of the court with a speed and velocity almost as intense as his original serve. As it flew, it became very clear that the other man suddenly did not have the wits to dodge it in time to avoid injury. Colin was frozen in shock. His racket was hanging loosely at this side and his jaw was slack as the ball came careening straight toward his face. With a gruesome crack, it came in contact right underneath his eye on the top of his cheekbone and he yelled out in shock and pain.

"What the fuck?!"

"Shit…" Logan whispered.

Colin threw his racket down on the ground and brought his hand up to his eye. A string of more colorful expletives started pouring from his lips as he started pacing around the court in circles. Every once in a while he would pause to bend over and let out a guttural yell. Logan wasn't exactly sure if it was out of frustration or pain. Most likely it was a combination of both.

"Sorry, buddy," Logan said and he started taking a few tentative steps toward the net and closer to Colin. "You okay…?"

Colin's answer was to shoot out a hand in front of him stopping Logan in his tracks while he attempted to regain his composure.

"Stay where you are," he said. "Don't come any closer to me."

"Is it bad?" Logan asked with a wince.

"No, it's fucking great. I've just been dying for a black eye after the shit I had to deal with today. They should make this a spa treatment. Screw the cucumbers. All you need a God damn tennis ball."

"Did I mention I was sorry?"

"Did Allison put you up to this? How much did she bribe you to cause me physical harm – with my money?"

Logan rolled his eyes. The guilt that he had been feeling at being responsible for the injury to his friend's face was quickly fading. Knowing Colin, he wouldn't hear the end of this for at least another six months, and after that it would probably come up every time they so much as saw a tennis racket.

"Let me see it," he said. Logan swung a leg over the net and climbed to the other side and got close enough to Colin to reach up and pull his hand away from his face. Colin, momentarily more concerned with his vanity than his anger toward Logan, allowed him to look.

"How bad is it?" he asked.

Logan winced again but quickly tried to cover it up with a false look of encouragement. The area right underneath his eye socket was already growing red and swollen. There was no doubt that it was only a matter of time before it turned purple. He only hoped that it wouldn't spread to other parts of his eye.

The only way to fix this was going to be with drinks - several - courtesy of Logan's Amex.

"It's not that bad," Logan said. Colin just looked at him with a withering glance, silently calling him out for assuming that he was stupid enough to believe that. Logan relented with a tilt of his head. "We should probably get some ice…"

"I hope you mean in a glass," Colin grumbled.

"That too."

Not twenty minutes later, the two friends found themselves sitting at a restaurant bar a few blocks away from the courts. Colin was holding a bar rag full of ice on his face with one hand and twirling a glass of Lagavulin in the other. He also had a Wagyu ribeye with mashed potatoes and roasted brussels sprouts on the way – making it clear to Logan that no expense was to be spared in this apology dinner.

"I'm never playing tennis with you again," said Colin.

"I think you've made that abundantly clear," Logan replied before taking a sip of his own Macallan.

"I will maybe consider golf."

"I hate golf."

"My point exactly."

Colin continued to seethe quietly for a few moments. Logan was content to let him. The longer they remained quiet, the less complaining he had to listen to. And, when the complaining was over he knew the questions would begin. Questions that he still didn't feel entirely qualified to answer himself.

"Logan…" Colin cautiously prompted a few seconds later.

It seemed that Logan's grace period was officially over. With a deep breath and another sip of his scotch, he braced himself for the conversation that had been hanging over their heads and black eyes for several minutes.

"Yeah," he answered

"Before you so courteously attempted to blind me earlier, did I hear you say that…"

"Yeah," he repeated, finishing the question before it was even asked. Colin turned toward him and scrutinized him with his single working eyeball. He watched as Logan started twirling the bottom of his glass against the surface of the bar in a nervous tick.

"Okay…" Colin said. He nodded quietly for a moment. "But… I mean… that night in New Hampshire… that was in like…October. So, unless you lied about it being over then - "

"She's six months pregnant."

"Fuck."

"A succinct yet appropriate response," Logan commented. "Better than mine. Less shattered crystal and oral sedatives involved."

"So that explains the disappearance of your bride to be," Colin said. "And here I was thinking she'd just turned back into a swan…"

Logan rolled his eyes. His friends had never been the biggest fans of Odette. As much as he would like to think it was for no rational reason, he completely understood why. Odette didn't understand them. She didn't share their sense of humor. She found them juvenile and tiresome, even on the days when they were at their mellowest. And Logan knew, most importantly of all, that the three of them had compared her to Rory from the very first day they'd met.

Rory had been the fun one. Rory was game for a laugh. Rory was in on their inside jokes and willing to listen to them tell stories about the ones that happened before she came on the scene. Rory had an genuine affection for them that shone through even when she was at her most annoyed and vexed with their shenanigans.

Rory was just better than Odette.

The last person who needed an explanation of that fact was Logan. But, that never stopped them from giving it anyway.

"How exactly did this happen?" Colin asked.

"Well," Logan said, drawing out the Ls at the end of the word for dramatic effect. "When a man and a woman love each other very much - "

"Shut up," Colin interrupted. "What I mean is I'm find it hard to believe that Gilmore isn't on top of… things…"

"She was on the pill."

"Right. Sure…" Colin said with a nod. "And you didn't think to use any other kind of safety net - "

"No."

The last time he and Rory had used a condom was shortly after she had moved into his apartment in New Haven. He'd gotten a clean bill of health. She hadn't been with anyone else during their brief breakup and was assured by her doctor that her chances of getting pregnant on the pill were less than .3% as long as she was extremely diligent. And she was. Extremely diligent. With her family history, she took nothing by chance. It was one of the reasons they'd been using two forms of birth control to begin with.

They had reached a point in their relationship where they were both comfortable taking that step. And they had never gone back – not even all these years later. With Logan's storied sexual past, there weren't very many firsts that he was able to give to Rory. In fact, that had been the only one.

Since the time he'd hit puberty, his father had drilled into him the importance of never sleeping with a woman without handling the birth control himself. He'd been lectured so many times about the multitudes of women who were waiting in the sidelines to "trap" a young man like himself. Young. Rich. Powerful. He should never take a girl's word. He should never even use a condom that he didn't supply himself. It was not something to be taken lightly.

Rory was the first girl that he trusted completely and totally, the first girl that he let his guard down with. And, as such, the first girl that he'd been intimate with without any barrier whatsoever. She was the first girl that he loved enough to not view the potential consequence of falling in the .3% as the end of the world. It wouldn't have been have been then at twenty-three, and it still wasn't now at thirty-five.

His heart jumped at the sudden memory of his baby girl's kick against his hand.

"So…" Colin continued. "What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean what am I going to do?" Logan asked. "I already told you I'm not engaged anymore, and that I'm not going back to London. What do you think I'm going to do?"

"I'm not asking whether or not you're going to run out on your unborn child. I'm asking how you and Gilmore are navigating this prickly situation. And I'm a little curious as to why this bombshell has just been dropped on me now if she's been up the duff since New Hampshire."

Logan was silent. Instead of answering, he took another sip of his drink and his eyes fell to the surface of the bar.

"She didn't tell you," Colin intuited. "Was she… waiting until you were in the States?"

Silence and a twirl of his glass was once again Logan's answer.

"She never meant for you to find out, did she?"

"It's a long story," Logan replied.

It really wasn't that long. It was actually quite simple, but Logan didn't feel that Colin required an explanation. Rory's reasons were her own. They were formed by her own personal childhood trauma, and they were entirely her business. Even if Logan wanted to sit and explain why Rory had made the choice she did, he didn't feel like it was something that he was entitled to do.

Besides, the part of him that was still suppressing feelings of betrayal and hurt over the fact was worried about what might happen if he let that monster out of the box again. They'd been getting along so well in the past week. They'd even shared a few little moments that had given Logan a spark of hope for more. He didn't want to ruin that.

"So, what?" Colin asked. "You guys are just carrying on like she didn't keep a huge life altering secret from you for six months? And you're totally fine with the fact that if she had her way you wouldn't know you had a kid at all until Logan Jr. popped up on your doorstep one day when he turned eighteen years old? Things between you two are just lollipops and roses?"

"It's a girl," Logan mumbled.

"What?"

"It's a girl."

Colin looked flabbergasted.

"Not the point!"

"What do you want me to say? We're friendly. We're co-parenting," Logan said, biting out the term that he absolutely hated. It sounded so clinical and unemotional. It sounded like a business relationship. His relationship with Rory was so much more than business.

"You're friendly," Colin said. His good eye was wide in disbelief. "Please. The last time you insisted that you and Gilmore were friendly a single hour passed before I had to spend my entire evening babysitting you so you didn't literally murder Robert. I let you out of my sight for five seconds, and you'd dragged her off to a back corner somewhere."

"Well, that was a long time ago." A lifetime ago. "Look, I appreciate the concern. But, you don't need to worry about it. Rory and I are fine."

"The last time you told me you and Rory were fine, you nearly jumped to your death off a cliff in Costa Rica."

"We talked. And we're fine," Logan insisted. "Things got a little heated at first, but they mellowed out after we sat down and discussed things. I was just at her mother's house on Sunday and had a lovely time."

"Okay, Shira," Colin replied with grimace at Logan's choice of words..

Logan sighed audibly and set his glass down on the bar. He lifted his now empty hand to his brow and started rubbing in a circular motion with his thumb and index finger.

He couldn't keep down the creeping feeling that Colin was right. Things had been progressing well with Rory over the last week. That much wasn't a lie. But there was something hanging in the air between them the entire time.

Even on Sunday when they genuinely were getting along in a way that was reminiscent of their better days together, Logan couldn't help but feel like there was a lot unsaid that was hanging over them. The presence of her ex-boyfriend was just the tip of the iceberg. He'd struggled all day to keep a cap on the emotions that seeing her with him in the town square had brought up, and he was actually pretty impressed with his ability to act cool with all of it. But it was far from the reality.

The reality was that he'd been on edge the entire day. He wasn't sure what the status of Rory's relationship with Jess was at this point. It certainly didn't seem like they were together, and surely Rory would have mentioned if they were… but they also seemed far too cozy for Logan's comfort.

Twelve years ago, Logan would have gone completely out of his mind. In fact, twelve years ago he had done that exact thing. Age, maturity, and the lived experience of Rory ghosting him for a month after he'd done it had educated him to the fact that doing so again would have been a terrible idea. Plus, his apology to Jess about his abhorrent behavior the night they'd met had actually been a genuine one. It wasn't Logan's proudest moment then, and he still cringed to think about it now. Even so, he still wasn't loving the fact that Jess and Rory were apparently thick as thieves again.

Then, on top of the Jess situation, there was Lorelai's taciturn disapproval of his presence. There was his family's obvious judgement and consternation. There was a general feeling of awkwardness that undercut the majority of their interactions. And there was the way that Rory's gaze would snap away from his every time she caught him shooting her a look that could in anyway be construed as affectionate.

Fine probably wasn't the perfect word after all.

"Things are civil," Logan clarified.

"Logan," said Colin. "Take it from a man who was just forced to hand is condo in Telluride over to a woman who doesn't ski – this mess is going to explode into a shitstorm beyond your wildest imagination if you and Gilmore don't sit down and actually talk. About all of it."

"What do you mean all of it?" Logan asked.

"I mean all of it."

Colin's meaning was clear.

There was so much more bubbling under the surface of his relationship with Rory than just the pregnancy. There was three years' worth of fights and doubts that had never really been fully resolved or discussed. There was the weight of familial expectations and judgement – on both sides. There was a rejected marriage proposal. There was years of pretending to be over her while comparing every single woman he was with to her in his mind. There was the night in Hamburg. There was the affair. Odette.

The baby was just the icing on top of the densest devil's food cake Logan had ever been served. And he was already so full. He didn't think he could stand one more bite.

He needed help.

"Can you do me a favor?" Logan asked. He set down his now empty glass and pushed it toward the end of the bar.

"What?"

"Can you tell everyone for me? I just… I can't have this conversation again. It's exhausting."

"Yeah, man. Of course."

Colin's tone was sympathetic and supportive. Logan breathed a sigh of relief. This was exactly why Colin was the person he'd chosen to break this news to. Out of all of his friends, he was the obvious choice. Finn - to this very day - couldn't manage to take anything seriously. At all. It was getting to the point where even Logan sometimes wanted to slap him across the face and tell him to grow the hell up. Robert would have taken it seriously, but Logan still wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't a sociopath, and he was in need of a little bit of emotional support. Juliet and Rosemary would have provided both the gravity and empathy required for this topic, but it would have been overshadowed by questions about ultrasound photos, shower plans, and name choices.

Colin was the right move.

"Can you do me a favor?" Colin asked.

Logan looked up and was met with a face that was solemnly resolute. With all this talk about Rory and the baby, Logan had selfishly ignored the fact that his best friend was currently in the end stages of a very messy divorce. Perhaps it was what made them perfect companions for each other at this specific moment in their lives.

With a raise of his eyebrow and a nod of his head, Logan silently gestured for his friend to request anything he needed.

"Can you tell my ophthalmologist to forward all of my billing invoices to you?"

Rory hadn't been up to the apartment above Luke's in years. She didn't even remember what the last occasion was, but she could hazard a guess that it was probably to see Jess.

It was ironic – in the Alanis Morrissette sense of the word that is – that what brought her back up here again after all this time was also to see Jess. And she had been reflecting on that irony the entire five minutes that she'd been standing in front of the door waiting to knock.

She'd been putting this conversation off since Sunday.

Her mother's words had been ringing in her head the entire night and all throughout the last two days while he was still in town.

She'd started to notice things since. Little things. She noticed the way that Jess would always make sure she'd eaten enough and would offer to get her anything else that she wanted. She noticed how he would help her in and out of seats and offer her his hand as she walked up and down stairs. She noticed how he would always volunteer to drive her to appointments if her mother couldn't make it. She noticed how yesterday when she was spending the day writing in Hartford he had texted her three different articles with literature recommendations for pregnancy, birth, and child rearing.

All the little things that Rory started to notice over the past few days were adding up to a realization that her mother was right. And she really didn't want her mother to be right.

Jess was going out of his way to take care of her.

It wasn't that it was unusual. The amount of people fussing over her since she'd announced that she was expecting was staggering. But, most of them did it from the sidelines. Lane would always ask how she was feeling and kept her in a fresh supply of Kimchi. Baby loved Kimchi. Paris would call to check in on any symptoms she might be having. Luke tried to limit her coffee intake. Her grandmother called her every week on Friday nights to check in, reminiscent of their traditional Friday night dinners. There was even Mrs. Kim with her disgusting banana kale muffins. But, the amount of attention Jess was lavishing on her was something a pregnant mother would usually expect from her husband. Not a friend.

It had been good at first. When Jess had started popping into Stars Hollow so often after she'd announced her pregnancy, it started to feel like she wasn't alone. And she was terrified of doing this alone.

Even though it had been her choice not to tell Logan about the baby, Rory was still completely and totally scared of the reality of being a single mother at a time in her life when she felt like she couldn't even take care of herself. So, when Jess had started giving her attention and showing a genuine interest in her impending motherhood, she leaned into it as hard as she possibly could.

With him there she suddenly didn't feel quite as alone. It had even made her choice not to tell Logan easier. The future became less bleak. She started to think about the concept of settling. She would have been content with Jess. And content wasn't so bad.

Content wasn't so bad until a reminder of something more showed up in the middle of Luke's on a Saturday morning.

Seeing Logan sitting at the counter that day had reminded her of exactly how much she loved him. And the feeling she had at just the mere sight of him was unlike any feeling that Jess had given her over the past six months. Jess had made her feel safe. He'd made her feel comfortable. Over time, he made her feel hopeful that she might be able to find a home again with him.

Seeing Logan for one second made her feel like she was already there.

So, now, Rory was standing in front of the diner apartment door, procrastinating for every second she could before she had to walk in there and let him go.

She was afraid to let him go – afraid for so many reasons.

She was afraid to lose him as a friend, something that she absolutely did not want to do. She did love Jess – not in the way that he wanted her to – but she loved him all the same. And his support and friendship had meant so much to her for so long. The thought of living without it was heartbreaking to her.

She was afraid of what this might do to her family. Luke was her step-father and he loved Jess like a son. There couldn't possibly be a clean break between them, not without severing their entire family down the middle. Rory didn't want Jess to feel like he had to stop coming to Stars Hollow again. She was happy that he was repairing things with his mother and growing closer to his sister. She didn't want to get in the way of that.

And then, lastly, she was afraid of being alone.

Her mother had told her that she was using Jess as an insurance policy in case Logan didn't show up the way that she wanted him to. And she was right.

Logan had broken her heart so many times. She'd almost lost count. The status of their relationship was so shaky and uncertain. There was so much unsaid between them – so many years of heartache and longing and dysfunction. It was entirely possible that they would never be able to fully recover from it. If she chose Logan over Jess now, she was gambling with her heart in a way that she'd never let herself before.

But the sheer possibility of getting the future she'd always wanted with Logan was worth every single coin she had. She just had to be brave enough put them on the table.

With a deep steadying breath, Rory lifted her fist and knocked three times on the door. A matter of seconds later, the door swung open to reveal a surprised look on Jess' face at the sight of her.

"Rory. Hey," he said as he stood aside and let her in."I didn't know you were gonna here today."

"I wanted to say goodbye before you headed back to Philly."

"Oh. Well…sure," said Jess.

Rory took a few steps around the apartment, smiling softly to herself at the memories. Not a single thing had changed since she'd last stepped foot inside. It was still filled with an overwhelming sense of… brown. The same curtains still hung in the kitchen. It was as small as she remembered. Even the smell was the same.

"It's like a time capsule isn't it?" Jess asked as he sat on the arm rest of the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. Rory smiled softly.

"It really is," she said.

"Do you want something to eat?" Jess asked. "There's some soup in the cabinet I could heat up. Or I could call down to Ceasar…"

"I had dinner," answered Rory.

"You should sit," Jess said as he stood up straight and gestured for her to take a spot on the couch.

"I'd rather stand, actually."

Rory started swaying on her feet and looked down at the floor. She could feel the weight of Jess' eyes on her the entire time as she tried to build up the composure she needed in order to start this conversation with him. But, she didn't even know where to begin.

"I'm starting to feel like there's more to this visit than just a goodbye," Jess said with a raised eyebrow.

"Never could pull one over on you," Rory replied. False levity was crammed into the words, but Jess didn't buy that either.

"Rory…"

Rory sighed. She crossed her arms over her chest and stopped fidgeting at the sound of her name. They made eye contact, and Rory could tell that he was starting to get an idea about what she'd come over here for.

"I think we need to… talk," she said.

"Okay," Jess said with a strained voice. "Maybe I should sit…"

"If you think that's best," said Rory.

Apparently, he didn't. Because he didn't move from the spot he was already standing in. Instead, he tilted his head and scrutinized her, probably trying to figure out the cause of her awkward and erratic demeanor. When a long period stretched before she continued on to the topic of their needed conversation, Jess attempted to get the ball rolling himself.

"Rory, what do you - "

"I'm still in love with Logan."

Rory inwardly winced. So much for a graceful and soft delivery. Her plan had been to break this to him gently, but once again her verbal vomit reflex had gotten the better of her. At this point, all of the organized talking points that she had gone over in her head hundreds of times were completely thrown out the window.

Jess just stood in front of her staring. He was stiff – unmoving and the look on his face was undecipherable. One thing was for sure, however, and it was that he certainly wasn't filled with joy at the revelation. He didn't respond.

"I didn't mean to start this conversation like that… " Rory said. "But I thought you needed to know - "

"You thought that I needed to know?" Jess asked. His voice was defensive and agitated. "Why is that something that I would need to know?"

"Jess..." Rory pleaded. She didn't have it in her to stand here and pretend that she wasn't aware of his feelings for her. She was. And he was aware that she was aware.

Jess ran a hand through his hair and started pacing around the room. Rory stood there and let him process, not wanting to say something that would make the tense atmosphere even worse. With as much as he'd grown over the last several years, he still had a legendary temper. And even though she wasn't at all worried that he would do anything to hurt her, she still wanted to avoid this escalating into an even more unpleasant situation that it already had to be.

"Just over a week ago, you never wanted to see him again. And now you're in love with him?"

"It's more complicated than that," Rory said.

It was so much more complicated than that. It was like she had said to Logan, it's not that she didn't want him in her life. It was just that she didn't think it was possible.

"Well then explain it to me," said Jess. "Because I don't understand, Rory. I really don't. I don't understand what it is about this guy that he's got this power over you."

"He doesn't have any power over me." Rory narrowed her eyes.

They were back on the topic that always made her angriest when anyone in her family would talk to her about her relationship with Logan. They always made it sound like Logan was this evil sorcerer who hypnotized her into doing things that she didn't want to do. They never gave her any agency over her own decisions. They acted as if she was just some powerless waif who cowered under his influence.

"Really?" Jess asked. "Because every time we have a conversation about this guy, it comes down to the same thing. He did something terrible. You ended up the one hurt because of it. But you go running back to him at the first chance because you love him. You can't help it. You don't know why but you can't help it."

"I do know why!" Rory yelled.

Jess' pacing stopped. His face whipped to hers and his face fell from the sharpness and anger in her tone. Rory stared him down.

"You don't get to hold one conversation that we had over a decade ago over my head and act like it gave you the ultimate insight into my relationship with Logan. You don't know anything about it."

"I know that he cheated on you, and you showed up to visit me crying over it. That's enough for me to know."

"It's more complicated than that."

"That seems to be the theme of the day," Jess said with a roll of his eyes.

Rory took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down before she got upset enough to get her heart rate up. She was supposed to be avoiding stress for the sake of the baby. Not easy to accomplish when the circumstances surrounding the baby were the very thing causing her the greatest distress.

She was just so tired of it. Her mother. Her grandparents. Jess. They all treated her like some naïve child when it came to Logan. Her mother thought Logan was some big bad wolf walking her down the path of debauchery. Her grandparents thought that Rory was some poor virginal princess that tragically fell prey to his sexual lasciviousness. And Jess... Jess thought that Logan had somehow turned her into a weak and submissive shell of herself.

And while Rory had always been demure, she was far from weak.

"Because it is complicated!" she said. "We were together for three years. You met him once during that entire span of time. And it was on a night where he was at his absolute worst. What do you think Logan would think of you if the only time he'd met you was the night of Kyle's party?"

Jess' face went white as a ghost. It was a low blow, especially because they had long put that night behind them. But Rory didn't know how else to make him see how unfair he was being with his judgement of Logan's character.

"I've apologized about that, Rory," he said.

"Well you're not the only one capable of apologizing for things."

"I know," Jess said. At this point he did move to the couch to sit down. He held his head in his hands for a second before running his fingers through his hair. "He did by the way."

"He… what?" Rory asked, confusing lacing her tone. Jess looked up at her.

"He apologized to me. Sunday. When you went out to talk to your mom."

"Logan did?" Rory asked. She had an absolutely perplexed look on her face. "He apologized to you?"

"You're standing here defending this guy and then you act surprised to find out that he actually apologized about something?!"

"Just because I'm defending him doesn't mean I think he's a saint!"

She actually was genuinely surprised to hear that he'd done that - not only because it was so long ago, but also because she was certain from practiced observations of his body language and tone of voice that he wasn't thrilled about the fact that Jess had been there to begin with. He could be possessive and he had a die-hard competitive streak that he'd inherited from his father. Although, Rory knew better than to ever say that to him.

Regardless, Logan Huntzberger was definitely not a saint of a man. And if there was anyone on this Earth who was familiar with all of the ways in which he fell short of sainthood it was Rory.

That was yet another reason why her family's patronization around her choice to be with him drove her absolutely crazy.

The conversation lulled for a moment. Rory could tell by watching him that Jess' initial anger at idea of losing her was fading into sadness. Although, she wasn't sure which one was better to deal with.

Quiet lingered between the two of them as the more passionate elements of their conversation died down, and Rory knew better than to attempt to rush things along.

Jess was contemplative. He always had been. As a teenager people had dismissed it as him being broody and anti-social. But Rory knew that Jess just preferred to live inside his head. He was a thinker – a muller. He analyzed and agonized. It was what made him such an incredible writer.

Rory was happy to give him all the time that he needed to think about what to say. She would even be happy to give him the option not to say anything at all. In fact, she'd be more than happy if he would chose not to say anything at all. Then maybe she could get off easy.

But her luck didn't extend that far.

"You love him," Jess said, softly repeating her declaration from the beginning of their talk. He looked up at her for confirmation of the fact.

"Yes," Rory answered.

Some days it was hard enough to admit it to herself let alone someone else. But there was no use denying the truth.

She loved Logan.

She'd loved him since she was twenty years old and he had been the one person in her life that hadn't abandoned her in her time of need. He'd been the one that allowed her the space to break down. He'd been the one that threw her stupid parties to cheer her up and showed up at community service mambo classes. He'd been the shoulder that she cried on about her fractured relationship with her mother.

She never would have gotten through that period of her life without him. And she'd relied on his shoulder ever since. Sometimes she didn't know how she survived the seven years she'd gone without it. But she knew now that she never wanted to go without it again.

"It wouldn't be fair of me to make you think that I don't. I love him and he's the father of my child. If there is even a chance that we can make this work then I have to try. I'd never really be happy if I didn't. I could maybe be something close to happy but… not really."

Jess' chin started to quiver, but his eyes stayed white and clear. His checkered past had made him a master of suppressing tears. Unfortunately, Rory knew that from experience. This wasn't the first time that she'd broken his heart. She could only hope that it would be the last.

He was quiet again for a few moments, and Rory would have given anything to know what was going on inside of his head. She wanted to shake him. She wanted to beg him to tell her that he wasn't mad at her. That he wouldn't stop being her friend. That it was okay with him that she was still in love with Logan. But, no matter how badly she wanted those things she knew that she couldn't have them.

He cleared his throat. Rory's heart leapt in anticipation for whatever it was that he was about to say. But as he prepared to utter the words, he suddenly closed his mouth. His brow furrowed in thought again before he succumbed to more thinking. This happened a couple more times before Jess finally found the words to say whatever it was that was on his mind.

"You…you said… before that I was wrong about you not knowing why…" said Jess as he looked down at the floor.

"Yeah."

"Will you tell me why? Please. I think I need to know why."

A jolt of something akin to electricity burst through Rory's body. She was caught totally off guard. Of all the questions she had expected to answer – of all the arguments that she expected to have, this was the one thing that she had truly not prepared for.

She didn't know what possessed her to open her mouth in the moments that followed. Jess certainly wasn't entitled to an explanation of her heart. No one was entitled to it. And she wasn't sure if saying it would make the situation between them better or worse. But something came over her.

Perhaps it was the fact for all the times her family had lectured her about why Logan was so bad for her, no one had ever stopped to ask her why she was with him. Perhaps she needed to say it out loud to remind herself after all of the pain and heartache that they'd been through together.

Whatever the reason, she felt compelled to say it.

"Because Logan, for all of his faults, has been the only person in my life who has always loved me for exactly who I am at exactly the moment that I'm in. He's never been in love with the person who I used to be or the idea of who I'm supposed to be. He's only ever loved the person who I actually am."

This time, when Jess looked up at her, she noticed that the battle he'd been fighting with his tears had been lost. A single tear fell down his cheek as he processed what Rory had just said to him.

"You're in love with a seventeen year old girl, Jess. She doesn't exist anymore."

The pained expression that came over Jess' face at her final statement shattered Rory's heart into a million pieces. This time, when the silence fell again, and Rory started to feel that the best thing to do would be to give him some time alone.

"I'm so sorry."

Then, with a sniff and a deep shaky breath Rory turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving him alone on the couch. As soon as she closed the door behind her, her own tears came flooding to the surface along with a small sob. She took a moment to compose herself and wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. Once she was confident that she would be able to walk through the diner without making a public spectacle of herself, Rory straightened up and started descending the stairs.

As she went, all she could do was pray that the chapter she'd just ended with Jess wouldn't be the final one in the book of their life.

TBC...

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

"It was so easy living day by day, out of touch with the rhythm and blues. But now I need a little give and take, The New York Times, the Daily News."

Logan woke that morning to ten missed calls, four voicemails, twelve text messages, and seventeen emails.

Upon seeing the endless notifications lighting up his phone screen, he immediately threw the device down on the bed next to him and swung an arm over his face to cover his eyes in the nook of his elbow. He then let out a low and tired grumble and gave himself a moment to breathe in the morning air.

News of his abrupt transition to the New York office must have officially dropped. He should have been expecting this, considering the fact that he was supposed to be back in the London office at this very moment. But, he'd been hoping to keep the circus at bay for a little while longer - at least long enough to get through Rory's appointment this morning so that he wouldn't have any stress hanging over his head to taint it.

So much for small graces.

He should have realized that reality would come raining down on him this morning. This was, after all, the day that he was supposed to be back into the regular grind of his life. The two week getaway home should have come to an end yesterday. Now, he had an office full of people scrambling to figure out what to do about the fact that he wasn't coming back. He had shareholders freaking out that there was something going on that was causing instability in the company, and he had the regular daily responsibilities of his job to worry about on top of his personal life. His days off were officially over.

After taking a moment, Logan flung his hand down on the bed to pick up the phone that he'd just tossed. He took a deep breath and pulled up his most common contacts. Selecting one of the names at the top of the list, he put the phone to his ear and waited while it rang.

"Huntzberger Publishing Group. This is Anna."

Logan breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of the familiar estuary accent. Anna was his secretary – the best secretary he'd ever had and the one element of working in London that he would probably miss more than anything else. He thought briefly about convincing her to move to New York. But, that most likely would not happen considering she was putting herself through night school at Birkbeck College.

"Anna," Logan said with a morning vocal fry.

"Mr. Huntzberger!" she exclaimed. Logan could hear a commotion occurring around her. "I was wondering if I'd hear from you today..."

"I need you to do me a favor," Logan said.

"Okay."

"I need you to draft me a statement regarding my relocation. Just tell everyone that business will proceed as usual until further notice. I'll be working remotely from the States until a replacement is chosen. Also, on that note, can you set up a meeting with my Dad and Tom in HR?"

"Skype?"

"Yeah."

"Preference on time?"

"None. As soon as possible," Logan said. "Except today. Sorry. Not today. Cancel any calls or meetings I have for today."

"It's done," Anna said. "Do you want me to send you a copy of the statement for approval before I send it out?

"Uh…" The truth was that Logan didn't really care. He was sure whatever she threw together would be more than fine. But, the better part of his mind told him that signing his name to something that he didn't even read was probably not a good idea. "Yeah. Just email it."

"Will do," Anna said. "Anything else?"

"Nah, that's it. Thanks."

The instant the call ended, his phone went flying right back down onto the bed. He would have to get to all of the calls and emails at some point today, but he didn't even want to think about that before he'd at least had some coffee in his system.

As Logan climbed out of the bed with a grunt, he looked out the window and noticed the collection of raindrops on the glass and the grey clouds hanging in the sky. That would maybe explain why he was finding it so difficult to tear himself out of bed this morning. He and Colin had only had a few glasses of scotch last night – about half the amount they used to throw back in their glory days. So, it definitely couldn't have been that. That would mean that his hangover tolerance was shrinking. Surely, that wasn't possible.

His racing heart said otherwise.

The intense need for coffee – and water – was beckoning him into the kitchenette. He grabbed his phone once again and threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt as he walked out of the bedroom and made a beeline straight for the coffee maker. He poured in the water and the grounds, but he was overwhelmed with the intense urge to throw it across the room when he couldn't get the filter basket door to close.

He really needed to buy his parents a Keurig.

Distracted by his fight with the coffee maker, Logan didn't notice the door open. He did, however, hear it slam shut.

"Holy shit!" he yelled as he jumped up in surprise at the sound. He turned toward the door and was met with the sight of his mother with a disapproving look on her face.

"Honesty, Logan," said Shira. "I thought I taught you better than you use that language around your mother."

"Well, you scared me, Mom," Logan said with a sigh while repressing an eye roll. The need for coffee had just gotten so much stronger.

He didn't know what had brought his mother to the pool house at 7:30 in the morning, but whatever it was, it couldn't be good. His mother had barely talked to him at all in the last week and half, so the fact that she had obviously gone out of her way to catch him at such an early hour was more than a little bit troubling.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize I needed to schedule an appointment to walk into my own pool house."

Logan perched his elbows on the kitchenette island counter and leaned down to scrub his face with his hands. In an effort to overcome the urge to kill her, he repeated a mantra in his head reminding himself that this woman had her stomach sliced open and her organs yanked out of her body to bring him into this world. "Causing problems from the moment he was born." That had always been the family line.

"What can I do for you, Mom?" Logan asked.

"I wanted to catch you. And I figured morning would be the best time since you seem to be gone so often…"

"Well you've caught me," said Logan. "So what do you need?"

"Where were you last night?" Shira said with narrowed eyes. "I woke up around one o'clock and the pool house was still empty…"

Apparently they weren't going to get to the point any time soon.

Logan stood up and started busying himself around the kitchen. If this conversation was going to last longer than it need to, he was at least going to get on with this coffee and breakfast while it was happening. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet.

"I was out with Colin."

"Well you could have said something. I was worried sick. Staying out past 1:00 AM on Tuesday night…"

"Mom, do I need to get a hotel?" Logan asked, shrugging his shoulders. He opened the fridge and grabbed some half and half.

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would you even say something like that?"

"Because lately it seems like you're either angry at the mere sight of me or treating me like a sixteen-year-old. So, it might just be easier for all of us if I'm not here at all."

"Absolutely not. I won't have you living in a hotel for the foreseeable future like some… disgraced divorcee."

Because living in his parent's pool house was so much better.

"Then, you'll be happy to know that I'm meeting with a real estate agent this afternoon."

"Oh," said Shira. "Well that's certainly fast."

As far as Logan was concerned, it wasn't nearly fast enough. Every single day he spent in his parents' house was a brand new day of torture. He never knew what was coming next – finger nail pulling, Chinese water torture, electric shocks. What was that thing that Rory had told him about? Strompedo?

No, that wasn't it…

"I guess," Logan said. "Is that all you needed? To interrogate me about my night time activities? Or did you have something else you wanted to say to me? Because I need to get some work done, and then I have somewhere to be at 9:30."

Logan turned his back on his mother and started to pour himself a cup of coffee. The pot wasn't entirely finished brewing, and the machine was still dripping coffee on to the burner underneath the pot, but Logan didn't care. He needed caffeine in his system ten minutes ago.

"Where do you need to be at 9:30?" Shira asked. "For someone who wasn't even supposed to be here at all, you seem to have made yourself very busy very fast."

Logan sighed. Had had really been hoping to slip out of the house unseen this morning as to not have to have this conversation with his mother. They hadn't mentioned the pregnancy out loud since the day she'd found out. It was, of course, laying under the surface of every single interaction that they had. But, even so, not acknowledging it was a lot easier than the alternative. But, it seemed that just as his vacation from work was over so was his vacation from avoiding this conversation with his mother.

"I'm taking Rory to her doctor's appointment."

The only sound that could be heard in the room for the next few seconds was the sound of Logan's spoon clanking against his coffee mug as he stirred the cream into his coffee. His mother was quiet, but Logan watched her out of the corner of his eye as she attempted to adjust her posture in a way to make herself appear nonplussed.

It wasn't working.

"Oh," was the clipped response that his mother eventually landed on.

Logan simply watched her as he took a sip of his coffee, waiting to see if she had anything else to add. Apparently she did.

"You know…" she started to say as she walked a little bit closer to him. "Your father and I have been talking…"

That was a sentence frightful enough to strike fear into the heart of the bravest of men. Hercules. Thor. David. All of them famous for defeating the most vile of foes. All of them would be brought to their knees by the sound of the phrase "Your father and I have been talking" falling from Shira Huntzberger's lips.

"He seems to be under the impression that you plan on being a very active part of this child's upbringing…"

Logan rubbed his eyes.

"No, I just uprooted my entire life in one week because I felt like I needed a little change…" he grumbled. Shira continued talking as if he'd said nothing. Ignoring his smart ass comments had been her parenting strategy since he was old enough to speak.

"…and if that is going to be the case, then I think it would be in the best interest of everyone if we attempted to get to know Rory a little better."

Logan could have dropped his coffee. In fact, he was glad that he hadn't taken a sip right before she'd said it, because he likely would have sent it flying across the room in a spit take or dibbling down the front of his shirt as his jaw dropped open.

What in the hell was his mother up to?

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"Well, you were always so secretive with her when you two were dating."

"Secretive?" Logan asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes!" Shira exclaimed. "You were together for three years. I barely saw the girl. You would wait until everyone was back from the Vineyard to go down there with her. The second she moved in with you, we were all but banned from coming within a ten foot radius of your apartment. She never went out with us on your birthday – or your graduation. The second she arrived at Honor's engagement party you two ran off to – well – let's not talk about that. I thought for sure I would at least see her at the wedding, but she never showed and you ran out of there as soon as dinner was over. I had to spend the entire evening explaining why the bride's brother barely made an appearance at the reception. It was all very strange, Logan. She was always a strange girl."

Until this very moment, Logan had always thought that the depiction of steam exploding out of Yosemite Sam's ears was a playful cartoon affectation that had no bearing on reality. But as he stood there watching the look of perplexion on his mother's face as she wondered why he never brought Rory around her, he thought that he could literally feel a gaseous buildup pouring out of the sides of his head and rising to the ceiling. And the fact that she had the gall to insinuate that it was Rory's strangeness that was the cause of the schism between them made him see red.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Logan asked. His mother raised her hands up in a shrug.

"All I am saying is that if she is going to be the mother of my grandchild, then I have the right to be allowed in the same room as her. You should invite her over here for dinner - "

"Absolutely not!" Logan exclaimed. His mother actually looked surprised. "I can't believe you."

"You can't believe that I don't want to be estranged from my own granddaughter?"

Logan ignored the question.

"Are you seriously standing here right now acting like you have no idea why you and Rory didn't have any kind of relationship when we were together? You're seriously going to pretend that you didn't have anything to do with the fact that she didn't want you around her? That I didn't let you around her?"

Shira sighed audibly and shook her head.

"I don't see how one night of unpleasantness should be cause for three years of avoidance."

"Unpleasantness?" Logan sneered. He threw his hand in the direction of the main house and pointed out the window. "You stood in that house and called her white trash to her face."

"I certainly did not. I would never use that word."

"No!" he interrupted. "Let's have it out, Mom. You say you don't understand, so let me explain it to you. I brought my girlfriend over here to meet my family because Honor asked for my moral support on the night that she announced her engagement. My twenty-year-old girlfriend who I'd been in a relationship with for less than a day at that point. And then you treated me as if I was the one announcing my engagement – something that is mortifying enough for two young kids in a brand new relationship - but you didn't stop there. You basically insinuated that she was only with me for my money and influence. You implied that she was uncultured and uncivilized. You insulted her mother. You made It clear that she would never be welcome in this house. And then you blatantly told her that she wasn't good enough for me. Do you have any idea what that did to our relationship?"

"Logan – "

"No. I'm not done," Logan said. "Do you have any idea how many of the problems and communication breakdowns that we had– and continue to have to this day – stem from the fact that there is a voice in the back of her head telling her that she's not good enough for me? And that is utter bullshit, mother. Because I can promise you, the opposite is true."

"Well, now you're the one being ridiculous, Logan. That girl should consider herself lucky that you ever even looked at her."

"Rory did show up to Honor's wedding, Mom. She left because she had to find out from Honor's friends that I slept with them after we'd had a massive fight and I never told her about it. That's why I left early. I had to run after her and literally beg her not to leave me. I spent half of our entire relationship drunk or high or both. I was reckless and irresponsible. I made stupid decisions. I blew off school. I gambled with millions of dollars…"

Logan took a deep breath.

"I'm the one that should consider myself lucky that she was ever able to see anything in me at all. Because, to be honest, I'm still not entirely sure what it is."

Shira took a moment to look appalled, but Logan didn't particularly care. He knew that his mother was no stranger to the less than savory aspects of his reputation. Especially in his younger days. Her dismay was more likely with the fact that he'd chosen to actually say the words out loud. She was far more comfortable knowing reality and pretending to be oblivious to it than she was actually acknowledging it. Saying the words out loud made it harder for her to live in the fantasy world she'd concocted for herself where she was the matriarch of a happy, functional, and morally upright family that people in their community looked up to as a bastion of success.

"And you know the thing that I never understood? What made it all the more perplexing to me? Saying and doing all those things to Rory's face was terrible in and of itself no matter what. But Richard and Emily Gilmore were your friends. You went to their Christmas parties every year. They invited you to their vow renewal. And that's how you chose to treat their granddaughter when she came to your house? God forbid I ever have such good friends."

At this point his mother was starting to look genuinely upset. She had a brave face on, but Logan could tell she was feeling sad and scolded underneath it all. No doubt he would have to apologize to her later, but right now he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was feeling far to righteous. Far too right.

"So no, Mom," he continued. "I don't think I'll be bringing Rory over for dinner. You can see the baby when I bring her to you. And I should warn you that if I ever hear you say anything to her that could even remotely be construed as disparaging toward her mother, then those visits will stop as well."

With that Shira turned on her heel and walked out the door. Logan was fine with that method of departure. He'd said everything that he needed to say.

He'd just gotten Rory back into his life. After years her keeping him at arm's length, there was finally something holding them together. Fate had finally come in and given them something that might be a catalyst for them getting their lives on track with each other. He was slowly starting to allow himself the fantasy of having a life with Rory again. He was allowing himself to consider the possibility that she might move to New York with him. That they might raise their daughter together.

That this time she might actually say yes to the idea of being in his family.

The last thing he needed to do was remind her of all the reasons why being in his family was the last thing that she wanted to do. What he needed to do was give her time. He needed to give her space while showing her that he would still be there for her and their daughter. He wasn't going to let his mother get in the way of that.

Not wanting to let his mother upset him anymore, he took a few deep tactical breaths. Although, as soon as he'd gotten himself back into a somewhat normal and undisturbed state, his phone chimed yet again with another notification from the office.

This was not starting out to be a good day.

Something was up.

Rory could tell from the moment she'd opened her front door and saw Logan standing on the other side with his hands in his pockets. He was quiet. He was distracted. And if those weren't enough to give him away, there was the phone call and the subsequent three text messages from his father that he'd immediately selected to ignore in the car on their way to the doctor's office.

Rory knew from experience that Logan ignoring Mitchum was never a good omen for things to come. This time, however, she wasn't sure if it was work related or if it had something to do with her. But, she would put her money on the latter.

He'd remained pretty quiet since they'd arrived at the doctor's office and been escorted into the ultrasound room. He'd checked his phone a couple times and now he was pacing around the room looking at the posters on the wall detailing the stages of pregnancy with copious illustrations. At one point she'd almost laughed at the look on his face when at a particular image of a baby's skull bursting through a woman's cervix.

But as funny as his interest in the graphic posters had been at first, he had now been staring at them far too long for anyone with more than a third grade reading level. And, while Logan didn't have the greatest attention span, Rory definitely remembered being at his graduation from Yale. So, in theory his reading capabilities should be far more advanced than that.

"Are you okay?" Rory finally asked when he started fidgeting with a model on one of the counters. Logan jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm fine. Why?"

"It just seems like something's bothering you."

Logan just shook his head and shrugged. Rory wasn't buying it. And his unwillingness to tell her what it was that was clearly bothering him was starting to make her anxious. She'd thought they'd left things well on Sunday. They'd talked on the phone and texted since, and everything seemed fine. But this was the first time they'd seen each other in person, and he was acting… weird.

"You're not mad at me about Sunday are you?"

"Why would I be mad at you about Sunday?" Logan said. Finally, he turned around and gave her his full attention.

"I don't know…" said Rory. "It's just… My mom. And then with Jess being there…"

"I'm not mad about Sunday."

"Cause you should know that you don't need to worry about Jess. We aren't together and - "

"Rory," Logan interrupted. "I'm not mad about Sunday."

Now Rory was even more confused. If Sunday wasn't bothering him, then she had no idea what was behind the strange and tense mood he seemed to be in. He'd been so excited about this appointment since she'd asked him to come, and now it was almost feeling as if he didn't want to be here.

"Okay…" she said. "Then what is the problem? Because you're acting weird and cagey."

"There's nothing wrong."

Rory responded by tilting her head and shooting him a sidelong glance. He seemed to take her meaning pretty quickly because he sighed audibly and sat down in the chair across from her.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," Logan said with a sigh. "I just got into it a bit with my Mom before I left the house this morning."

"Oh," Rory said. She was simultaneously relieved that it didn't seem to have anything to do with her, and also worried about the potential topic of their disagreement. She really didn't want to add Shira's constant disapproval to the laundry list of things that she had to worry about right now.

Logan had already mentioned that his mother had been less than thrilled with the news of his involvement with her current predicament. And even if he hadn't, Rory wouldn't have needed confirmation of the fact to know that she wasn't happy about it. Shira had always been extremely straight forward about her opinion of Rory. She highly doubted that her opinion would change now that she was carrying her son's illegitimate child and now that Rory was the cause of Logan's break up with a woman who'd basically walked out of one of Shira's wildest fantasies.

"She invited you over for dinner."

Rory wasn't sure she had heard him correctly.

"She…what?"

"She wanted you to come over for dinner," Logan repeated. "She said that since you were going to be the mother of her grandchild that she wanted to get to know you better. She said that she found it strange that you were never around when we were together."

Annoyance and derision was dripping from Logan's tone. Rory had to appreciate the way that he was still so angry about the night at his parents' house all these years later, but at the same time she was thrown by this news in an entirely different way.

It wasn't that she trusted Shira's motives – that was far from the truth. There was a huge part of her that was screaming out to run for cover and never look back. But there was something else there as well.

She was almost… relieved?

She couldn't help but think about the possibility that this was a genuine olive branch. After all, it wasn't just about Rory at this point. It was about the baby as well. What if Shira actually did want to be a part of her granddaughter's life? From what Logan had mentioned, his father certainly expected to be.

And Mitchum was yet another equation to factor into this. While Rory was still not the man's biggest fan, he had made it perfectly clear to her that he harbored no ill will toward her. He'd even gone out of his way to set up a meeting for her with Conde Nast ten years after she had any official connection to his son. Surely, Mitchum wouldn't be allowing his wife to invite her over to their house just to shanghai her again. And if that is what she was planning to do, Rory was fairly certain that Mitchum would put an end to it pretty quickly.

Finally, there was the fact that she wasn't a twenty-year-old girl anymore. She wasn't afraid of Shira Huntzberger. And she had the advantage of holding all the power in this situation. She had the baby. She had the say in whether or not Shira had a relationship with the baby.

And, despite all of the personal issues she had with Logan's family, she didn't want to deny her daughter the opportunity to have a relationship with her paternal grandparents. Rory had always found that there was a certain emptiness and curiosity about her own paternal family that she lacked in her life. If her daughter had the chance of having that void filled, she wasn't going to deny her the opportunity.

Plus, it might even be the first step in Rory feeling like she couldbe a part of Logan's family as well.

It was absolutely insane, but Rory was starting to think that this might actually be a good idea.

She was just about to say as much when the door to the room flew open and her doctor's cheerful voice sounded in the air.

"Good morning, Rory!" Dr. Kothari said with a smile. Logan jumped back up to his feet as she entered. "How are we feeling today?"

"Pretty good," Rory said.

"That's good to hear," the doctor replied. She looked up from her chart and gave a sound of surprise when she saw Logan standing on the other side of the room. "And who do we have here?"

"Logan Huntzberger," Logan said, reached out his hand to shake the doctor's. "I'm Dad."

"Dad?" She gave a cheerful look of surprise. Rory gave the doctor a sheepish smile as she confirmed with a nod. She had made it pretty clear up until this point that there wasn't a dad. "Well welcome. Glad you could join us."

The doctor pulled up her stool to the side of the exam table in front of the ultrasound machine.

"Well, Rory, 30 weeks! How have you been doing since I saw you last? Still having nausea?"

"Yes, but it's getting better," Rory answered.

"Glad to hear it. Anything out of the ordinary that you've noticed?"

"Not too much," Rory said. "But I've been more tired lately. And I'm having a hard time concentrating on things."

"We'll check your glucose and iron levels today. See if we should start you on an additional supplement. But in general, fatigue is pretty common at this point. So, I wouldn't worry too much about that."

The doctor started pressing buttons on the ultrasound machine and she instructed Rory to lift up her shirt and roll her pants down. Then, she picked up a bottle of ultrasound gel, and Rory braced herself for the shock of the cold sensation.

"Alright, let's see what our little one is up to, shall we?"

As Dr. Kothari continued to get the machine ready for the scan, Rory's eyes flew to Logan. He was hanging back a bit, not sure what to do with himself while Rory talked to the doctor. But his eyes were glued to her bare stomach. She shoved down a momentary feeling of self-consciousness about her stretch marks and the way that her belly button had started to pop out and instead smiled at him and held out her hand, gesturing for him to come stand next to her. He followed suit and slipped his hand into hers.

Rory's heart skipped a beat as his fingers slipped in-between her own. When he gave her hand a soft squeeze, her heart almost exploded.

Her first ultrasound had been absolutely terrifying. All of the fears and doubts that she had about her pregnancy and about her ability to be a mother were weighing her down from the moment she'd walked in the door. But, she hadn't accounted for what would happen to her when she saw her baby for the first time. Instantly all the fear and doubt that she'd carried in fell away and she was left with a love that felt as if it could consume her entire being.

At her second ultrasound, the fear and doubt had been left behind for pure excitement. The idea of seeing how much her baby had grown had occupied her every thought for days before hand. And when the baby appeared on the screen, she was left speechless. As powerful as seeing the first images of her child were, she was not prepared for what it would be like to see her weeks later when she looked less like an amorphous blob and more like a living breathing baby with a head and hands and feet that were clearly visible.

Up until last week, she had thought that this scan wouldn't be that much different than the one before. The baby would be a little bigger and she might see her moving around more. She was excited, but she hadn't thought that she would have the same overwhelming feeling that's she'd had at ultrasound number two.

She hadn't accounted for Logan.

As much as she was excited for another look at the baby, she was even more excited to see Logan see the baby. It was like the feeling of sitting down and watching your favorite movie with someone who had never seen it before – except so much more intense. She's accepted the fact months ago that she would never get this experience. And yet here she was.

Dr. Kothari placed the probe against Rory's stomach and an image instantly flashed on the screen. It was difficult to make out what exactly they were looking at right away, but Rory recognized the sight of her beating heart on the left side of the screen.

"Okay. There she is," the doctor said as she maneuvered the probe ever so slightly against the bottom of Rory's belly. With the slight move, her profile suddenly became much clearer and Rory heard Logan inhale a sharp intake of breath.

"Is that her nose?" he asked.

Rory smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

"Yep, this is her face right here," said Dr. Kothari as she moved her cursor along the area where Logan's attention was currently focused. She started clicking at points around the head and body, making measurements as she moved the probe around her stomach. She then moved the cursor down to the left a little bit. The baby's hand was up by her mouth and Rory was able to trace her arm as it moved down to her torso and ribcage.

"And here's her arm and her hand. Looks like we have a nice strong heartbeat."

With a single click, the room was suddenly filled with the rapid echoing sound of a heartbeat. Logan almost jumped with surprise at the sound. His eyes were wide.

"That's her heart?" he asked, looking at Rory and then over at the doctor.

Rory hummed in the affirmative and Dr. Kothari also confirmed with a wide smile as she recorded the information. It seemed that even she was charmed by Logan's somewhat clueless but enthusiastic response.

"It's really fast," he noted. "Is that normal?"

"Perfectly normal," Dr. Kothari said. "We look for 120 to 160 beats per minute and she's right in the middle there. So that's great news."

With the press of a button, the heartbeat was gone from the room. Rory watched a look of disappointment fall over Logan's face, but it was quickly replaced with one of awe when the baby made a quick movement and turned so that her full face was on display. And when the doctor switched over to a 4D image he was absolutely beside himself.

"Oh!" the Dr. said as the baby opened up her mouth. "Big yawn."

"Well, she had a pretty raucous night last night," said Rory. "She's nocturnal."

The doctor chuckled and took a screen cap. Rory turned her attention to Logan and squeezed his hand again.

"I blame you."

"Sorry, Ace," he said as he let out a breathy laugh. Then, he lifted their combined hands to his lips.

The moment his lips touched her skin, Rory's heart started beating as fast as their daughter's. A flash of heat burst onto her face, and she silently hoped that she hadn't turned beat red. That was the most intimate gesture Logan had made since he'd walked back into her life. Sure, he kissed her cheek when he greeted her and touched her belly when the baby kicked – but those were things that he would do with his sister.

This was something else.

Rory was filled with a rush of hope. Sitting in this room watching him see their daughter for the first time had left her feeling like things might actually work out. She'd never seen him so completely and utterly mesmerized by anything. He was in love. It was so abundantly and blatantly clear.

And with a kiss of her hand, Rory was starting to feel like maybe he could feel that way toward her again. She filled with the comfortable and joyous realization that the decision she'd made yesterday was completely and totally worth it.

The doctor continued to poke around Rory's uterus with the probe, snatching pictures for printing and taking measurements as she went. The baby continued to move around as well, kicking her legs and sticking her fingers into her mouth. At one point, they even saw the baby deliver a swift kick on the screen right as a visible twitch occurred on Rory's belly.

The doctor took a few moments to look around for any signs of potential complications. She assured Rory that everything looked on track with the baby and with her. There was no placenta previa and the baby still had plenty of time to turn over. With those assurances and a few more questions for Rory, the doctor left the room. She informed them that a nurse would be in to take a urine and blood sample and then they would be free to go.

After Rory thanked the doctor, her gaze went right back to Logan who was still staring at the now blank ultrasound screen with a look of pure contemplation and astonishment on his face.

"Amazing right?" Rory asked as soon. "I used to think the 3D/4D ultrasound was kind of overkill, but now…"

"Yeah," Logan breathed. "Amazing."

Rory smiled as she watched Logan process what he'd just seen. He'd asked the doctor for tons of copies of the pictures and Rory got the distinct impression that he was going to start handing them out like business cards. She was suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to jump off the table and wrap him up in her arms, but she decided better of it.

"I'm kinda hungry. Do you want to grab some lunch when we're done?" she asked, deciding that offering to spend the afternoon with him would be a much better way to display her affection at this current point in their relationship.

Her heart fell to the floor when Logan sighed heavily and his shoulders sagged.

"There's nothing I'd rather do, Ace," he said. "But I can't. I have to head to New York as soon as I drop you off."

Rory was both surprised and confused to hear this. The last he'd talked to her, he was planning on working remotely for the time being, and she'd assumed that that would continue for the foreseeable future.

"New York?" she asked. "Why?"

"I'm meeting with a real estate agent," he answered.

A real estate agent. Rory's entire world came to a stop. She was trying to process the words to the best of her ability, but her pregnancy brain was getting the better of her. It wasn't helped by the feeling that the oxygen was leaving the room and the walls were starting to close in on her.

"A real estate agent? In New York?" Rory asked for confirmation. Perhaps she had heard him wrong.

"Yeah…" Logan said with a sigh. "Apparently, one of the reasons why my dad didn't put up any kind of stink about me coming back to the States was because he realized if he had me in the New York office permanently then he wouldn't have to keep making the two and a half hour commute twice a week."

"Oh…" Rory said weekly. "You're moving… to New York."

In one swift and unexpected moment, every single thing that she had started to hope for in the last few days suddenly came crashing down into a pile of rubble around her.

She didn't understand why this was happening. She didn't understand why he needed to be in New York to do a job that, to the best of her knowledge, he could do from anywhere. It didn't make any sense to her.

"This doesn't change anything, Ace," Logan said softly. "I'm going to be here. I'll commute every weekend if I have to. I'll live on the I-95."

It changed everything.

But Rory couldn't say that to him.

Saying that to him would be admitting to him that she'd started to picture a lifestyle for the two of them that was far more than two co-parents handing off their child to each other over the weekends. She'd started to picture him being there all the time. She started picturing moving into a place together and eating paella and grilling lobsters and fighting over newspapers and sticking Henry in the corner of a rec room. She started to picture waking up next to him in bed every morning.

"Rory, I promise," Logan assured. "I'll be here. I said I was going to be a part of the baby's life, and I'm going to be a part of the baby's life."

"Right," Rory said with a halfhearted nod.

She believed him. Her mind flashed to one of the first things he'd ever said to her when their relationship started in earnest. "If I say I can do something, then I can." He'd yet to prove himself wrong on that particular sentiment. Logan was always able to do something when he committed to it. It was getting him to make the commitment to begin with that was the difficult part. But he'd officially made his commitment.

"Right. You'll be here," Rory said with a nod. "For the baby."

Logan gave her a solemn smile. Rory mirrored the expression, but it was far from genuine. All she could think about was the fact that just fifteen minutes ago she was sitting here thinking that they were on their way to being a complete family. And now… now it seemed like it wasn't even a remote possibility.

"And don't worry about my mom," Logan said, referencing their conversation from earlier. "I basically told her there wasn't a chance in hell that that was going to happen."

Rory nodded and she tried to hide the fact that her heart was breaking and her breathing was becoming shallow. She cursed her pregnancy hormones as she felt a sting in her eyes that had the potential to lead to tears. She could not let them fall. She just need to except the fact that this was the reality.

This was what her future was going to look like.

It wasn't going to happen.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

Saturday, April 22, 2017

"Well your mother told me all that I could give you was a reputation. She never cared for me. But, did she ever say a prayer for me?"

"No!" Lorelai shouted at her daughter from across the cluttered basement. "We can't throw that away!"

Rory was standing next to a trash bin, a tattered magazine held in her hand. Her hand was hovering over the top of the bin and the magazine was hanging in great peril. Rory raised her eyebrow at her and sent her a judgmental glance.

"Really?" she asked. "You need to keep the November 1980 issue of Tiger Beat?"

"Rory,' Lorelai said with a playful scoff. "Don't you understand how valuable that centerfold pull out probably is by now?"

"You're right," said Rory in a deadpan voice. "How silly of me? All the young girls today are scouring the internet for wrinkled and faded posters of Scott Baio."

"And Eric Estrada!" Lorelai added. "I could sell that on eBay for thousands of dollars."

"Thousands of yen, maybe."

Lorelai watched as her daughter rolled her eyes at her and gave her a look of pure annoyance. Rory had been in a particularly grumpy mood that day, something that really wasn't helping with the task at hand.

There was a reason she had been putting this off for months and months. It was ironic, but the idea of going through and cleaning out the boxes and boxes of clutter that had been left behind from her young life was hardly something that she was looking forward to. This house had always been such a complicated home for her. Complicated because even though this house was the setting for many horrible memories – it was also home to some of her greatest.

This was the home where she'd spent her childhood Christmases. This was the home where she would bring her friends over in the summer to swim. This was the home where Rory was conceived. Where she lived the first few months of her life. It was where she rebuilt the decimated relationship she had with her parents into something at least marginally stable. It was the place where she was guaranteed to see Rory at least once a week after she had left for Yale.

As much as she sometimes dreaded walking through the front door during the more tumultuous moments of her relationship with her parents, this was Lorelai's first home. It was a place she'd considered partly hers for forty-eight years, forty-nine as of this coming Tuesday.

Saying goodbye to it wasn't easy.

Saying goodbye to it was like saying goodbye to her father all over again.

She'd first realized that she wasn't ready to say goodbye to this house the day she'd walked through the door and found her mother attempting to Marie Kondo the entire place into oblivion. The feeling of dread that settled into her at the idea that the Gilmore house would soon be someone else's hadn't gone away sense.

As long as her things were still sitting in the basement, this house was still hers. And so, she'd put off removing them until the very last day before her mother came back to sign off on the sales contract and start packing up.

She knew it was silly, but she felt that as long as she still had these things in her life in some way, she didn't need to feel like she was saying goodbye to her childhood.

"Mom, you have to throw some of this stuff away," Rory said, gesturing to the several cardboard boxes surrounding them. "You can't take it all back to Stars Hollow with you."

"Who says I can't?" Lorelai asked.

"Where are you going to put it?" Rory asked.

"In the garage."

"Where are you going to put Luke's boat?"

"I dunno," Lorelai said with a shrug. "Maybe I'll force you come clean all of your things out of your childhood house and park it in your room!"

Silence settled between the mother and daughter after that particular outburst. Rory dropped the magazine back into the box she'd fished it out of and turned around with her back facing Lorelai. She tucked her hair behind her ears and started slicing through the tape on another box next to her.

"Sorry," Lorelai said. "I didn't mean that. It's just… this isn't easy, kid. I need a little more patience here."

"I know," Rory squeaked.

Lorelai instantly felt like the world's worst mother. Something was obviously bothering her daughter – her very pregnant hormonal emotionally raw daughter. Rory didn't need her snapping at her right now. She also didn't need to be managing Lorelai's emotions on top of all of the things she was going through in her own life. And Lorelai hated that she seemed to always find a way to make Rory feel like she did.

"You seem upset," Lorelai said, hoping that she might be able to get her to open up.

"I'm not upset," Rory said. "I know you didn't mean it. After all, I'll probably need my room considering I'm about to be homeless again in a month or so."

"Well… that wasn't what I meant," Lorelai clarified. "I was talking about the fact that something has obviously been bothering you all day. But, if that's what it is…"

"I'm fine," Rory said with a light shrug.

"You have Bambi face."

"I don't have Bambi face."

"Rory…" Lorelai said with a pleading trill.

She knew her daughter better than that, and Rory knew that she knew her better than that. But, Rory wasn't budging. Her attention was still entirely glued on the task in front of them. Lorelai decided to try another method.

"Does this have anything to do with why you were crying at Miss Patty's recital last night when Kirk and Lulu starting singing "Sue Me" from Guys and Dolls? I mean… it's a sweet song, but it's not exactly known to be a tear jerker."

"I told you that was just hormones."

"Rory…" Lorelai pleaded once again.

Rory's only response this time was to reach into the box that she had just opened and pull out a record album featuring a young man with feathered blonde hair and a red shirt standing in front of a light blue background.

"Shadow Dancing by Andy Gibb?" Rory asked.

"Keep that," Lorelai said.

Rory threw the album in the keep pile and went right back to rummaging through boxes. She took the initiative herself to throw any clothes she came across into a Goodwill pile and any broken, useless, or just plain strange items into the trash. Lorelai just watched her with a deep sense of concern and unease.

"Kid, you can talk to me about anything, you know that right?" said Lorelai. "I know things have been… off… since the fight about the book and the whole Logan situation. But, I don't want you to think that you can't talk to me."

"I know," Rory said. "It's – it doesn't have anything to do with us. I just really don't want to talk about it. With anyone. I just need some time."

"Okay…" said Lorelai.

"Let's just focus on getting this done so Grandma doesn't have an absolute meltdown when she gets in tomorrow morning. She put me in charge of getting you to do this months ago."

"Alright," Lorelai said with a dramatic sigh.

With Rory's insistence that they get to work and stop procrastinating, Loreal was forced to actually concentrate on the job in front of her. Yet, as she looked around, she was hit with the realization that this was a lot more work than she had previously considered.

"You know… I don't think we really thought this through," she said. Rory turned around, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, look at all of this," Lorelai said, gesturing around her. "Even if I get rid of half of this stuff, we still need to get it out of here. And I mean…I know my upper arm strength used to rival The Rock's, but it's dwindling these days. And you're six months pregnant, so not much help there. Plus this isn't going to fit in my car without multiple trips. I should have had Luke come with his truck or rented a Uhaul or something…"

"Colin, and Finn are coming tomorrow morning," Rory said.

Lorelai was confused. Rory had said that as if it was supposed to mean something to her.

"What?" she asked.

"Finn is bringing his Escalade tomorrow morning, and they will pack up all the stuff and take it back to Stars Hollow or Goodwill or wherever it needs to go."

"I'm confused…"

"It's taken care of. All we have to do is sort things," Rory said with a sigh. "Logan already set it up."

Suddenly, Lorelai was hit rush of unwelcome familiarity. Logan's friends. Names that until ten seconds ago, she had been so blessed to have completely forgotten.

"Oh," she said. "Right. Colin and Finn."

She was momentarily surprised that he would still be in touch with all of them all these years later. But, then, Rory's closest friends were still Lane and Paris, so she guessed it wasn't that out of the ordinary. But, hearing that Logan was still galivanting around with the numbskull brigade was not making her feel better about him being back in her daughter's life – or about him raising her granddaughter. Especially if said numbskulls were to be around said granddaughter.

Pictures of Rory climbing drunk out of a limo in her front yard while they cheered and popped champagne flew through her head. They were accompanied by the memory of Colin and Finn bursting into jail in tuxedos with nothing but jokes and quips about the fact that her daughter had committed a felony and conversations on the phone about how they had been partially responsible for Logan's near death in Costa Rica due to their negligence and sheer stupidity.

The fact that Logan had set up for them to come deal with her things in the morning was just swell.

She was trying so hard to get over her animosity toward Logan. She truly was. She'd spent the last few nights trying to remind herself of the time during his and Rory's relationship when they'd genuinely gotten along. Shortly before and after his move to London in 2006, Lorelai had come around to Logan. She could honestly say that she was even rooting for Logan.

Her feelings for him started to turn when he'd come to her to try to win Rory's heart back. The kid wasn't stupid. He knew how much she disliked him. It was ballsy and slightly insane. And, as such, it was very clear how desperate and in love he was with Rory. Soon, after that there was the disastrous weekend in Martha's Vineyard where she'd actually observed his and Rory's relationship dynamic in action. They were sweet together. Flirty. Nice. It was nice. And when Mitchum reared his head, Lorelai felt a deep empathetic connection with his family situation that made her feel like she understood him so much more. Then once he moved to London, she'd been impressed with the way that he'd initially taken to his career and started to think that her judgement that he was lazy and irresponsible wasn't fair.

The problem was, all of that was so short lived. As soon as Lorelai was starting to think that maybe Logan was growing up and getting his act together, he regressed to exactly the person she'd always feared he was. His career imploded because of his reckless behavior, and he never really seemed to have a solid plan to get his life back on track.

She'd been so relieved that Rory turned down his proposal. Although, she had never said that out loud.

The day that Logan Huntzberger walked out of Rory's life, Lorelai was filled with the most intense feeling of relief that she had ever experienced. Her own heart broke to see Rory in such pain, of course. But, at the end of the day she was completely and totally confident that she would move on with time and find someone more suited for her and the life that she wanted. Logan would be a blip on her radar - a college sweetheart that she looked back on with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia as she carried on with her life and career as she'd always planned.

That would be it.

But now…

Now she was back to hoping and praying that maybe Logan wasn't as bad as she thought he was despite so much evidence to the contrary. It was like the very beginning of their relationship all over again. Except this time, instead of him just being a spoiled irresponsible kid, he was a grown man who had convinced Rory to be some kind of side piece and knocked her up on the process.

She wanted to say so much, but she knew she was walking on egg shells. But, eshe was about to take her first step of the day.

"So… How are things going with Logan?" she asked.

In an effort to look nonchalant, Lorelai started going through one of her boxes and yanking out old notebooks with curling and yellowing pages that were half scribbled on. Why she'd kept these she had no idea. But as she started ripping out pages and throwing them in the recycling bin, she watched Rory grow stiff and uncomfortable.

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

Ah.

So, Lorelai was right.

"I see," Lorelai said. Rory stopped working to turn around and cross her arms over her chest.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

Lorelai took a deep breath. Apparently, she'd just cracked her first shell… and with only two words.

"It means 'I see,' Rory," she said. "You're upset about Logan. You don't want to talk about it. I understand. That's all."

Rory was shaking her head incredulously.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to talk about him," Rory said with anger lacing her words. "You can't even agree to not talk about him without making it perfectly clear what your opinion is. Well I don't want your opinion, Mom."

Lorelai forced herself to shove down the instant stab of pain that Rory's dismissal brought up in her. She always hated when Rory felt like she couldn't talk to her about something. It made her feel like a failure. Like she'd done something to make Rory distrust her. It reminded her too much of her relationship with her own mother.

"Besides," Rory continued. "I don't understand how you can stand there and act all high and mighty like you knew Logan was going to do something to upset me when you're the one that told me to choose him over Jess just last week."

"Whoa!" said Lorelai.

Rory was clearly far more upset that Lorelai had realized. She was being unreasonable. Rory. Her Chilton Valedictorian. Her Yale graduate. Her New Yorker featured reporter. She was standing in front of her with a brain scrambled by emotions. She had turned completely and utterly irrational.

"I didn't tell you to choose Logan over Jess. You already did that," Lorelai clarified. "I told you to stop stringing Jess along because you were clearly in love with another man, and it wasn't fair to him. That's true regardless of what ends up happening between you and Logan."

Rory curled in on herself a little bit. She was quiet while she attempted to compose herself, and Lorelai just watched her go through it with a breaking heart. Rory was supposed to be done fretting over Logan Huntzberger ten years ago.

"You're right," said Rory. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Rory, what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Lorelai could have screamed. But she was helpless. Rory was thirty-three years old. She couldn't stand here and force her to talk by taking away her coffee privileges or blaring Yanni through the house until she agreed to open up.

If Rory didn't want to talk, she didn't want to talk.

Lorelai had no choice but to go along with it. All she could do was stand there while her daughter shoved her emotions deep down in her chest somewhere and distracted herself with busywork. This wouldn't be the first time Rory had chosen that particular coping method, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

But this time there seemed to be something getting in the way of her work. Just as Rory was bending over to reach down and open up another box, her hand went to her belly and she slowly stood up. A grimace came over her face, and Lorelai almost jumped into action. However, she thought better of it when she realized that it didn't look like Rory wasn't exactly in pain. She just looked uncomfortable.

Very uncomfortable.

"You okay?" she asked.

Rory didn't answer. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths while she rubbed her belly in circles. Then, she took a sudden sharp turn to the left and started to hastily make her way up the stairs and out of the basement.

"Oh boy…" Lorelai mumbled to herself as she followed her daughter up the stairs.

At first, Rory was moving at a reasonable pace, but the instant that her feet made contact with the main level of the house she suddenly threw her hand over her mouth and darted in the direction of the bathroom as fast as her legs could carry her.

Lorelai was fresh on her heels. As Rory turned the corner and threw open the door to the bathroom, she all but flung herself to the floor in front of the toilet. The vomit came up so quickly that Lorelai had to marvel briefly at the fact that she'd managed not to throw up all over her mother's pristine hardwood floors.

She dropped the thought quickly in favor of action. Following Rory into the bathroom, she lowered herself to the floor behind her and scooped up her daughter's hair in her hands as she continued to empty the contents of her stomach. Her heart went out to her. Rory had been so happy that the nausea had finally seemed to be dying down.

"Aw kid," she said, running a hand over Rory's sweaty forehead to try to get any fly away hairs that she might have missed. "So much for the morning sickness going away, huh?"

Rory made one last heave before the vomiting passed. Lorelai continued to pet the top of her head, hoping to offer some comfort during the post nausea haze that always followed after you'd just purged your lunch down the plumbing.

"You okay?"

This time the question was meant to be innocuous. She'd expected Rory to give her a small nod and ask her for a cup of water and some saltine crackers all while assuring her she was fine. It was their morning sickness ritual. It happened so often, especially in the early days, that it had become routine.

But this time, Rory had an entirely different reaction.

A strangled sob burst from her throat and her hands flew up to cover her face.

She crumpled in a heap next to Lorelai as she continued to cry. Lorelai picked up her daughter's head and set it on her lap so that she could run her fingers through her hair. Sniffles and sobs echoed through the bathroom for the next several moments.

"Hey!" Lorelai exclaimed, shocked and confused by Rory's sudden overwhelming reaction to being sick. Of course, Lorelai knew that being sick probably wasn't what had brought this on. "Rory, what's going on?"

Rory's body racked with even harder sobs as words started pouring out of her mouth.

"He's moving to New York," she cried.

"Oh sweets," Lorelai cooed as she kept stroking Rory's hair and rubbed her back.

"He never wanted to be with me. He never would have left her. I'm so stupid."

When Lorelai was a young girl, she used to be absolutely perplexed by the idea of murder. She would watch 60 Minutes or random crime documentaries and always found the idea that someone could actually kill another human being to be completely insane. She simply couldn't fathom how a person could bring themselves to do something like that.

Then she had a child.

And the very first time Rory had come home from elementary school sobbing over the fact that she wasn't invited to Bethy Robinson's sleepover because Bethy said she was a "boring nerd," Lorelai had gone from a girl who couldn't comprehend the idea of harming another person to a woman who had briefly considered wringing the neck of an eight-year-old. Thankfully, the brief moment of utter insanity passed very quickly and her anger was sated with a firm phone call to Bethy's mother requesting that she kindly tell her daughter to stop bullying her kid.

Lorelai wasn't so sure the feeling would pass as quickly this time.

She would kill Logan Huntzberger.

She would chop his dick off and throw it in the Connecticut river, and then she would run him over with her car. Several times.

And what made her rage all the more palpable was the fact that this wasn't the first time Logan had put her in this same position. This same. Exact. Position.

Just as Lorelai's anger was reaching the height of its crescendo, there was a unexpected clamor coming from the foyer. The sound of the front door opening and then slamming closed broke the air around them. Lorelai raised an eyebrow and Rory sat up, confused as to who it could possibly be.

"Ace!" a voice yelled. "Where are you? I come bearing pizza!"

Rory was sitting fully up by this point. A look of sheer panic and terror flashed over her face and she frantically started wiping at her cheeks to banish the tears away.

"What is he doing here?!" Rory cried. "He can't be here right now. He can't see me like this."

Lorelai saw red.

Who the hell did he think he was just walking into her parents' house uninvited and unannounced? If she wasn't already ready to kill him, she definitely would be now. His timing was absolutely incredible.

"I'll take care of this," Lorelai said as she stood up. Rory looked up at her, the panic on her face growing even more.

"Mom… no…"

"Rory," Lorelai said firmly. "I will take care of this."

With one last look at her emotionally wrecked daughter, Lorelai stepped out of the bathroom and walked through the dining room into the foyer where she planned to tell Logan exactly what he could do with his pizza.

For the last several days, Logan had been filled with a lingering sense of dread.

It was a familiar dread – one that he distinctly remembered feeling only once in his life.

He'd felt something similar several times before, of course. There was the time Honor had given him the silent treatment after she'd found out about the somewhat disastrous fling he'd had with her friend Claude in 2001. There was the time that he and Colin had gone through the biggest fight of their friendship after some angry drunken words they'd said during their freshman year at Yale. And, there was the time that he'd missed the ceremony for the presentation of Seema's Excellence in Practice Award from the California Lawyers Association due to work, and she'd barely let him touch her for a week.

Logan had felt the dread that came with having someone he loved be tremendously angry at him several times. It really wasn't that strange at all. But there was only one time where the feeling of dread had been this intense. Before now, he had only once felt like the outcome might actually completely ruin the life he was trying to make for himself.

And both times the person on the other end happened to be Rory Gilmore.

He didn't know what had happened, but the radio silence that he'd been getting from Rory for the last few days rivaled the cold shoulder that she had given him after Honor's wedding and before he'd left for Costa Rica. It was also similar in that every single time he tried to ask her what was wrong, she would just insist that she was fine.

She wasn't fine.

She was upset about something. It was obvious and apparent. Up until Wednesday, they had been doing so well. The awkwardness that had been present after he'd first found out about the pregnancy was waning away, but now he felt like they were right back at ground zero.

He had a feeling it had something to do with New York – but he couldn't be sure because Rory refused to talk to him about it. He'd been going out of his way to show her that the move was not going to affect his commitment to her and the baby. He'd called her every day. He emailed her the Zillow listings of the apartments that he was looking at to see what she thought of them. He offered his help with cleaning out her grandparents' basement, as well as the help of his friends.

Nothing seemed to be working. She was happy to accept the help of Colin and Finn tomorrow morning, and she had provided some vague comments about the apartments. But she didn't seem interested in talking to him any more than absolutely necessary.

He was getting anxious.

After an unanswered text message about how the basement clean up with her mom was going, Logan had started to get antsy. And in an act of sheer desperation, he decided to do something about it.

Knowing that there was nothing that could please the Gilmore Girls more than the prospect of a free greasy meal after a day of hard work, Logan hopped in his car, picked up two pizzas from his favorite place in West Hartford, and headed over to the Gilmore house.

If Rory was starting to doubt that he was going to show up, then maybe what he needed to do was literally show up.

With food.

Logan took a deep breath as he stepped in front of the front door. He took a moment to swallow down his anxiety, and raised a hand to knock on the door. After getting no response, he decided to try the door himself. Finding it unlocked, he went ahead and let himself in.

"Ace!" he yelled as he walked into the house.

He didn't hear anything in response, and so he assumed Rory and her mother were probably down in the basement. The only problem was he wasn't really familiar with any part of the Gilmore house other than the main living area and the pool house, and he had no idea where the stairs to the basement were.

"Where are you?" he asked. "I come bearing pizza!"

When the next couple of moments were once again met by silence, Logan started to consider the fact that she probably couldn't hear him. But, he was a Yale graduate and a managing partner of an international media conglomerate. He was confident in his abilities to make an intelligent guess as to the location of the steps to the basement. If had had to wager, they were most likely in the hallway behind the dining room. With that thought in mind, he turned on his heel to the right and stepped in that direction. He stopped, however, when he heard the sound of a door closing and saw Lorelai emerge from the hallway.

"Hey, Lorelai," he greeted with a smile. "I figured you guys might be hungry."

"What are you doing here?"

Logan was almost knocked over by the level of sheer derision that was brusquely shot his way. Lorelai was pinning him down with an intense glare and her arms were crossed defensively over her chest. Sensing immediate peril, Logan set the pizzas down on the dining room table and raised his hands in surrender.

"I… thought I'd do something nice and bring you guys some dinner…"

"I think you've done quite enough, Logan."

And in that single instant the gnawing suspicion that Rory was upset with him about something became outright certainty. The only thing he was confused about was why he was being squared down by Lorelai Gilmore and not Rory herself.

"Is there something I've done to upset you, Lorelai?" asked Logan with a acerbic shrug.

Lorelai responded with a sardonic chortle.

"You know," she said. "It's so funny you asked. Because… I have to admit, I am getting a little tired of having to scrape my daughter off the bathroom floor every time you decide to come waltzing into her life."

Worry settled deep in the pit of Logan's stomach at the somewhat cryptic yet concerning statement. He was entirely confused as to what Lorelai was talking about – but the image of a six month pregnant Rory lying on the bathroom floor for any reason was not settling well with him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"I'm talking about the fact that there have been exactly two times in my life where I have somehow found myself sitting on the bathroom floor with my daughter's head in my lap after she's just thrown her guts up and she's sobbing her eyes out. And somehow both times they've had something to do with the fact that you're an asshole."

"Excuse me?" Logan asked with a furrowed brow.

"Mom! Stop!" Rory's voice called out from the hallway.

Just a second later, Rory appeared through the doorway into the dining room looking worse for the wear. The anger that he'd felt at Lorelai's hostility was momentarily tampered down by concern for Rory. Her eyes were red and her face was splotchy. It was clear she had been crying. She looked pale and grizzled. And the expression on her face was one of sheer dismay.

He was suddenly dealing with the very strange quandary of feeling protective and defensive at exactly the same time. And he wasn't entirely sure which instinct to act on.

"You know for the longest time, I couldn't wrap my head around how Rory – my smart, independent, self-assured daughter – could ever fall for a spoiled, irresponsible, womanizing jerk like you. But, then, I have to admit that there was a point there where you even had me charmed for a while. You're a smooth one, Huntzberger. I'll give you that"

Defensive it was then.

"You wanna chime in here, Ace?" Logan asked.

His gaze moved over to Rory. She was standing off to the side, her arms crossed in a manner that almost made it look like she was hugging herself. Her eyes were closed in frustration, as if she was trying to block out the sound of he and her mother arguing. He felt guilty, but at the same time he couldn't deny the fact that he was getting pretty upset himself.

"Oh. Great," Lorelai said. "Let's have Rory fight your battles for you while she's pregnant and emotional. How noble."

"Excuse me for not being prepared to walk into a warzone."

"Maybe you would be prepared if you actually called people before you just showed up to their house uninvited."

"Mom! Stop!" Rory yelled. "This isn't any of your business."

"I think it became my business when you started having an emotional breakdown in the middle of the bathroom."

"No! It didn't!" Rory yelled.

The room came to a standstill at Rory's tone. The words had been dripping with anger and had come out in a loud sharp burst of energy. The tears on her face had dried and she no longer looked as if she was going to cry. Instead she looked as if she was about to blow a fuse.

"Rory, I - "

"Just leave!" Rory said, interrupting Lorelai.

"I - "

"Leave!"

Lorelai's mouth dropped open in surprise at the force of Rory's tone and the fact that she was kicking her out of the house. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before letting out a huff of anger. She shook her head in silent disapproval and grabbed her purse off of the dining room table along with one of the boxes that Logan had just set down moments before.

"Thanks for the pizza," she said as she walked out of the room and turned the corner into the foyer.

Moments later, Logan heard the door slam closed behind her, and he found himself standing alone in the dining room with Rory.

The tears were starting to well up in her eyes again. She was digging her thumbs into her forearms in an attempt to calm herself down. She couldn't make eye contact with him. He'd only ever seen her this upset once before, and it was the morning that he had flown off to London after his graduation. At the time, he thought seeing her so distraught that morning would be one of the most heartbreaking moments of his life. But, he'd been wrong. At least then he understood why.

"What's going on, Rory?" he finally asked after a few moments of silence.

He couldn't deal with this anymore. The never-ending rollercoaster. The clipped conversations. The constant assurance that everything was fine when it clearly wasn't.

He kept hearing the voice of Colin in his head, telling him that the brief communication they'd had wasn't nearly enough. He was right. There was so much more that they needed to talk about. There was clearly so much more that Rory was feeling that she wasn't telling him. And, if he was honest with himself, the same was true for him.

They needed to talk.

They needed to talk now, and they couldn't put it off any longer.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

Saturday, April 22, 2017 Part II

"There was a railroad line on the road to hell. There was a young man down on a bended knee. And, brother, thus begins the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice."

"What's going on, Rory?"

Logan stood in front of her looking as if he'd just been inexplicably punched in the face. It made sense. The timing of his unexpected arrival had happened to culminate at just precisely the right moment for him to be slammed with the worst of her mother's rage. And for him it must have seemingly come out of nowhere.

Even so, Rory was finding it hard to pity him. She hadn't asked him to be here. She hadn't asked him to bring dinner. In fact, she'd thought she'd made it clear to him through lack of enthusiastic communication was that she needed a little space for the time being. She needed time to process her emotions after the bombshell that he'd dropped on her in the doctor's office.

Now, she felt like he was forcing her hand. And she absolutely hated when he did things like this.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Nothing happened," said Rory. "I'm fine. It's morning sickness. I just need some crackers or something."

Rory turned around and walked into the kitchen. She was hoping that leaving the room for a second might deescalate the situation that she currently found herself in. But, Logan had other ideas. He followed quickly on her heels, unwilling to let the subject drop.

"Morning sickness?" Logan asked. His brow wrinkled in to a look of pure skepticism and suspicion. "So the fact that I just walked into this house and was instantly hit with maelstrom of fury from your mother was because you got morning sickness?"

Rory took a deep breath. She opened the door to the pantry and scanned the shelves for the saltine crackers that she had put away after her last trip to the grocery store. Finding them on the top shelf, she internally groaned. Why on Earth had she thought that was a good location? She stretched out an arm to try to reach them and ended up struggling on her tip toes.

"Something else must have happened. Something that I'm not aware of but apparently your mother knows all about. Although, I don't know why I should be surprised. God forbid there's ever a time when I know what's going on between us before Lorelai Gilmore does."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rory asked as she was distracted from struggle for the crackers. Logan took the opportunity to step into her space and reach up to the shelf himself. He grabbed them with ease before setting them on the counter.

"I've been trying to get you to tell me what's bothering you since Wednesday night, and you refuse to talk to me. And now your mom is coming at me guns blazing, and I can't even defend myself because I have no idea why she's mad at me."

Rory pushed passed him to get to the counter where he'd set the box of crackers. She ripped it open and dug into one of the plastic sleeves. The cracker that she bit down into was keeping her from giving a response.

"God, sometimes I feel like I'm in a polyamorous relationship with you and your mother. And I'm the third."

Rory suddenly lost her appetite. She dropped the sleeve of crackers that she was holding back on the counter and fixed Logan with a look somewhere between frustration and astonishment. The statement was offensive enough on its own, but when combined with the fact that it totally and completely ignored the reality of their current situation, it became enough to set Rory off.

She'd been avoiding this for four days. But now she was ready for a fight.

"You're not in a relationship with anyone, Logan," she sneered. "You've made that perfectly clear. And my mom didn't even know that we were involved again until less than a year ago. So I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Please," Logan chortled.

"Oh. Okay," Rory said as she blinked at him and leaned against the kitchen counter. She crossed her arms over her chest. "So this actually isn't even about what's going on right now. You're just in the mood to air out our old dirty laundry from over a decade ago."

"You're really going to look me in the eye and pretend that that's not exactly what's going on right now?" Logan asked.

"You don't know anything about my relationship with my mother," said Rory.

She pushed past him and started walking out of the kitchen. She didn't know why she was walking away, but she felt like she needed to get out of there. She didn't want to look at him. Logan had no idea what he was talking about. He had no idea what her relationship with Lorelai was like at this point in her life. And he didn't get to fling accusations at her based on evidence from years previous.

Continuing on her journey to get away from him, Rory walked through the dining room and into the living room, stopping only when she heard his voice call out from behind her once again.

"I know that you put way too much stock into what she thinks about your life."

Rory did a swift about-face and glared at him as he walked toward her through the dining room.

"My mother and I are close. We want each other to be happy. We care about each other," she said. "I know that's hard for you to understand because your parents are sociopaths. But that's not my fault."

Logan let out a sardonic laugh and ran his hand through his hair.

"You know, it's funny," he said. "I used to be so envious of the fact that you and your mom seemed so functional in comparison to me and my parents. But the older I get the more I realize how off base I was."

"Excuse me?" Rory asked.

He couldn't be serious. He was really going to stand there and claim that he was better off growing up with Mitchum and Shira Huntzberger? Rory knew first-hand the level of emotional and verbal abuse they used to hand out on a daily basis. The Gilmores had their dysfunctions, but there was never a moment in her life when she wasn't absolutely certain that they operated first and foremost out of love for each other – even if their actions didn't always match their intent.

"My parents might be 'sociopaths,' but at least they raised two kids who don't stay up at night torturing themselves over the mere idea of setting boundaries with them. You had a meltdown because your mother almost stopped talking to you for a little while over the fact that you were going to write a book about your own life. My dad threatened to disown me when he disagreed with my career path, and I told him to go fuck himself. It's your life, Rory."

"It's not just my life! My book is about her life too. It's not as cut and dry as me quitting the family business!" Rory argued. "It's easy for you to set harsh boundaries with your parents because they made your life a living hell. But that's not normal, Logan."

"And your family is normal?" he asked with a subtle and sarcastic nod of his head.

"In comparison to yours – yes," Rory answered with a firm nod. Logan flung his arm in the direction of the back wall next to the staircase.

"Why is there a ten foot tall portrait of your grandfather taking up the entire wall of the living room?!"

"My grandma had it made after he died. It's nice!"

"It's terrifying," Logan countered.

"It wasn't supposed to be that big. It was a miscommunication."

"Well, why is it still here?!"

"What? Feeling judged?" Rory asked pointedly.

Rory watched as Logan shifted on his feet. He squared his jaw and rubbed his hand over his mouth. She knew it was a low blow, implying that her grandfather would be disgusted with him over the situation that they found themselves in. It was a low blow because it was true. She knew it and Logan knew it. And Logan, even after the debacle with the pool house and Rory's lost semester, had always respected and even admired her grandfather. They'd even had an argument about Logan not coming to the funeral. He wanted to come. Rory refused. It would have raised too many eyebrows.

"Rory," Logan said, his voice tinged with desperation. "What did I do? Please, just tell me."

Rory took a deep shaky breath. The sheer hopelessness in his tone knocked her anger down about ten degrees. She knew she wasn't being entirely fair with him. Technically, he hadn't actually done anything. He'd done exactly what he promised her he would do the last time they were standing in this room together. He'd made it so that he could be here every weekend, some weekdays, and for games and school plays and daddy daughter dances.

It's just she's so hoped that he might do more.

She'd gotten her hopes up that with Odette out of the picture, he might actually finally commit to being in her life in a real tangible way – a way that wasn't marred by secrecy and bad timing and the moral decay of living their life in clusters of sin.

But, yet again, Rory found herself feeling stupid that she'd ever hoped for something more. The first time she'd harbored a secret desire that Logan might end up wanting to be a bigger part of her life than he'd originally promised her, she'd made the swift and clean decision to cut him loose. But then by some miracle it had worked out. And so, despite ten years of earned wisdom about manners of the heart, she'd let herself hope that it might happen again. She should have known better. After all, what had Logan himself said to her all those years ago?

Past performance is no indication of future performance.

"You haven't done anything, Logan," she answered dejectedly. "You've done everything you said you would do. I don't need anything else from you. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful life in New York, and our daughter will love spending time with you there."

Rory watched as Logan's face went stoic. He didn't have anything to say in response. He just watched her with an indecipherable expression.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go lie down. It's been a long day."

Rory started walking toward the stairs, leaving Logan alone in the living room to let himself out of the house. As she climbed up the stairs, she waited until she turned at the landing and was out of his eye line to let the tears fall again.

Logan's heart was pounding as he watched Rory slip up the stairs and away from him. He was frozen in his spot, unsure of what to do or what to say and feeling powerless.

As his eyes scanned the room, they landed once again on the prodigious portrait of Richard Gilmore hanging on the wall across from him. His eyes made contact with the lifeless gaze of the man, and he was overwhelmed with a feeling of utter reproof.

An accident – Rory had said. It was an accident that the newest portrait of the Gilmore patriarch had been made to be so enormous. But Logan had to wonder if it hadn't been destined to be this way. Anything smaller would have failed to capture the magnanimousness of the man that always seemed to loom just a little bit larger than life.

Logan had always liked Richard Gilmore. He'd liked Richard Gilmore since the time that he was a senior in high school, and he'd shimmied down the drain pipe from his room right into an unexpected gathering of his father's alumnus friends smoking cigars on his back patio. When his father had walked out from inside the house with a bottle of merlot and harshly asked what the hell he was doing, Richard had covered for him with a line about how they'd been discussing his Yale application. Then, when Mitchum had been distracted, he'd leaned over and whispered to him with a clap on the shoulder.

"You might just want to head back upstairs, son. And we'll all forget this ever happened."

He'd missed Rachel Weisman's party that night. But he'd also missed his father tearing into him in front of five of his friends, so it had been a fair trade.

He'd never expected that Richard would actually become an important figure in his life. But then, he'd never expected that Richard had a granddaughter his age. He was only about ten or so years older than his parents, after all.

He'd always wanted Richard to like him. And not just because he wanted to keep the peace between himself and the grandparents of the girl he happened to be dating at the time. There was a part of him that always knew getting Richard to like him was paramount to his future happiness. There was a part of him that always knew Rory was it for him.

Logan was almost grateful that he wasn't alive to see him now. It's not that he was happy about his death – far from it. But, he didn't think he'd be able to handle looking into the real eyes of the man after the events of the last few years. Logan had dedicated the latter part of his college career to showing the Gilmores that he wanted to give their granddaughter the world.

And now…

Now all he'd given her was a clandestine love affair, an unplanned pregnancy, and the inevitable whispers of people labeling her Logan Huntzberger's mistress for years to come.

The most heartbreaking thing about it was that he would wrap the world up for her in a box tomorrow if he thought she'd actually take it. If she would just give him the slightest indication that she wanted him to. If she'd only ask.

He was getting tired of waiting for her to ask.

Suddenly, Logan was filled with a sense of ferocity about the absolute folly of it all. How much time had he wasted waiting for her to ask? He was thirty-five years old. Time was slipping through his fingertips faster and faster every day. He couldn't afford to wait any more. And he didn't want to.

Logan bounded up the stairs after her, reaching the top to find an empty hallway. He cursed to himself in his mind, frustrated about the fact that he'd waited too long to come after her and he had no idea which room she'd disappeared into.

"Rory!" he shouted as he started opening and closing doors.

In his quest to find her, he came upon the master bedroom, a bathroom, a bedroom with a frightening cluster of dolls staring at him menacingly as soon as he opened the door, and a linen closet before he finally flung a door open to a room bathed in pink. More pink that he ever associated with Rory. Pink wallpaper. Pink comforter. Pink throw pillows on the bed. And yet, to his surprise, he found her there, throwing the pillows down on the ground toward the direction of the fireplace and pulling the comforter down.

"Rory!"

Rory jumped and yelped in a startled fright as he burst into the room. The pillow that she had been holding at that precise moment fell to the floor next to her, and Logan quickly bent over, picked it up, and tossed it over into the pile with the others.

"We're not done," he said urgently. Rory had a look on her face that was halfway between scandalized and absolutely murderous.

He was frantic. He knew that he probably looked absolutely insane, but he didn't care.

"Logan, you need to leave. I thought I made that clear, but apparently - "

"No!" he interrupted.

Rory looked like she really might kill him at this point. She ignored him, choosing instead to maintain her focus on unmaking the bed. She violently folded back the comforter onto the foot of the bed and patted it smooth before walking around to the other side and repeating the action. She glared at him the entire time, silently daring him to say anything more that might piss her off.

It really was a frightening sight – a sight that might intimidate lesser men into giving her exactly what she wanted. But Logan had always had too much moxie for his own good.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what you want."

Rory stopped fussing with the bed. She stood up straight and the glare that had been fixed to her face morphed into something more akin to absolute bewilderment. It took her a moment think of something to say. But, unfortunately, what came out didn't seem like it was going to be the confession that Logan wanted to hear.

"Logan, what are you – "

"Tell me what you want, Rory." he interrupted, doubling down on his initial declaration and refusing to let her evade the point. "Do you want to be with me or not?"

The look on Rory's face had now gone from murderousness to bewilderment to astonishment in less than twenty seconds. It had left her reeling and unable to formulate an articulate response.

"I…. what?"

"All I've ever wanted was for you to just ask me. I told you. I toldyou the night before I moved to London the first time that all you needed to do was tell me not to go. I would have walked away from all of it if you would have just told me not to go. Do you really think that changed? It hasn't changed! It never will change! All you ever needed to do was tell me not to marry her, Rory! Couldn't you see that all I wanted you to do was tell me not to marry her?"

Rory was looking him as if she was seeing a ghost materialize in front of her eyes. It was a lot to drop on her. He knew that. But, with the way that she had been avoiding him the last few days, he was starting to feel like if they didn't have this conversation now, they might never have it. And, he wasn't going to let that happen.

He'd left his home behind. His fiancée. His friends. His career in the UK. He'd left everything behind to be with her because he finally had a reason. And the last thing that he was going to do was let her slip away because she would rather avoid him than talk about whatever it was that had happened between them.

"That's not fair," Rory replied. Her voice was craggy with the tears that had started falling down her cheeks at the revelation that he'd just given to her. "How can you put that kind of responsibility on me? I couldn't just tell you to give up everything like that. I couldn't then, and I couldn't now. You were engaged. You - "

"I was engaged to a woman I didn't love because the woman I do love didn't seem to want to be with me!"

"How can you say that?" Rory asked.

She looked utterly blind sighted by the comment. Just blind sighted enough to give him the smallest bit of hope that what he was going to say next wouldn't result in another broken heart.

"Because you said so!" he replied. "The morning after we slept together in Hamburg you went on and on about how it didn't have to mean anything. How we should just keep things casual like we did before – which was a joke to begin with because nothing was ever really casual with you. But I went along with it because I'm pathetic and I will take any part of you that you're willing to give me even if makes me die inside. Because I love you, Rory. I'm in love with you."

"If you're in love with me, then why did you ask someone else to marry you?"

"Because you already said no, Rory!" he explained. "I did ask you to marry me, and you said no!"

"That was ten years ago. I was twenty-two years old!"

"Really? Because it feels like yesterday to me. I feel it like it was yesterday every time I look at you."

Logan physically cringed as the words came out flying unrestrained of his mouth. He'd kept that secret deep within the depths of his heart for so long. Sometimes he refused to even admit it to himself. But it was out now. The words had been said and the tears that had welled in his eyes as soon as they'd been uttered underlined their authenticity.

Rory stood in front of him frozen as he attempted to will the tears away. He refused to blink lest they come falling down his cheeks and betray him even more.

"I wasn't ready," she whispered. "I was too young. And I can't spend my life apologizing for that, Logan."

He winced.

"I don't want you to. I just… I need you to understand how…"

Logan trailed off. He took a moment to try to figure out how to explain what he was feeling to her in words, but he was coming up short. His mind was a jumbled mess, full of emotions and trauma and pain that he wasn't able to wholly articulate. So, drawing the days when he used to be somewhat of a writer, he fell back on the tried and true method of metaphor.

"It's like I'm walking through my life on this trail. And you're there. You're on it with me. But you won't walk next to me. You insist on staying ten paces behind me. And every once in a while I'll hear you tell me to keep walking. So I do, and I don't look back. But mostly, I'm just terrified that the second I turn around you won't be there anymore. So I keep going. Cause if I don't turn around then..."

Then he never has to face the pain of seeing her gone again.

It was stupid logic – that he knew. He hadn't succeeded in sparing himself any pain at all, and he should have realized he never would. But logic was hardly something that came easily when a person's heart was involved. Especially his. The Huntzbergers hadn't really succeeded in instilling a healthy amount of emotional intelligence into their youngest child.

Rory was quiet for a moment as she processed what he'd said to her. She was shaking her head puzzlement and her face was morphing with each passing emotion as she attempted to put her thoughts into words. She seemed utterly confused by what he'd said, and it took her a while to figure out what to say.

"What I see," she said. "Is you running ahead of me at full sprint. And I'm screaming out your name, and I'm trying to keep up with you. But you have headphones in. And I'm getting leg cramps because I was never good at running.

"It's always been like that," Rory continued. "Since the beginning. You've always been on a clear path to this… destiny. This huge overbearing destiny that, yes, was forced on you. But you were also made for it, Logan. You're perfect for it, and it's perfect for you. And I'm just this… thing that you stepped in on the way that's gumming up your shoe. It's like I fell in love with the fact that I couldn't have you. All the other men in my life, they came to me so easily. But you… you were always just slightly out of my reach."

Rory let out a sardonic laugh and wiped at the tear falling down her left cheek.

"There's something Freudian in that, I'm sure," she commented darkly.

Logan bit his lip to keep himself from shouting out a knee jerk reaction to yet another comparison to her father. He didn't know how to make her understand that he'd never wanted to keep her at arm's length. That the only thing he'd ever wanted was for her to be near him.

"If you felt like that, then all you needed to do was ask me to come closer," he said.

If he'd known that she felt like he was out of reach to her, he would have done anything in his power to fix it. In fact, he'd tried. He was the one that asked her to be his girlfriend. He was the one that asked her to move in with him. He was the one that asked her to marry him. He told her he'd leave his entire destiny behind for her. He had left it behind for her. He didn't know what else to do.

"And keep you from becoming the person you are today? You were on the cover of Wired. You were on the Forbes 30 Under 30 Media list. Who am I? I'm an unemployed semi-homeless failure who couldn't land a job at a second rate Buzzfeed."

"Because it was beneath you."

"Please," Rory said with a scoff.

"It was!" Logan insisted. "Good journalism is a dying art, Rory. It's not your fault that finding jobs is impossible – even for the best in the business. You don't need to be shitting on yourself because you're better than a listicle about 'The Five Different Heads of State We'd All Like to Fuck' or some asinine quiz about what flavor of La Croix you are."

"You were supportive when I took that interview."

"That was before they screwed you over."

Logan rubbed at his face. These were the moments that he still hated his father – hated him for instilling this self-doubt so deeply within her. This wasn't the confident unrelenting girl that had threatened to stalk him after she'd discovered that he was in The Life and Death Brigade. Rory didn't used to sink into these pits of insecurity before that internship. It was his father's fault that she did this to herself. It was his fault for bringing his father into her life.

"Rory," he said, his tone serious and firm. "Don't you understand that you made me the person I am today? Do you really think I'd be where I was if it wasn't for you? I wouldn't have gotten my act together at school. I never would have left HPG and struck out on my own in California. I never would have made a name for myself out there. I would be in and out of rehab or dead in a ditch somewhere by now. You make me a better person. You always have."

"I don't think that's true."

"Yes, it is, Rory," he insisted. "And you aren't a failure. You're going through a dry period. You're broke. I get it. I've been there. I was broke for two years. It's horrible and it's terrifying and it feels like it's the end of the world. But failure doesn't define who you are. It's not the opposite of success. It's a part of getting there."

"I think I read that in your Wired interview…" Rory mused with a nod. Logan sighed.

"Ace…" he pleaded.

Rory flinched as the name slipped from his lips. She looked pained, triggered in a way that he'd never seen her be by the name he'd been calling her for as long as he could remember her being in his life.

"These days when you call me that, I feel like you're mocking me."

Rory's voice was meek and strangled with tears. She struggled as she said it, as if it was a deep dark secret that she'd been keeping in the depths of her soul. It split Logan's heart in two.

"Well that's too bad. Because, I don't plan on stopping any time soon."

Rory took in a shaky breath and sniffed in response. Her shoulders started shaking from the silent sobs that she was holding in – that she had been holding in for what was probably months now. He knew how afraid she was to admit defeat. To admit that she was struggling. To admit to all of the overbearing figures in her life that she had failed, even momentarily, to live up to the monolith of a person that they all expected her to be.

"Hey," he said softly he reached out a hand and wrapped it around her arm. With a gentle pull, he brought her body flush to his own and wrapped his arms around her. Rory stiffned for the briefest of moments, but it didn't take long for her to relax into his embrace. She buried her head in the nook of his neck and he could feel the moisture from her tears start to seep into his shirt.

"I love you, Rory," he said. She sniffed. "It's not something that you have to earn, okay? It's not contingent on whether you're in school or if you're a journalist or if you're an author or…a…lion tamer. It's not a grade. I will love you no matter what happens. I would love you if you sold peanuts on the side of the road and shaved your head and lost all of your teeth."

"I thought you liked my teeth," came the muffled response from his neck. Logan laughed and kissed the crown of her head.

"I do, Ace. But not as much as I like you."

They stood there in silence for a moment. Rory was clinging to him as she continued to let the tears fall from her eyes and the snot drip from her nose, but Logan didn't care. He'd let her use his shirt as a full on Kleenex if it meant that she would stay here in his arms for just a few moments longer. And she did. Logan stood there and ran his fingers through her hair, stopping only when he heard her make a timid declaration.

"I love you too," she squeaked.

Logan felt the sharp sting of tears rush to his eyes yet again. He squeezed her even tighter, wanting to live forever in this embrace with her in his arms and the swell of their unborn child between them. He didn't realize how badly he needed to hear those words from her lips – how badly his soul had needed them for the last decade. As soon as they'd reached his ears it was like there was a dessert within him that had just been washed with rain for the first time in in years.

"But how could we possibly make this work again, Logan?" asked Rory.

And, then, just as soon as his heart was filled it was instantly drained away. Fear gripped his every fiber, and he found himself gripping on to her even tighter – but this time it felt desperate. Like he was hanging on to her for dear life.

"What do you mean?" he responded.

"You're moving to New York!"

Rory stepped away from him. She fixed him with a sad but resolute look as she pointed out the less than ideal situation they found themselves in. Still, Logan wasn't going to give up this easily. New York was a hell of a lot closer than London, and he wasn't going to let her slip through his fingers again over a two hour drive if he had a breath left in his body.

"I have to move to New York, Rory," he explained. "It's my job. I can't do it from Hartford."

"Why not?!" Rory asked. "You oversee the acquisition and development of digital media platforms. Your job is the Internet. Half the time I was in London with you, you were working from your apartment!"

"And the other half I'm managing daily office operations and meeting with investors and hedge fund managers and shareholders and IP developers – people who don't headquarter themselves in Hartford, Connecticut."

"Your dad commuted."

"And my dad gets four hours of sleep a night and was on beta blockers before he was forty," Logan countered. "I don't know how closely you've been following the whole self-care craze, but apparently that's bad."

Once upon a time, Rory had used that information about his father to marvel over his impressive work ethic. He supposed it was impressive in a way, but Logan was keenly aware of the dark side of such habits. Growing up in a house with a man who worked that hard that often to the detriment of his own health and sanity was hard on everyone – not least of all his father himself. I was also likely a factor in his father's most recent health troubles, and Logan would like to avoid being in the same predicament in thirty years if he could manage to trick genetics with lifestyle choices.

Rory sniffed and turned her head to the side to look away from him. He knew that she realized he was right – that making that kind of commute every other weekday was way too much, especially considering he already worked long hours to begin with. But she was angry about it. Even if she didn't have to be.

"Come with me," said Logan.

It was what he'd wanted eventually anyway. It's what he'd planned to do – to get a temporary place in Manhattan where he could hang his hat until he and Rory figured out who they were to each other and reevaluate from there. But, now that his plan to move slow down had spiraled down the drain upon his arrival at the house today, he didn't see the point in waiting.

"Come with you?!" Rory asked with wide eyes. "To New York?"

"Yes."

Rory scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive stance.

"I can't afford New York, Logan. I can't even afford Stars Hollow!"

"You're going to have to move out of this house soon anyway," Logan pointed out. "Why not move in with me?"

"Are you insane?" Rory asked with a furrowed brow.

Logan attempted to shove down the initial feeling of hurt at the question and the way in which it was lobbied at him. But, he wasn't entirely successful. His response was clipped and defensive.

"Am I insane to want to live in a home with the woman that I love and our daughter?" he asked before immediately answering his own question. "I mean… yeah… I guess if that makes me insane, then sure. I'm insane."

"We can't just move in together!"

"Why not?" he asked with a dramatic shrug. "We've done it before. I've even gotten better about not leaving my dishes in the sink. You said so yourself."

Rory sat down on the bed with a flop and held her head in her hands.

"Logan…" Rory whined. "It isn't just us anymore. We're going to have a child. Our days of jumping blindly into the unknown are over. I need you to understand that."

"What unknown?" he asked with a shrug. "We lived together for a year and half. You stayed with me for weeks at a time in London."

"We lived together over a decade ago. And staying with you in London doesn't count. That was like this… bubble that we would put ourselves in where we could pretend that we were the same people that we used to be in college. But, we aren't, Logan. We barely know each other anymore."

Logan didn't have anything to say. There was no use in arguing the point. He knew that there was more truth to it than not. They knew the basics about each other, of course. They knew what was going on in their careers. They knew what each other's favorite television shows currently were. And they knew minor details about what was going on in each other's families. But, there was a gaping chasm of time and change that they'd conveniently decided to ignore during their intermediate trysts for the last few years.

But, regardless, Logan was entirely positive that none of that really mattered.

"I know that I love you," he said.

Rory winced.

"Love isn't always enough," she said. "My parents loved each other too. My mom and Luke have loved each other for twenty years. They just managed to get married six months ago. What happens if we jump right into living together too fast and things go terribly wrong? Then what? We just end up putting our daughter in the middle of a terrible living situation with two parents who resent and hate each other?"

"I have no intention of ever letting that happen."

"But you can't promise that, Logan," Rory said. Her tone wasn't sad or angry or desperate. It was pragmatic and sensible. "Neither can I."

"Rory, you're it for me," he said with a firm shrug of his shoulders. "If you need to wait before we take that step, then fine. I'll wait. It's what I was planning on anyway. But I need you to understand that you don't have to worry about me starting to resent or hate you. That's never going to happen.

"I meant what I said before. You're the only woman I've ever loved. Or will love. And I tried, Ace. I tried. I thought that I could do it. I thought that I might be able to move on from you. But I was wrong. I thought that maybe I could love Odette. Or that I could love…"

Logan trailed off. Now wasn't the time to bring up parts of his past that didn't have anything to do with the moment. But, Rory didn't want to let the subject drop.

"Seema?" she asked.

"How do you know about Seema?" Logan asked. He was momentarily shocked to hear that name fall from Rory's lips.

"I stalked you on Facebook," she admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

"Oh."

He probably shouldn't be surprised by that admission. After all it was 2017. Stalking people on Facebook was a pretty normal and innocuous ritual for everyone at this point. But, there was a part of him that always thought that Rory would be above such things. Although, he was in no place to judge her.

Because he'd done the same exact thing.

"I thought that I would be okay with whatever I saw there. Because it's been ten years, and I know that you aren't… that you've never… wanted for female attention. But I was wrong. And I can't stand knowing that there are other women out there who know you the way that I do."

"You mean Biblically?" Logan asked, surprising himself with the levity of the question. He had to admit that he found Rory's jealousy a little bit heartening. It was the same feeling he'd had when she'd been so upset over meeting Bobbie in New York all those years ago.

Rory only scoffed.

"God. No," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Are you kidding? We wouldn't have lasted a week. I wouldn't have been able to walk down the campus halls without having an emotional breakdown."

Logan didn't laugh. But, then, he didn't really think Rory meant for him to. The comment was phrased like a hyperbolic joke, but it held a little too much truth to actually be funny. And as much as Rory had always claimed she was fine with his prolific sexual past, he knew it wasn't really true. She'd just learned not to let it sting her from the beginning because she had no other choice.

"What I mean is…" Rory paused as she tried to gather her thoughts. "I can't stand that they know you. They know that you play the guitar. And that behind your party boy sports fan exterior, you're secretly a nerd who likes The Twilight Zone and Blade Runner. And that you're the kind of person who would almost fail Macroeconomic Theory because he spent too much time playing Call of Duty and Twilight Princess.

"I hate that there is another woman out there who knows that, despite all of the world class restaurants you've been to, you think that the best birthday dessert on the planet is plain yellow cake. And that the scar above your left knee is from when you fell off your bike and sliced it on a rock when you were eleven years old. I hatethat anyone else could know those things about you, because they used to be mine.

"All this time, I've been able to cope with all of those girls knowing what it was like to go to bed with my boyfriend. Because at the end of the day, I was the only person who knew that The Fox and the Hound still makes you cry."

"How is that a movie for children?" Logan grumbled.

"Logan."

"Ace…" he beseeched as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what you want me to say. I can't apologize for living my life after we broke up. And you've never been the only girl who knows I play the guitar. I've used that to get laid many times."

"I'm being serious!" Rory bellowed. She launched herself up from her seat on the bed. "You think that I like that I feel this way? You think I like hearing the words that just came out of my own mouth? I don't. It's pathetic. It's stupid. But I can't help it. That's how I feel. Seven years. There are seven entire years of your life that I know nothing about that some other woman does. And I barely know anything about the last three either. I can't stand it, Logan."

Logan watched her as she ranted and paced around the room. They'd been here before. They'd had almost this same exact conversation before. It was funny. The distance at that time had seemed so huge. Looking back now, it was laughable. The crater that existed between them now could house an asteroid that would wipe out the entire Earth. Even so, Logan was still confident that it wasn't insurmountable.

"I've missed you too, Ace."

Rory's entire body sagged in exasperation as his minimal response. But that had always been the way it was with them. She was the feature writer – the journalist who thrived in detail and embellishment and colorful descriptions of her subjects. He was a traditionalist – economical, born from the school of Mitch Huntzberger and Ernest Hemmingway.

"Why do you always do that?" she said with a tone of helplessness.

Logan took a step toward her, getting close as she would allow. When he got close enough to lift a hand to her cheek and she didn't flinch away, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of hope.

"Rory," he said as he gazed into her eyes. Tears started welling up in them again at the intensity of his gaze. But with a soft swipe of his thumb against her cheek, he wiped them away. "I will tell you anything you want to know. And I will make sure that from this day forward, there will never be anyone on this planet – woman, man, animal, or AI – that knows me better than you do."

Rory bowed her head as her cries threatened to continue, but Logan slid his fingers under her jaw to tilt it back up to him. Rory took a sharp shallow breath as their eyes connected. A few seconds later, Logan watched as her eyes flitted down to his lips for the briefest of moments. Suddenly, he was made acutely aware of just how close they were to each other.

It took no time at all to close the space between them. His lips brushed against hers in a soft caress, and he felt Rory's arms slip around his neck. His hands dropped to her hips and he pulled her even closer to him. It wasn't until Rory's tongue started tracing his lips that he broke away. She looked befuddled at the loss of contact. But he knew that if he didn't stop now, he wasn't going to.

"Rory," he breathed. He pressed his forehead against hers. "Do you want me to go?"

He wasn't sure. She'd made it clear that moving in together now would be moving too fast. But, he wasn't sure where they stood about this. He wasn't sure if she was feeling too vulnerable after all that had just been said between them. He didn't want to take advantage of her. He had to make sure that this is what she wanted.

"No," she replied before craning her neck up and kissing him again.

This time, when her tongue grazed against his lips, he let her in. They stayed there for what felt like ages, losing themselves in the familiar and life affirming feeling of their lips and tongues moving in tandem while their bodies pressed up against each other. Eventually, Rory broke away for a moment of air, but Logan just leaned further into her at the loss of contact.

"Logan…" she murmured. His lips moved to her neck and he could feel her fingertips combing through the waves of his hair.

"What?" he asked before returning his attention to her clavicle. With one small step forward, he stared pushing her toward the bed and she obliged, following his lead.

"I'm sorry about my mom."

He stopped in his tracks. His head whipped up from her neck and he held her out in front of him for a moment as he fixed her with a dazed look.

"I really don't want to talk about your mom right now, Ace."

As if to underscore his point, Logan sought out her pulse point with his lips and slipped his hands underneath the light baggy sweater that she was wearing. He skimmed his fingers up her sides, taking a moment to caress the swell of her stomach before moving upward and running his thumbs along the sides of her breasts. The task of getting rid of all the layers of cotton standing between them was now his ultimate priority.

With a gentle nudge, he pushed her down onto the bed and climbed next to her. He took a long moment to worship her mouth with his again. Rory clung on to him for dear life, arching her back to push her chest into his as their tongues, lips, and teeth clashed against each other in mounting passion. Logan's hands dug into her hair and he reveled in the feeling of her thick silky tresses sliding between his fingers.

They slowly started to peel each other's clothes away, starting with Logan's shirt and then moving on to hers. When he reached around and unclasped the bra that she was wearing, he noticed that Rory suddenly flushed with what seemed to be embarrassment. She not so subtly attempted to cover herself up, and her eyes flitted to the doorway.

"Maybe we should turn the light off," she said, eyeing the switch next to the door.

"That sounds like a terrible idea," Logan replied with a furrowed brow.

Rory sighed and worried her lip.

"Ace… what's going on? Do you want to stop?"

He hoped she didn't want to stop. He'd gone six months without her, and it was the worst six months he'd lived through since 2007.

"No, I… I mean yes. I –" Rory groaned. "I don't know."

"Rory," said Logan. "Tell me what's going on. Do you want me to leave?"

"No," she said. "It's just that I… Look at me!"

Logan didn't need to be asked twice. As his eyes scanned over her body, his eyes dilated and his mouth watered in desire. Pregnancy had done amazing things to her – not that she hadn't been absolutely gorgeous before. But now, her breasts were rounder and fuller than they used to be. Her hips had rounded out, and her thighs had thickened to a point where Logan wanted to grab onto them for dear life and never let go. His mind was almost lost in the fantasy of what they might feel like wrapped around his neck. And, finally, there was something about seeing her pregnant with his child that was turning him on in a way that he'd never thought would happen.

"I am," he replied, huskily.

"My boobs are huge."

"I noticed."

"And I have stretch marks and splotches and my ankles are swollen and I'm fat and - "

"Ace!" Logan interrupted firmly. He brought his hand to her cheek and pinned her with a intensely serious look. "You've never looked more beautiful to me. Okay?"

Rory inhaled. She looked like she was about to put up another argument, but Logan stopped her cold with another passionate kiss. As the rest of their clothes disappeared, Rory seemed to grow less and less self-conscious.

She pushed him back onto the pillows and swung her leg over his hips, straddling him. Logan took the opportunity to dig his fingers into the newly plump flesh of her thighs. And as she lowered herself onto him and he slipped inside of her, it felt like he was home for first time in months.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

Sunday, April 23, 2017

"Love isn't something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope. I think what they mean is, when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope."

The morning sun was beaming through the window and landing on the bed at just the perfect angle to illuminate the face of the man lying next to her. Rory had been up for a few minutes now, having been jolted awake by a swift kick to her ribcage. As soon as she came to and opened her eyes to the morning light, they landed on the sight of Logan lying next to her.

His face was peaceful. Sometimes - especially in the morning - Logan could look so serious while he was sleeping, as if even in his dreams he was being haunted by pressure and expectation. His brow would furrow and his lips would purse, and she always found herself wanting to somehow reach into his subconscious and tell him he was going to be okay.

But this morning, there was not a sign of worry on his face. He looked content, thoroughly relaxed, blissful even. Rory could relate.

She wanted to freeze this moment and live in in forever - this moment when her heart felt full and replenished and like nothing could ever make her feel pain again. She wanted to revel in this newfound feeling of hope and happiness for as long as she possibly could.

But, she knew as soon as Logan's eyes opened and they left this bed, they would need to face the real world again. It would be easier now that they had admitted to each other that they wanted to face it together. But this moment – this moment where it felt like the world couldn't reach them at all – wouldn't last forever.

Rationally, Rory knew that they still had so many obstacles ahead of them. She knew that years' worth of turmoil and repressed pain weren't fixed with one conversation and a few rounds of admittedly amazing sex. She knew that they were going to have to face their families, their future, their past, and even each other in the coming days.

But, right now, all of that could wait. She didn't want to think about that right now. Right now, she only wanted to think about the way that the sun was shining on Logan's head and illuminating the remaining traces of blond in his hair that had started to turn darker with age. She wanted to stare at his lips and remember all of the ways that they had worshipped her the night before. She wanted to lay her head on his chest and feel the soft and comforting heat of his body warm her all the way through to her soul.

"Stop staring at me, you creep," his voice suddenly mumbled. Rory startled. Surprised by the fact that he was actually awake. Once she recovered, she smiled and rolled her eyes.

"How do you know I'm staring at you?" she asked, playfully. "Your eyes are still closed."

"I don't need to see you to know what you're up to," Logan continued.

His voice was low and gravely from sleep. The sound alone caused something to stir in the bottom of Rory's stomach. If Gloria Steinem would ever somehow see how absolutely weak she was for this man, she would surely have her feminist card taken away from her and her membership revoked.

"You're probably writing entries about me in one of your weird journals as we speak."

"You don't know if I still keep journals," Rory replied with a tone of faux exasperation.

"8:35 AM: he turned over in his sleep. 8:36 AM: his right eye twitched."

"You flatter yourself if you think you ever featured that prominently in any of my journals," Rory said.

Logan smiled in amusement and opened his eyes. Rory's heart fluttered at the sight of his brown eyes meeting hers. She'd always loved Logan's eyes. All her life she had gotten endless comments on the 'captivating' brilliance of her blue eyes. But, if she was honest, she never really understood why people liked them so much. She'd always been more attracted to brown eyes - the way they felt deep and endless and like they could suck you into the depths of a person's soul.

All of her boyfriends had brown eyes, but Logan's were always her favorite. They were so expressive. His most revealing quality. He'd been raised in a world where the ability to put on a false face was a necessary trait for survival. He did it well. Extremely well. But, all Rory needed to do was take one look into his deep brown eyes and she could always tell exactly what he was really thinking.

And right now, his eyes looked… happy.

"Good morning," he rasped.

"Good morning."

He leaned forward to press his lips across hers in in a gentle kiss. Rory was happy to oblige – morning breath be damned. The innocent brushes quickly deepened into something far more passionate, and Rory's fingers snaked up his neck to tangle in his hair and pull him closer to her.

Logan groaned and took the hint. His hands started trailing lightly down her sides, eventually slipping behind her back where he started tracing the bumps of her spine with his fingers.

She could feel that his stubble had grown scratchy overnight, something that she usually disliked. Right now, however, she couldn't bring herself to care. She would let him kiss her with literal sandpaper strapped to his face as long as it reminded her that he was here. He was here, and he was hers.

For the first time in ten years he was completely and unequivocally hers.

As Logan's hands continued to roam across the expanse of her back and down to the curve of her ass, Rory swung her leg over his. Logan groaned as his hand settled on the back of her upper thigh. He pulled her as close to him as he possibly could, and Rory responded by grinding against his hips. His arousal was pressed up against her, and it was very clear that their morning after banter would finished for the time being.

The next thing she knew, Logan was turning her over unto her back and his hand was sliding down between them, settling at the apex of her thighs. Rory's eyes closed, and she let out a breathy moan of approval when his finger slipped between her folds. Logan's hand, with years of practice and insight into exactly what made her body tick, took no time at all to bring her to a swift and satisfying climax.

As she came down, she felt Logan spread her thighs wider. Then he settled himself above her with his weight on his elbows, buried his face in the crook of her neck, and slid inside of her.

"Logan," she gasped at the moment of contact. The sounds of the letters were barely coherent. They came out as more of a breathy gasp of air.

She shifted her hips to give him better access, and he started to move in and out, setting a steady rhythm. It was different than the frenzied and passionate encounters they'd had the night before. This was slow, peaceful, lazy even – a perfect affair for a Sunday morning.

Logan's lips started to trail up her neck, eventually moving up to capture her own in a passionate kiss. When his lips broke away from hers, his thrusts started to grow in ferocity, and Rory could tell he was nearing his peak. She threw her head to the side and closed her eyes, but she immediately felt his fingers on her jaw gently moving her face back to him.

"Look at me," he breathed.

When she opened her eyes again, Logan's face was a mere centimeters above her own. The brown eyes she had been lost in just moments before were now piercing directly into hers with a severe intensity. Their noses brushed against each other's and his lips were hovering above her own, not kissing her but open all the same. She could feel his labored breaths whisping against her skin.

"Fuck, I love you," he uttered in-between groans of pleasure.

With a few more powerful thrusts of his hips and one more 'I love you' on his lips, Logan came apart on top of her. As he came down from his high above her, Rory's fingers started to lightly stoke over his back. Any other morning like this, Logan would have taken a moment to collect himself by collapsing on top of her, burying his face in her neck, and staying inside of her for as long as he could manage it. But, this time, he had no choice but to roll over on his side as to not crush the baby that lay between them.

He kissed her again. And when he pulled away, Rory's hand went up to caress his cheek. Her thumb stroked over the familiar scar at the top of his left cheekbone – the one physical reminder of the time that's she'd, quite literally, almost lost him. She'd been angrier at him than she'd ever been. She'd felt more betrayed by him than she'd ever been. She was the closest to packing up her things and walking away that she'd ever been. And, yet, the possibility of losing him - even at that lowest of moments -had come crashing down on her with a weight and energy that almost crushed her entirely.

She should have learned then that there would always be a part of her that would never really thrive without him. She could live. She could succeed. She could maybe even find pieces of happiness in her life. But, there would be a small hole in the corner of her soul that would never really be filled. She would always be searching for something she'd lost.

But, now, she'd found it again. Against all odds, he was lying here next to her – in her Grandparents' house of all places - telling her that he loved her and wanted to start a life with her. A real life. Not a secret one. Not one that lived in the shadows and was communicated through whispers and clandestine meetings. A real public life. A life like the one she imagined in the moments when she thought about saying yes all those years ago.

The more she touched him, the more she convinced herself that this was real and not a cruelly vivid dream. He really was lying next to her - his breath mingling with hers, his eyes gazing into her own, his face real and tangible underneath her fingertips.

"You need to shave," she said, simply - somberly.

Rory had never been very demonstrative with her emotions, especially in moments like this. She'd come a long way from the sixteen-year-old girl who froze in panic at the sound of the words 'I love you,' but she was still far from fixed on that front. Sometimes she found that the best way to express herself in moments like this was through mundane and seemingly innocuous acts of intimacy.

The best part about being with Logan was that he understood her. Probably because he suffered a similar affliction himself. He would understand that her telling him he needed to shave wasn't just an obvious observation meant to fill the void of silence. It was her reveling in the fact that she was once again the person in his life whose opinion on the issue mattered.

Logan reached up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. He moved her hand down to his lips and tilted it so he could press his lips to the underside of her wrist and the palm of her hand before sliding his fingers through her own.

"I don't have a razor here," he answered. "Besides… I thought maybe I'd grow it out."

"Mmmm, no," she replied.

"Why not? I thought you liked my post Costa Rica look," Logan asked, referencing the one time in their relationship that he'd grown his facial hair out for more than a couple days. Rory knew that he was putting her on. He was more than aware of what her feelings were about it – even if she never actually voiced them out loud at the time.

"Nope," she answered.

"Well you certainly never complained about it."

"You were an invalid. I felt sorry for you."

"So, you're saying if I collapse another lung, you'll let me grow my beard out again?"

"I'll think about it."

A comfortable silence fell between them. Logan started running his fingertips along her sides in feather light touches. But, the longer they lay there, the longer she felt the relentless tug of something pulling her attention away. Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Where are you going?" Logan asked in protest.

"I have to pee," Rory answered. Logan's hand shot out and grabbed her forearm and with light tug he pulled her back down so she couldn't leave.

"No," he said as the bed lightly bounced over the shift in weight. "Why would you want to do that when you can stay in bed with me?"

She chortled.

"Because your daughter likes to use my bladder as her own personal stress ball. And also I'd rather not add a UTI to the long list of ways my body currently hates me."

Rory tried to push herself up and off the bed again but as soon as she started to rise, he pulled her back down once more.

"You can't go," Logan said. "I'm not done with you."

"I didn't realize I needed a hall pass."

"You sure do," Logan replied. "And you've been a very bad girl, Miss Gilmore. So, unfortunately, your hallway privileges have been suspended. We'll need to discuss the rest of your punishment as well."

Rory rolled her eyes and tried to look exasperated, but the amused grin that broke out on her face was giving her away. She shook her head in amusement and twisted back around to look at him. He had a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye that reminded her so much of the twenty-two year old boy she fell in love with that she felt a rushing pang of nostalgia deep in her heart.

If it weren't for the lines around his eyes and the noticeable lack of baby fat that had once filled out his cheeks, Rory could almost pretend that no time had passed at all.

It was funny. Rory had never thought of Logan as a boy in all the time that they were together. Two and a half years her senior and more worldly wise than she or any of her ex-boyfriends had been at the time, Logan had always seemed very much like a man to her. And when he had gone off to start his career while she was still in college and would come home talking about debt versus equity and venture capital and market share volumes, she'd thought that he was the epitome of an adult.

Looking back now, she realized just exactly how young they both were. It was no wonder that Logan's colleague Bobbie had called them 'adorable' in that slightly condescending way that she'd absolutely hated at the time. They probably were. Lord knows she'd thought the same thing about some of the younger couples she'd come across in the last few years.

But, still, she wasn't embarrassed by it. Quite the opposite. She missed it. She hadn't felt that… giddy in such a long time. She'd forgotten what it was like – the feeling that they could conquer the world together with just the power of their love for each other. The wide eyed optimism that came with the idea that you were young and invincible. The feeling that came with basking in the perception that the world was your oyster and that you had found the love of your life and would never want for anything again.

Perhaps was silly. It was easy to think so now. Ten years of peaks and valleys in her career, failed attempts at relationships, the recession in 2008, harsh reality checks about life in America, and last year's election had ripped away whatever was left of Rory's boundless girlish optimism. She was far more pragmatic these days, bordering on cynical.

But sitting next to Logan now, with his eyes sparking in the way that they did all those years ago when their biggest concerns were passing exams, meeting deadlines, and worrying about her grandparents finding out that they were having sex, reminded her of what it felt like to be alive. To be hopeful. To look at the future and see something other than the looming specter of doom. To be happy.

She's so forgotten what it felt like to be happy.

"Why don't you put a pin in that thought," Rory said as she returned her focus to the conversation at hand and met Logan's grin with a sly smile of her own. "And I will be back in two minutes."

"Fine," Logan said with an overdramatic sigh.

He let go of her arm, and Rory slid off of the bed. She grabbed a short thin bathrobe that she'd thrown on the chaise across from the bed the day before and wrapped it around herself. Then, she maneuvered her way around the floor, stepping over clothes and shoes and the pizza box that Logan had brought up at one point during the night for more fuel. She slipped out of the bedroom and padded down the hallway until she came upon the bathroom door.

After Rory finished with the primary task that had brought her to the restroom to begin with, she stood in front of the sink and washed her hands. Once she turned the faucet off, she lifted her head up to look at her reflection in the mirror.

She took a deep breath when she saw herself. Her hair was mussed from a night of sleep and sex. Her skin was flushed. And she could see the beginnings of a hickey popping up on the right side of her neck. She looked thoroughly debauched, as the romance novels might say. No doubt, she would need to wear make-up for the next few days to hide the mark on her skin – something that she would have to give Logan an earful about later.

She ran a brush through her hair and splashed some cold water on her face. Then, after drying off with a hand towel, she made eye contact with herself in the mirror once again. She stood there for a moment, breathing deeply, thinking about all of the events that had led her to this moment, to being the person that she was looking at now.

Two weeks ago, taking a moment of reflection like this most likely have sent her into a depressive smile. But now, for the first time in quite a while, she actually found herself smiling.

With one final deep breath and a nod at her reflection, Rory slipped out of the bathroom and started making her way back down the hall to the man that was waiting for her.

Yet, when Rory stepped back into the bedroom, she stopped cold at the sight in front of her. Unlike what she'd expected, she was not met with the sight of Logan spread out indelicately across the bed or with a flirtatious line about how she'd taken too long. Instead, he was lying flat on his back, the covers draped across his legs and hips, his arm thrown across his stomach and his head lolling to the side on his pillow.

He was fast asleep.

His breaths had slowed down into a slow and heavy rhythm, and the sound of a very light snore would escape from him every few seconds. Rory rolled her eyes and marveled – not for the first time – at his ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. If they could bottle it, they'd almost certainly take Ambien out of circulation.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was a little early – later than she usually slept in, but still not so late that the idea of sleeping a little bit longer was unfathomable to her. After all, they'd been up until the early hours of the morning talking and… not talking. Maybe Logan had the right idea after all. Deciding to give herself the rare pleasure of a lazy Sunday morning, Rory dropped her robe back unto the chaise and slipped into bed next to him. As she lay her head on his chest and closed her eyes, she let herself slip into the blissful oblivion of sleep.

She was so oblivious, that she failed to hear the vibration of her phone against the carpeted floor as it lit up with a reminder of the fact that her Sunday was supposed to be the opposite of lazy.

"Hi, you've reached the voicemail of Rory Gilmore. I'm sorry I missed your call. Please leave your name and number, and I will - "

With a dramatic flourish of her thumb, Emily Gilmore abruptly ended her call and threw her phone down on the passenger seat of the rental car she was currently driving. Rolling her eyes and groaning, she took a moment to mumble to herself in dissatisfaction under her breath. Apparently nothing was going to go right this morning, including her granddaughter having the common courtesy to answer her phone calls.

She'd been up since an obscene hour, dragging herself through check-in and security for a flight that was a half an hour late and had managed to botch her reservation. They had insisted that she booked a seat in economy when she'd clearly purchased a ticket for business class. After arguing with the incompetent attendant at check in for twenty minutes she finally managed to get the seating mishap remedied, but of course it wasn't the end.

The line for security was longer than anything she had ever been forced to wait through in her life, and by the time she'd finally made it through, the brutish TSA agent lording over her line decided that Emily of all people looked suspicious enough for a random bag check. Apparently, they thought that a seventy-five year old woman was a security threat. They probably expected her to hijack the aircraft with the hairbrush and cardigan sweater she was carrying in her bag.

Then, there was the four year old boy whose incompetent and most likely drunk mother couldn't manage to keep from kicking the back of Emily's chair for the entire flight, the higher than average amount of turbulence, and the twenty minute wait they had on the tarmac at Bradley due to the fact that the gate they were supposed to pull into was still occupied.

All in all, Emily Gilmore was thoroughly finished with this day, and it wasn't even 10:30 AM. As soon as she'd slipped into the driver's seat of her rental car, she'd called Rory to let her know that the plane had landed safely and she was on her way to the house. But, really, what she needed to do more than anything was just let loose to someone about the awful ordeal she'd just been through. Apparently, it was just going to have to wait until she got home and saw her in person – something that she had mixed feelings about to begin with.

Emily had been simultaneously looking forward to and dreading coming back to the house this week.

As determined as she was to put the house on the market and move forward into a new chapter of her life, saying goodbye to that house once and for all was proving to be far more painful than she liked to admit. She'd lived in that house with Richard for over fifty years. Most of her life's memories took place behind those walls.

It was odd how the fifty years of memories she had with Richard were what made it so painful to stay there but at the same so painful to leave.

Thankfully, even with the pain that she was currently feeling, her life in Nantucket was helping her to process the sale of the house. Months ago, she had felt so lost in the wake of Richard's death that she couldn't fathom how she could ever move on or what a life without him could even look like. But, now, she had a steady and fulfilling life to return to at the end of her visit home. She'd created a new identity for herself, one that she could use as a sign post to get her through the next few days. It made the pain at least marginally bearable.

Of course, coming home this week wasn't only a cause for grief. She was also genuinely happy to see her daughter and her granddaughter again. She called them both every week, but the last time she had seen them in person was at Christmas. She missed them. She'd taken for granted how much having Lorelai living so nearby had meant to her. She was used to seeing her at least once a week, even if she'd grown accustomed to Rory being away for long periods of time with work.

Emily sighed. As strange as it was, seeing Rory this week was the other cause of her emotional turmoil. She was thrilled to be seeing her, naturally. She was excited to see how her pregnancy was progressing and how the book she was working on was coming along. But, there was a conversation lingering over Emily's head that she knew she was going to have to have with her granddaughter as soon as possible – one that she wouldn't want to broach under normal circumstances, let alone while Rory found herself in a career slump and facing single motherhood. The topic of conversation alone was one that Emily had gone to great lengths to avoid for ten years.

As far as Emily was concerned, when Rory was in her presence the name Logan Huntzberger did not exist. The look on Rory's face the first time Constance Betterton had mentioned him to her at an event was enough to make Emily want to announce that the party was over and personally corral each and every single person in her house out the door. Since that moment, she'd gone through great lengths to avoid mentioning him at all.

Unfortunately, as luck and timing would have it, she wasn't going to be able to avoid the topic much longer.

The truth was, even if Emily tried to create a world for Rory where the name Huntzberger did not exist, the reality was that it very much did exist. The Huntzberger family was still just as prominent and gossip worthy as they always had been. That was something that had never changed, and probably never would as long as they were still based in the Hartford area.

Emily's friends had kept her abreast of the whispers and rumors surrounding Mitchum's latest indiscretions or Shira's fluctuating weight for years. It was unavoidable. However, for the most part, Logan's name rarely came up – mostly because he'd been so noticeably absent from Harford society while he was off in California.

The biggest stir that revolved around him in the last few years was the gossip about Elias Huntzberger's public racist tirade in the middle of the club's dining room after he'd found out that Logan's newest girlfriend was not some blonde-haired blue-eyed white bimbo, but rather a dark-haired brown-eyed Indian-American attorney. Emily had actually smiled to herself at that news. She was delighted to hear that apparently Logan still had no qualms about telling his grandfather where he could shove his opinions regarding his taste in women, and she'd taken a long moment to revel in Elias' displeasure.

The other handful of times his name had come up over the years mostly revolved around his career. One of the instances wasn't even gossip. Richard had simply stumbled across his name and picture in the 30 Under 30 edition of Forbes in 2011. Then, there was the news of his hefty deal with Facebook a few years ago. On those occasions, Richard and Emily had both found themselves feeling a bustling sense of pride for the boy. But, it was a double edged sword.

Logan's immense personal success was definitely something to celebrate. After all, they'd known him since he was a child and had always seen a great deal of protentional in him. But with circumstances being the what they were, they couldn't help but mourn the fact that Rory had let him get away. That could have been their grandson-in-law in that issue of Forbes – not just some boy they used to know.

The small level of pride they'd continued to feel for Logan after all of these years was actually what made this newest piece of Huntzberger gossip so difficult to face. When Tweeny Halpern, one of the few DAR women than Emily continued to keep in touch with, had called her with the news she was absolutely stunned. She hadn't quite known how to process what she'd heard. She was still processing it, if she was being honest.

She found it hard to reconcile the news with the sweet boy she knew – the one that was always courteous enough to bring host gifts to dinner, who came running to the hospital after Richard's heart attack in 2007 and fetched her tea and took care of her fish delivery, and who had so publicly declared his love for Rory in front of all of her friends and family.

Of course she'd heard whispers about his reputation as a teenager and a young twenty something, but she had been able to write those murmurings off as youthful indiscretions. And of course there was the ordeal with the pool house and… well… in any event that particular revelation had softened with time. But, ultimately, Emily had truly believed that Logan Huntzberger was an upstanding young person - an anomaly in a family full of unfaithful and philandering men.

Apparently, she'd been wrong.

As soon as Tweeny had informed her that the story on everyone's lips was that Logan had all but fled London with his tail between his legs after leaving behind a jilted heiress fiancé for some gold-digging mistress that he'd ended up getting pregnant, Emily realized two things. One – apparently the apple didn't fall very far from the tree after all. And two – she needed to break this news to Rory softly before she discovered it herself, either from hearing the rumors or, God forbid, running into him at an inopportune time somewhere in the city.

Rory's situation was delicate enough as it was without adding the factor that she and her ex-boyfriend were suddenly in the same city again. It was bad enough that that Paul she had been dating had abandoned her after learning of her pregnancy like some wretched coward. The last thing she needed while she was mourning the loss of a complete family was to run into the man who had offered her a complete family ten years ago while walking the frozen food aisle at the supermarket.

She also didn't need to learn about the sordid reality of Logan's character from anyone else. Coming to terms with the fact that she'd considered marrying the kind of man who would do such a thing while still reeling from the abandonment of her latest paramour would probably not leave her feeling confident and optimistic about her history with men – or her future with them. And Rory was thirty-three years old. She wasn't getting any younger.

And, so, Emily was determined to break this news to her before anyone else had the chance, and to break it to her gently. She just wasn't looking forward to doing it.

As she pulled into the driveway of her former home, she started fumbling through her purse for the garage door opener. She pressed the button and waited for it to open before pulling the rental car into the garage. Then, deciding she didn't have the energy to deal with bringing her bags in, she left them in the trunk and walked into the house.

"Rory! I'm here! No thanks to imbeciles at American Airlines and their incompetent flight staff," she called as she closed the door to the garage behind her. She was met with silence.

Emily's eyebrow shot up. At this point, she was starting to get concerned. Every single one of her phone calls had gone unanswered that morning, and now the house was suspiciously quiet for 10:30 in the morning. It was unlike Rory to sleep in this late, and it was even more unlike her to be this unresponsive to her phone calls.

"Rory!' Emily called again as her heart started to pick up in pace a bit with worry.

Emily continued down the hallway, turning her head to doorways as she went. The basement light was off, so she couldn't be down there. The bathroom was unoccupied, as well as the dining room and the living room. When she popped her head into the kitchen she was at least met with some sign of life. An open container of saltine crackers was lying unfinished on the counter.

Emily was suddenly overcome with a rush a sympathy. The poor girl was probably sick again. It seemed to be a never ending theme for her pregnancy. It would explain the radio silence. If she'd been up last night or early this morning with nausea, she was probably making up for lost sleep now.

Deciding that the responsible thing to do at this point would be to at least pop her head in and check on her, Emily started making her way up the stairs to her granddaughter's bedroom. The hallway was as quiet as the first floor, but Emily could see that the door to her room was ever so slightly ajar.

"Rory?" she said softly as she reached the doorway.

She didn't want to wake the girl if she was sleeping, but at the same time she wanted confirmation of the fact that she was okay. She lifted a finger up to the door and lightly tapped at the solid wood with her knuckle. Still getting no response, she placed her hand gently on the door knob and slowly started to push the door open.

She had severely underestimated what a terrible idea that was.

As the door swung open, and the scene in the room on the other side was slowly revealed to her, Emily was suddenly overtaken with absolute horror.

Her face went absolutely white in shock.

There was more flesh than she ever needed to see. The flesh of Rory's bare back. The flesh of Logan's bare chest and half of his calf that was sticking out from underneath the blankets that – by the grace of God - at least covered anything too indecent. A seedy smell filled the air, one that Emily certainly recognized but couldn't bring herself to give words to. There were clothes scattered all over the floor around the bed.

All of those things all came together to create a flurry of frantic thoughts in her head. She couldn't stop thinking. Her mind was assaulted with so many things. She was too late. She was scandalized. She'd utterly failed as a grandmother because she'd somehow managed to allow her granddaughter to get corrupted by Logan Huntzberger in her house yet again.

But as the thoughts kept coming, there was only one that she was actually able to articulate.

"Oh my God!"

Once the piercing screeching sound of the exclamation filled the air, Emily watched – frozen – as the bed's occupants both shot up in surprise and alarm.

"What the fuck?!" Logan's masculine voice responded before he even had enough time to process what was going on. In any other instance, the use of that kind of language from a young man of his caliber would be enough to completely horrify Emily Gilmore. But with what she was seeing here and now, that thought was actually laughable.

As soon as his eyes landed on Emily, his face dropped as if he'd seen a ghost. Next to him, Rory was clutching at the covers to keep what remained of her modesty intact.

"Grandma!" she exclaimed, looking equally as shocked and concerned as the man lying next to her.

It seemed all three of them were at a complete loss for what to say. They merely stayed frozen in place, staring at each other for a few moments before Emily broke the tension, turned around, and stepped back into the hallway, slamming the door behind her.

She made her way back toward the stairs in a daze, barely registering the mumbled and hurried sounds of bickering and frenzied footsteps on the other side of the door she'd just closed. She didn't quite know where to begin with what she'd just seen, but she did know one thing for certain.

Apparently, the flight from Nantucket to Hartford was going to be the best part of her day.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

Sunday, April 23, 2017 - Part II

"But rumour has it I'm the one you're leaving her for."

The door had slammed so loud at her grandmother's quick departure, that Rory could have sworn she actually felt the room spin. Or maybe it was just her head. The instant that Emily was out of her sight, Rory's hands flew up to cover her face. She was so flushed that she could literally feel the heat that had rushed to her face underneath her fingertips.

"Oh my God," she cried as she leaned forward and rested her elbows on her thighs.

Her grandmother. How on Earth could she have forgotten that her grandmother was going to be here early this morning? The entire reason that any of the events from last night had happened was because she and her mother were here getting ready for Emily's visit. How stupid could she possibly be?

"Oh my God!" she repeated.

Even if there were better words for this occasion, Rory couldn't seem to formulate them, despite her degree in English and her ten years as a professional writer. Next to her, Logan was completely silent. She couldn't blame him. If she thought she was having a difficult time dealing with what had just happened, she couldn't imagine what Logan was thinking. He'd already faced the wrath of one Gilmore matriarch in the last twenty-four hours, and now it seemed like he might have to do it all over again.

And Emily Gilmore was far scarier to begin with.

"Oh my God!" Rory repeated for the third time.

Still so wonderfully eloquent. Perhaps the clear loss of her verbal faculties were the first sign of her quick but steady deterioration. Rory honestly felt like she could die right here and now – that she might actually be dying. She had never been so utterly embarrassed in her life.

Not counting her infancy, her grandmother had never seen her in anything less than a one piece bathing suit. She was also pretty sure that her grandmother had never even seen her kiss one of her boyfriends. The thought of public displays of affection in front of her was more than she could handle.

On one of the few occasions that Logan had tagged along to a Friday night dinner, he had merely put his hand on her thigh during drinks, and Rory thought that a black hole was about to open up in the middle of the living room and swallow them all up into the void. Of course, that wasn't too long after their reconciliation about the lost semester and the pool house incident. And her mortification might have had more to do with the way that her grandfather was glaring at Logan's hand as if through sheer will he might be able to sear a hole through it with the power of his laser like gaze.

But, regardless, it wasn't a memory that made her feel at all comfortable with allowing her grandparents to see any physical evidence of the fact that she had any sort of sexuality whatsoever. She much preferred to pretend the minister conversation never happened and live in a fantasy land where her grandmother believed that a fairy sprinkled dust on her belly and that's how she'd currently found herself pregnant.

How on Earth was she supposed to walk out of this bedroom knowing what her grandmother had just seen?

"Alright…" Logan said next to her. "Let's just… calm down."

"Calm down?!"

The words had suddenly returned to her. She snapped her head over to him and fixed him with an withering look. With one glance at him, Rory could tell that he wasn't nearly as calm as he was trying to be. He was doing that annoying man thing where he tried to take charge of the situation even though it was pointless and there wasn't anything he could do to fix it. Well he could pretend to be calm and rational and have a plan to deal with this all he wanted, but Rory wasn't in the mood.

"You want me to calm down?!" she asked. "My grandmother just walked in on us post coitus."

"Yes, I'm aware. Thanks," Logan shot back. Under any other circumstance, she would be annoyed and upset by his tone. But, at least now he was matching her distress level.

"Oh my God," she mumbled. "Oh my God! Please tell me you were underneath the blankets!"

If ever there was a time when Logan's tendency to get hot when he slept would become an actual liability this was it. It usually started with him throwing the comforter down to the foot of the bed. Then, his leg would come popping out from underneath the sheets. And, sometimes, after a particularly hot evening, she would wake up to find him lying there completely uncovered – usually with a pair of boxers or trunks on at least. But today…

"Yes, I was underneath the blankets," Logan answered with a tone of exasperation. "…I think."

"You think?!"

"Well it happened really fast!" he exclaimed.

"Oh God," Rory groaned, her hands finding her way to her face again. "If my grandmother has seen your penis, I am never going to be able to look her in the eye again."

"You aren't?" Logan asked with a raised eyebrow.

Rory ignored him. She shot up from the bed and started gathering fallen pieces of clothing in a mad dash.

"Get dressed!" she said as she tossed the pair of black trunks that had wound up on the floor at his face.

As quickly as she possibly could, Rory slipped on her underwear, leggings, and sweatshirt from the day before. She got dressed in a mad dash, knowing that she was going to have to intercept her grandmother as quickly as possible before this situation got any more out of hand than it needed to. She had no idea what he grandmother would possibly do if left to her own devices, but stories of Emily's tendency toward impulsivity at moments like this were the thing of legend.

Once she was completely dressed, she turned around to find Logan still sitting under the blankets as naked as the day he was born.

"What are you doing?!" she asked. "Why aren't you dressed?!"

"What do you want me to do here, Ace?" Logan asked

"What do you mean, what do I want you to do?" Rory responded. "My grandmother is downstairs. I want you to put some pants on!"

Logan sighed as he finally slipped out of bed and slid his underwear on. As he started rummaging around the room for his pants and shirt, he clarified the meaning of his question.

"Fine. Okay," he said as he stepped into his jeans. "I'll put some pants on. But do you really want me to walk down there with you right this second?"

Rory paused.

He was right. Walking downstairs to confront her grandmother right now was going to be bad enough alone. Adding Logan into the equation would probably be a terrible idea. There were so many things that Emily didn't know that she was going to be shocked to learn. Rory had planned to sit her down and tell her gently – and alone. And while the first part of that plan was clearly no longer going to be possible, the second part was still probably for the best.

She took a deep breath as she watched Logan tug his t-shirt on over his head. She was momentarily distracted by the way that the thin cotton hugged his pecs and the top of his biceps, and she found herself biting her lip as she looked at him. God, he looked so good. She didn't know if it was the fact the men's clothes seemed to trend a lot tighter these days or if he was just in even better shape than he had been in college, but sometimes when she looked at him in the last few years, she could literally feel herself salivate. Especially when he dressed casually.

Shaking her head, Rory jerked herself back to reality. She wanted to kick herself for still being able to think about sex at a time like this. It had to be the hormones. Although, she'd read that was more of a second trimester thing.

Regardless, she needed to focus.

"No…" she answered. "You're right. But I just… I don't know what to do."

Logan walked over to her and placed his hands gently on her arms. He gave her a reassuring squeeze and looked down at her with a soft and caring expression.

"How about you go down and talk to your grandmother, and I will stay up here until I get the all clear?" he suggested. "I've got some emails to respond to anyway."

"Yeah… okay," Rory replied with a sigh.

She could feel herself calming down a little bit. The initial feeling of utter panic and the urge to flee or fight had left her. But, her mind was still reeling with just how awful the situation they found themselves in was.

"Logan, I'm so sorry. This is so humiliating, and it's all my fault. I can't believe I forgot that my grandma was coming. And now this happened. It's this stupid pregnancy brain. I thought it was just some dumb myth but it's not. It makes me forget things and get distracted and just…Last night was such a perfect night. And this morning was amazing. And now this. You didn't sign up for this. God. it's probably reminding you of all the different ways you're inviting crazy back into your life by being with me - "

"Rory," Logan interrupted. He squeezed her arm again. "I forgot too. It's not your fault."

Logan stepped forward and wrapped her up in his arms. Rory relaxed into him with a deep sigh and let herself take some strength in his embrace. She needed this moment of calm before she walked down the stairs and faced her grandmother, and she was happy to take it from him.

"And I'd be a hypocrite if I couldn't handle some crazy from your family okay? If you can handle mine, I can handle yours."

"I think handling yours is what got us into this mess in the first place," Rory mumbled into his shirt. She felt his chest vibrate with a short burst of laughter.

"Aw, Ace, you know I hate it when you work blue," he teased. "But, hey, on that note - at least she didn't walk in forty-five minutes ago. That would have been really bad."

Rory groaned and cringed at the mere thought, but Logan seemed to be beyond embarrassment at this point. He'd moved on to thoroughly amused. But then it was easy for him to be amused. He'd surely be singing a different tune if it was his mother who'd walked through that door.

"Okay," Rory said. She placed her hands on his chest and lightly pushed herself away from him. "I'll text you when it's safe. If you don't hear from me in thirty minutes, you might want to call my Dad. Apparently there are several ways out of this house from the second story that he knows all about."

"That's a conversation I'm sure would go over well," said Logan with a nod.

Rory groaned yet again. Even though she meant the comment in jest, she was suddenly reminded that there was no way Logan would be able to talk to her father right now, not when he was yet another person that she was still scheduled to have a very uncomfortable conversation with in the near future. Was there no end to it? First Logan. Then her mom and Luke. Then Jess. Now her grandmother. And soon she would have to talk to her Dad. At least her Dad was pretty easy. At least her Dad had always liked Logan.

Logan kissed her on the forehead as she took a deep breath. Then, gathering up her courage to face the oncoming storm, she turned around and took a step toward the door. But, before she could make it through the doorway, she suddenly felt a sharp sting on her behind and heard the cracking sound of a slap in the air.

"Ah!" she yelped with a small hop of surprise. Snapping her head back around to look at Logan, she glowered at the utterly entertained smirk resting on his face.

"Go get em, Tiger."

"Stop," she growled, taking extra care to pop the 'p' at the end of the word. But, that seemed to only entertain him more.

If she didn't love him so much, she could absolutely kill that man. The fact that he got to hide up here by himself while she went downstairs to face Emily Gilmore might be amusing to him, but to her it was anything but.

Her grandmother might have loosened up significantly over the last few months in Nantucket. But, ultimately, she was still the same person. People might change, but they didn't change that much. Emily Gilmore hadn't changed enough to suddenly be perfectly okay with the fact that her granddaughter was using her house as a venue for tawdry sexual liaisons with a man that, up until two weeks ago, had been engaged to another woman.

And she definitely wasn't going to be okay with the rest of the story either.

As she walked down the hallway, she ran through all the different ways that she might be able to break this news to her. It's not like she hadn't thought about how the conversation would go. She had. She was Rory Gilmore. She prepared for everything. It's just that in all of the scenarios she had imagined, they had both started off the conversation calm, collected, and not having been recently traumatized.

Now, she had no idea how she should expect for this to play out. She was just going to have to wing it. And Rory hated winging it.

While she was descending the stairs, Rory caught sight of Emily pacing around the living room with a serious look on her face. She was upset. But, then, of course she was upset. It's not like Rory was expecting anything less.

"Grandma," she pleaded as she stepped onto the ground floor and started walking over to the living room. "I am so sorry you had to see that. I'm absolutely mortified. I want you to know that this hasn't been a regular thing. Please believe me, I - "

"Rory!" Emily interrupted as she shot forward and grabbed Rory's forearm.

Rory was stunned, not only by the unexpected physical reaction to her appearance, but also by the slightly frantic look in her grandmother's eyes. She's expected to face a lot of things from her grandmother as soon as she came down the stairs. She expected anger, indignation, disgust, disappointment, judgement even. She didn't, however, expect the look of worry that she was giving her.

"Where is he?!" Emily asked, peaking up the stairs behind Rory as if she expected Logan to follow directly on her heels.

To say Rory was confused would be an understatement.

"He's…. upstairs…" Rory answered.

Her words were slow and deliberate. Her eyes shifted to the stairs ever so slightly as she answered. Emily took one more glance up as well before she pulled Rory further into the living room toward the French doors to the patio. She continued to look back as she did, as if she was worried that Logan might come down and hear them talking.

"Maybe we should go somewhere more private," said Emily.

"Grandma, no," Rory said, shaking her head. "He's not coming down here. Listen, I know you must be upset. But - "

"Rory, there's something you need to know," Emily said, interrupting her again. "I didn't want to have to tell you like this. Maybe you should sit."

At this point Rory was completely dumbfounded. She knew coming downstairs that the conversation she was about to have with her grandmother was not going to go the way she had originally expected. But she definitely didn't expect her grandmother to start using the dialogue that was supposed to be hers.

"No, Grandma, I'm fine standing. Listen, I - "

"I don't know what he's told you, Rory. But there are things you don't know about Logan. Rumors. Nasty ones."

Rory had officially stepped into an alternate reality. Either that or she was still fast asleep upstairs in her bed and this was all some insane dream. First there was being caught by her grandmother to begin with, then the strange and unexpected role reversal that she found herself in at the start of this conversation, and now Emily Gilmore was standing in front of her claiming that she knew something about Logan Huntzberger that Rory did not. It would almost be laughable if it weren't so completely and utterly insane.

"Things I don't…" Rory started to mirror as she collected her thoughts. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, Grandma. Listen, I think maybe you should sit - "

"I can understand how this could have happened, Rory," Emily said. Her voice was soft, sympathetic, not at all what Rory had been prepared for. "You're pregnant. You're single. You're concerned about finances. And then a boy you used to love walks back into your life and he's successful and stable and … certainly handsome… But, Rory, he's not the person you think he is. He's not the boy you fell in love with."

"Grandma - "

"He was recently engaged. Very recently. I never told you because I didn't want to upset you. But he was supposed to walk down the aisle just a few weeks from now. It was all anyone was talking about. It was going to be a massive affair. Massively tacky if Shira had too much to do with it. But, then, I'm sure the mother of the bride might have been able to tamper some of that…"

"Grandma - "

"Now, I know that must come as a shock, but don't blame yourself. I know you would never willingly get involved with an engaged man. So, he must not have told you. Or he must have said that the wedding was off, which is technically true. But, Rory, you need to know why before you let this go on any further."

Rory closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. The weight of her grandparents' expectations had always pressed so heavily on her. She'd tried her entire life to measure up to the vision they had of her. They'd always seen her as the pure incorruptible angel – this paragon of goodness who would never participate in anything remotely lascivious or devious. She was their second chance at a fine upstanding legacy for the Gilmore name. And she'd let them believe that was exactly what she was for so long. She's let them believe it because they wanted to believe it so badly. They wanted to believe it, and all she ever wanted to do was be the person they wanted her to be. Even if she couldn't. Even if she already wasn't.

There was so much that she kept from her grandparents. So many lies she'd told and omissions that she'd kept from them over the years. The reality was, that as close as she was to her grandparents, at the end of the day they didn't really know her at all. They had no idea just how far from pure, incorruptible, and upstanding she could actually be.

"Grandma…" she said softy. But, Emily kept going.

"He was cheating on her, Rory. He was having an affair – maybe even multiple affairs - for years. He's an unfaithful man. Infidelity runs deep in that family. I should have warned you about it years ago, but I was so happy that you'd found a decent boy after that … hooligan… and I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. But, regardless, you can't trust him to be faithful to you. Maybe he had been all those years ago. But even if he was, he's certainly changed now. And you know what they say - once a cheater always a cheater…"

Rory shoved down the spark of pain that came over her with the flashing memory of sitting in the dressing room of the Japanese Tea Garden, alone, a half drunk bottle of champagne and three of the rollers that had just been in Honor's hair sitting by her feet as tears were streaming down her face.

But she couldn't think about that now. Those were wounds for another time.

"Grandma, " Rory pleaded, a bit more firmly this time.

"You know I usually despise tired old clichés like that. But some things are clichés for a reason. The only reason he ended his engagement and came back home is because his fiancée found out that one of his little floozies ended up getting pregnant - "

"Grandma!"

Rory's voice was raising in conviction, just as her heartbeat was raising in tempo and her anxiety was rising in intensity. Her hand flew to her belly, probably some subconscious reflex to the tone with which her grandmother was unknowingly speaking about her own child's conception. She started rubbing in circles.

"Rory, please, let me finish. I know this must be hard to hear. But I need you to know that you can't trust Logan to step in and be a father to your child when lord only knows what he's planning to do about his hussy and their little bas - "

"GRANDMA!"

The shout echoed in the air around them. Emily's face morphed from frantic to stunned. She hadn't been expecting the outburst, that much was clear. But she hadn't been listening to anything that Rory was trying to tell her, and Rory was at a loss of what else to say or do.

As it turned out, words were entirely unnecessary.

Instead of speaking, Rory simply held her hands out in front of her and shrugged. Her entire body moved in a way as if she was inviting her grandmother to take a good hard look at everything that was going on around her. She emitted something halfway between a scoff and a grunt while she did it, and she could feel her face contorting into a look of exasperation and desperation, silently pleading Emily to open her eyes.

She wasn't sure if the gesture would be enough to tip her grandmother off to her meaning, but apparently it was. Because Rory watched as the heavy realization slowly pass over Emily's face. Her grandmother's eyes drifted downward toward Rory's pregnant stomach and then back up to meet her own. A heavy silence fell between them, and Rory could see Emily's chest start to rise up and down with heavy breaths.

"Grandma, I'm sorry. I never want you to find out like this - "

The universe must have been hell bent on keeping Rory from saying anything of meaning to her grandmother. Because, she was once again interrupted. This time, however, it wasn't her grandmother talking over her. At this point, Emily was entirely speechless and probably would remain so for some time. This time, it was the sound of the doorbell echoing through the house that cut her off.

A horrifying realization settled over her at the sound.

Her grandmother wasn't the only person whose visit she'd completely forgotten about after the events of the previous night. All the color drained from her face as she realized exactly who it was that was waiting on the other side of that door. Taking her phone out of the pocket on her sweatshirt, she checked the time – only confirming her suspicions as to who had just arrived.

How was it that the one time those two actually managed to be punctual was the one time they would be better off being late?

After the sound of the bell, Rory heard the slam of a door upstairs followed by the echo of speedy footsteps. She took another deep breath and covered her eyes with her hand as Logan appeared at the top of the stairs.

This entire morning was pure chaos.

At this point she just wanted to cry.

"I'll take care of this!" Logan shouted as he bounded down the stairs through the foyer, not even pausing to look at Rory or Emily as he did.

When Rory removed her hand from her face, she looked up to meet the astonished and fuming face of her grandmother. Whether she was angry about Rory's revelation or Logan's sudden and less than polite parkour routine through her home, Rory wasn't entirely sure. The only thing that she was sure of was that she wanted to start burrowing directly into the ground and never leave.

She heard the front door open and the sound of Logan calmly telling their visitors that it wasn't a good time for them to come in. His words, however, were met on deaf ears.

"Step aside, Logan!" came the loud and painfully familiar sound of an Australian accent as soon as the door opened.

Rory could hear the scuffle of Logan valiantly trying to corral his friends back onto the driveway and out of the house. But, unfortunately, despite the significant amount of muscle he had on both of them, he could never match them for sheer force of will.

"Finn – "

"Your efforts will not deter me. I need to see her!" Finn continued.

"Finn!" Logan said, firmly. "Now is not the time. Please."

Rory had to take a moment to remind herself that these were her friends. She liked Colin and Finn. Colin and Finn were fun. Colin and Finn cared about her. Colin and Finn were here to help her lug her mother's crap back to her house at no charge. It wasn't Colin and Finn's fault that this morning had gone so terribly wrong. There was no reason to be angry at Colin and Finn.

"Rory," Emily seethed. "Who is that?! What in God's name is going on?"

Unfortunately, the reminders weren't really working.

"I'm so sorry, Grandma," Rory said. "I will get them out of here. Just give me one second."

Rory started backing up toward the foyer. She'd hoped to be able to turn the corner and leave her grandmother out of sight as she dealt with Colin and Finn's ill-timed arrival. But, unfortunately, she was barely able to make it past the stairs before Finn caught sight of her.

"There she is!" he exclaimed.

The next thing Rory knew, he was flinging himself to the floor on his knees in front of her. His hands wrapped themselves around her pregnant stomach, and he pressed his cheek to her womb. Rory stumbled a bit on her feet, having been taken off guard by the contact. But, Finn held on tightly.

"The mother of my child!"

"Finn!" Logan yelled, frustration and anger dripping from his voice.

"What?!" Emily screeched from the living room.

Rory's attention snapped back to her grandmother. Emily had gone completely white at this point, and it was apparent that she had no idea what was going on. Rory herself didn't have any idea what was going on at the moment. But that was hardly a rare feeling when Finn was involved. That being said, there was one thing that she was absolutely certain of.

"No! He's not – He's not being serious!" Rory explained.

"Ah. But I am, my love," he interrupted. "You may not have been made aware, but, you see, a long time ago Logan and I came to what I call a Rumpelstiltskin arrangement."

A Rumpelstiltskin arrangement.

Rory had no idea what that actually meant, but having a basic knowledge of children's storybooks she could put a few details together on her own without an explanation. And she really didn't want an explanation anyway. She just wanted to get him out of there before her grandmother completely melted down.

"I think the record will show that in May of 2009, one Logan Elias Huntzberger and I entered into an interesting wager wherein Logan insisted that the Chicago Cubs would never win a World Series in our lifetimes. And, being as it was a year in which Logan had no money to buy into such a venture, we had to get a bit creative with the terms of the agreement."

"Finn – "

"Hush, Logan!" Finn said, shooting a hand out behind him to silence him. "Now… drawing on the fact that the Chicago Cubs have managed to pull off the impossible just this last October, I believe you will find that the rights to your first born child are hitherto relinquished to me, the charming man you see before you."

"Finn, if you don't shut up and get over here right now, I will drag you out of this house with my bare hands."

Finn didn't seem at all bothered by Logan's threats. He continued on as if he hadn't heard a word.

"And how delightfully appropriate that your defeat in this particular gamble managed to line up so perfectly with the conception of said child," Finn tore his attention away from Logan. His eyes flashed up to Rory's and his hand started caressing her baby bump. "I take it as a sign of the universe smiling down on us, love, blessing our darling family. It was destiny don't you see?"

"Okay," Logan teemed.

He was pissed. Actually, it was kind of amazing to behold. Rory had never seen him this visibly annoyed with his friends in all the time that they were together. In fact, Logan's inability to put an end to his friends shenanigans at times when they were entirely inappropriate was a constant source of argument for them.

But now, Logan wasn't having it. He walked over to Finn with a look of sheer determination and grabbed the back of his shirt. As Logan pulled him back up to a standing position, surprise washed over the Australian's face.

"Ah!" he exclaimed as he tried to get his bearings. "This is assault and battery! I'll be pressing charges! Colin, as my attorney I'd appreciate your counsel."

"I'm a defense attorney, Finn," said Colin. "I'd be representing Logan."

Colin started to move over toward them, most likely to help Logan start pushing Finn toward the front door. But as soon as he stepped into Rory's field of vision, she gasped. A purple and yellow bruise was covering his right cheek bone and encircling his eye. He looked as if he's stepped out of a scene from Fight Club.

"Colin!" she exclaimed. "What happened to your eye!?"

Rory was suddenly flashing back to night many years ago when she'd brought Jess here to meet her grandmother. That night had been a disaster too. At the time, she couldn't imagine anything worse happening in her grandmother's home. Oh how wrong she had been.

"Oh! Fun story, actually. Why don't you ask your boyfriend?" he said with a sardonic lilt, tilting his head over toward Logan in the process.

Boyfriend. That was a loaded term. Far too loaded to be spoken in front of her grandmother at this particular moment at the very least. Even if she wasn't here, it wouldn't have felt right. Was Logan her boyfriend? Somehow the word seemed far too grand and yet not grand enough at the same time.

Sure, she and Logan had finally admitted their feelings to each other the night before. Yes, they had all but committed themselves to making a relationship work between them. But they hadn't defined labels in such terms, really. And even if they had, boyfriend just seemed so…. underwhelming. They were having a child together. They were facing a permanent future together regardless of the status of their relationship with each other. Was boyfriend really the best term they could come up with?

"It was an accident!" Logan countered, jolting Rory back to the issue at hand.

But, even with his loud objection, ignoring Logan seemed to be Colin and Finn's chosen sport of the day. Because Colin didn't even acknowledge his argument. Instead, he turned his attention toward the older woman standing in the living room watching all of them with a murderous expression. He plastered a polite smile on his face, and Rory was actually impressed with his ability not to cower in fear.

"I'm so sorry about these two, Mrs. Gilmore. Their lack of class can be truly appalling. It's nice to formally meet you. I believe you know my father. Andrew McCrae?"

Emily glared at him and started taking a few steps forward.

"Young man, I don't care if your father is Prince Albert II of Monaco. He's soon going to find himself without a son if you don't get out of my house this instant."

"Alright then. Always a warm welcome here," Colin said, the smile never leaving his face. He turned to Finn and grabbed his friend's arm. "Come on, Finn. It's probably best we go. I think we can find a Bloody Mary bar somewhere where our presence would be far more appreciated."

"I'll need an omelet station as well," added Finn.

Colin pulled Finn down the foyer toward the front door, making promises of omelets, bacon, and hash browns to his heart's content. As soon as the door slammed closed behind them, a thick and uncomfortable tension settled over the Gilmore house. Rory, Logan, and Emily all found themselves standing together in front of the stairs, each of them not sure how to slice through the silence. Logan, ever the gentleman, seemed to decide that it was his responsibly to take charge of the situation.

"Emily, I'm so sorry about all of this," he started. "We'd asked my friends to come over and help move some things from the basement over to Lorelai's house. Obviously, we didn't plan on the timing being so - "

"Logan," Emily growled. She held her hand up in a gesture for him to stop speaking. "I think I've heard and seen quite enough out of you for the time being. I'd appreciate it if you would get out of my house and leave me to speak to my granddaughter. Alone."

Rory sent Logan an apologetic look, but she also didn't want to argue the point. At this point it would be better if Logan simply left. It was going to be a long conversation with her grandmother. There was a lot of ground to cover – a lot of explanations and apologies to be made.

"You should go," she said, softly. "Go get brunch with Colin and Finn. I'll be fine."

Logan lifted a hand to her arm and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"You'll call me?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Rory breathed.

Rory made uncomfortable eye contact with her grandmother as Logan leaned forward, kissed her on the forehead, and ran his hand lovingly over her stomach in a goodbye. Once he slipped out of the house, Rory found herself alone with Emily.

The secret was out, that much was certain. It had come out in the worst way she could possibly imagine, but it was out nonetheless. And, after Finn's dramatic display and Colin's labeling of Logan's status in her life just moments before, there was definitely no denying it any longer.

It was funny. Rory had thought that breaking the news of the baby's paternity to her grandmother would be the worst part of this conversation. But, now, standing here and looking at Emily's face, she realized that the explanation of how exactly she allowed all of this to happen in the first place was going to be so much worse.

She really wouldn't mind A Bloody Mary herself.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen

Sunday, April 23, 2017 – Part III

"My Dearest Richard,

It is with heavy heart that I write you this letter tonight, but I cannot stand by and let you make a terrible mistake. Until now, I had thought, hoped, prayed that you would come to the same conclusion that I have. But you have not, and therefore, I feel it is my duty as your mother to beg you to reconsider your impending marriage.

I'm sure that Emily is a very suitable woman for someone, but not for you. She will not be able to make you happy. She does not have the Gilmore stamina or spark. She is simply not a Gilmore.

I don't know the circumstances surrounding your breakup with Pennilyn Lott, but it is still my belief that she is much better suited for you than Emily.

I know that the timing of this is particularly awkward, since you are to be married tomorrow…."

Rory had never been one to appreciate nature. The great outdoors never really spoke to her. Sure, it could be pretty. She wasn't totally blind. But stepping out into the open air never seemed to move her the way that it did so many others. All of the times in her life when Luke would go fishing or Logan would run off to go climb up some mountain with his friends, she always found herself wondering why. Why do that when you can sit in the air conditioning with a good book and a glass of wine? She was an indoor person through and through.

But right now while sitting outside on the patio at her grandmother's house, she was beginning to grow a new appreciation for nature. As small as the miniature ecosystem at the Gilmore house was, it was providing her some much needed comfort.

Once Logan had left the house, the two Gilmore women had been left standing alone in awkward silence for a few moments before her grandmother had stated that she needed some air and they could talk outside. The awkwardness was still lingering between them, but it was dampened by the peaceful sounds of birds chirping and windchimes ringing. She'd even distracted herself for a moment by watching a monarch butterfly land on one of the zinnias that the gardener had just planted. All in all, there was just a peacefulness about it. A peacefulness that she desperately needed.

She really should sit out here more often while she had the chance.

Emily was processing, and Rory was happy to give her time. She'd been so angry after the monstrous ordeal that had occurred inside the house, and Rory shuddered to think of what might have been said if they'd jumped into exchanging words right away.

At the moment, her grandmother didn't seem nearly as angry as she had before. Her initial ire had faded a bit. But, the look on her face was still cold. It reminded Rory of the other time when she had disappointed her grandmother beyond measure. And, once again, her relationship with Logan was a primary factor in it. She half expected to find her painting moonscapes later on this evening to avoid her.

But the avoiding would have to come later, because right now there was a lot that needed to be said.

"So…" Emily said, finally breaking the silence between them. Rory wasn't quite sure if she was filled with dread or relief. "I believe it's fair to say that when you told me that Paul boy was the father of your child, that was a lie?"

Rory exhaled. At least they were starting off with a question that was fairly simple to answer. Of course, it wasn't really a question to begin with. It was more her grandmother's way of starting off this conversation by forcing Rory to make a verbal admission of her guilt. By now, she knew perfectly well that it was a lie, but Rory was willing to play along if it meant that she might be able to keep things calm.

"Yes," she whispered.

Emily turned her head to the side for a moment, unable to make eye contact with Rory as she thought about what to say next. Rory wasn't really in the mood for much eye contact either. It was difficult with how she was feeling at the moment. She was feeling like a scolded child who had been caught lying about brushing her teeth before going to bed.

"I just can't fathom why on Earth you would think to lie about such a thing," Emily continued.

The anger was seeping back into her tone. Rory could tell that she felt betrayed by the lie, but at the same time she felt that her grandmother wasn't being entirely fair.

"Really?" Rory asked. "You can't think of a single reason?"

Emily snapped her attention back a Rory. She looked angry again. Perhaps being smart wasn't the best way to progress with this conversation, but the words had come out of her mouth untethered.

"I'm your grandmother, Rory," said Emily. "I'm your family. You should have told me. I could have protected you from this."

Protected her from what?

That's what Rory really wanted to ask.

Could she had protected her from Logan finding out she was pregnant? Protected her from getting pregnant? Protected her from having an affair with him? Protected her from seeing him in Hamburg three years ago? Protected her from ever falling in love with him in the first place?

Her grandmother wouldn't have been able to protect her from any of those things unless she had access to a time machine and could travel back to the day she'd closed the book on her pro-con lists regarding which college to attend. Rory was fairly certain the only way she could have been protected from her life tangling with Logan Huntzberger's was if she'd never stepped foot on the Yale campus to begin with.

But then, Rory didn't think Emily was referring to any of those things. Most likely, her grandmother meant that she could have protected her from the whispers that were clearly already making the rounds through Hartford at lightening speed. After all, by this point they'd apparently traveled all the way to Nantucket. It was only a matter of time before Rory would be mentioned in them by name.

"Grandma, there's nothing you could have done. I never meant for him to find out. I never meant for anyone to find out," said Rory.

"How could you have let this happen, Rory?" Emily asked. "All these years I thought that we'd succeeded in raising you with more sense than that. Turns out we were wrong."

Rory didn't quite know how to answer that question. In truth, she had been asking herself the same thing for months - years actually - and wasn't able to come up with a satisfying explanation. How could she have let their affair go on so long? How could she have thought that a Vegas arrangement with Logan was ever going to work? How could she have lied to herself about her feelings all that time? How could she have let herself get pregnant that night?

Rory didn't need Emily's judgement to feel like a complete and utter idiot. She was already perfectly successful at feeling that way all on her own.

"I don't know," Rory said, meekly. "I just… I love him…I'm still in love with him."

As the confession left her lips, Rory actually allowed herself to hope that the words might soften her grandmother's anger. Emily Gilmore was nothing if not a romantic. The love that existed between her and her grandfather was something that Rory had always marveled at. For two people who were so prominent in a world where love always fell second to money and obligation, they had a marriage based in profound affection, admiration, and fidelity. It was the ultimate model for Rory in her own life. Appealing to Emily's romantic heart would be her best bet at winning her grandmother over to her side.

Unfortunately, she was unsuccessful.

"He wasn't yours to love, Rory! If you wanted him to be yours you shouldn't have said no to him all those years ago. You two would have been married for almost a decade. We'd all be celebrating your third baby by now!"

Rory flinched. Once again she found herself wanting to tell her grandmother that she didn't need to point these things out to her. She was perfectly capable of ruminating over them to obsession all on her own. It had been ten years since Logan had asked her to marry him. And, to this very day, she still felt as undecided as to what the right answer was as she did the night she was packing up her boxes in Paris' apartment and was unable to tear her eyes off the ring sitting in the box in front of her.

"I swear," came the still huffy voice of her grandmother. "Sometimes you're just like your mother."

Rory had never thought that those words could be used against her as a weapon. She'd heard them all her life, and she'd always considered them a compliment. Being like her mother was her ultimate goal in life. Her mother was everything she ever aspired to be – fun, intelligent, independent, successful. But, hearing that statement coming from her grandmother in this context left her feeling like it was the worst thing Emily could possibly say to her. It actually hurt.

"This has nothing to do with Mom," Rory argued.

Emily wasn't having it.

"This has everything to do with her," she insisted. "She raised you with loose morals. She raised you to have a warped sense of right and wrong. She raised you to be selfish and egotistical and promiscuous. You didn't want to have to sacrifice anything to be with that boy. And now, ten years later, you want to have your cake and eat it too. And here we are – in the same place we were with her over thirty years ago."

"I didn't want to give up everything that I had worked for my entire life because Logan got a job in California! It wasn't the right time. I couldn't tie myself down that way! Do you think that was easy for me? Do you think I enjoyed handing that ring back to him? I didn't. It killed me inside," Rory argued. "And Mom was sixteen! I'm thirty-three. This isn't the same thing at all!"

"You're right. It's not," said Emily. "At least your father wasn't engaged to be married to another woman."

The sharp pang of pain that shot through Rory as Emily drove that metaphorical blade through her heart did something to her. Suddenly, her entire mood switched. She wasn't interested in placating her grandmother anymore. She wasn't interested in avoiding a fight. At this point a fight seemed inevitable.

Her grandmother was being unreasonable. She was behaving like the woman that she'd sworn she'd left behind months ago – the one more concerned with appearances than keeping up appearances than supporting her family. This was the Emily that Rory had only seen on a handful of occasions in her life – the one that her mother warned her about.

She was being cruel. She was being cold.

She was being a hypocrite.

"You're one to talk."

As soon as the words landed on the air, Rory realized that their conversation was as good as over. She might as well have slapped her grandmother in the face. And the older woman's expression matched that thought.

Slowly, Emily stood up from her seat. Her jaw clenched, and her chin turned upward in a defensive display of dominance.

"I think it would be best if you stayed with your mother tonight."

With that parting thought, Emily turned on her heel and walked back into the house. Rory sat there for a few moments, taking more solace in the sound of the birds and the cool morning air. She wiped a single tear from her cheek.

Why was it that her life seemed to always be in a state of discord? She had finally fixed things with Logan – finally gotten her love life back on track – only to mess up her family life in the process.

Hopefully, her mother wasn't too angry after Rory had forcefully asked her to leave last night. Because, if she was then Rory didn't know where she was going to sleep tonight.

"No phones at the kitchen table!"

Tearing her gaze away from the screen in front of her, Lorelai looked up to meet the scolding face of her husband. She sighed as he placed a plate of pancakes in front of her and gasped when he grabbed the offending device out of her hand and set it on the kitchen counter out of reach.

"Hey!" Lorelai said, reaching her hands out dramatically. "That's not fair! I was expecting a really important call!"

"Oh yeah?" Luke asked. He set down a plate in front of his own plate and took a seat. "From who?"

"From Clark. My other nicer husband in Woodbridge who lets me check my phone at the kitchen table and doesn't hog the blankets."

"Clark will just have to wait, I guess," Luke replied. "You've been attached to that thing like glue all morning. What is it exactly that's got your attention? You didn't download another one of those dot games did you? Because the last time you got addicted to one of those you spent almost fifty dollars on extra lives."

"You pay like a dollar at a time. They trick you!" said Lorelai.

"And you have no self-control."

She could hardly argue that point. After all, she'd eaten almost the entire pizza she'd brought home from her mother's last night due to emotional turmoil, and she was topping it off with pancakes this morning. But her lack of self-control didn't have anything to do with why she kept checking her phone.

"I still haven't heard anything from Rory," she said, resigned.

Since the moment she's gotten home last night after her blow up at her mother's house, she'd been eagerly awaiting a phone call from her daughter. It hadn't taken long for the guilt to set in after she'd left. She'd overreacted. Logan had shown up while she was at the peak of her anger and at her most irrational. She'd let mama bear out when maybe mama hissing house cat would have sufficed. Ever since she'd been ruminating over how mad Rory might be at her right now, and the longer she went without hearing from her the more anxious she was that she was really really mad.

Luke flicked his eyes over to her somberly while he chewed on his breakfast.

"Maybe you should call her," Luke suggested after swallowing his food.

Lorelai scoffed. She could always count on Luke to be completely and utterly useless when it came to advice on how to handle the social complexities of relationships between mothers and daughters. Whether it was hers with her own mother, hers with Rory, or April's with Anna, his advice was consistently terrible.

"Are you insane?" she asked. "I can't call her. She kicked me out of my mother's house. She made it clear that she didn't want to listen to anything I have to say. She doesn't want to talk to me. The last thing she's going to want is for me to pick up the phone and call her right now."

"You said you were sorry about it," said Luke, still munching on his breakfast as he talked.

"I am sorry about it," she said.

"So call her and apologize."

"She's not going to want to hear it," Lorelai argued.

In all her years as a mother, she and Rory had rarely argued. The instances became more frequent as Rory got older and more intense as she got more independent. But, still, they were few and far between. Even so, they happened often enough for Lorelai to know that approaching Rory before she'd been given the space she needed to process was never a good idea. They were similar in that way. It's why the worst of their fights tended to stretch on for longer than they should.

"Maybe you should apologize to Logan."

Lorelai blinked. Luke may as well have suggested that she sell all her worldly possessions and join a nunnery. She was sorry about what had happened, but she wasn't that sorry. She was sorry that the things she'd said and the way that she'd said them had added to Rory's distress. But that didn't mean they weren't honest.

"Excuse me?" she asked. She set her fork down on her plate. Suddenly she didn't feel very hungry. Luke gave a small and unemotional shrug.

"If you feel bad about what happened, maybe you should apologize to Logan."

"Okay…" said Lorelai, scratching at her head. "Since when are you all… Team Logan?"

"Team Logan?" Luke asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What does that even mean?"

"What I mean is…" Lorelai continued. "I remember once upon a time when you were threatening his life at my parents' vow renewal and calling him snooty and generally thinking he was a spoiled douchebag and now all of a sudden you're giving him free coffee cause he's 'family' and telling me I should apologize to him. Do I need to remind you that he had a seedy affair with my daughter and knocked her up in the process?"

"No. No reminders necessary," Luke said with narrowed eyes. "Look, I'm not Team Logan, okay? I just think he's the father of our granddaughter, and it's pretty clear at this point that he's going to be in the picture. So, it would probably be in everyone's best interests – most of all the baby's - if we could manage to get along with him. That's all."

Lorelai sighed. Luke was right. She knew that. Even now when she was at her angriest with Logan, she knew that he was ultimately right. Logan was going to be in her life whether she liked it or not. Logan – to her extreme discontent – still had a hold over her daughter's heart. And if nothing else, Logan was going to be raising her granddaughter. The last thing that precious little girl needed was to grow up witnessing animosity between her grandmother and her father.

But Lorelai was stubborn. She was self-reflective enough to know that about herself. But, unfortunately, that didn't do much to help her actually fix the problem. Especially when her emotions were this involved.

Apologizing to Logan Huntzberger was not going to be easy. But she was going to have to do it. Even though so many of the things she'd said last night had been expressions of her honest feelings – they were still uncalled for. She was harsh – mean even. So mean she might have been able to give her own mother a run for her money.

She had a right to be angry with Logan. She had a right to be angry at him for taking advantage of her only daughter. She had a right to hate that he kept her at arm's length for so long and made her feel like she wasn't good enough – that she was a second choice. She had a right to be angry that he'd made her cry on a bathroom floor yet again.

But screaming and cursing at him in the middle of her parents' dining room was not exactly one of her shining moments in life.

"I know. You're right." she said. "I'll try."

Luke grunted an acknowledgement and returned his attention to his breakfast. Lorelai, still completely distracted by the phone sitting on the counter, opted to jump up and reach for it instead of eating. Luke rolled his eyes and was about to scold her again when they were both interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

"Mom?" A voice carried down the hall.

Lorelai's head snapped up from her phone and she made eye contact with Luke. Both of them had genuine looks of surprise on their faces at the arrival. In an instant, Lorelai's phone was back on the counter and she was rushing out of the kitchen toward the front door.

"Rory?" she asked.

Of course, she knew it was her. But the question behind it had more to do with what exactly she was doing there. As Lorelai walked through the archway, her eyes landed on the sight of her daughter standing in the foyer looking ragged. A small overnight bag was sitting at her feet.

"Hey," said Rory with a massive sigh. "Can I stay here tonight?"

Seven hours, one long conversation, three episodes of Grace and Frankie, and a carton of Ben and Jerry's after arriving at her mother's house, Rory found herself sitting alone on the living room couch and zoning out as Jane Fonda prattled on about vibrators on the television in front of her. It had been easier to pay attention to what was going on when her mother had been sitting next to her, but as soon as she and Luke had slipped out to go pick up dinner from Al's, paying attention to much of anything seemed to become impossible.

With no one to talk to her mind was free to run completely wild. Of course, she wasn't entirely alone. Paul Anka had proven to be a very willing companion for the last few minutes with his head resting in her lap. But, unfortunately, Paul Anka wasn't the best conversationalist. So, even with him by her side, Rory was still completely alone with her thoughts.

When Rory had woken up that morning in Logan's arms, she had actually thought that it was going to be the start of one of the better days of her life. In that moment, it seemed like all of her problems were in the rear view mirror. It was almost comical how quickly reality had come crashing down.

She didn't know how she and her grandmother were going to come out of this. She'd only really fought with Emily once before in her life, and that time it had taken one of the most exhausting Friday Night Dinners of her life to get through all of the pent up emotion and frustration between them. Who knew how long this cold shoulder would last before she would have to sit through one of those nights again?

At least things with her mother were smoothed out relatively quickly. She hadn't exactly been excited about coming here after the show her mom put on the night before. But, thankfully, Lorelai had seemed remorseful enough when she arrived that they were able to put it past them for the time being.

It wasn't going to be fixed overnight. Lorelai still needed to apologize to Logan, and she needed to learn that she couldn't jump in to fight Rory's battles for her any longer. But, they were okay. For now, they were okay.

But, for now, Rory also needed a break. She needed something to distract her from replaying the conversations with her mother and her grandmother over and over again in her head for the hundredth time. So, having nothing better to do, Rory whipped her phone out of her pocket. In an automatic reflex, she tapped on the Facebook icon and started scrolling.

She liked a picture Lane posted of Steve and Kwan at their little league game that morning. She marked interested to an invitation from Lucy for her upcoming Off-Off-Broadway production of Arcadia. She tried not to groan at a cheesy meme that her father had posted, but ended up posting a sarcastic comment about his decent into a cliché Dad joke type. It had all started with the Volvo.

But the first post that actually made her pause and smile was a picture posted a few hours ago by Colin.

"At what point does this cease to be a drink and just become a meal?" – at The Fifth Horseman Tavern with Finnegan St. Clair and Logan Huntzberger

Below the caption was a picture of a Bloody Mary in a modestly sized mason jar. However, springing out of the top was an outlandish amount of garnish including celery, olives, shrimp, chicken wings, bacon, and even a couple sliders. Most people might be absolutely disgusted with how much food was included with one drink order, but Rory was just jealous. Clicking on the post, Rory selected a 'love' reaction and typed into the comment box.

"The one time you guys go drinking somewhere up to my speed, you leave me behind?"

It didn't take long for a response. Just a few seconds later, she received a notification that Finn had reacted with a 'Haha.' A few seconds after that, she received a notification that he'd replied to her comment.

"Sorry we couldn't bring you along, luv. I know you must have worked up an appetite last night. 😉 Next time, we'll bring home some sliders for you."

Even alone in her mother's house, Rory found herself blushing at the comment. Still, a wide smile broke out on her face despite her embarrassment. She knew that Logan wasn't the kind to get into a wild amount of detail with his friends regarding their sex life. But, a surface level explanation of what happened last night and this morning would have been required for him to explain exactly what was going on at the house this morning when Colin and Finn found themselves kicked out by a murderous Emily Gilmore when they were supposed to be there helping.

Thinking of explanations, she realized that she still owed one to Logan. He'd probably been checking his phone all day for a call from her. But, between her conversations with her grandmother and then her mother, there hadn't been a great moment for her to reach out.

Now would probably be that time. After all, it would be smart to take advantage of the time alone while she could. With her mind made up, Rory paused the television, closed her Facebook app, and brought up her contacts. Then, after a swift tap on Logan's name, she brought the phone to her ear and waited for an answer.

"Hey."

"Hey," she mirrored. "Sorry it took so long to call. It's… been an eventful day."

"It's alright. I figured."

Rory knew that Logan was most likely being polite. With how quickly he'd answered the phone, it was entirely clear that he'd been anxiously awaiting to hear from her all day. She should have called him sooner.

"How was brunch?" she asked, still not quite ready to jump into the topic of her grandmother right away. Thankfully, Logan chuckled. Apparently, he was fine with avoiding the main topic of conversation for a a while as well.

"Let's just say I was officially reminded that I live in America again."

"What?" Rory asked, amused. "The Brits don't make a habit of sticking whole pizzas in their drinks?"

"How'd you know?" Logan asked.

"I saw it on Facebook," replied Rory.

"Ah," said Logan. "Well what you didn't see on Facebook was that Colin also ordered a plate of Eggs Benedict on top of that monstrosity."

"Proud," Rory said with a smile. She heard Logan chuckle again before a small lull occurred. The weight of the conversation was hanging over them.

"So…" he said.

"So."

A small pause fell over the phone.

"Are we skirting around the issue?" asked Logan, causing Rory to sigh and readjust herself on the couch. She tucked her feet under herself, upsetting Paul Anka in the process. But, with a few scratches behind his ear he calmed down again and set his head back down on her thigh.

"No, no skirting," she said. "I just don't really know where to begin. Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"There's good news?" asked Logan. He sounded genuinely surprised, as if the idea that there was any good news to begin with was the good news in and of itself.

"The good news is that my Mom apologized about last night."

"Oh."

The tone of surprise was still lingering in Logan's voice. But, it made sense. He probably wasn't even expecting her mom to be a topic of conversation during this call at all. Hearing that she was sorry about the things she'd said to him was probably an even bigger surprise. Logan had always been more than aware of her mother's opinion of him. Even during the times when she seemed to like him, he had never quite trusted it.

"Yeah," Rory confirmed. "She even said she's going to apologize to you."

"To me?" Logan asked. "This isn't an episode of The Twilight Zone, is it?"

"I can assure you it's not," said Rory. "But I think I'll film the apology for posterity, just so that we can have physical proof that it actually happened. It might be a once in a lifetime experience. I'm sure you could edit in the Twilight Zone opening credits to the beginning if you wanted to."

"My cousin's in film school. Maybe I'll pay him to do it."

"Excellent plan," said Rory before taking a deep breath. "As for the bad news… well… let's just say it was really bad."

"How bad exactly are we talking about here?" asked Logan. "On a scale of realizing I swiped her antique sewing box to realizing we were fucking in the pool house?"

"Oh I think we broke the scale," Rory said, confidently. "I think this was closer to realizing her sixteen year old daughter was pregnant level bad. Except maybe this was worse. Because according to Emily Gilmore, at least my father wasn't engaged to another woman."

Rory heard Logan take a deep breath and sigh over the line. She wasn't sure if he was angry or upset or ashamed or just worried about everything that was going on. He also didn't jump in with an explanation of his feelings right away. Instead, Rory jumped in for him.

"And then she banished me to my Mom's after I called her a hypocrite."

"You called her a hypocrite?"

Logan was puzzled. She could hear the confusion laced through the question. She'd forgotten for a moment that he didn't know. But then of course he didn't know. All of that stuff with her grandparents had happened before they were together – just before. But still, she and Logan were hardly hanging out at the Daily News and talking to each other about the deeper aspects of their family drama at the time. And the subject had never really come up again.

"Yeah," said Rory with a touch of resignation. "Do you remember my grandparents' vow renewal?"

"Mmm no, actually. Can't say I do," said Logan. "Why? Did something important happen that night?"

Rory rolled her eyes and shook her head. A part of her felt like telling him she wasn't in the mood for this, but then this was the first time even the beginnings of a smile had started on her face since they started talking about this. So maybe she was.

"If I remember correctly, I think we kissed for the first time that night," she answered, deciding to play along.

"That was you?!" Logan asked. "God. All this time I thought that was Robbie Filmore from my Econ 131 class. I've been telling people I experimented in undergrad for so many years…"

"Anyway…" Rory continued, deciding that their little detour was over. "The reason why they had a vow renewal in the first place was because they had been separated for months after they had a huge blow out over the fact that my grandfather was having yearly lunches with Pennilyn Lott."

"Who's Pennilyn Lott?" Logan asked, once again serious and also confused.

"The woman Grandpa was engaged to when my grandparents started dating."

"Oh."

Silence followed for a few moments. Rory had been throwing all kinds of surprises his way since the start of this conversation, but this was clearly the one that he found the most shocking. She really couldn't blame him. After all, Richard and Emily Gilmore were an almost cartoonishly pure anomaly in a world full people who swam in corruption, greed, sex, and vice. The idea that they would have done anything even remotely untoward in their lives would surprise most people.

But, then, they hadn't really. They'd never had an affair. Rory knew that. And Rory knew that's why her grandmother had reacted the way she did.

"Yeah," said Rory. "She wasn't very happy when I threw that in her face."

"Rory…" Logan said. He trailed off without completing a thought. "I'm sorry about all of this."

His voice sounded genuinely remorseful, and Rory had the distinct feeling that he was talking about so much more than just the events of this morning and the night before.

"It's not your fault," Rory replied. "I should have remembered Grandma was coming. I should have set an alarm. I should have had you ask Colin and Finn to come on a different day…"

"Everything would have gone perfectly fine if I hadn't shown up unannounced last night," he said. "But that's not what I meant."

"Logan," Rory sighed. "Let's not argue about who is more to blame for all of this. Okay? There's no point to it. It was both of us. All of the trouble we've ever gotten into... it's always been both of us."

"You seem to do a pretty good job of avoiding it when I'm not around."

Self-deprecation was oozing from Logan's tone. She could almost see the Charlie Brown face he most definitely had on the other end of the phone, and Charlie Brown face meant he was probably about two and a half glasses of scotch in by now. That's when he tended to get like this. She could set her watch to it.

It was funny how some things never changed. But, the upside to things staying the same was that she knew exactly how to handle them. And patting a self-pitying Logan on the head and whispering 'there theres' to him wasn't the way to fix it.

"Actually, I'll have you know that I got into quite a bit of trouble all on my own before you came around, Huntzberger," she said brightly.

She heard Logan let out a dry but amused chortle. She smiled at the sound. Her strategy was already working.

"Oh yeah?" he asked.

"Yep."

"Care to enlighten me?"

She readjusted herself on the couch, sitting up straighter with the newfound burst of energy that came with knowing that she was succeeding at her goal of cheering him up.

"Well, I stole corn starch from Doose's when I was sixteen," she started, leaving out the part about how it has been more of a moment of distraction rather than actual larceny. It didn't play into the narrative she was trying to make, and mentioning Dean around Logan was rarely a good idea.

"I always knew you were a natural born thief. First it's shoplifting and next thing you know it's grand theft boating."

"It's a vicious cycle," Rory agreed with a nod before moving on to her next indiscretion. "Then there was the time I skipped school to go to New York."

"Wow," Logan said, genuinely surprised. "Color me impressed."

"Yep, I grounded myself for a long time after that one."

"You grounded yourself? You know what? Never mind. I'm just going to let that one pass," said Logan, clearly amused but not at all shocked by her self-inflicted discipline.

"I also almost got suspended once."

"You almost got suspended?" Logan asked in utter shock and awe.

"Yep," Rory answered. "Some girls from Chilton and I broke into the headmaster's office at night to ring this bell and - "

"You were a Puff?!"

"I – " Rory's voice froze in her throat before she should complete her response. She was caught completely off guard by Logan's amused and knowledgeable exclamation. "How do you know about the Puffs?"

"I might have puffed a Puff back in my day."

Rory groaned. Meanwhile, Logan was chuckling on the other side of the phone, but she didn't mind. As annoying as his admission was, at least she was succeeding in her goal of cheering him up. Really, she didn't know why she was surprised. At times it felt like the Hartford high society circle his family moved in was as tight and incestuous as Stars Hollow.

"Of course you did," Rory said with a roll of her eyes. But soon after a horrifying possibility occurred to her. "Oh no. Please don't tell me it was Francie Jarvis."

"I can say with the utmost confidence that I have no idea who that is," said Logan.

"Thank God," Rory paused for a moment, contemplating. "Was it Lem?"

"Is that a person?" Logan asked in confusion.

"Ivy?"

"Batting a thousand, Ace," Logan teased.

Rory had never been more grateful for their age difference. Her memories of the short time she spent with the Puffs were annoying enough without having to picture one of those girls having sex with the father of her child before discussing the execution of homecoming with him over pillow talk.

"I want to know how I never knew that you were a Puff," said Logan, changing the subject.

"Because, I wasn't really. It was more of an accident."

"What is it with you and accidently worming your way into secret societies?"

Rory smiled at the reference to their early days at Yale. She didn't say anything about how her unofficial initiation into the Life and Death Brigade was hardly an accident. It had a lot more to do with her moxie combined with Logan's closeted infatuation with her. But, she'd let him continue to think that he'd playing it totally cool at that point if it fed his ego. He might have hid it well at the time, but looking back at those first months of her sophomore year, it was painfully obvious how early Logan had actually fallen for her.

"I got called into the guidance counselor's office one day because they thought I was being antisocial. So, the next day at lunch I sat at this random table, and it turned out to be the Puffs. And, anyway, it's a long story. But the short of it is that one night I was kidnapped from my bed, and the next thing I knew I was breaking and entering."

"You're a regular Patty Hearst."

"I always wanted to pull off a beret."

Logan laughed again.

"So as you can see," Rory continued. "I am perfectly capable of getting into trouble without you. In fact, you're kind of unnecessary. I have a casino heist scheduled for next Thursday, and there's not enough room in the getaway car between Brad and George. So, you'll just have to find something else to do."

"Are you sure?" Logan asked. "I've got a few shady business contacts. I'm sure with some poking around, I could find you a quality money launderer."

"Already taken care of," said Rory. "I've got Saul Goodman on speed dial."

"Wow," Logan said before letting out an impressed puff of air through his lips. "Remind me again why you need me around?"

"The sex is pretty good," Rory answered with a shrug. "Also, I love you, I guess."

A brief moment of silence fell over the phone, long enough for Rory to readjust herself on the couch once again. There was a palpable mood change, and she could tell that he'd gone serious without even seeing his face.

"I love you too, Ace," he said.

"Logan," said Rory, matching his tone. "In all seriousness… Last night… Well let's just say I would live through this morning a hundred more times if that was the price for last night."

"Me too," Logan admitted before another brief pause occurred between them. "So, we're doing this, huh?"

Doing this.

It was such a simple phrase that that held such a complex meaning. And, yet, Rory couldn't think of a better way to put it.

She took a deep breath. Memories started flashing through her mind – memories of so many definitive moments between them. Dancing in his arms at her grandparents' vow renewal and hearing him call her special. Their first kiss in the dressing room on that same night. Him climbing through her dorm room window and into her bed for the first time. Standing in his dorm room, hungover, while he insisted he could be her boyfriend. Spending the night at his apartment one night and discovering he'd cleaned out a drawer for her. Moving all of her things into his apartment months later. Eating sub sandwiches and drinking wine at The Daily News.

This was another one to add to the list. Another big step. Another moment where they agreed to commit themselves to each other. Another moment that made the memories of all the times that they didn't so much more bearable.

Hopefully, this moment would have the final word.

"You jump, I jump, Jack," she answered.

The silence settled between them again. But this time, it wasn't broken by more words from either of them. Instead, it was broken by the sound of the doorbell.

Confused, Rory turned her neck to look in the direction of the front door. Surely, her mom and Luke weren't ringing the doorbell to their own home. Plus, they hadn't been gone nearly long enough to have gotten to Al's and back by now. But, Rory had no idea who would stop by unannounced at 8:00 PM on a Sunday night. But then again, it was Stars Hollow.

"Logan, there's someone at the door," she said, heavy with disappointment. "I have to go."

"Okay," Logan answered with a sigh. "I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah. I'll call you," said Rory as she pushed herself off the couch and started making her way to the front door.

"I love you."

"I love you too," Rory said with a smile.

They each said a final goodbye to each other, and Rory slid her phone into the pocket of her sweatshirt. As she walked into the foyer, she tried peaking through the windows around the door to see if she could catch a hint as to who had just arrived. Unfortunately, whoever was there was standing just out of sight. Resigning herself to answering the door blind and potentially being caught up in one of Babette's crises or Kirk's newest sales pitch, Rory placed her hand on the knob and swung the door open.

She almost froze when saw who was waiting for her on the other side.

"Grandma."

Emily stood on the front porch of her mother's house with a stoic expression on her face and a handbag dangling from her forearm. She certainly didn't look happy. However, the angry expression that had been haunting her face earlier this morning was gone. Now, she just looked serious – somber. But, apparently the urge to kill had left her.

"Can I come in?" she asked after a moment of silence. Rory was startled out of her moment of shock. She murmured the affirmative and gestured for Emily to enter the house. Then, she closed the door behind her and led her into the living room.

"Do you want to sit?" Rory asked, awkwardly, gesturing to the couch. "Paul Anka! Down!"

Rory's shaggy comfort companion jumped down from his perch on the couch. All the while, Emily watched as he scampered across the room and took up new residence on the landing of the stairs. Her gaze switched back to the spot on the couch where he had just been sitting and she grimaced.

"I think I'll sit here if you don't mind," said Emily as she settled herself in the arm chair.

Rory didn't comment about the fact that Paul Anka regularly sat in that chair as well. Her grandmother would probably figure that out when she noticed all the hairs on her pants at the end of the day. But right now she didn't need to push any more of Emily Gilmore's buttons. It was probably best to let her think that chair was perfectly Paul Anka free.

"Of course," Rory said as she sat down on the couch.

Rory'd had just about her fill of awkward silences for one day. But, unfortunately, they kept on coming. Emily was distractedly looking around her mother's house – the way she did every time she actually came to visit, and Rory didn't know what to say to her. Should she apologize? Should she continue to defend herself? At this point, she didn't know what her grandmother's mood was.

"Where's your mother?"

Evasion was a tactic Rory could get behind. That was easy. She could answer questions like this all night long.

"She and Luke went to pick up some take-out for dinner."

"I see," said Emily. There was a twinge of judgement in her voice. No doubt she once again didn't approve of her daughter and granddaughter eating junk, especially when said granddaughter was six months pregnant. But Rory didn't really care. After the day she had, Chinese food was the one gleaming light at the end of the tunnel. All she really wanted to do was swim in a vat of general tso while crunching on a deep fried crab rangoon.

Another silence settled between them, and Rory inwardly groaned. She didn't know if Emily was waiting for her to say something or not. But, even if she was, Rory didn't think it should be her responsibility to start this conversation. She wasn't the one who'd shown up here unannounced after banishing her from the house.

"I've been thinking about what you said."

Rory stiffened at the cryptic statement. She was no more aware of what exactly her grandmother's mood was, and she'd already spent the day ruminating over her parting comment – regretting it and torturing herself for having said it.

"Grandma," Rory started. "I'm sorry I said that. It wasn't fair. I know it's not the same. I know you would have never had an affair with Grandpa if he hadn't - "

"Maybe I would have."

Rory stopped cold. The admission hung in the air heavily between them. Rory looked at her grandmother in utter astonishment. It wasn't just the words, it was also the way that her face looked so calm – so resigned. The admission was entirely unemotional, as if it had been arrived to through thorough and logical analysis.

She didn't know what to say. Her grandmother had always insisted that she'd never been the other woman. But, then, her grandfather had acted so quickly that it never had the time to progress to that point.

"If your grandfather had never ended his engagement with Pennilyn Lott… I don't know what I would have done," Emily continued.

"No, Grandma," Rory said with a shake of her head. "I don't think you would have done that."

Perhaps Rory was being naïve, but she couldn't imagine her grandmother - as morally upstanding and conservative as she was - ever agreeing to be anything less than the most important woman in her grandfather's life. She was touched by the offer of empathy… but she didn't think it was at all realistic.

"I loved your Grandfather so much… He was my whole life," Emily said. Rory could hear a slight quiver in her voice and at the same time she felt the sting of tears in her own eyes.

"I know," she said.

"Do you know why I wanted you to marry Logan so badly?"

Rory was taken off guard by the question. She'd always known that her grandparents wanted her to marry Logan. She'd known since she'd seen her grandfather's face light up when he found them together at the Male Yale party and since they'd invited him over for dinner the first time and started talking about children and Cape Cod. And if she'd been completely oblivious to those incidents, then she would have definitely known by the looks on their faces when he'd proposed to her.

But neither Emily nor Richard had ever stated so explicitly that marrying Logan was their ultimate dream for her. As much as they wanted it, she guessed that they still respected her own agency and choices too much to put that much pressure on her, especially when she was just finishing up Yale.

Also, that question was definitely not the thing she'd expected to hear right now. Not after her grandmother had found them in bed and had discovered the truth about a brand new pregnancy scandal surrounding the Gilmore name. She'd thought Emily would be threatening Logan's life right about now, not reminiscing about the days when she used to imagine what kind of floral arrangements would sit at the center of her tables for the reception.

"I'm sure your mother told you it was all because he had good breeding and plenty of money and influence. And… if I'm being honest that did have something to do with it. But it was more than that.

"I always wanted you to marry someone like Logan. I wanted you to marry the right kind of man – one who was intelligent and cultured and ambitious and could provide for you and your children. And when you two first started dating, I'll admit it was those things that made me think he was the right choice for you. But it really wasn't about him. Any one of those boys we tried to introduce you to at that party could have fit that role."

None of this was news to Rory. She had to tamper down the urge to roll her eyes and scoff at the way that her grandmother still talked about that party as if it was a perfectly normal and nice gesture that they had made for her. In reality, it had been one of the most embarrassing nights of her young life. She'd unexpectedly found herself the center of attention at an obvious meat market and then later that night she'd been dumped by the boy they'd conveniently forgotten that she was already seeing at the time in front of a group of strangers – as well as the boy she admittedly had a crush on.

She also wasn't entirely thrilled with the way that her grandmother was framing her hypothetical husband as someone who needed to provide for her – as if she wasn't capable and willing enough to do that for herself. That had never been the reason why she wanted to be with Logan. If anything, it had been an obstacle.

"I didn't really want you to marry Logan until that day he came to the hospital after your grandfather's second heart attack."

Now that was news. News enough that it caused Rory to glance upward and her eyes to lock with her grandmother's. That was so late in the course of their relationship, much farther after the point where Rory had started joking that she was already picking out china patterns.

"It was so clear how much he loved you – how much you loved him. The way he took care of you that day - of all of us that day. Those weren't he actions of a silly college boyfriend. Those were the actions of someone who was a partner to you. And after that day I would watch how you lit up whenever someone would as much as mention his name. You two reminded me so much of your grandfather and I when we were young."

Emily paused for a moment. Her emotions were starting to get the better of her again. She rarely talked about her grandpa. It was always too painful for her. Rory never pushed her because it was painful for her as well. The tears that had started welling in her eyes moments before were threatening to fall down, and she raised her sleeve to her eyes and wiped them away before they had the chance.

"That's so hard to find, Rory - love like that, a true partner in life. It's so hard to find. Getting married is easy. Getting married to the right kind of man is easy. I watched dozens of my friends marry the right kind of men and lead lonely loveless lives. But marrying someone you love who will truly walk with you through the worst parts of your life and be there every step of the way… it's hard. It's rare. Your grandfather and I were lucky. I wanted that for you. And after that day, I thought that Logan could give that to you. That's why I wanted you to marry him so badly."

Rory didn't know what to say. She hadn't realized her grandmother had ever thought that deeply about her relationship with Logan. Emily had been right. She'd always assumed that the only reason they liked the idea of them together was because of who Logan was – not who Logan was to her.

"He still can," said Rory, softly.

Rory watched her grandmother take a few steady breaths as she processed what she should be feeling at this particular moment. It was easy to see that the older woman was torn. Obviously, she was torn between being happy that her granddaughter had found her way back to the man she'd always wanted and being horrified by the events that led her there.

Rory couldn't really blame her for feeling that way. It was the same way she felt herself.

"I'm not happy about this, Rory. I don't want you to think that I'm excusing what you did. In fact, I'm disgusted with what you did," said Emily. "But I would be lying if I sat here and told you that I couldn't understand why you did it. Because I do know what it's like to love a man that much. And now that I know what it's like to live without your grandfather… I can say with certainty that I would do anything to have him back in my life in whatever small way that I could."

Tears started flowing down Rory's cheeks in earnest. At this point there was no stopping them. There was too much going through her mind – relief that her grandmother didn't absolutely hate her, grief over the loss of her grandfather, grief over the time she'd lost with Logan. All of it was pouring out of her.

"This isn't going to be easy," Emily continued. "As long as you two are in Hartford, there are going to be whispers and jeers following you and your baby around wherever you go."

"I know," said Rory.

"And it's not going to be easy for you to deal with Shira."

Rory actually let out a very ungraceful and tear laden laugh at that comment.

"It's never been easy for me to deal with Shira," she said, rolling her wet eyes.

"Well it's about to get worse," said Emily. "I know first-hand what it's like to live with the constant resentment of a mother-in-law who thinks you single-handedly ruined her son's life by marrying him."

"We're not getting married."

Rory looked down at her hands as she waited for the phrase she had heard so many times in her life that it might as well have been recorded into an mp3. But it never came. She waited for what felt like ages to hear her grandmother exclaim that a baby needed a mother and a father – that when you get pregnant you get married. But she was met with only silence.

When she looked up to see her grandmother's face, Emily was simply watching her with a knowing expression. It was as if she knew arguing the matter was pointless. Arguing was nothing but a waste of time. Because the reality was that both of them knew what the future was going to hold - even if giving words to it now seemed premature and wrong.

"I don't want to be another factor that makes this harder for you, Rory," said Emily. "I'm going to need some time to… wrap my head around this. But I… I couldn't leave things the way that we left them this morning."

"I understand."

Emily nodded and stood up from the chair.

"You're welcome to come back to the house tonight if you'd like."

"Thank you, Grandma," said Rory. "But Mom and I have kind of made plans for tonight already."

"Tomorrow then," Emily said with another nod. Rory stood up to show her out as she started walking over to the foyer. "Have a good night."

Rory mirrored the sentiment as Emily opened the door and stepped out of the house. Once she was gone and Rory closed the door behind her, she let out a massive sigh of relief. Things weren't exactly fixed, but they didn't seem impossibly damaged anymore.

Maybe now she could actually watch television in peace.

TBC...

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

Thursday, April 27, 2017

"Even all the time we were together I never knew who I was. And that's why I had to go away. And in California, I think I found myself. I got myself a job. I got myself a therapist, a really good one. And I feel better about myself than I ever have in my whole life. I learned a great deal about myself."

"Are they fucking insane!?"

Things were getting heated - at least from this end of the conversation. Rory had zoned out ages ago, finding the sights of the city passing by her window far more interesting than whatever it was that Logan was talking about. But with that sudden burst of emotion, he had gained her attention again. What had started out as the most boring phone call she'd ever heard, was taking a unexpected and interesting turn. Now, she was actually starting to get excited to find out what kind of drama was going on on the other end.

"Well I think they are if they're coming to the table with an ask that's ten percent over their projected valuation."

On second thought, maybe not. She sighed in boredom as she watched Logan flip his turn signal and spin the wheel of the car as he made a turn into the parking lot of the restaurant they were heading to. She snuck a glance at the clock on the dashboard, noting that it was a minute till seven. If he didn't wrap this phone call up, they were going to be late.

"No!" he all but yelled after a small pause. "No. We're not budging from one-twenty. One-twenty is already an outrageous offer."

As Logan pulled up to the front of the restaurant, he turned the ignition off and put the car in park before climbing out of the driver's seat. Rory's eyes followed him until her own door opened next to her. She smiled at the teenaged valet as he helped her out of the car and made her way to the sidewalk.

"If they hold strong, then offer them a stock alternative. But we're not offering any more cash."

Logan handed his keys off to the valet and slipped a handful of bills into his hand. All the while, Rory stood there watching him with a dissatisfied look on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest. She felt a sudden urge to start tapping her toe in some kind of cartoonish display of impatience.

"If it doesn't, then we walk! It's really that simple, Greg!"

After that particular exclamation, Logan finally made eye contact with her. His face dropped and his shoulders slumped as he took in her obviously annoyed expression. He mouthed an 'I'm sorry,' to her while he continued to listen to whatever the mysterious Greg was saying to him.

"You know what? Put Bobbie on the phone."

At this point Rory rolled her eyes at him, making sure to give the gesture a very Liz Lemon like flair. He at least had the decency to look ashamed, but it was pretty clear he wasn't going to be wrapping up the phone call any time soon. He held up his hand between them, spread out all of his fingers, and mouthed the words 'five minutes.'

Realizing that she would probably be much happier inside sitting down then outside standing on the sidewalk waiting for him to finish, Rory turned around and started walking toward the door, leaving him behind.

It was hardly the first time that Logan had been tied up on the phone while they were supposed to be out together. Over the last few years it had happened a handful of times. But, regardless, Rory found that she had a hard time getting used to it.

She's seen glimpses of this Logan toward the end of their relationship – the Logan that had dipped his toe into the corporate world and found the water warm. But, at that point all he'd really only started wading up to his knees. This Logan – this was a man who had fully submerged himself in the world of business. He wasn't green anymore. He wasn't eager to please. He wasn't dazzled by the pomp and circumstance of it all. He was confident. Competent. Seasoned.

He was so wildly different from the boy she met in college.

For the most part, she loved how much he had grown and evolved. Striking out on his own had changed him. Figuring out how to succeed on his own merits had changed him. But then, she'd always seen the potential for him to become the person he was today. She wouldn't have fallen for him if it wasn't there.

Since the moment that he'd started rambling about Bill Buford and Ernie Pyle at the Life and Death Brigade event, she'd known immediately that Logan Huntzberger was a person that people underestimated. People wrote him off as a spoiled, lazy, and entitled trust fund kid who was doomed to flounder in the shadow of his paternal legacy. It was easy to. Up until that point even she had. He had even played into the narrative himself, subconsciously of course. But underneath the layer of privilege and protection that surrounded him was a person who actually had inherited the intelligence, acumen, and killer instinct that had made his grandfather and his father the moguls they'd become.

She was proud of him.

And that's what she had to remind herself of at moments like this – moments when she was anxiously walking into a restaurant to meet up with her father and his girlfriend without the moral support she'd brought him here for to begin with.

At moments like this she also had to worry. Because his tendency to be pulled away by work at literally any hour of the day was a mere annoyance now, but once there was a child in the picture it was going to become a major problem – one that they were going to have to seriously discuss. But first, they had a dinner to get through.

As soon as Rory walked into the restaurant, her senses were assaulted with the sound of chatter and clanking silverware. She started making her way toward the hostess station to check in and see if her father had already arrived when she heard his voice call out to her.

"Ror!"

Turning to the left, Rory saw her father standing next to his girlfriend just off to the side. Chris pressed his hand against the small of Lana's back and they both started moving toward her.

"Dad. Hi."

As soon as Christopher reached her, he wrapped her up in a hug and pressed a kiss on her cheek.

"Hey, kiddo!" he said. "You look beautiful."

"Oh. Thank you," Rory said with a shy smile.

She didn't feel very beautiful. She'd felt achy and bloated all day. She didn't love the way that the dress she was wearing hugged her hips, but it had been the only maternity dress in her size that she didn't absolutely hate. She was wearing flats. And she knew that she had dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep last night. Still, she would take a compliment where she could get one.

As her father took a step back, Rory's attention drifted to the woman standing next to him. She was wearing a well-tailored sheath dress with cap sleeves in a pale shade of millennial pink. Her auburn hair was pulled together in a knot at the nape of her neck with a few tendrils swept to the side over her forehead and hanging down from her temples. A pair of glistening earrings were dangling from her ears – ones that her father had no doubt shelled out a fair bit of cash for.

She forced herself to smile.

"Lana."

"Hi, Rory," Lana greeted as she placed a hand on her arm and placed two kisses on both of her cheeks.

"Have you been waiting long?" Rory asked.

"Nah, we walked in just before you," Chris answered. "Should we get a table?"

"Yes, please," said Rory. "My feet have been killing me all day."

That was an understatement. It had been a busy week at the house of Gilmore. Since Emily had arrived, they had been going through the house room by room, cleaning, packing, deciding what to keep and what to sell. They were finishing the Marie Kondoing that Emily had started over a year ago. Although now, with some time and some healing on their sides, they were in a much better space to do it.

But, as much as the work was causing Rory's feet to ache, she was grateful to be doing it. Over the last few days, she and her grandmother had been able to patch up their relationship to something nearing normalcy. Things had gone downhill again momentarily when Rory had told her that she and Logan had been having a series of flings for three entire years before she'd gotten pregnant, but they'd eventually been able to work through even that.

"Table for three please," said Chris as he walked up to the hostess station.

"Four actually," Rory corrected.

The young girl behind the desk grabbed four menus and cheerfully invited them to follow her to their table. Christopher shot Rory a look of surprise as they went.

"Four?" he asked.

"Um… yeah." said Rory. "I hope that's okay. I know it's last minute…"

She hadn't planned on Logan being here tonight. In fact, she'd planned on Logan being in L.A. until Friday, but a last minute crisis at the New York office had kept him in town. It was the reason why he'd been fielding phone calls all day – the reason why even though she was annoyed she couldn't be too angry at him right now. The decision for him to tag along hadn't been made until a couple of hours ago, and he'd told her things might be hectic. Regardless, she couldn't pass of the opportunity to have him here.

Rory was getting a little tired of having this conversation alone. The last few weeks had felt like a never ending parade of people sitting down with her to have the same conversation. She was getting tired of the surprise, the confusion, and the disappointment. She was getting tired of all of it. The idea of having someone there to help her this time around was simply too good to pass up. Plus, there was also the fact that she was just excited for any excuse to see him. They hadn't actually been able to get together in person since Monday evening. So, him tagging along to this dinner was the perfect solution to all her problems.

When her Dad had called her a few days ago and asked her to meet him and Lana for dinner, she knew that she wasn't going to be able to put off tell him any longer. She hadn't exactly been dreading it, necessarily. Christopher had always been the least judgmental parental figure in her life – probably because a part of him had always felt like he didn't really have the right to have big opinions on her life choices after missing so much of it. But, still, he was her father, and he could have a protective streak when he wanted to.

She just hoped tonight wouldn't end with him standing up in the middle of dinner, screaming that Logan was a weasel, and threatening to kick his ass again. But she didn't think it would.

It hadn't taken very long after their initial meeting for Christopher become endeared to Logan. He was her favorite boyfriend – to this day. He hadn't said as much after meeting the other two guys Rory had introduced him to over the years, but he didn't need to say it for her to know that it true. Her dad loved Logan. Her dad had wanted her to marry Logan almost as much as her grandparents did.

So bringing him here tonight felt totally safe.

"Of course it's okay," said Chris as he placed her hand on the small of her back and led her to the table. "The more the merrier."

When they arrived at the table, Rory took a seat in a chair facing the doorway, hoping to be able to keep an eye on it to see when Logan might arrive. She suppressed an eye roll as Lana stood to her left, waiting for her father to pull out her chair for her before she actually sat down. He obliged without coaching, but Rory couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed that she'd waited for it. Although, her dad didn't seem to mind. After he'd seated his girlfriend, he happily sat down in the seat across from Rory.

"Your waiter will be with you shortly," the hostess said as she handed out the menus.

"Thank you," said Chris. "So… who's this guest we're expecting? It's not that Pete guy is it? Cause I can't be held responsible for what I might say or do to him if it is. Even if we are in public."

"Chris…" Lana was shooting him a warning look over the top of her menu.

"It's Paul. But, no," Rory said with a sigh. "Definitely not him."

"Okay…" Chris said. "Is it a new guy then?"

"Chris…" Lana repeated, her voice a little higher this time.

"What?" he asked. "Inquiring minds want to know."

"Well…" Rory said. "It is a guy…"

At that precise moment, Logan appeared in her line of vision. Christopher was still going on, talking to Lana as he playfully rejoiced in the fact the fact that he'd been right. Rory's eyes met Logan's across the room and he gave her a slightly ashamed smile as he got closer to the table.

"So, who is this new guy?" Chris asked with a teasing smile. "And is he good enough for you?"

"Christopher," Lana scolded. "Honestly. Leave her alone."

"It's okay, Lana," said Rory as her attention was pulled from Logan and rediverted to them once again. "He's actually - "

"Hey. I'm sorry."

Rory was interrupted by the sound of Logan's voice as he passed behind Lana's seat and approached her. He pressed a hand on her shoulder as he leaned down and kissed her cheek, and then he made his way over to the empty chair. But, even with him offering apologies into her ear, Rory hadn't been able to tear her attention away from her dad.

Christopher was stunned. In fact, stunned was an understatement. Her dad looked as if David Bowie himself had just come back to life and walked into the room – not only because he was totally shocked, but also because as soon as the shock wore off a huge smile burst onto his face. He stood up from the table and walked around the side, holding his hand out in front of him.

"Logan?!" he asked as he moved.

"Hey, Chris," Logan responded. As their hands met, they pulled each other in for one of those manly half handshake half hugs. Rory usually liked to make fun of those, but this one she was actually finding quite endearing.

"God. This is a surprise!" Chris exclaimed as he pulled away. But his hand lingered on Logan's arm in a friendly gesture for a second as he looked him up and down. "You look good. Rory! He looks good!"

"Hadn't noticed," Rory said, softly while Logan let out a slightly awkward laugh.

"Thanks," said Logan. "Sorry I'm a bit late. I got caught up on a call. We're trying to buy a podcast network out of LA, and they're proving to be really stubborn with serious delusions of grandeur."

"Not a problem at all. We just sat down," said Chris as he started moving back over to his seat. "So Podcasts, huh?"

"What can I say? Newspapers are dead," said Logan. "Never would have thought glorified radio would be one of the things replacing them, but here we are."

"Mad times, indeed," said Chris. It was then that he realized he'd left his girlfriend hanging for an introduction. Logan had already started reaching out a hand to her across the table when Christopher chimed in. "Sorry. Logan this is my girlfriend, Lana. Lana this is - "

"Logan Huntzberger."

The mood came to a complete standstill as Lana interrupted him. Rory's gaze snapped to Logan at the sound of his name falling from his father's girlfriend's lips, and the shaken look on his face did nothing to keep her mind from racing.

Rory was no stranger to people knowing who Logan was. If his near celebrity status in the Hartford elite circle wasn't enough, there was also the fact that he was just one of those people who'd never met a stranger before in his life. Walking around campus with him at school had always been a pain in the ass because they couldn't make it ten feet without some "friend" of his that she'd never seen before in her life stopping them to talk to him as if they'd known each other for years.

She was also no stranger to women recognizing Logan. A lot of women recognized Logan. A lot of different women knew Logan. Women of all different kinds. Women of different sizes, shapes, nationalities, ethnicities….and ages. And it was worth noting that the age difference between her boyfriend and her father's girlfriend actually wasn't that momentous at all.

Rory honestly felt like she might hurl. And she didn't think it had anything to do with the baby this time.

"Look at him sweating because he doesn't recognize me," teased Lana. "It's okay, Logan, I don't expect you to…"

By this point, Logan's eyes had drifted over to Rory's. He really was sweating. She could tell he had no idea where he'd met Lana before. Not knowing someone who knew him would have stressed him out to begin with, but she could tell by the absolutely terrified and apologetic look in his eyes that he was starting to worry about the same thing she was.

"The last time I saw you, you were just over five feet tall and letting a coffee can full of crickets loose in your sister's bedroom."

Rory couldn't remember the last time she had felt this relieved. Her entire body released the tension that she hadn't even realized had been building up in her muscles. The sensation was so intense that it honestly felt like she might have shrunk two inches in her seat. Her heart was still pounding, however, and she could feel the heat in her face.

"Lana Pomeroy," Logan said, recognition falling over his face. Lana smiled as he realized who she was, and he let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. Afterward the smile remained on his face – probably from a combination of relief and recognition by this point.

"You two know each other?" asked Chris as he pulled his chair out and sat down. Logan followed, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did.

"Logan's sister and I were on the Kingswood cross country team together," Lana explained. "How is she doing?"

"She's great," said Logan with a smile. "She's married. She has two boys."

"You were friends with Honor?" Rory asked.

She tried to keep the edge out of her voice. She really did. But, by the looks that everyone cast her way at the question and the awkwardness that followed, she could tell that she wasn't entirely successful. Even Logan was giving her a bit of a side eye, although there was also a small amount of compassion in his gaze. She inwardly winced.

"More acquaintances than friends, really," said Lana. "She was a freshman when I was a senior. But, she used to have the team over to their house after meets and Logan here made it his life's mission to terrorize us."

"Logan did?" Rory asked, making a point to keep her tone playful and light. "I can't imagine that."

Logan smiled at her and she suddenly felt his hand squeezing her knee under the table. She took it as a signal that she'd done a decent job back pedaling from the harsh way her question had come out before. She was trying to avoid her dad's gaze, but when she looked up she could see him still looking at her with a bit of reproach.

"Let's see. Other than the cricket incident, there was the stink bomb in the basement and… whatever those things were that you were firing all around the pool…"

"Bottle rockets," Logan answered with a laugh, a wide smile, and a look of absolute pride. Rory rolled her eyes, but her father let out a bark of laughter.

"Aw, Hun," he said to Lana. "You weren't afraid of a couple little bottle rockets going off, were you?"

"It was more than a couple," admitted Logan. "My buddy Colin and I hid behind the fence right on the edge of the pool and we filled up an entire peg board with them, doused it in lighter fluid, and lit the whole thing on fire. They had no idea what was going on."

"Now that is truly inspired," said Chris.

Rory rolled her eyes and shook her head. The bonding ritual that Logan and her father shared had always been very strange to her. Logan was sitting next to her father, expounding on the stupid and clearly dangerous pranks he used to pull on the woman that her father apparently loved, and instead of being upset or concerned about it he was completely and thoroughly impressed and delighted.

"Knowing your mother, I'm sure she was just thrilled with you almost lighting her house on fire and filling it with crickets and stink bombs," said Rory.

"We all suffer for our art," Logan said with a shrug.

Rory was pretty sure 'suffer' was an accurate word. Obviously, she knew that Shira would have been more than a little upset with those types of shenanigans going on in her house. But what she really didn't want to imagine was how Mitchum must have reacted to coming home and finding his entire basement smelling like rotten eggs. She knew first-hand how loud he could scream and how cruel he could be while doing it.

She'd much rather think about happier things. Maybe she could even attempt to bond with Lana in the process. Rory turned her attention over to his father's girlfriend and offered a smile before speaking.

"In college Logan barged into the middle of one of my classes and staged an elaborate fight over me where he and one of his friends ended up rumbling with each other on top of the professor's desk and then their other friend came in dressed as an English Bobby to break them up and yell at me to 'give them back their balls.'"

The smile that spread over Logan's face at the mention of that particular memory wasn't merely amused as his other ones had been. It was radiant. She even thought she saw a hint of a blush spread over his cheeks.

"Now how is this the first time I'm hearing this story?" Christopher asked.

"It was before we were dating," Rory explained. "And besides, it's not like it's one of my favorite stories. He was being an ass."

"I was just pulling your pigtails, Ace," said Logan, softly.

Rory almost rolled her eyes again. She hated that silly school yard sentiment – the 'boys will be boys' nonsense. She hated how it made little girls think that the boys who were mean to them were the ones that liked them. It was why she had been so adamant that Marty was wrong when he'd said that Logan had only done it because he liked her. But before she could protest, his hand reached over to her and started playing with the hair falling down around her neck, and suddenly she wasn't annoyed anymore.

When she finally managed to tear her gaze away from Logan, her eyes landed on her father. He smiled – not the same kind of smile that had been gracing his face since the moment Logan walked up to the table. This smile was softer, subtler, and the way his eyes were glistening at her as he held her gaze was telling. He was happy, and not just happy in the way he always was around Logan. He looked… relieved. The worry that had been perpetually present on his face for the last six months was gone.

Rory smiled bashfully at him in return. She was glad that her dad was happy about Logan's reemergence in her life, but she was also suddenly feeling subconscious about the fingers that were weaving through her hair. Even at thirty-three years old, she still felt slightly embarrassed about public displays of affection in front of her father. Thankfully, they were all momentarily distracted by the waitress coming to the table.

Logan's fingers slipped from her hair at her arrival, and they all sat politely listening to her as she welcomed them to the restaurant and rattled off the list of specials for the night. When she asked for everyone's drink order, Rory was about to ask for her standard club soda when she was suddenly interrupted by Chris.

"Can you bring us a bottle of Dom for the table please? And some sparkling cider for my lovely daughter here?"

"Chris…" Lana was staring her father down.

Her eyes were communicating with him in a way that clearly evidenced the fact that this had already been a conversation – one that she'd shut down. The look made Rory slightly uneasy. It suddenly felt as if something else was going on, something else apparently warranting champagne.

"We already talked about this," said Lana. "Rory is pregnant. A toast would be rude."

"No! Please. Don't stop on my account."

The words slipped out of her mouth against her will. She actually heard herself say them before she even registered the thought in her mind. She'd said them so many times over the past six months that at this point they tumbled out of her lips in pure reflex. Yet, sometimes, using a filter before speaking was a good idea.

It wasn't that she wanted them to abstain with her for the evening. That didn't bother her at all. Rory was used to being the lightest drinker at the table begin with. But she had just agreed to a toast without knowing what she was toasting to. It clearly wasn't about her and Logan if they'd already talked about it, and the idea of why her father was in the mood to pop some bubbly was giving her cause for worry.

"There. See? I told you," said Chris before returning his attention to the waitress and reiterating his order. As soon as she disappeared from view, Logan broke the silence with the question that had been plaguing her.

"What's the occasion?"

"Well, from the looks of it, we have a lot to celebrate," Chris said, cheerfully. "I gotta say, I'm glad to see you two back together. I don't like to play favorites but… I actually do like to play favorites and you're it."

Logan laughed and offered his thanks for the compliment. Rory sighed. She didn't know how to respond to her father confirming out loud that he'd always been keeping score on her boyfriends. And, she also knew that his comment was going to inflate Logan's head for months – maybe even years – to come. She'd probably never hear the end of it.

"You're a good man, Logan," Chris continued. The lighthearted air that his voice had been carrying before was gone. "I've always thought so. But… it takes a really good man to step up and fill someone else's shoes."

Logan pursed his lips and his eyes slid over to Rory's for the quickest of moments. This was the moment, and he was waiting to see what she was going to do about it. She knew that if she didn't say something right now that he would probably say something himself, and she might as well rip the band-aid off.

"Um, actually, Dad… there's something you should know," said Rory. A look of intrigue passed over Christopher's face. "I haven't exactly been truthful about some things, mainly the baby's… paternity."

"Oh?" Christopher glanced between Rory and Logan and Rory watched the dawn of realization appear on his face. "Oh."

Rory felt Logan's hand slide over her knee and squeeze yet again. She took a deep breath, and her hand found Logan's under the table. When she felt his fingers wrap around hers, she was able to muster up the courage to keep going.

"We've actually been sort of… Well that is… When I would go to London for work we would usually… get together and - "

"Right."

"It wasn't really serious because… well… we both – um - we both had other… circumstances that - "

"I got it, Rory."

The last time that Rory had seen her father this uncomfortable after she'd broken some news to him was the day that she'd told him she moved in with Logan back in college. It was ironic that her father's proclaimed favorite was also the only one that ever inspired that much awkwardness and discomfort out of him, but she wouldn't think it wise to ever point that out.

The discomfort wasn't only apparent on her father's face. Lana was looking particularly uncomfortable herself. She wasn't making eye contact with anyone, and it seemed that she was finding the floating ice cubes in her water endlessly fascinating.

"So…" Christopher continued. "I guess these… circumstances have - "

"Changed," said Logan.

Christopher nodded and sat back in his chair. He glanced between them again for a few moments and let out a breathy laugh as he rubbed a hand over his mouth.

"Well…alright then."

He didn't look mad. He didn't look happy, but he didn't look mad. Rory supposed she could be pleased with that. It was probably the most ideal of scenarios, after all.

"You know, I gotta say…" Chris continued. "I really wasn't expecting to be upstaged tonight."

A brand new kind of anxiety settled in the pit of Rory's stomach. She'd been so distracted with breaking the news to him that she had momentarily forgotten about the champagne.

"The reason I asked you to dinner tonight, Ror, is because Lana and I have some news of our own."

Rory's heart started pounding in her chest. She knew what was coming. She'd been dreading this for months now. She knew that it was only a matter of time, and she'd tried to prepare herself mentally for this very moment, but apparently she hadn't been successful. All she could do now was be grateful that Logan's hand was still wrapped around her own. At this point she was using it as a stress ball.

"We're getting married."

Rory took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face.

"That's fantastic!" said Logan with a genuine sense of enthusiasm. "Congratulations!"

"Yeah…" said Rory, piggy backing off of Logan's sentiments. "Wow. That's… that's great news."

Christopher was beaming at her sentiments, and Lana's expression matched. Her eyes were glued on Lana's hand as it reached across the table to rest on top of her father's. She took a few steadying breaths and was only brought back to reality by the feel of Logan's hand squeezing her own. She looked over at him and noticed how his eyes were examining her. He could tell she wasn't as happy as everyone else at the table. She held onto his hand like a lifeline.

"Your father is a true romantic, Rory," Lana said. "He'd left little gifts and notes all over the apartment on my birthday and led me to believe that he was treating me to a rooftop dinner for two at the end of the day. But, when I got up there I saw that he'd invited all my friends and family. I thought it was just a regular surprise party until he decided to drop to one knee in the middle of my birthday toast."

"We don't need to get into all that, Lan," Chris said. Rory noticed how his eyes were flicking back and forth between her and Logan. But, his fiancée wasn't listening.

"It honestly wasn't fair," she continued. "I mean…how's a girl supposed to say no to that?"

Suddenly, Rory's hand was empty. Logan's fingers slowly slipped from her grasp. She craned her neck over to him and noticed that his attention was glued on her father and his new fiancée. The genuine happiness that had been written all over his face just moments ago was gone. Even though his smile remained, his eyes had changed. They'd gone cloudy.

She wanted to reach over and forcefully pull his hand back to her. She wasn't done with it. She still needed it in hers. But she felt completely and utterly paralyzed.

Logan cleared his throat.

"Looks like the champagne arrived just in time," he said.

Logan quickly gestured to the waitress approaching the table with her glass of cider and three empty glasses on a tray. After she'd passed them out, she pulled up an ice bucket to the table and started pouring. Once everyone had a full glass, Christopher took his cue.

"Well…" he said.

He lifted his glass up into the air and paused for a moment. He made eye contact with both Rory and Logan, as if silently acknowledging the awkwardness that his fiancée was oblivious to. But in the end, he barreled through, and the three of them lifted their glasses as well.

"A toast to my beautiful fiancée, you make me a better man, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you," he started. Lana beamed at him and squeezed the hand he still had resting on the table. "And to my amazing daughter, the father of my granddaughter, and their new change in… 'circumstances.' The future is looking pretty bright if you ask me."

A chorale of echoing 'cheers' spread across the table along with the sound of clinking glasses. As Rory took a sip of her drink, her eyes drifted over to Logan. He smiled at her before looking down at his menu, and she felt a bit of relief. It hadn't looked forced or fake. It seemed genuine. But a small amount of cloudiness still remained behind his eyes and she really missed his hand.

Deciding that the only way for her to get it back would be to make a move herself, Rory mustered up some courage and reached. Her fingers entwined with his once again, and Logan looked up from his menu in surprise at the contact. When he smiled at her again, the cloudiness was gone. He brought their hands out from underneath the table and up to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back of her hand.

She was starting to understand what Logan had been saying the other night. Maybe the power had always been hers. Maybe making the effort to reach out to him was all that she ever needed to do.

"Your dad knows Meryl Streep?!"

Logan took a deep breath and momentarily paused his search through the liquor cabinet of his parents' pool house. His back was turned, but he knew exactly what Rory was looking at. The framed Kramer vs. Kramer poster signed by the woman herself had been hanging on that wall for longer than Logan had been alive. It never failed to be a topic of conversation. His father's never-ending list of famous compatriots never failed to be a topic of conversation – even with Rory. Especially with Rory, actually.

"I don't see any club soda," he said, hoping to change the subject.

"'To Mitch, the man who always said it would happen. Thank you for believing in me. Love, Meryl,'" she read.

"There's some tonic and some…Tab? I don't know if I'd trust that though. It's probably been in here since 1985."

"Tonic's fine," said Rory, distracted. "This is insane."

Logan sighed. For a person who had almost panicked at the suggestion that they come here after dinner, Rory was certainly enjoying exploring every inch of the pool house that Mitchum Huntzberger had long ago staked off as his personal domain. Logan could remember several times throughout his childhood that his dad basically lived in this house. In fact, he was probably getting frustrated that Logan had been making residence in it for as long as he had. Sleeping in the same room with his mother for this many consecutive nights was probably slowly killing him.

Nevertheless, Logan was here. And here he would likely remain until he found a suitable place in the city. The search hadn't been going as well as he'd hoped. So, here he was – rummaging through the mostly empty cabinets while trying to find his pregnant girlfriend something to drink other than tepid tap water. Normally, he would just head into the main house, but he'd promised Rory to be discreet and the last thing he wanted to do was bring attention to the fact that she was here.

The instant that they'd climbed into the car after dinner, Rory had made it clear that she didn't want to be alone tonight. But, with Emily still taking up residence at the Gilmore house and not wanting to press their luck with her, their options were pretty limited. She'd initially protested the idea of coming here, but Logan had assured her that his parents would never even know. His father probably wasn't even home, and his mother would likely be in bed. She'd also been completely avoiding the pool house since their little confrontation last week so she wasn't going to stop by unexpectedly.

But even with his assurances, her entire body had gone stiff when they pulled into the driveway - no doubt with the memories of the last and only time she'd been at this house. Logan had asked one more time if she was okay with being here, and she'd taken a deep breath and said she was.

They'd been occupying the pool house for about twenty minutes, and the initial unease that Rory had been experiencing was being replaced with curiosity. She'd already managed to scan through the books on the shelves, making note of three different titles that she should add to her list. She'd refused when Logan said she should just take them.

She'd also perused his father's old vinyl collection and bubbled with excitement at finding Tom Wait's Nighthawks at the Diner. Hardly a second passed after she discovered it before she was pulling it out of the sheath and placing it on the turntable. Now, the gravelly voice of Tom Waits and the smooth sounds of jazz piano were filling the room as Rory was marveling at the posters on the wall.

It wasn't that surprising really. Her interest in all of the things scattered around the room reminded him of the time right before she'd started working for her father and all of the enthusiasm that had come with learning about him. It had freaked him out at first, admittedly. Logan had spent his entire life being endlessly compared to his father and coming up short. Hearing the girl that he was slowly falling for prattle on about how amazing he was didn't settle well. But it made sense.

Rory and his father had a lot of similarities. They read the same books. They admired the same people. They were both in love with art of journalism. They both had a similar work ethic. In another world, Rory and his father probably would have adored each other. Rory would actually be excited rather than panicked about the prospect of coming to this house, and Logan wouldn't have added years' worth of resentment onto his relationship with the man over the way he'd consistently treated the woman he was in love with.

But, that was not the reality they lived in. The reality was that his father had traumatized his girlfriend rather than mentored her, and Logan still resented him over it. And he definitely didn't like to hear his girlfriend enthuse about anything having to do with him at all.

"She signed it 'Love, Meryl," said Rory. "And she called him Mitch. I've only ever heard your mom call him Mitch… Oh my God! Did your dad have sex with Meryl Streep?!"

Logan almost spilled the tonic he was pouring.

"What?! No! God," he said with a shudder.

"Are you sure?" Rory asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, I'm sure. Trust me. If my dad had slept with Meryl Streep, I would have heard that story so many times, I'd have memorized it by now. He would never shut up about it."

"Okay…" Rory said as she started walking over to the kitchenette island and leaned against it while he finished pouring her drink. There was a slight lilt to her tone that implied she didn't exactly believe him, and he knew that the only way to put an end to it would be to humor her and actually tell her the story, as much as he didn't want to talk about his dad right now.

"They went to Yale together," he said with a sigh. "They became friends after my dad was assigned to review the show she was doing at The Rep for The Daily News. He wrote something about how everyone should expect her to be accepting her first Oscar in the next five years. And then she did, so she sent him that."

"Huh," said Rory. "That's not as exciting as I expected."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

Logan turned around and went back to the liquor cabinet to put away the tonic and grab a bottle of the one drink he definitely always had in stock. Taking a tumbler as well, he set it down on the counter in front of him and poured himself a glass of Macallan.

"You know…" he heard Rory say from behind him. "This is kind of fun."

"What?" he asked. "Traumatizing me with talk of my dad's sex life?"

"No," Rory said. Logan turned around and saw that she had an amused grin on her face. "I mean it's fun being the person sneaking around in your parents' pool house for a change."

Logan laughed and took a sip of his scotch.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen," he said.

Logan walked around the kitchen island and headed for the brown leather couch. He sat down and propped his feet up on the coffee table.

"Why are you staying here?" asked Rory as she followed him to the couch and plopped down next to him. "You can't be enjoying it."

Logan shrugged.

"It's better than a hotel. And it would be stupid to rent an apartment while I'm looking for a place in New York," he answered. "Besides, I know where my dad hides the good scotch."

"It's just really hard to picture you ever living with your parents."

"And yet I was legally forced to for eighteen years."

"Thank you," said Rory. Logan turned to look at her and noted that her face was serious and her eyes were soft. "For staying here to be close to me. I know it's not easy for you. You could have gone back to London while you figured out how to transition back here, and it would have been so much easier for you and for work and… just… thank you."

Logan lifted his hand to her face and started stroking her cheek with his thumb. She leaned into his touch, and he smiled lovingly at her. She was insane if she thought that putting an ocean between them again after finding out she was having his child would have been easier for him. It would have been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Staying under his parents' roof for a short period of time was a walk in the park in comparison.

"You don't have to thank me, Rory," he said. "I don't plan on leaving you ever again, okay?"

The next thing he knew, Rory's bottom lip was quivering and her eyes and turned wet and red with tears. She took in a shaky breath and the tears started falling down her cheeks. Panicked, he sat up a little straighter and started wiping her tears away. He'd always heard that pregnancy caused insane mood swings, but he'd never seen a person go from playfully teasing to crocodile tears so quickly in his life. It was more than a little disquieting.

"Hey!" he said. "Whoa! What's going on?"

"Nothing," said Rory.

She shook her head and broke away from his embrace. She brought her own hands to her eyes and started wiping her tears away. Logan gave her a scrutinizing look, knowing that clearly 'nothing' was definitely not what was going on. Thankfully, after a couple seconds under his gaze, she sighed and opened up.

"It's just… stupid Lana," she said.

Logan took a deep breath. It had been painfully obvious as soon as he'd arrived at the dinner table that there was some underlying tension between Rory and Lana. He wasn't exactly sure where it came from. She seemed perfectly nice to him, and she and Chris looked happy together. But, other than knowing that she used to run cross country and went to high school at Kingswood Oxford, he didn't really have much insight into what kind of a person she was.

"You don't like Lana," he stated, waiting for a confirmation.

"I like Lana. I think she's smart and driven. She goes out of her way to be nice to me and include me in things which is really great," said Rory. Logan waited for the other shoe to drop. "What's not to like? I mean… I like how much she reminds me of Sherry, and I just love that she went to high school with your sister."

Logan pursed his lips to keep from saying anything. It probably wasn't the right time to say this out loud, but he didn't think Rory was being entirely fair. He could understand being upset about the idea of your father marrying someone who was that close to you in age, but things were a little bit different when it came to Rory and her parents.

A little elementary math was enough to make it clear that the gap wasn't that insane at all. Lana was three years older than his sister, which made her six years older than him. That meant she was eight years older than Rory and eight years younger than Chris. And for two people in their forties, an eight year age gap wasn't insignificant, but it definitely wasn't anything to get hung up over. As unsettling as it must be for Rory, to the world at large it was perfectly normal.

Yet, as much as he wanted to point these things out to her, now wasn't the time. She was clearly in need of a neutral ear for it all, and Logan had a feeling that deep down she probably knew it already. All night at dinner he'd watched her try to make an effort with Lana. The couple of times something sideways had come out of her mouth she'd looked genuinely frustrated with herself, and she spent the rest of the dinner making an effort to be friendly. But, Logan, knowing her as well as he did, knew that when Rory had to make that much of an effort it meant that she was clearly compensating for something.

"And then there was the way she went on about the proposal. 'How could a girl say no to that?' Really? I mean I guess she asked the perfect person, because I would know right? Was she trying to make me feel like the world's biggest asshole? Because she succeeded if she was."

"She didn't know…" Logan whispered.

He really didn't know how to help Rory through this. His own feelings were wrapped way too tightly around the issue to help her process her guilt over that particular moment in their history. As much as he wanted to comfort her while she was visibly upset, pulling her close and patting her on the head over what had been one of the most painful experiences of his life was asking a bit much of him.

Even after years of processing and healing and realizing that her saying no at that point in their lives was probably the best for both of them – it still hurt. It still left him feeling insecure and contributed to a lot of the trust issues that he carried to this day.

"I don't even know how you can stand to look at me," said Rory. "I mean… I broke your heart, and for what? What do I have to show for it? I wanted to go out and have this fabulous career and I was willing to say no to a future with you because of it, and now look at me. I screwed everything up, and for no reason at all."

"Rory…"

"My grandma was right. I should have said yes. We'd be married and have three kids by now, and none of this pain and heartache would have happened."

He knew she didn't believe that. He knew because he didn't really believe it either. Maybe it was hormones. Maybe it was that she was still feeling like a failure at her career. Maybe it was hearing her father announce his engagement. Maybe it was all the feelings being churned up between them over the last couple of weeks. But, whatever the reason, she wasn't thinking straight.

"Rory," he said again as he tried to keep a crack out of his voice. As much as he believed what he was about to say, it still wasn't going to be easy. "No."

She looked over at him again, surprise was etched on her face. She probably thought he'd gone crazy, or he was being insincere in an effort to placate her while she was emotional. But neither were true.

"Ten years, Logan," she said. "We wasted ten years. And it's my fault."

"It's not your fault."

"It is," she insisted. "And I can't stop thinking about how different things would be if I - "

"Rory, you were right to say no."

His voice was firm and uncompromising, maybe even a little harsh. It was harsh enough to stop Rory cold at the very least. She looked up at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Logan…" she said. "You don't have to - "

"I'm not," he interrupted.

Rory was still watching him. She looked so completely perplexed that it had actually stopped the tears that had been falling down her cheeks. Logan took a deep breath. He'd been sitting on these feelings for so long. He wasn't exactly sure why. Maybe he was still hurt enough that he was subconsciously punishing her. But, whatever the reason, he knew that he had to say something.

"Rory," he started. "When I proposed to you, I was so… lost. I was terrified. My entire life I had been told exactly what my future was going to look like and exactly who I was going to become. I'd never actually had to think about anything before. I never had to ask myself what I wanted or who I wanted to be. There was no point to it. Why would I think about it when I couldn't have it anyway? I would just end up torturing myself. And then all of a sudden all of that was just… gone…"

Logan paused for a moment, his mind drifting back to the weeks and months following his departure from the family business. He'd never really let Rory know how scared he was. He'd never let her in on just exactly how confused and adrift he'd felt. He wasn't sure if it was pride or denial, or if it was that he was afraid of showing weakness around her when he'd already felt so emasculated and pathetic. Regardless, he'd kept it from her all that time.

"I didn't know what to do. And I didn't know who I was. And I didn't know what I wanted. All I did know was that I loved you. So I grabbed onto you like a life preserver thinking that I'd survive if I had you with me. But I wouldn't have. I would have dragged you under with me."

"You wouldn't have dragged me under with you, Logan," she said.

This time, Rory was the one to reach a hand up and stroke his cheek. He was touched by the gesture, and he shifted his face so that his lips kissed the palm of her hand. But, as kind as her sentiments were, that didn't make them any less wrong.

"Yes, I would have," he said. "California was… so fucking hard. I was broke. I was alone. I was hired by a group of scrappy upstarting computer coders who only needed me because I was a suit who knew how to talk to people who had money."

"Logan, don't say that. They wouldn't have been able to - "

Logan stopped her with a gesture of his hand.

"I'm not saying I wasn't important to their success, Rory. I'm just saying that I was out of my element," he explained. "Nobody there cared who I was. In fact they made fun of me for who I was. They weren't impressed with me at all. It was the first time in my life that being who I was was a liability. I had to work to get respect from them. I had to work to become friends with them. And I needed that.

"It's like I was totally stripped down to nothing, and I had to completely rebuild myself from scratch. And as much as I loved you… I never would have been able to do that if you were there. There would have always been a part of me that was clinging to the old me. I needed a clean break from everything. I needed to learn who I was. I needed to learn what I wanted. And I needed go through all of that… by myself.

"Saying no was the best thing you ever did for me, Rory."

She was crying again. Even though he was absolving her of the guilt that she'd carried around with her, it probably still hurt to hear. It certainly hurt to say.

"It's not easy to say. Because… it still really hurts. And I would be lying if I said I didn't think about what could have been, and how maybe we would have been happy. But… but I don't know. I think… I think I never would have become the person that I am today if I hadn't been put through all of that. And I think that if you'd have limited yourself to what worked for our relationship… you would have resented me eventually.

"If I'm being honest… I don't think we'd be here right now if you had said yes. I think we both needed that time."

Rory let out a small sob and sniffed. She leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together brushing her nose against his. He wiped more tears from her from her face and she closed her eyes. Her breaths were still shaky, but she wasn't protesting. She knew he was right. They both knew he was right. But that didn't make it any less painful.

He was suddenly reminded of the gift that he'd given her all those years ago when he left for London. He'd been so worried that she wouldn't understand what he was trying to say to her, but he had no idea how to say it. He'd never been good at saying things like that. He'd fallen in love with her so many months before she'd said it to him, and he'd let her believe otherwise for so long because he was too afraid to say the words.

That single gift had meant so much. It was the only way he knew how to tell her that he'd sacrifice anything for her – that he'd wait for her as long as it took. He would put himself in suspended animation for forty years if it meant that he could be with her again when it was over. He meant it then, and he still meant it now. In comparison, ten years for them both to figure out who they were and what they wanted seemed insignificant.

Rory scoffed through her tears.

"It sucks," she said.

Logan let out a sad laugh of his own.

"I know," he said.

He ran his fingers through her hair. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers in a gentle kiss. Rory threw her arms around his neck and melted into his embrace.

"But it's over."

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen

Friday, April 28, 2017

"I feel bad for you."

…

"I don't think about you at all."

"Went for a run, because we can't all be so effortlessly beautiful." – Logan

Rory smiled as she held the small piece of paper in her hand. Her eyes raked over the strokes of black ink, delighting in the familiar scrawl of his handwriting. It was still exactly the same – block letters, the sign of a young man who'd been drilled in the art of drafting at school, connected together through sloppy strokes of his pen and titling rightward in haste.

She'd forgotten that he used to do this - leave her notes. She used to find them everywhere, first in the pool house and then around their apartment. He'd leave them on bathroom mirrors, in sock drawers, on top of the coffee maker, inside the bookmarked page of whatever she was reading at the time. They were always short and succinct, but clever and romantic. It was one of the more romantic things he did.

Logan had always been the most traditionally romantic man she'd dated. He never failed to send flowers at the appropriate times , buy the right gifts, take her to the nicest restaurants, and overwhelm her with big gestures. He was always finding ways to top himself when it came to those kinds of things. But, what he probably didn't realize was that these little notes meant more to her than any bouquet or necklace or Birkin Bag he ever gave her. These were the things that really made her melt.

Obviously, he hadn't left her any notes around his London apartment. The risk of someone else finding them would have been far too great. And even though this note was more practical than randomly romantic, it was still another sign that things were different now. That they were really together again. The only person who ran the risk of discovering any notes that he left in this room would be the maid. And she could probably expect to find a lot more of them in the times to come.

Smiling, Rory took a deep sighing breath and buried her face into the down pillow under her head. Never in a million years did she imagine that one of the better nights of sleep she'd had in months would happen in a bed belonging to Mitchum and Shira Huntzberger. But, here she was. She was so comfortable, so relaxed, and she had no desire to get up right away. It was far too early for that anyway.

According to the clock on the nightstand next to her, it was about five minutes till seven. Logan had probably left to go on his jog around six-thirty if he was still working on his London schedule, and she usually gave herself until at least eight to be lazy and snooze. She'd never been a big morning person anyway, and the one nice thing about freelance writing was that she made her own schedule on most days. So, she could sleep in as late as she wanted.

At least, she used to be able to. As soon as she'd decided to close her eyes and let sleep overtake her once again, she felt a couple of kicks followed by a sudden pressure on her bladder and an overwhelming urge to urinate. It seemed the bean was ready to face the morning regardless of her mother's wishes. Rory stroked a hand over her belly and sat up.

"We're really going to have to have a talk about you using my bladder as a toy, little miss," said Rory as she climbed out of the bed and started padding toward the master bathroom, rubbing her hand over her belly all the way. When she opened the door, she took another deep breath.

She had seen it last night of course, but that didn't stop her from being blown over once again by the fact that the master bathroom in the Huntzberger's pool house was nicer than the master bathroom in her grandparents' actual house. It was moments like this when she was unceremoniously reminded of just how much money these people had.

It had always made her slightly uncomfortable to think about. She hid it well, because she was used to a certain amount of affluence in her life by nature of her own family's wealth. But the truth was that she hid her discomfort by pretending that Logan and his family were no different than her and her own. Times like this reminded her otherwise.

To this day she actually didn't know exactly how much money the Huntzbergers had. It wasn't exactly a conversation she was comfortable having, and back when they were dating in college it wasn't even all that relevant. They had money – that's all she really needed to know. These days, however, she found herself wondering more and more. Because as much as she would prefer to go on pretending or feeling that it didn't really matter, the truth was it did matter. It mattered a lot, actually.

For the first six months of her pregnancy, Rory hadn't considered the fact that her child was anything more than a little baby girl. Now, however, things were different. As happy as she was that her baby girl would be growing up with her father in her life, it also meant that she had to face some uncomfortable truths. One of those truths was that the little baby rolling around in her belly and pressing up against her organs was the heiress to the Huntzberger fortune – whatever that even meant.

There was a part of her that was pretty sure Mitchum had already called his attorneys and financial advisors about drawing up paperwork for the inevitable trust fund to be set up in her baby's name, and there was just something strange about knowing that the unborn fetus that she was carrying around inside her right now was probably already worth more than Rory would ever be in her life. How was she supposed to raise a child that could buy and sell her in the blink of an eye?

At the end of the day, Rory knew that it didn't really matter. The most important thing she had to do was simply focus on being a good mother to her child and loving her with everything she had. But, having grown up with a single mother, Rory was quite aware that money changed things. She had never been the kind of person to subscribe to a "money isn't important" attitude. She's always thought that the only people who said things like that were the ones who had never had to go without it.

The truth was that money was important. Money changed people. Money shaped people. She didn't believe that growing up with money automatically made a person an asshole, but she knew that genuinely good people with access to this kind of wealth were the exception – not the rule. And she didn't entirely know how to go about making sure her daughter was raised to be an exception.

Her daughter's life was going to be so vastly different than her own. She didn't even know where to begin. She could only hope Logan would know what to do.

After Rory went to the bathroom, her attention was suddenly taken up by the luxurious shower on the other side of the room. She couldn't help but question why on earth a single shower needed that many shower heads. They were everywhere - a waterfall coming out of the ceiling, a handheld hose, six mounted sprayers in the walls. She had to wonder if the contractor had maybe gotten the blueprints for the bathroom mixed up with a car wash.

Yet, as over the top and ridiculous as it seemed, she still wanted to try it. She wanted so badly to know why a person needed water coming out of that many holes in the wall just to clean themselves. There had to be a reason, right? Surely, there was something incredible about it that she simply didn't understand. Or, more likely, it was just another inane reason to spend money. Either way, she was determined to find out.

The only problem was she had no idea how to even turn the water on. There weren't any knobs anywhere that she could see, and the very last thing she wanted to do was mess around and break the shower in Mitchum Huntzberger's pool house. Thankfully, just as she was about to give up, she heard the door outside of the bedroom open and slam shut.

Perfect timing, she thought with a smile. Then, she washed her hand and walked out of the bathroom and into the main area of the house, calling out to Logan as she went.

"I hope you worked up a sweat," she hollered. "Because I was just about to get in the shower and I was worried about getting lone - "

Rory stopped so abruptly in her path that she might as well have run into an invisible brick wall.

" – ly," she finished as Mitchum Huntzberger's attention slowly moved from his phone screen to her as she stood in the doorway of the bedroom.

Rory's heart was about to explode in her chest. That usually happened any time she unexpectedly found herself standing in a room with Mitchum, but this was unlike any other time that came before. First of all, there was the contextual implications of the words that had just come out of her mouth and the embarrassment that accompanied them. Secondly, it was the first time she'd seen the man since they'd run into him at lunch in London. Back then, she had been so unbelievably nervous that he would start to expect that they were having an affair. Now, he not only absolutely knew, but the evidence of it was jutting out prominently from her midsection.

And, finally, there was also the fact that she'd never been so casual around him in her life. Every time Rory had needed to deal with Mitchum in the past, she'd had the advantage of being entirely put together and polished and carrying all the confidence that came with looking your best. Now, she was standing in front of him in an oversized coral pink Turks and Caicos t-shirt that Honor had apparently left behind years ago and a pair of rolled up boxers that Logan had given her from his own drawer. She wasn't even wearing a bra. Her hair was mussed with sleep, and she obviously didn't have an ounce of make up on.

He was starting at her with a surprised but amused expression and eventually clicked his phone into sleep mode and put in it in his suit pocket. Apparently, Rory has his full attention now. And she distinctly didn't want it.

"Well normally I'm not in the habit of turning down invitations like that," he said. "But in this case it would probably be wise for me to pass."

Rory shuddered. Would there ever be a time in her life when she wouldn't leave an interaction with this man feeling absolutely sick?

"I thought you were Logan," she said, letting him know through the sharpness in her tone that she didn't find his little joke very funny at all.

"Funny. I was about to say the same thing to you," he said. Rory watched as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked into the kitchenette toward the coffee maker. "Would you happen to know where my dear son has gotten off to this morning?"

"He went for a run," Rory explained.

Mitchum made a clicking sound with his mouth and twitched his head to the side.

"That kid works out too much," he said. "You'd think he was training for the Olympics or something. I keep trying to tell him that when you make as much money as he does, you don't have to try so hard. But, you know him. He never listens to me. Coffee?"

"I'm pregnant," Rory answered, succinctly.

Her tone was still harsh and clipped. It probably wasn't very polite, making the man feel so obviously unwelcome in his own home. But if Mitchum had a problem with it, he wasn't showing it.

"So you are," he said, lightly, as he pulled a mug down from the cabinet and started scooping grounds into the maker. "I have a hard time believing that you quit cold turkey though. I remember when you used to have three cups before noon."

Rory bristled. Mitchum had never spoken to coolly about the time that they had worked together before. In fact, he'd never mentioned it at all after… well after things had taken a turn. She didn't like it. She didn't like him referring to a time in her life that she looked back on with such distress, and she didn't like him acting as If he knew something about her – even if it was just an innocuous fact about her coffee consumption. He didn't know her, and she didn't want him thinking that he did.

"Is there something you need, Mr. Huntzberger?" she asked, hoping to change the subject and cut this interaction off at the knees. Maybe the sooner she got to the point of his coming here, the sooner he might leave.

Mitchum let out a dry laugh at the question.

"You're carrying my granddaughter, Rory," he started. "I think we've reached a point where it's appropriate for you to call me Mitchum."

"Is there something you need, Mitchum?"

Rory watched as he turned around and appraised her. The coffee maker percolated behind him as he crossed his arms over his chest and fixed her with a smirk. The look sent chills down her spine – not just because of who it was coming from, but also because of how grossly familiar it was. His mouth twisted in exactly the same way that she'd seen Logan's do too many times to count. But seeing it on him, totally devoid of the affection that usually accompanied it, was too uncanny for comfort.

"I didn't come here to disturb you, Rory," he said with a shrug. "I didn't even know you were here. I was just hoping to catch my son before I left for the office this morning. I wanted to see how his team's meeting - "

"They sold," she interrupted. She still hadn't quite given up on her strategy, even though he seemed to be particularly chatty this morning. His eyebrows shot up and his lips pursed in what looked like surprise. She was suddenly filled with even more seething anger. After all this time, he still seemed to be taken aback by Logan's competency, as if he was still expecting him to fail. She couldn't stand it.

"Good. That's good," he said, nodding his head.

A tense silence settled between them. Rory was watching him expectantly, hoping that he would show some uncharacteristic mercy and leave her alone now that he had the answer to his question. But, unfortunately, he didn't seem to be in a gracious mood. He cleared his throat and Rory fought the urge to sneer as he leaned back against the kitchen counter as if he owned the place.

Although… technically he did. But technicalities be damned.

"So…" he said. "Are you still working on that book with Naomi Shropshire?"

The way that he said the woman's name made Rory feel as if he already knew the answer to his own question. It was the same way he said it all those months ago at lunch, laced with a disbelieving scoff and a prophetic sense that it was a terrible idea that was doomed to fail. Mitchum seemed to think a lot of Rory's aspirations were doomed to fail. And, unfortunately, he was right far too often.

"No," she answered. "It didn't work out."

"Can't say I'm surprised," he said. Rory bristled. "I wouldn't take that personally, though. It's more a reflection of her. She's pretty unhinged."

"I didn't," Rory said with a confident shrug. At least that wasn't a lie. She'd been more relieved than anything when that book deal had fallen through. Mitchum just nodded sharply at her and turned around to pour the newly brewed coffee into his mug.

"Good," he said as he turned around and set the steaming mug on the kitchen island. "How did your meeting with Conde Nast go?"

"Oh… um…"

Rory didn't know what to say. This was her worst nightmare. How was she supposed to stand here and tell Mitchum Huntzberger of all people that her once in a lifetime meeting with Conde Nast had gone absolutely nowhere? She gotten them to agree to let her an ridiculously asinine piece on lines – on spec at that – and she hadn't even been able to finish it. She'd completely blown it. And then she'd blown her next opportunity at Sandy Says not too long after that. And then her book deal with Naomi Shropshire fell through.

How was she supposed to admit to Mitchum Huntzberger that she was a failure? That she hadn't been able to make it work? That, apparently, she just wasn't cut out for it?

If she wasn't so busy shaking, she might actually cry.

"They weren't hiring."

She landed on a succinct and somewhat evasive response. It cut to the chase without giving him too many details. She didn't owe him any details. She didn't know if she'd be able to muster through giving him any more details.

Mitchum hummed in response.

"They do love to dick people around," he said, nonchalantly, echoing the comments he'd made all those months ago when the subject had first come up. "You know, I gotta admit I was surprised when I got that call from Logan. From the way you reacted that time I took you out for his 25th birthday, I was pretty sure you'd rather jump off a cliff than accept any favors from me."

Rory bit her lip to keep herself from telling him that that was still exactly how she felt. Unfortunately, her desperation had gotten the better of her, and she'd allowed it to undermine her better judgement. The worst part of it was that she'd eaten that all that crow and nothing had even come of it.

"I seem to remember that the only reason you offered me your 'help' that night was so that you could use me to manipulate Logan," she said.

Mitchum smiled at her again, and Rory fumed at the way in which he seemed to satisfied with himself. Most people might actually feel ashamed by a reminder of such a blatant and narcissistic attempt to control their son. The look on Mitchum's face made it appear as if he looked back on that night as a funny and charming anecdote from days gone by.

"Well… that's how these things usually work, you know," he replied with a shrug. "There's usually a certain element of….quid pro quo."

Mitchum gestured between the two of them with a couple waves of his finger and then leant forward on the kitchen island. He fixed her with a hard stare and a slightly curved eyebrow in the process. Rory got the distinct impression that he was implying something – something that she had no idea how to react to. After a few seconds of pointed silence went by, she was certain of it. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I don't know what you're implying," she said. "And I'm grateful for you getting me that meeting. But I really don't think there is anything I could do for you that you couldn't do for yourself."

"Oh, Rory," Mitchum said, standing up straight and letting out another dry laugh. "I know you're not that dumb. As long as we've known each other there has always been one thing you have that I need."

"And what's that?" Rory asked.

She was pretty sure she knew the answer. But, it wasn't often that she had one of the most powerful men in the media standing in front of her, asking her for a favor and admitting to needing her help with something. It felt good. It made her feel powerful, which is something that very rarely ever happened in Mitchum's presence. Usually she felt incompetent, squeamish, and small.

"A certain amount of… influence."

So. She was right. Mitchum needed something from Logan, and he was going to attempt to use her to get it. Who knows what it could possibly be this time. Another stint in a faraway city? A company Mitchum wanted Logan to pursue? A chance to get Logan to agree to more responsibility as he inched toward retirement? Whatever it was, Rory wasn't interested in playing a game of chess with Logan's career.

"I wasn't interested in helping you try to pull Logan's puppet strings ten years ago, what makes you think I would be interested now?"

Mitchum laughed again and shook his head.

"Look, Rory," he said. "I'm not interested in 'pulling Logan's puppet strings' either. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself, and he doesn't need or appreciate me sticking my nose where it doesn't belong."

Rory was confused.

"Then what - "

"It's nothing quite so Machiavellian," Mitchum said. For the first time that morning, Rory could detect the amusement draining from his tone and being replaced by exasperation. "My wife wants to have dinner."

"Oh."

"It's all I hear about. I hear about it when I wake up in the morning. I hear about it when I come home from work. I hear about it when I'm trying to go to sleep. She wants to see you. She wants to make sure she has a relationship with her grandchild. But Logan seems to think it's a terrible idea, and he's hellbent on making sure it doesn't happen."

Rory didn't quite know what to say. That was what this whole routine was about? This is why he'd attempted to pull this weird and manipulative power play? Dinner? A dinner that she had never actually disagreed to attending in the first place? He could have just asked her.

But then he wouldn't be Mitchum Huntzberger.

"Listen, I know you and Shira…." Mitchum trailed off, looking to the ceiling for the best way to phrase his next few word. "… have a less than exemplary history. And I can understand why the prospect of coming here for dinner wouldn't be very high on your list of experiences to relive. But, I can assure you that there will be no repeat of the last time you were invited to this house. And I would consider it a personal favor if you would just think about - "

"Fine," Rory said with a shrug.

Mitchum blinked at her.

"Fine? Really?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

Clearly, he hadn't expected this to be so easy. But, she was saved an explanation by the opening of the door and the appearance of a very sweaty and heavily breathing young man walking into the house with a look of pure alarm. It was partially hidden by flush and sweat already dripping down his brow from his work-out, but Rory could see it clearly behind his eyes.

"Speak of the devil!" Mitchum said cheerfully as Logan reached up and pulled the air pods out of his ears and placed them in the pocket of his charcoal grey gym shorts.

"What's going on in here?" he asked as his eyes drifted back and forth between her and his father. He stepped closer to them trepidatiously, as if the room was littered with landmines that could go off with a single wrong step.

"Rory and I were just chatting," answered Mitchum. Logan shot her a pointed look and all she could do was shrug.

"Okay…" said Logan, slowly. He walked into the kitchen and made a move for the fridge, passing Mitchum on the way. As Logan got closer to him, Mitchum started shaking his head in disapproval over something. He even ended up letting out a dramatic groan and an eyeroll.

"What is this?" he asked. "What is this shirt you're wearing in my house?" He threw a hand out to gesture up and down at the sweat soaked red t-shirt donning the words 'Stanford' spelled out in white serif block letters across Logan's chest.

"It's my alma mater," said Logan as he pulled out a bottle of water from the fridge and twisted off the cap. He started drinking while Mitchum rolled his eyes again.

"'Alma mater' is supposed to refer to your undergraduate institution," the older man corrected. Logan shrugged.

"Very prescriptive for a man who once fired someone over the 'unnecessary' use of an Oxford comma."

"I don't know how many times I need to explain that that was one of many straws…" Mitchum murmured. "Anyway, I'm done here. I only stopped by to see how the meeting in LA went last night, and Rory already gave me the nutshell. We can talk details later. After you've showered. That is if you're not about to run off and join some cross fit cult."

"You know, you can make fun of me being in shape all you want. It But maybe you should take a few pages from my book. Those cronuts are catching up to you."

"The way I see it, your mother has about five more pounds before she banishes every single carbohydrate in this house, so I intend to make the most of my limited time," said Mitchum. "Rory, it was nice to see you."

"Sure," she said, making it pretty clear that the feeling wasn't mutual. Mitchum had the audacity to laugh again.

"And, hey," he said as he started moving toward the door. "Buck up. I'm sure you'll find something somewhere. It's rough for freelancers these days."

And just like that, every single ounce of power and confidence she had managed to build up over the latter half of their encounter vanished. She was left feeling as shaky as she'd felt the first moment she saw him standing in this room.

"You forgot your coffee," Logan called with an edge to his voice. Apparently, he wasn't very happy with his father's choice of parting words either. Mitchum looked across the room to the still steaming mug he'd set down just moments earlier and shrugged.

"That's for you," he said with a smile as he opened the door. "Coffee's for closers."

Then with a quick wink at his son, he walked through the door and shut it behind him.

Logan let out a deep sigh as he watched his father's retreating form make its way out of the pool house and back into the main house. Mitchum truly had marvelous timing. The entire time Logan had been staying at his parents' house the man hadn't gone out of his way to come back here and talk to him even once. But, of course, he had to choose the one day that he wasn't alone to suddenly take an interest.

His dad seemed to be in a good mood – something that might comfort most people in his position. But, Logan knew better. A lifetime of experience had taught him that Mitchum's good moods were far more foreboding and ominous than his bad moods. The bad moods usually meant that nothing was out of the ordinary – they were his default state. Good moods… good moods meant he was up to something. And now, he had to find out what.

"What did he say?" he asked, softly, afraid to even turn and look at Rory. He could tell she was upset. He could tell she was upset since the moment he walked in the room. But, apparently, she wasn't in the mood to be forthcoming.

"He said coffee's for closers," she answered. "You know… Glengarry Glen Ross. 'Get them to sign on line which is dotted.' 'A B C – always be closing.'"

"Yeah – No, I heard that," Logan said in exasperation. "I know Glengarry Glen Ross. I want to know what my father said to you."

"What makes you think he said something to me?"

At this point Logan did look at her. He was hoping that the unconvinced expression on his face might be enough to get her to open up on her own without having to ask her again. He wasn't sure why Rory was putting up a front with him. He didn't know why she was pretending not to be bothered.

"He asked us to come to dinner," she offered.

Logan audibly groaned. His parents were truly unbelievable. He'd made it perfectly clear to his mother on more than one occasion that he wasn't going to humor her invitation for Rory to come over here and be subjugated to her passive – or sometimes outright active – aggression. And, yet, she hadn't taken the hint. Apparently, she'd gotten his father involved instead, and now he was sneaking behind his back to try and coerce Rory into agreeing on her own.

"Jesus Christ," he said. "I'm sorry. I thought I put an end to this conversation. I'll take care of this. We don't have to - "

"I said it was fine," Rory interrupted.

"You said it was fine?" Logan asked. He narrowed his eyes at her. He was confused. She was clearly upset about whatever had happened here this morning, but she was acting as if going to dinner here had nothing to do with it.

"Yes. It's fine," Rory said. "We can't ignore this forever, you know. I'm going to have to accept the fact that your parents are going to be in my life. I can handle one dinner. You never even asked me how I felt about it. You just assumed - "

"Whoa," said Logan, interrupting what was quickly turning into an angry rant.

He had to admit he was surprised to hear that Rory was okay with coming here for dinner after the disaster that had occurred the first time he brought her home. But, at this point that wasn't even what was surprising him the most. He was mostly perplexed with at the current moment was that it was starting to feel like she was angry at him about something.

"I didn't think that you would want to come here for dinner knowing your history with this house and my parents. I'm sorry if I assumed wrongly. But I don't understand why you're getting this upset. All you needed to do was say something and - "

"I'm upset," Rory interrupted. "Because I was just cornered by your father after you left me here alone this morning when I explicitly told you that I was nervous about running into them last night."

Logan threw his hands up in confusion.

"So you're angry with me because you ran into my dad this morning, but having dinner with him is perfectly fine?" he asked.

"Yes, Logan!" said Rory. "Because it's completely different. At dinner I won't be stuck in a room alone with him. At dinner I'll be freshly showered andI'll be wearing a bra! And a dress. And not some ratty old t-shirt and a pair of your boxers! At dinner, I'll have time to prepare and be ready for questions about my career and where it's going so I don't end up looking like the incompetent failure that he always assumed I would be!"

And there was his answer.

Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He should have known. He should have known this would be about something to do with her career. Rory didn't care about Mitchum in literally any other context. She had no problem reaming him out about coming to the hospital after his accident or sending him off to London after his graduation. But as soon as the subject of work come up his dad still managed to press every single one of her buttons. And now happened to be the absolute worst time for those buttons to be pressed.

"What exactly did he say?" Logan asked. "Other than his last parting comment, what else did he say?"

"Why do you need to know?" Rory asked.

"I need to know, so that I can go in there and take care of it."

"I don't want you to take care of it!" Rory yelled.

Logan sighed again and started rubbing his brow. Suddenly angry at the mere sight of it, he took the coffee cup that his dad had left on the counter and poured it down the drain. He didn't even feel like taking a single sip.

He never failed to marvel at his father's very specific super power. Somehow, he always managed to put his girlfriends in a fighting mood. Once upon a time, he had been naive enough to think that this would be a very Rory specific problem, but he was wrong. Even Seema and Odette had both experienced their fair share of Mitchum induced frenzies.

Seema's usually revolved around his tongue-in-cheek disapproval of all things Stanford. Though, Logan knew he was mostly full of shit. Mitchum loved to revel in the fact that Stanford was technically a D1 school lacking an official Ivy pedigree. He pointed this out at every opportunity and had once set her off by stating that 'it was a shame that someone as smart as her couldn't get into a real law school,' conveniently ignoring the fact that Stanford is one of the top five law schools in the country. But it wasn't Yale, Harvard, or Columbia, so he liked to act as if it might as well be Billy Bob's School of Laws and Rules and Things.

Of course, the real reason why Mitchum liked to tease them about Stanford's lack of Ivy status was because it made himself feel better about the fact that Logan had managed to get a graduate degree during the period of their estrangement – something that Mitchum had never taken the initiative to do himself. He'd never left the family business. He'd never needed an MBA to be taken seriously as a candidate for an executive position. His snide comments and jokes about Stanford were actually just evidence of a buried resentment over the fact that his own son outranked him in that regard. But, pointing this out to Seema only made her hate him more.

Then there was Odette and the endless comments about her residency in Paris. Although, he'd never really made up his mind which angle on that element of their relationship was the more fun to play. Some days his comments implied that Odette was a genius because she'd managed to bag a prominent eligible bachelor like Logan without ever having to spend any time with him. That angle usually revolved around the concept that Logan was clearly an undesirable and off-putting partner and the only benefit to being with him was the money. During the better days of their relationship, she would get angry on his behalf.

The other days, however, he would flip the script ever so slightly. The implication turned from her being genius to her being a bonafide textbook gold-digger. Talks of wedding preparations usually came with comments about making sure Logan got an iron-clad prenup in order because she was clearly going to rob him blind when the day came, and every time they showed up to an event together, Mitchum would stop and ask her what he had to bribe her with to be seen in public with him.

But even though Mitchum rubbing his partners the wrong way seemed to be a consistent theme in all his relationships, Rory's bitter hatred of his father still reigned supreme. Seema and Odette would get annoyed and irritated with Mitchum. Their nights after an interaction with his parents would usually end in an argument and the clanking of a few dishes as they were loaded into the dishwasher just a little too harshly. Rory… well his and Rory's nights after an interaction with his parents ended in grand theft boating.

"Well, what do you want me to do, Rory?" he asked, calmly. He was trying to be careful not to escalate her mood any further by fully giving into an argument. He knew she wasn't actually mad at him. There was no need for him to get defensive. There was no point in letting his father turn what should have been a good morning into a fight.

"I don't want you to do anything!" she yelled. "I just had to stand here in this room and look your father in the eye while I told him that all of the projects I'd been working on had fallen through. I had to tell him to his face that nothing happened with Conde Nast. Do you know how hard it was for me to even take him up on that offer in the first place?!"

"Of course I do," he answered, his tone calm and measured yet again.

"Do you really think I want you to go in there now and pick a fight with him? For what? So that on top of him realizing he was right about me all along, he can think that I'm just a pathetic little girl who needs her boyfriend to fight her battles for her? Do you really think that I want you to go in there and make it look like I told you to yell at him for being mean to me?"

"Was he mean to you?"

"No!" Rory yelled.

Her initial response was fast and loud, but the pause she took after ward was much longer and slower. She took a deep breath and walked over to the couch. As she sat down she, placed her head in her hands. Logan watched as the anger that that had been oozing out of her started morphing into something else. At this point she just looked tired. Frustrated, but tired.

"He wasn't mean to me at all, okay?" she said. "He was just… talking."

Logan didn't know what to say. He just stood there for a second and watched Rory as he tried to figure out what to do for her. He really didn't know. He didn't know what to do to help her through this. If his dad hadn't gone out of his way to say anything specifically cruel or passive aggressive to her, then he didn't have anything to fix. Short of patricide, there wasn't anything he could do to fix the fact that his father…existed.

"What the hell am I doing with this book?" she continued. "Who am I kidding? You know what they call people who are writing their own books full-time? With no other projects or means of income at all? Unemployed."

Suddenly, he felt sick.

"This is ridiculous. I'm being ridiculous. I need to make some calls. I need to try to find something. I can't believe I let myself get into such a huge rut that I just gave up. I haven't talked to Hugo in a while. I'll send him an email. Maybe he has something for me…"

"Rory…" Logan said, cold fear gripping his heart. He'd seen this before. He'd seen his father send her into a similar spiral – a spiral where she started second guessing all of her goals and plans because she put way to much stock in his opinion of her.

"That's what I'll do to today. Start turning over some rocks. Maybe I can manage to get something lined up before we have dinner. I just need to stop wasting my time on this stupid - "

"Rory, stop," Logan interrupted. "I'm not going to let you do this."

The look she shot at him was one that would send far greater men than he down to their knees.

"Excuse me?" she asked. "You're not going to let me do this? This is my career, Logan. I call the shots here. Not you."

"I'm not trying to call the shots. I'm just - "

"You're happy that I'm not working aren't you?"

At this point, she'd become completely irrational. He didn't know what to say to that particular accusation. He'd never not wanted her to work. He'd always supported her in everything she'd ever done. He'd fallen for her because of her passion for her work. But, then, she knew these things. She was just letting his parents get to her again.

"That's ridiculous, Rory," he said.

"Is it?" Rory asked. "Because now I can be the perfect little wife that your mother always wanted you to marry. It does make things a lot easier, doesn't it?"

"It's ridiculous because you are working, Rory!" Logan shouted. His attempts to keep a cool head were out the window at this point. She'd officially dragged him into this, and apparently he wasn't strong enough to resist giving her the fight she wanted.

"Please," she scoffed.

"You are!" he insisted. "I haven't seen you this excited about your work since you sold your piece to The New Yorker! Ever since then you've been miserable. You've hated every second of it. You hated the chase. You hated the travel. You could barely get a sentence out because you hated the things you were writing. The moment you mentioned this book to me, I knew that this is what you were always meant to do. Your face lit up, Rory. You told me you practically wrote the first three chapters overnight. This is what you want."

Rory was looking away from him. She was shaking her head, as if she didn't want to hear a single word of what he was saying.

"I wanted to be a journalist," she said. "It's not journalism."

"Who cares?!" said Logan. "It's not journalism. So what?! Do you think I had dreams of being a COO? Do you think I ever thought that I would want to work for my father again? You know I didn't. You know how hard I fought it. But things change Rory. The things that we want change. It's not a failure to admit that you want something different and change course. It would be a failure to stay in a career that made you miserable just so you can prove my dad wrong!"

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Yes it is!" said Logan. "It's exactly what you're doing. Just last night you were sitting exactly where you are now raving about how happy you were with how the book was coming along, and now you're sitting here acting like it's meaningless and stupid. And the only thing that's changed between then and now is a single conversation with my father. I don't understand why you care so much about his opinion of you."

"Your father is one of the most influential men in America. His opinion is a pretty big deal."

"My father is an asshole."

Logan was a wealthy man. But he was pretty certain that if his only means of income was getting a dollar for every time that sentence fell from his lips, he would be just as wealthy as he was today – perhaps even more. He'd said it too many times to count. He'd said it to Rory alone too many times to count.

But, for some reason, she couldn't hear it. It was baffling in a lot of ways. Because, she had no problem accepting the fact that the man was an asshole whose opinion was bullshit when it had something to do with him. When Mitchum underestimated him or treated him like a disappointment or let his narcissism get in the way of being a functioning parent, Rory had no problem telling him where he could shove his opinions. But when they were about her… she had a massive road block. For whatever reason, she couldn't allot herself the same courtesy.

She needed to hear it. He needed to make her hear it. And, unfortunately, he didn't know any way to do it other than to be painfully blunt. He took a few breaths to compose himself and walked over to the chair across from the couch. He sat down and looked her in the eye. Hopefully, being on the same physical level as her might soften the words that he was about to say.

"Rory…" he started. "I'm going to say something to you that might come across… cruel. And I need you to understand that I'm not saying it to be cruel. I don't ever want to be cruel to you. I love you, and what I'm about to say doesn't actually have anything to do with you. The only reason I'm saying it is because it's the only way I know how to help you get over this… hold my dad has over you."

Rory looked at him with an indecipherable expression on her face. He could tell that she wasn't happy with the implication that Mitchum had any sort of hold over her at all. But, she didn't put up an argument with the concept either.

"Okay…" she said. There was a question laced in the tone, but overall she was intrigued. Taking that as a sign of consent, Logan went on.

"My dad…" he started. "…doesn't give a shit about you."

Rory's intrigue was gone as quickly as it came. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at him as if that was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard him say. He could understand why she might think that. Afterall, Mitchum did like to meddle in his life and Rory was often implicated in those manipulations. As a result it made it easy for her to think that Mitchum actually had a problem with her. But that had never been the case. Rory was irrelevant.

"Please," she said. "Your dad hates me. He's has gone out of his way to make my life miserable one too many times for me to believe - "

"No, Rory," Logan implored. "He doesn't hate you. He doesn't like you. But he doesn't hate you either. He just doesn't give a shit about you."

"Logan - "

"No. I need you to listen to me," he said. "He doesn't care about you. He might hold some mild concern over you for the next two months because you're carrying his granddaughter and he cares in that way that most living creatures care about the preservation of their DNA, but that's it. He shows the bare minimum amount of concern for me, and I do share chromosomes with him, okay?

"He doesn't care about your career. He's a double talking socialite. He's very well practiced at remembering little details for the sake of small talk. Don't mistake that for interest. It makes no difference to him at all if you're working or not. You could have been the fucking millennial Nora Ephron by now. He still wouldn't be impressed. He doesn't care. You are wasting your time trying to get approval from someone who will never give a shit if you succeed or if you fail. It doesn't matter. Trust me. I would know.

"It's like… my father… is Don Draper. Okay? He's Don Draper getting into an elevator and you are that crazy Jewish copywriter kid who follows him in to yell at him – the one that chops his nipple off? He doesn't think about you at all. He's not inside that house right now reveling in the fact that he was 'right about you' - your words not mine. He doesn't care. He's probably already forgotten he even had a conversation with you. The only thing he thinks about is himself. He's a manipulative narcissist. Seeking approval from him does nothing but feed his supply.

"It took me thirty years and a highly qualified therapist to fully realize that, okay? So, I'm not saying it to be cruel. And I'm not judging you for thinking otherwise. It's just the truth."

Logan stopped talking, waiting to see how Rory would respond. Unfortunately, he didn't get much of a response from her at all. She was sitting in front of him, silent, no doubt turning all the words he'd just said to her over and over in her mind.

He already felt terrible. It was harsh. He knew it was harsh. He'd had to deal with that harsh reality himself, and the man was his father so it had been even more painful for him. He only hoped that he hadn't hurt Rory's feelings.

"Look I'm sorry you have to deal with him," said Logan, hoping to soften some of edges. "I really am. But he's my dad. There's nothing I can do about it. I wish there was. Believe me. If I could change it then I would have replaced him with Tony Danza or Bob Saget years ago. But, as it is, I'm stuck with him – the narcissism, the manipulation, the high blood pressure, the prostate cancer. All of it. I can't help it.

"But, God, Rory, please don't let him get to you like this. He's not worth it. Don't derail the one career move that was making you happy just because you feel like you need to prove something to him. You don't."

Rory turned her head and looked out the window. She still wasn't saying anything. But, he supposed that made sense. It was a lot to process. He didn't exactly know what he expected her to say to all of that anyway. She probably needed some time, and he was pretty certain she would see what he was trying to say with some time to cool off and regain a level head. She stood up and Logan watched her as she opened her mouth to say whatever it was that she was feeling.

"I need your help with the shower. I can't figure it out. I don't want to break it."

Whatever it was he expected her to say, that certainly hadn't been it. Though, she wasn't yelling at him or demanding that he take her home because she didn't want to be around him, so he decided to take it as a good sign.

He muttered an 'okay,' and stood up, following her to the bathroom. She stood behind him quietly with her arms crossed over her chest as he pressed a few buttons on the shower panel and explained to how to control all the different jets and the temperature. This shower was truly ridiculous – yet another thing to be annoyed with his father about. It practically required a license to operate, and he didn't want to even think about how much water it wasted.

Rory was still being quiet. He wanted so desperately to know what she was thinking. He wanted to make sure that she wasn't angry with him for saying what he'd said or leaving her alone to run into Mitchum to begin with. He wanted to hear her say that she wasn't going to let Mitchum get in the way of finishing her book. But he wasn't going to push her.

Once the shower was warmed up and running, Logan turned around and kissed her on the head on the way to the door. She didn't flinch away, so he took that as a small victory.

"Logan…" Rory said right as he turned the door handle to walk out of the bathroom. Logan's heart started racing in anticipation.

"Yeah?" he asked as he turned back around to look at her. A look of deep concern was covering her face. Her eyes were solemn, her brow was furrowed, her mouth was slightly open as she breathed just a little heavier than normal. He tried to brace himself for what she had to say.

"Prostate cancer?"

He never thought hearing those words together would spark a feeling of relief within him. But, these last few weeks had been full of interesting and unexpected developments.

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it, Ace," he said, flashing her a solemn smile as he left the room.

They had a good thirty years before that would likely become an issue. And as much as he didn't like to think about it, hearing Rory concern herself over potential health crises that they might face thirty years from now filled him with a strange and slightly morbid optimism.

This fight might not be over quite yet. Their problems with his father wouldn't be over any time soon. But, with that one final question from her, at least he was walking out of that bathroom feeling confident that neither one was going to be the end of them.

TBC….

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen

Saturday, April 29, 2017

"What comes before anything? What have we always said is the most important thing?"

"Breakfast."

"Family."

"Oh, family…right. I thought you meant of the things you eat."

When Logan walked up the steps to the familiar red brick colonial home, he'd been expecting to find the front door open. He'd been there enough times to know that knocking on the maid's day off would be considered more of an annoyance than an attempt to be polite. It would be far more appreciated for him to simply let himself in. So he did.

What he hadn't expected upon stepping into the foyer, was seeing a pair of crazed eyes running straight for him down the curved grand staircase to his left. Instantly, he realized that he was under attack.

As much as really hadn't been expecting this reception, he knew that there was no avoiding it. His aggressor was making a beeline for him with a sense of speed and urgency that he wouldn't have been able to stop if he tried. He was taken too off guard. He didn't have the time to formulate a plan of defense.

There was yelling – screaming more like – coming from the mouth of his assailant. Logan tried to gain his bearings, but it was just no use. There was no time. Seconds later, a massive fist made contact with him, and the next thing Logan knew he was on the floor, entirely bested. He didn't have a fighting chance. He let out a pained groan as he hit the ground and dropped his arms at this sides, hoping that his opponent would take it as a sign of surrender, but he had no such luck.

Instead, the attacker climbed on top of Logan, pinning him down so that he had no hope of getting back up. The onslaught of punches continued and there was only one thing that Logan could do.

"Help!" he yelled. "Honor! Help me! He got me! The Hulk got me!"

The sound of footsteps sounded from down the hall toward the direction of the kitchen. Turning his head to the side, Logan soon saw a pair of navy blue slip ons step into his field of vision. He followed them upward to a pair of cropped white pants, followed by a navy boat neck t-shirt with thin horizontal stripes, and eventually landed on the face of his sister looking down on him with a smirk.

"Honor!" he cried, flinging out a hand to her in a pleading gesture. "The Hulk got me!"

"The Hulk needs to wash his hands for lunch," Honor said, crossing her arms over her chest.

However, the beast in question didn't seem to be listening. He continued his attack on Logan, pummeling his chest with his massive green fists. Thankfully, Logan was familiar with these kinds of attacks, and he knew the perfect strategy to use in order to regain the upper hand.

"Then I guess I'll just have to employ a tickle attack!"

Logan sat up quickly, catching his foe off guard. His hands went for his torso and his attacker was suddenly spasming with laughter.

"No!" he yelled through his uncontrollable giggles. "Uncle Logan! No!"

"Uncle Logan?" Logan asked. "You must be mistaken. Only my nephews call me Uncle Logan, and you can't be my nephew. My nephew doesn't have giant green hands."

"They're pretend!" the little boy laughed.

"They're pretend?!" Logan asked, acting thoroughly shocked by this newest revelation. He reached forward and grabbed the foam green fists covering his nephew's hands and threw them to the floor. "Aw man! I can't believe it! They felt so real."

"I'm just strong."

Logan and Honor both laughed, much to the dissatisfaction of deadly serious boy sitting in his lap on the floor. He frowned at them and crossed his arms over his chest in a huff.

"I am strong," he said.

"You are huh?" Logan asked. Carter nodded emphatically. "Well are you strong enough to get out of this?"

Logan hopped up from the floor and scooped his nephew up in his arms. The boy wiggled and laughed, trying to get out of Logan's grip. But, his five year old muscle mass wasn't a very good match for his uncle's hold. Logan started walking through the brightly lit hallway and eventually threw Carter over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He turned a right at the end of the hall and stepped into his sister's kitchen, not stopping until he reached the huge stainless steel farmhouse sink. Then, he shifted the boy in his arms so he was holding him over the edge.

"Wash," he said. Carter reached forward and pushed down on the soap dispenser before turning on the faucet and running his hands underneath the water. When he was finished, Logan placed him down on the floor and handed him a paper towel to dry off.

Carter scampered off to the other side of the kitchen island and used his mighty five year old strength to climb up on the stool on the bar and settle himself in front of a plate waiting on the white quartz countertop in front of him. A few seconds later, Honor walked up behind him and ran her fingers through his light brown hair.

"What do you want to drink?" she asked, headed for the fridge.

"Juice!"

As Honor opened the fridge and pulled out an Honest Kids juice box, her son looked down at the plate in front of him and grimaced. It seemed that the sight of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a handful of baby carrots was not titillating his appetite.

"Mommy, I want fruit snacks," Carter whined as he picked up a baby carrot and started tapping it against his plate.

"You had fruit snacks this morning. You need to eat more than fruit snacks," said Honor as she set the juice down in front of him. Apparently, this wasn't what the boy wanted to hear. He slumped in his chair and let out one of the funniest sighs Logan had ever heard in his life.

"I'm not hungry..." he whined again. But, Honor wasn't buying it.

"If you're hungry enough for fruit snacks, you're hungry enough for your lunch."

It was moments like this in these last few weeks that had really awakened him to just how much he had been missing out on living across the ocean. Sure he'd had a relationship with his nephews. He saw them every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and he always came home for their birthdays. He talked to them on Skype when he caught up with Honor. He had established favor as the favorite uncle due to his superior and more frequent gift giving. But these little moments - the every day simplicities of watching them grow up - he had never been privy to these before.

He was finding that he liked them. Listening to his nephew complain about eating carrots at the kitchen counter and seeing toys spread all over his sister's house made him feel like he was actually part of the family again, not just some occasional house guest that they rolled out the red carpet for and only saw in their Sunday best and on their best behavior.

"I don't like it…" Carter whined.

"Yes you do," said Honor. "It's peanut butter and jelly. Now eat."

Logan pursed his lips and smiled at his sister as she turned around so that Carter couldn't see her and dramatically rolled her eyes. 

"So…" Logan started as he watched Honor reach back into the fridge and pull out a container of raspberry Greek yogurt for herself. Realizing he was leaning against the silverware drawer, he quickly moved and reached in to hand her a spoon. "Is it just me or is half of the Abrahams family mysteriously missing?"

"Ethan is upstairs taking a nap," she answered as she accepted the proffered spoon. "And Josh is golfing."

"Josh is golfing?!" Logan asked. A huge grin broke out onto his face entirely without his consent. Honor just sighed as she started digging into the yogurt.

"Don't laugh," she said. "It's a work thing. He couldn't get out of it. You should have seen him leave the house this morning. He was terrified. Shaking. I spent the last fifteen minutes before he left trying to give him a crash course on the difference between a wedge and an iron."

Josh was always terrified, but Logan didn't point that out. He stopped pointing that out a long time ago after he'd really come to appreciate just how perfect Josh was for his sister. He was the kind of guy who was perfectly happy to let his wife bulldoze him, and he meant that entirely without judgement. Honor was a fast talking, overly energetic, highly opinionated wrecking ball with extremely high and borderline unrealistic standards. She needed a guy like Josh – a guy who didn't mind any of those facts, one that even coveted them because he lacked them himself. Still, he knew that his face was betraying him. There was no way he was successfully concealing his amusement at the idea of his awkward, timid, and entirely unathletic brother-in-law trying to manage a corporate golf game.

"I don't see where you get off looking so amused," Honor continued. "The last time I saw you golf, you sliced so far to the right that it ended up on an entirely different green."

"Yeah, okay!" said Logan, getting instantly defensive. He always did when people talked about his golf game. It was a sore subject. It was the one sport that he was never quite able to get a handle on – and that wasn't acceptable in the world he came from. "I was fifteen! Can we stop talking about that?!"

"Never," Honor replied, taking a bite of her yogurt.

Across the island, Logan suddenly heard a burst of laughter coming from his nephew. The boy was looking up at him, thoroughly amused, and Logan's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Are you laughing at me?!" he asked. It was kind of cute, actually. He knew that Carter had no idea what any of those terms meant, but he had picked up on the fact that his mother was teasing him at the very least. The little boy nodded his head. "Traitor."

"Carter Mitchum," Honor said firmly as she looked down at her son's completely untouched plate. "I don't see a bite in that sandwich."

The little boy groaned and threw his arms and head down on the counter in a dramatic show of displeasure. Once again, Logan found himself having to stifle his amusement. He didn't think Honor would appreciate it very much when she was trying so hard to be stern.

"I'm not hungry!" he insisted. "I wanna go play."

Honor let out a massive sigh.

"Fine," she said. "Two bites and one carrot and you can go."

Carter seemed more than happy with that development. He stuffed a carrot in his mouth and followed it up with two of the tiniest bites of his sandwich that Logan had ever seen. The moment his contractual obligation toward lunch was complete, he hopped off of his stool and ran out of the kitchen, thundering up the stairs as he went.

"Ugh. I'm a terrible mother," Honor said as she watched him go.

"You're not a terrible mother," Logan said, rolling his eyes at her.

"No. I am," she said. "I can't get him to eat anything. No matter what I do. He's going to die of starvation because the only thing I can manage to feed him is macaroni and cheese and fruit snacks – and not the organic kind."

"You're not a terrible mother," Logan repeated, his voice firm. "I mean hey – at least you cut the crusts off his peanut butter and jelly. That's one up on our mother."

"Mom cut the crusts off our sandwiches…" said Honor.

A tone of annoyance was laced through her voice, as if she thought Logan was being unfair. He wasn't. Having to rely on Shira for a meal was always a harrowing experience. It didn't happen often when they were children. They were usually only subjected to Shira's meal preparation during trips to the Vineyard or when their nanny wasn't able to come to work. But, the few occasions that it did happen usually ended in temper tantrums and empty stomachs.

"Um. No," he insisted. "Crustless sandwiches were a Pilar exclusive. Mom also always cut them vertically instead of diagonally like some kind of psychopath."

"Okay, fine," Honor said with a sigh. "I'm one up on Shira Huntzberger. But, strangely, that still doesn't inspire much confidence in me…"

Logan didn't know what to say that he hadn't already said about five hundred times. Honor's insecurity around being a mother had been a consistent cause of emotional distress for her since the day she found out she was pregnant. He'd stayed up talking to her on late night phone calls. He'd assured her over and over again every time he saw her in person. He'd told her a million times that she was being irrational and unreasonable and that she had no reason to worry about it.

But now… well now he was starting to understand how she felt.

During all of those conversations, he had never really taken a moment to reflect upon how he would feel when his time came about. Maybe it was because five years ago the concept of his becoming a father had been so abstract it bordered on fantasy. Or, maybe it was good old fashioned unconscious sexism. Maybe he hadn't taken the moment to think about it because he was a man and he never felt like he needed to think about it. Regardless of the reason, it was definitely something he thought about now. Constantly.

He hadn't really shared his anxieties with anyone. He knew that he would have to share them with Rory eventually. But, he had just recently succeeded in convincing her that he wasn't going anywhere. He didn't want to reverse that progress by opening up about all the ways in which this entire situation terrified him. He didn't want her to start thinking that he was having second thoughts. Because he wasn't. He was just scared.

It didn't help that most men would probably go to their fathers to talk about pre-parental anxieties. But how was he supposed to go to his father to talk about his anxiety about not having a good father? About how he was floundering from the lack of having a good role model? About not knowing how to have a conversation with his children because his father never had a real conversation with him? Most fathers sat their sons down for conversations about navigating life and love and relationships. Logan's father sat him down for conversations about the importance of synergy and market share values.

Boats, lobsters, and baseball.

That's about all Logan and Mitchum had.

And Logan's unborn child was neither a boat nor a lobster nor a K/BB ratio.

There was also the fact that as much as Logan liked to believe he was nothing like his father, there was a part of him who knew that wasn't true at all. He was a workaholic, and it had only gotten worse with age and added responsibilities. He was materialistic and obsessed with money. He tended to avoid hard conversations until they were absolutely necessary. After all, it had taken three years to have a hard conversation with Rory, and he was pretty certain he'd still be engaged right now if the news of her pregnancy hadn't forced him to face the issue. He had substance abuse problems. He had a tendency to infidelity. So far, Rory had been the only partner in his life that he hadn't cheated on… and according to her that was debatable. The list could go on for ages.

He took a little comfort in the fact that he, unlike Mitchum, happened to be aware of these character flaws. Awareness, however, didn't actually make the problems go away. Five years of therapy out west had provided him with plenty of introspection and insight, break throughs and break downs. But introspection and insight were far different than concrete action.

The truth was, he was still trying to figure out how to actually be a good person. How was he supposed to raise a child to be a good person when he couldn't seem to manage it himself?

He had no idea how to navigate being a parent. And he definitely didn't know how to navigate being a parent to a little girl. If he was having a son, it might be easier. His nephews had given him some experience with little boys. He had been a little boy once upon a time. He knew what to expect with little boys. Girls were something else entirely.

"Well…" he said to Honor. "At least you had a better role model than I did."

Honor laughed out loud.

"You think Dad was worse than Mom?" she asked. "Have you lost your mind?"

"At least Mom never threatened to cut you out of her will," said Logan, remembering the arguments that had immediately followed his announcement that he was leaving the company and moving to California.

"At least Dad never made you run a mile because you ate too much pizza."

They were at a stalemate. They always were when it came to issues like this. Because even though they grew up in the same house, the reality was that their childhoods inside of that house were very different. Their relationships with their parents were very different. Mitchum came down hard on Logan while treating Honor like his little princess. Shira was passive aggressive and manipulative with Honor while she doted on Logan and turned a blind eye to his less than savory behaviors. Both of them had a good cop and a bad cap. They just never agreed on which was which.

When Logan didn't respond to Honor's argument in kind after a couple seconds, she leaned forward on the kitchen counter and looked at him with a frown of concern. Logan tried to avoid eye contact, but his sister was too well practiced in seeing through him to back off.

"Logan?" she asked. "Is there a reason you came over here today? And does it maybe have anything to do with that conversation we had on Easter?"

"It's not why I came over…" he said. "But… since you mentioned it… I guess… I guess I can empathize a little more with you now. I just… keep thinking about all the ways that I'm certain to fuck this kid up."

"Logan…stop," Honor said. "You're not Dad. Do you think Dad would ever roll around on the floor with a five year old pretending to be The Hulk? You're an amazing uncle already, and you're going to be an amazing father."

Logan wasn't quite sure what one had to do with the other. It was easy to be the fun uncle. It was easy to make kids love you when you only saw them on holidays and birthdays and didn't actually have to suffer through any of the difficulties of raising them.

"Sounds fake to me. But, okay," said Logan. When he made eye contact with his sister again he noticed that she didn't find his deflection amusing. But, after a couple of seconds her face changed. She let out a sigh and smiled.

"Well…" she started. "Look at it this way. After we inevitably fuck our kids up at least they'll have cousins to commiserate with when they're old and having their own children."

Logan actually did let out a deflated laugh at that.

"I guess that's true…" he said.

"Do you want something to drink?" Honor asked, changing the subject as she opened the fridge and took a look inside. "I have water, La Croix, orange juice. Or, hey, I could cut the crusts of a peanut butter and jelly for you."

"I think I'm good on the peanut butter and jelly," Logan said with a smile. "But I actually do need a favor…"

Honor closed the door loudly, not before grabbing a can of La Croix for herself. She popped the tab open on the pink and orange can and shook her head at him.

"I should have known you weren't coming over here just to 'hang out,'" she said, referencing the text message he's sent her before he showed up. "You never come to me just to hang out. You always need something."

"That's not true…" Logan said, taken aback by the comment. It wasn't true. Was it?

He definitely didn't want it to be true.

"It is," Honor confirmed. "But it's fine. Such is the burden of being the big sister. What can I do for you this time, my dear little brother?"

Logan took a deep breath. Now, he was suddenly feeling guilty about asking her for anything. He almost told her to forget about it, but then he remember that he wasn't asking this favor for himself.

"I need you to come to dinner on Friday."

Honor groaned. She slapped her hand on the island counter as she started walking around to the other side to start cleaning up the food that her son had left behind.

"Dinner with the parents?" she asked. "Why would I do that? It's not a holiday or anyone's birthday and nobody died… that I know of."

"Nobody died," Logan said in exasperation. He watched as Honor continued to tidy up the kitchen as he built up the courage to expound on the favor. "Rory is coming."

Suddenly Honor went quiet. The only sound in the kitchen was the sound of the running water at the sink as she rinsed off the crumbs from Carter's plate. After a couple seconds, she turned the water off, but she still didn't say anything.

"Honor…" said Logan.

"Rory is coming to dinner. That's… good. I guess..." she said. "But… why would I want to be there?"

"Because you like Rory, remember?" said Logan. Honor twitched an eyebrow and looked away. She loaded the plate she'd just rinsed into the dishwasher.

"Do I?" she asked, cryptically.

"Honor…" Logan sighed.

He was worried about this. When Rory had asked him to see if Honor and Josh could come to dinner so that she would have some more allies, he had agreed. What he hadn't told her, however, was that he wasn't entirely sure Rory could still count Honor as an ally. Josh, sure. Honor… well…

"Oh no. You're right. I remember. I like Rory," said Honor. "You know… she's witty and fun and likes Bergdorfs. And she kept Walker from spilling champagne on my wedding dress and yelled at Dad that one time you were in the hospital. What's not to like?"

"Honor…" Logan said again. He knew what was coming.

"I mean… I can ignore the fact that she didn't want to marry you after a three year long relationship, and that she crushed your spirit when you'd already hit rock bottom. And… you know… so what if it took you almost two years to get back to normal after that? And so what if she's been playing with your heart like a yoyo for the last three years so she could use you without actually needing to commit to you - "

"Hey!" Logan interrupted. "I was just as guilty for the situation we're in, okay? You can't blame all that on Rory."

"I don't know why you want me there, Logan," said Honor. "You know that I'm not exactly Team Rory these days."

Logan rubbed a hand over his face. He did know that. Honor hadn't been Team Rory since she'd broken his heart by declining his proposal. She's always been fiercely protective of him – overly protective of him. He supposed it was because their parents had left them so wanting in terms of moral support. Honor was a typical big sister in many ways. She teased him and got under his skin. But in other ways… she was actually very maternal toward him.

No one had ever hurt Logan the way that Rory had hurt him. No one else had ever left him that heartbroken and defeated. And, as such, no one else had ever inspired that much quiet anger and resentment from his sister.

"Because…" Logan said. "Even if you don't want to be there to support Rory, I'd really like for you to be there to support me. I love her. She's having my baby. I really need you on my side here."

Honor sighed.

"Plus… I didn't want to have to play this card but you owe us."

"I owe you?" Honor asked. "What do you mean I owe you?!"

"Need I remind you that the entire reason why the mere concept of having Rory come to dinner at our house is so terrifying and upsetting is because of the insanity that ensued when I agreed to come to your engagement announcement? Out of the goodness of my heart."

"That wasn't out of the goodness of your heart," Honor said, fixing him with a look. "That was because you owed me after I paid of the Indonesian Coast Guard. Remember?"

"So you concede that things work on a quid pro quo basis in this family…" Logan said, gesturing between the two of them as if her argument had only helped rather than hindered his point. Honor narrowed his eyes at him for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"Fine," she said, relenting. "We will come to dinner. But I should remind you that I'm not the one who's going to have to suffer through it. That's Josh."

"I've got a bottle of Nolet's Reserve with his name on it," Logan said with a shrug.

The conversation between the two siblings came to an abrupt stop as a sudden crash followed by the piercing sound of a two year old screaming 'no' at the top of his lungs traveled through the house. Logan snapped his head in the direction of the stairs and Honor jumped, placing a hand on her heart.

"Oh God…" she said. "What have they done now?"

She took off like a rocket, leaving Logan alone in the kitchen while she tended to whatever chaos her boys had wrought upstairs. His shoulders slumped in relief and he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Then, pulling up the top text thread in his app, he typed out a simple message.

Ace

Today 12:17 PM

Honor is a go.

Logan

Today 12:17 PM

Honor is a go.

When Rory lay eyes on the message from her boyfriend, she let out a sigh of relief that she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Somehow, the longer she thought about the looming dinner with his parents, the more stressed she seemed to become over it.

It was true that a part of her still wanted to go. A part of her wanted to get it over with. A part of her wanted to move on and put the last dinner behind her so that she could get on with her life. But, as soon as Logan had sent her a message yesterday evening saying that his Mom had set a time for next Friday, it has suddenly become very real to her.

She was going to have dinner with Logan's parents – both of them – at the same time. That was something that she hadn't actually done before. She'd only ever had to deal with them one at a time. She'd never had to face them as a united front before, and she didn't know what to expect. She wasn't prepared – and not just in an emotional sense.

"What about this? This is cute!"

Rory turned her head toward her mother's voice as she held up an admittedly beautiful knee length dress made with georgette chiffon. It had an empire waist in the front that dropped down to a natural waist in the back. It had a neckline tie with delicate lace insets that popped out over the shoulders and around the back forming a peephole around the spine. For the most part it was absolutely perfect. It was elegant, understated, modest. She'd most likely have a hard time trying to find anything better.

"No," she answered.

Lorelai looked absolutely flummoxed. She dropped the arm that was holding the dress in response, letting the fabric brush against the floor of the department store.

"No?" she asked. "Rory… this is perfect."

"It's blue!" Rory replied, as if that explained everything. Apparently it didn't, because Lorelai looked just as confused as before.

"Oh well, of course. How silly of me. It's blue. We should burn it! What is wrong with all these designers these days making blue dresses. Don't they know how inappropriate that is? They should all be cancelled!"

Lorelai hung the dress in question back on the rack with a loud clank of the hanger. Rory sighed. Returning her full attention to her mother, she stopped flicking through the rack of dresses in front of her and gestured to the dress with a thrust of her hand.

"I can't wear a blue dress to dinner with the Huntzbergers!"

Lorelai choked on a laugh.

"Rory…" she said. "I'm pretty sure the Huntzbergers are perfectly fine with the color blue. I don't know much about them, but I do seem to remember something about their family going to Yale for like five generations. I think I could go as far as to say that they may even like the color blue. Besides, didn't you tell me at one point that Logan definitely likes you in blue? Not that I want to relive that particular shopping trip…"

Logan did like her in blue. A lot. Most of the wearable gifts Logan picked out for her over their years together tended to be blue, from the very first dress he'd ever picked out for her at the LDB event to an abundance of sapphire jewelry. He always said that he loved the way that wearing blue made her eyes look electrifying. When she wore the right shade of blue, he would become absolutely mesmerized by her. And Lorelai had unceremoniously learned that fact at an impromptu trip to Victoria's Secret after Rory had blurted it out when Lorelai kept teasing her about why she seemed to only be buying blue bras and underwear and ignoring the rest of the color spectrum.

Yet, no matter how much Logan loved her in the color blue, it wasn't going to convince her to don that shade for their upcoming dinner on Friday. In this context, the color was far too triggering. And Rory was justsuperstitious enough to think the color was a bad choice.

"I wore a blue dress the last time I had dinner with them," she explained. "I couldn't ever bring myself to wear that dress again. And I loved that dress."

"Well… the good thing about maternity dresses is that they aren't really expected to be worn more than a couple times anyway…" Rory shot her mother an uncompromising look, and Lorelai sighed in defeat. "Okay. No blue. Got it. Should we maybe stick to black? You know… mourning colors?"

"Mom…" Rory said with a sigh.

"What?" Lorelai asked. "You know… for someone who has such a terrible history with those people, you sure are worrying a lot about this dinner."

"My terrible history with thosepeopleis exactly why I'm worrying about this dinner," said Rory.

It seemed obvious to her. But, then Lorelai and Rory had always faced conflict differently. Lorelai had never cared about other people's opinions of her. If someone didn't like her, then she didn't bother giving them any of her energy. She moved on with her life and left those people in the dust.

Rory, however, needed everyone to like her. If she felt like someone didn't like her, she would agonize and stress over every single tiny interaction she had with that person and go out of her way to attempt to change their opinion. She hated to admit it, but even after all these years she still wanted to get approval from them. Logan had been right. She knew he was right, but that didn't make it any easier for her to stop feeling that way. And now they weren't just going to judge her ability to be their son's girlfriend, now they were going to judge her ability to be a good mother.

It was more important to her than ever to establish some peace.

"Besides…" she continued. "Your granddaughter is going to be one of those people. So, I would start editing your commentary now so you can get used to not saying anything about them by the time she's old enough to understand you."

"Nah," Lorelai said. "My granddaughter is going to be a Gilmore. So, I win."

Lorelai shot her a sinister smile before returning her attention to racks of clothing around them. Rory took a deep breath. She didn't know exactly how to broach this topic. She didn't know if she even wanted or needed to broach this topic right now, but she was going to have to eventually. A month ago there hadn't been a topic to discuss. But now… well now she was going to have to tell her mother that with every passing day she thought more and more about the possibility of her daughter not being a Gilmore at all. And with every passing day, she became more and more okay with it.

"I just… want this dinner to go well," said Rory. "Especially after yesterday."

"Yesterday?" asked Lorelai. She pulled a burgundy stain dress off the rack and held it in front of her before scrunching her nose in protest and putting it back. "What happened yesterday?"

Rory sighed.

"I just… didn't handle running into Mitchum well. And then Logan and I got into a fight. And - "

"Wait wait wait!" said Lorelai, holding up her hand to stop her. "You ran into Mitchum? You didn't tell me you ran into Mitchum. How did you run into Mitchum?"

"I told you he asked me to come to dinner…" said Rory. Apparently, her mom hadn't quite understood. Lorelai furrowed her brow.

"Yeah, but I thought you meant that he asked you like… through Logan. I didn't know you saw him in person."

"Well, I did," said Rory with another big sigh. "I spent the night at their pool house and when I woke up he was - "

"You spent the night at their house?!"

"Do you want to hear the story or not?!" Rory replied, getting tired of the constant interruptions.

"Yes," said Lorelai. "Sorry… sorry." She pursed her lips together a mimed dragging a zipper across them to keep them closed. Rory took another deep breath.

"After we had dinner with Dad and he told me about him and Lana, I really didn't want to be alone all night. So, Logan offered to take me back to his parents' pool house - "

"Dirty…"

"Mom…" Rory groaned.

"Sorry."

"Anyway…" Rory continued. "When I woke up yesterday morning Logan had left for a run and Mitchum was just standing there in the kitchen waiting for him. And it was awkward and embarrassing. And then he started asking me about how things were going and how my meeting with Conde Nast went. And I just had a meltdown - "

"He asked you about Conde Nast?" Lorelai asked, confused. "How did he know you had a meeting with Conde Nast? That was like… a year ago. Was Logan talking to him about you? Because that's really weird, Rory…"

Rory was suddenly at a loss for words. In all her stressing about running into Mitchum and the fallout from it, she had completely forgotten that her mother wasn't privy to the extent of their familiarity over the last year. Her pride was bruised enough knowing that she'd asked for help from Mitchum Huntzberger in the first place. She wasn't exactly broadcasting it to anyone.

Plus, even if she had been telling people about it, her mother would have been the last person on the list. While Lorelai's opinion of Logan could turn on a dime, her opinion of his father had remained consistently terrible. But, then, Rory couldn't blame her for that. As far as Lorelai was concerned, she knew two things about Mitchum. First, he was responsible for her mental breakdown in 2005. And second, he was extremely talented when it came to verbally abusing his son in mixed company.

She wasn't going to be happy to hear what Rory was about to say.

"Um…" Rory started. "He knows because… he actually arranged that meeting for me."

Rory tried to return her attention to the clothing in front of her. Her mother, however, had the opposite reaction. Dress shopping forgotten, she fixed her full attention on Rory, stepping closer to her and looking at her with utter bewilderment.

"What do you mean he arranged that meeting for you?" she asked. "You said Conde Nast asked for that meeting."

"They did," Rory answered, sighing. "And they kept flaking out and post-posting. So, Mitchum made a call and - "

"He made a call…" Lorelai mirrored, perplexed. "Mitchum Huntzberger just… made a call…"

"Logan and I bumped into him at lunch in London, and he overheard me say something about it. So, he offered - "

"I'm sorry. Hold on a second," said Lorelai, cutting Rory off before she could get to the point. "I'm still processing the fact that apparently you've been all buddy buddy with Mitchum Huntzberger for a year. And you're having lunch with him and he's getting you meetings and inviting you for dinner at his house…"

"I'm not 'buddy buddy' with Mitchum," Rory argued, narrowing her eyes at the accusation.

"Did he know?" Lorelai asked.

Rory's mouth fell agape at the question. The truth was she didn't know how to respond. While it was happening, she didn't know for certain if he suspected that anything was going on with her and Logan. But now… well now she knew that he absolutely had. Logan had told her that he'd been all but certain about it. Mitchum had gotten her that meeting knowing full well that his son was sleeping with her. And she had let him.

"He… might have suspected."

"He might have suspected?" Lorelai asked, not buying it. Eventually, Rory caved with a shrug.

"Fine. Yes. He knew," she answered. "Okay? He knew. It's why he hasn't freaked out about this situation at all. It's why it was so easy for Logan to come back home. It's why they're inviting me over for dinner rather than meeting with attorneys trying to hide the fact that this is happening. He knew. He was able to deal with this rationally because he knew, and he wasn't surprised. Okay? Are you happy?"

Apparently Lorelai was not happy, because instead of answering, she turned on her heel and started walking out of the maternity section and toward the store entrance. Rory huffed in surprise and annoyance before following after her.

"Mom!" she called. "Where are you going?"

"Just… away…" Lorelai answered without bothering to turn around.

"Why?!" Rory asked.

Lorelai finally turned around to face Rory again and crossed her arms over her chest. They had apparently drawn the attention of a handful of shoppers and retail workers because Rory could feel the cold stares of eyes on her. She started getting nervous at the realization, knowing that Hartford was a very big small town and the name 'Huntzberger' usually garnered plenty of attention. The odds were too high that news of this little argument would spread. And her name was already being tossed all over Hartford society as if she was Hester Prynne.

"Because I really don't feel like having an argument with you in the middle of a Nordstrom!" Lorelai answered. She turned around and started walking again with Rory hot on her hells.

"I don't understand why you're picking an argument with me at all," Rory replied as they both walked through the entrance to the store and back out into the main mall area. Lorelai paused for a second until her eyes fell on the Starbucks across the hall and to the right. She made a beeline for it, passing the escalator and a kiosk selling novelty t-shirts on the way.

"I need some coffee," Lorelai said, distractedly as she got in line.

"Mom…" Rory pleaded. Lorelai finally snapped her attention back to her and gave her a look of utter exasperation.

"I don't know how you want me to react to this, Rory!" she answered. "It's kind of a lot, okay? This whole situation is a lot. And now, all of a sudden, I'm faced with the fact that apparently there were several months where Mitchum Huntzberger knew more about the private details of my daughter's life than I did. Not only that but he was arranging clandestine meetings with publishers because you were…" Lorelai looked over her shoulder to make sure no one around them was paying attention, then she leaned forward and continued in a harsh whisper. "…sleeping with his son."

"It wasn't clandestine. It was a favor. He does that kind of thing all the time. And that's not why he arranged the meeting for me!" Rory argued.

"Why else would he have done it, Rory?" asked Lorelai. "The last time I checked he wasn't all that concerned with advancing your career!"

"That was twelve years ago!" said Rory. "And he did it because he -"

Likes me. Rory was about to say that he did it because he likes her.

The weight of that epiphany, however, caused her to voice to catch in her throat.

Mitchum Huntzberger liked her. He maybe always had. He thought she was witty. He laughed at her jokes. He's told her point blank that he thought she was good for Logan. He was always friendly to her… even back then.

Before the end of her internship, he had been nothing but a friendly and supportive boss. She'd never felt uncomfortable around him, which is saying a lot for a twenty year old girl shadowing a man of his stature. He could have been an absolute ass to her from beginning to end. But he hadn't been. And even when he'd given her that soul crushing piece of criticism at the end of it… he hadn't been mean or overly cruel when he said it.

Actually… bearing in mind some of the crazy she'd faced from a handful of editors, bosses, and fellow writers in the time since, she realized that Mitchum had almost been saintly in his delivery. He hadn't dropped a single feminine slur or thrown any staplers at her head, which is more than she could say for the editor at the political magazine she's briefly worked for after her Obama gig.

He'd merely pointed out that she was timid – shy even – that the people who had 'it' would have been brave enough to speak out in that room, even if they were only interns. Yes he was blunt - blunter than Rory was used to. But, she knew enough about him to know that bluntness was just a part of his personality. It wasn't personal. Maybe he'd never meant it to be personal.

Maybe he'd been trying to do her a favor. Maybe he hadn't been trying to end her career like she'd always assumed. Maybe he was just the first person in her life up until that point that was objective enough in his opinion of her as a person to give her the cold hard truth, and maybe he thought it would help her. And maybe the reason she had reacted so terribly to it was because a part of her knew that he was right and she'd always been afraid of someone pointing it out.

But it needed to be pointed out. She never would have achieved what she did if it hadn't been pointed out. After all, every time during the course of her career when she did have to put herself out there to get a story or do something that she would normally cower away from, it was his voice that she heard in the back of her head. Her drive to prove Mitchum wrong and cultivate 'it' had been one of the key motivators of her career. Who knows if she would have ever developed the balls she needed get out there if he hadn't forced her to?

She was suddenly looking back on her relationship with Mitchum with completely new eyes. She'd spent so much time thinking that he hated her and was going out of his way to hurt her. But that had never been true. He'd told her himself that it hadn't been true in that elevator ride after Logan's graduation. Rory had always written it off as a lie… but both her personal experience and stories from Logan had long ago illustrated to her that Mitchum didn't often lie unless it was absolutely necessary – quite the opposite. He was brutally honest. To a fault. A sometimes abusive fault.

She'd spent so many years trying to prove a point to a man that honestly didn't care. She'd spent so long trying to accomplish something that might impress him. But, the truth was Mitchum was already impressed by her. He probably had been since the moment she called him from the waiting room at Columbia Presbyterian and called him a selfish narcissistic ass surrounded by sycophants.

Months later he'd even offered her a job at any paper of her choosing. And, yes, that offer had come with some strings that Rory wasn't willing to accept. But, Mitchum was also a good businessman who took his job extremely seriously and had a borderline snobbish sense of journalistic integrity. He wouldn't have made the offer at all if he didn't think she would be some kind of an asset wherever she was placed. He would have found some other way to worm his way into Logan's life if he still didn't think Rory had what it took to write for him.

He wasn't rooting for her to fail. He wasn't being smug and threatening when he'd pulled up a chair to their table that day at lunch. He didn't offer to do her that favor to rub her face in the fact that she needed his help. He legitimately didn't care about it. It was nothing to him. It was innocuous – like him, the multimillionaire that he was, offering to pay for someone's coffee to speed up a line. It meant nothing. He was just offering a favor because… he could. And he liked her well enough. So why wouldn't he?

"Oh my God. Logan was right," said Rory, cutting herself off from her previous train of conversation. Lorelai looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. Though, it wasn't as if Rory could blame her. The abrupt change in conversation would have probably taken anyone off guard.

"What do you mean Logan was right?" asked Lorelai.

"Who cares if I'm not some unbelievably great journalist by now?" Rory murmured. "I don't need to prove anything to him…"

"Logan told you that you weren't a good journalist?" Lorelai asked with a scoff. "Great. That's just great, Rory. He's once again proving to be an A+ choice in partner - "

"Logan didn't tell me I wasn't a good journalist!" Rory said. "God. Why do you always assume the worst in him?!"

Rory looked around the mall and her eyes landed on an empty table and chairs in a small little café area not too far away from where they were standing. She needed to sit down. Her mother could stay and get her coffee if she needed to, but Rory needed to process.

"Where are you going?" Lorelai asked.

"I need to sit down!" said Rory. Lorelai, apparently not yet ready to end the conversation, left the prospect of hot coffee behind and followed her.

"Rory - "

Rory turned around and crossed her arms over her chest.

"People use contacts, Mom. Sometimes it's an unavoidable part of being successful – especially in a competitive field like journalism. It's not all about hard work, you know. Sometimes you need to know the right people. And I have spent a lot of time refusing to acknowledge the fact that I know a very important person in my industry out of nothing but pride. He made one phone call for me. And he's the one that offered. I didn't ask for his help. I'm not going to apologize to you for it."

Lorelai looked at a loss for words, and Rory took that moment to turn around and keep moving toward the table that had caught her eye. She sat down and put her head in her hands, not even seeing when Lorelai slid into the seat across from her. When she did look up and saw Lorelai sitting there, she could see an uncharacteristic look of chagrin on her mother's face.

"Okay…" said Lorelai. "I get it. You're right. I didn't mean - "

"What did you mean?!" Rory asked, shrugging her shoulders and throwing her hands up. "Because it sounded like you were accusing me of sleeping my way to the top - "

"Rory, come on!" said Lorelai. "You know that's not what I meant."

"No! I don't know that!" she said. "God… lately it's like I never know what to expect from you. You're on my side one second and then the next you're fighting with me in the middle of the maternity section! You're upset that I kept things from you for so long, but then when I try to let you in you get angry about my choices. But they're my choices, Mom. This is my life!"

"I know it's your life…" Lorelai said, reaching out across the table to place a hand over Rory's. Rory wasn't quite ready for the gesture yet, however, and pulled away.

"I'm writing a book!"

Not for the first time that day, Lorelai started looking at her as if she was a fish. Her mouth opened and closed, trying to think of how to respond to the outburst. It made sense that she was taken off guard. After all, it did seem like it was a complete change in topic. But, Rory knew that it wasn't.

"I know that you're writing a book, hun..."

"No!" said Rory. "You don't. Not seriously. You never wanted me to do it, so you treat it like it's some hobby I'm pursuing before I jump back into freelancing. I need you to hear me, Mom. I am writing a book. A memoir. I am going to publish it. And I don't know what I'm going to do after that. Maybe I'll try freelancing again – but I might not. I'm going to have a baby to think about. I can't travel the way that I used to. I might take an entirely different turn in my career. And it's my choice if I do. Not yours."

"I know that, Rory," said Lorelai. "I'm sorry. Really. I truly am. I was out of line. Can we go back to shopping? Or get some coffee? Have you had your daily coffee allowance?"

"And Logan is in my life," Rory continued, ignoring her mother's attempts to deescalate the conversation. She was on a roll, and she wasn't going to stop until she said everything that she needed to say. "Which means he's in your life."

"I understand that, Rory." Lorelai brought her fingertips to her temples and started rubbing in circles. She was clearly upset, and at this point she was probably more sad than angry. But, Rory wasn't going to let that stop her. This conversation was too long overdue.

"No. I don't think you do," she said. "Logan is in my life. Forever. He's not going anywhere. If things keep going well, I am probably going to marry him. He is going to know things about me before you do. His family might even know things about me before you do. You're just going to have to get used to it."

"I'm trying!"

"Well you need to try harder!" Rory yelled.

The mother and daughter sat across from each other for a moment in a tense and painful silence. Somehow, Rory had managed to prevent any eyes from flashing over to them until that very last outburst. Now, they were suddenly the center of attention of passersby heading into Starbucks and Ann Taylor and Brooks Brothers.

"What can I do, Rory?" Lorelai asked softly. "I need to know what I can do to show you that I'm trying."

"You could get to know him," she answered. "Actually know him. Not just spend a couple of evenings with him here and there while he's trying so hard to impress you that he's not even being himself. Sometimes I feel like you've never actually even met the man I'm in love with."

"Rory…" Lorelai said, again. "We've had dinners. He came to Stars Hollow that one time. We spent an entire weekend together in Martha's Vineyard…"

"You know him the way that Grandma and Grandpa knew Luke," said Rory. "Not at all."

Lorelai's face fell. For the first time, Rory felt like she might have actually gotten through to her. Her mother had probably never thought of it in those terms before. But Rory had. She always had. Lorelai's disapproval of Logan was based mostly in assumptions and unfair generalizations about who he was and what his values were. She'd never taken the time to sit down and actually asses if those assumptions were true.

The truth was she didn't know Logan. She knew pod person Logan. She knew a lobotomized version of Logan. She knew the Logan that Mitchum and Shira had trained to be charming and pleasant and polite. But she didn't really know him, not the way she knew Dean or the way that she'd come to know Jess over the last few years.

"Okay," said Lorelai. "I will get to know him. And I will promise not to pick any more fights with you in the middle of Nordstrom as long as you promise to give me some warning when you drop bombshells like that on me."

Rory took a deep breath. She didn't really feel like it had been a 'bombshell' worthy of that kind of reaction, but she didn't live in her mother's mind. Lorelai was offering her an olive branch after their little public spat. She wasn't going to bat it away.

"I can do that," she answered with a nod.

"Okay…" said Lorelai. "Are we okay?"

"We're okay."

Lorelai nodded. She turned her head to the right and glanced back over at the Starbucks that they had left just moments before. Then, she looked back at Rory. And, this time, when Lorelai reached her hand out to cover hers, Rory didn't yank it away.

"Can we do coffee now?"

"We can do coffee now," Rory answered with a nod. She'd had a little before she left the house this morning, but not enough to constitute a full helping. Plus, she definitely felt like she needed some and she wasn't about to turn it down. "Just a tall."

Lorelai seemed happy with that development. She stood up and started walking away, leaving Rory alone while she went to stand in line. Rory took the moment alone to take her phone out of her pocket. She slid the screen open and tapped her message app, landing once again on the text that Logan had sent her moments ago.

Logan

Today 12:17 PM

Honor is a go.

Today 12:34 PM

Good. Sounds like your morning went better than mine at least…

I wouldn't be so sure of that. I did get attacked by The Hulk.

What happened?

I just got into yet another fight with my mom.

You okay?

You need me to come get you?

I'm fine. We're fine.

Maybe I can guilt her into buying my dress.

Dare I ask what this one was about?

Three guesses…

…

Should I still come over there tomorrow?

Yes.

She's going to have to get used to you.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen

Sunday, April 30, 2017

"You come from parents wanton, a childhood rough and rotten. I come from wealth and beauty, untouched by work or duty. And oh, my love, my love. And oh, my love, my love. We both go down together."

"Stop it."

Rory grabbed at the hands that were gliding down her sides as they crept lower and lower toward her hips and pulled her backwards. The books she had been carefully packing into the box sitting on the bed in front of her were dropped, and for what had to be the hundredth time that morning, she found herself involuntarily distracted from the task at hand.

"Why?" a deep and gravelly voice whispered in her hear before she felt a nibble at her ear lobe. Lips started trailing down the side of her neck, stopping at the base where her neck met her shoulder and lavishing attention there. A pair of hips were pressing lewdly against her backside, and for a moment she actually had to force herself to stay strong and not give in. Still, her better judgement won out.

"You really did think that 'come over and help me pack up the pool house' was code for 'come over and have sex with me in the pool house' didn't you?"

Rory stepped forward, breaking out of the hold she had been in and walked back over to the inset bookshelves on the wall of the bedroom. Logan let out an offended breath of air as he turned to watch her continue removing books from the shelves and put his hands in his pockets.

"No…" he said, shaking his head. Rory turned around and gave him incredulous look. "Maybe…"

"Well it wasn't," Rory replied with a teasing smile as she walked back over to the edge of the bed and stacked the newly collected books into the open cardboard box.

"Come on, Ace," Logan pleaded.

He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back into him, this time with her facing him. His hands traveled down her sides again, pulling her as flush against him as he could with her belly between them. He buried his face back in her neck and continued the assault of his lips against her skin.

Rory sighed in contentment. It was getting harder and harder to resist him. And when his lips found her pulse point, she let out an involuntary moan of approval. Logan took this as an invitation. His lips traveled up to brush up against her ear again she shivered as his raspy voice whispered to her one again.

"Let me fuck you in this bed for old times' sake."

Rory almost melted at the sound of those words. A canal desire settled in the pit of her stomach, and her knees actually felt weak. She was finding it so difficult to push him away. Yet, as tempting as the idea was, and as turned on as she was, this wasn't the reason why she had asked him to come here today.

The Gilmore house was completely packed up. Boxes of unwanted items had been shipped off to Goodwill and other charitable organizations. Movers had already arrived to ship all of the items Emily was keeping to her home in Nantucket. Unwanted furniture had been sold to antique shops. She and her mother had collected all the items that they wanted to keep. The only place that remained untouched was the pool house. The infamous pool house.

It was the last place they needed to pack, and the place that they had all been avoiding. Emily and Richard had essentially avoided it for eleven years, only stepping inside once in a while to make sure that the maid was doing her job to keep the place clean. Rory avoided it because it was associated with far too many painful memories. Remembering the rift between her and her mother always filled her with a sense of pain and regret. But, over the last few years, even the happy memories she had in this little house were too much to bear. This was the house where she had fallen in love with Logan, and for the past ten years remembering those moments was entirely too painful.

Now, for the first time in a decade those memories were once again happy. She'd asked Logan to come over because she thought that going through the place together would be a fun sojourn into the world of nostalgia. She hadn't given much thought to the fact that so many of those memories were… adult in nature. But, apparently he had.

"My grandmother is in the main house as we speak," Rory replied, thinking that information would be enough to kill the mood.

"Never stopped us before…" Logan countered as his hands curved around her hips, settled over the mounds of her ass and squeezed.

"And my mother is probably going to be here any second."

Apparently, those were the magic words. Because, as soon as they fell from Rory's lips Logan's hands left her body and he was stepping away from her with a grunt of frustration. He leaned against the white dresser to the left of the bed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Wow," she said, teasingly. "All these years, and I never realized disarming you was so easy."

"I guess the thought of spending the afternoon with your mother while she's dreaming up a million different ways to murder me is kind of a boner killer."

Rory sighed. After her blow out with her mother yesterday, she knew that Lorelai would be on her best behavior today. She didn't expect anything to go terribly wrong. Even so, it was going to be tense and awkward. Having Logan and Lorelai in the same room together was always tense and awkward, even during the days when they were actually getting along. They'd almost climbed that mountain in Martha's Vineyard, but then the weekend had ended on that terrible note and things went back to square one. And now… well now there was so much underlying resentment and turmoil that Logan was more anxious to be around her than he'd ever been before. It wasn't a recipe for a pleasant afternoon.

Still, Rory was resolute in her intention to make them both get over their discomfort with each other. These were the two most important relationships in her life. She wasn't willing to sacrifice either of them. They needed to learn to like each other, or at the very least tolerate each other. And they needed to do it sooner rather than later.

Packing forgotten, she walked back over to Logan and placed her palms on his chest. She leaned into him, pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Please try to get along with my mother," she said before breaking away.

"Hey! I've always tried to get along with your mother," said Logan, defensively. "I've always been on my best behavior around your mother."

Rory chortled as she returned to her books.

"You've always been on your best behavior around my mother?" she asked, incredulously. "The first time you met my mother, we were taking each other's clothes off in the dressing room at the Windsor Club."

"That wasn't my fault," Logan countered. "You're the one who dragged me back there…"

"Oh I dragged you, did I?" Rory asked with an eye roll. If her memory served her correctly, it hadn't taken much convincing at all to get him back there. In fact, he had been quite enthusiastic about the concept.

"Hey," he said, shrugging his shoulders and holding them there as he continued his thought. "I just showed up there to spend some quality time with my wonderful doting parents and enjoy a perfectly lovely vow renewal with an open bar and a live band, and the next thing I know I'm being propositioned by some lascivious girl in a suit..."

Rory ignored him.

"And then the next time you met my mother you tried to steal my grandmother's sewing box and almost got the maid fired - "

"It was a stupid prank!" Logan interrupted, his playful tone from moments before suddenly gone. "And I didn't almost get the maid fired."

"Um… yes you absolutely did," said Rory. "You don't understand how trigger happy my grandmother is."

"I'm perfectly aware of how trigger happy your grandmother is," said Logan. "But you don't know these things work. I didn't almost get the maid fired. The maid didn't work for your grandmother. She worked for an agency - an agency that is also very aware of how trigger happy your grandmother is. Worst case scenario, she would have been let go from here and placed a new household by Monday – a household that probably would have treated her better than Emily Gilmore ever did in the first place. So really… when you think about it… I was actually doing her a favor."

"Is that how you live with yourself?" Rory asked, her eyebrow raised and her eyes boring into his, Logan's eyes glanced to the right, breaking contact with her, and he started shaking his head.

"Okay, fine," he said. "I was a little twenty-two year old prick. Are you happy?"

"So happy…" she said, walking over to him and placing yet another chaste kiss on his lips.

She really was.

The years that Logan had spent in California severed from his family's fortune really had changed him. He hadn't become a completely different person. He was still materialistic and more flippant with money that most people she knew. But, having spent a limited amount of his life living as a mere mortal, this newer older Logan was a little bit more in touch with the realities of the world than the Logan she had been with in college.

He was more practical with his money these days – more discerning with the ways that he spent it. He was far less likely to gamble it away and invest it in anything without thorough research and consideration. And, more importantly, he was far more in touch with what it meant to live an average working class life in America.

Logan had never been rude to the middle or working class people in his life. In fact, he'd always been polite and friendly. But, underneath the surface level of pleasantness there had always been a subtle level of condescension. It had been what had initially turned her off of him the first time they'd met – the way that he'd managed to make Marty feel completely inferior to him while he was complimenting his ability to make a margarita. It was as if he wanted credit for being so benevolent to the 'little people.'

She'd been able to look past it because as she got to know Logan, she realized that he never actively meant to be condescending to people. He was more clueless than careless. And, for the most part, when she pointed those behaviors out to him he made an genuine effort to change. But, no amount of her pointing them out could ever compare to him actually living a period of his life paycheck to paycheck. It had been the harsh reality check he needed.

He still had his moments. Like the look of sheer disgust and horror he'd given her when he found out she'd been flying coach to and from London. Or the way that he still refused to even step foot inside of an Applebee's or a Chilis or any other mid-priced chain restaurant. And the fact that he looked at an off-the-rack suit like most people would look at a burlap sack. But, overall he had gotten better - or at least better at keeping his more snobbish opinions to himself.

She hoped that maybe her mother might see that change in him.

"And then…" she continued. "The third time you spoke to my mother was on the phone after we stole - "

"Okay, fine," Logan conceded. "Your mom and I didn't get off to a good start. But in my defense… every time after that I was nothing but a perfect gentleman around your mother. I've only ever wanted her to like me."

"I know," Rory assured, looking into his eyes sympathetically. She kissed him again. "And she will. You just need to get to know each other."

Logan hummed, still not entirely convinced.

Rory returned to the shelf. She reached above her head and grabbed yet another handful of books to add the collection she'd been placing in the box. This time, she didn't even bother to look at them before she placed them inside, causing Logan to raise an eyebrow.

"Are you really going to keep every single one of these books?" he asked. Rory looked over at him, baffled as to why he would even ask such a question.

"Most of these books are mine," she said. "I just never came back to get them after I moved out because I didn't have the shelf space for them anyway and they would have just sat in boxes."

Logan grabbed the book on the top of the stack that was currently in her arms and held it in front of her face. He raised an eyebrow at her, and Rory tried to grab it back, but he pulled away too quickly.

"You need to keep the 2003 edition of The AP Stylebook?" he asked.

"Hey! That book served me very well! I have a lot of good memories with that book," Rory defended. "That book got me through my first year at The Daily News, thank you very much. What am I supposed to do? Just throw it in the trash after all of that?"

"You do know the book doesn't have feelings right?" Logan asked. Rory glowered at him.

"It's nostalgic," she said, reaching forward and firmly grabbing it from his hand. She maintained eye contact with him as she placed it in the box. Logan could only shake his head.

"We're going to need an entire library wing in our house to hold all of your books, aren't we?" he asked.

His tone was light and playful, but the feeling that settled over Rory at the sound of those words was anything but. To her, they were thick and heavy with implication. Hearing Logan casually allude to their future together always filled her with a certain heaviness. She still couldn't entirely wrap her head around the fact that it was real – that he was actually standing here talking so casually about their future together.

For ten years she had accepted that the idea of a future with Logan was nothing more than a fantasy. It was a hypothetical 'what if' that she used to think about when she was feeling particularly masochistic or unsatisfied. What if she had said yes? Where would they be living? What would they be doing? Would they have kids? Would they have a dog? She never thought that a day would come when those hypothetical fantasies would become tangible realities. And, yet, here she was.

Logan was standing next to her talking about their future as if it was a given. He was talking about their future home as if it was a certainty – not a vague possibility or a hypothetical fantasy. She was so happy. But, it had all happened so fast that sometimes she still felt like she needed to get her bearings.

"I expect nothing short of Trinity College," she replied. Logan chuckled. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her temple as he wrapped his arms around her from the side and rested his hand on her belly.

"I'm afraid even my bank account has its limits," he replied. "But I'll see what I can do."

Rory smiled as she relaxed for a moment in his embrace. She turned her head to the side and placed one more kiss to his lips, this one lingering a little longer than the quick pecks she had given him before.

"You know what you can do right now?" she said as she pulled away slightly. Logan's arms tightened around her and his lips found the bottom of her jaw.

"Hmm?" he purred in her ear.

"You can start packing up the shelves in the entertainment center."

Logan let out a massive sigh as he broke away from her and started walking toward the main living area of the pool house through the bedroom door.

"You know when I agreed to be your willing slave today, this isn't exactly what I had in mind," he said as he went. Rory rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she couldn't keep her lips from curling upward in amusement. Thankfully, he couldn't see her.

"Well I've got bad news for you, mister. Cause there's gonna be a lot of boxes to pack into Luke's truck, and I have an iron clad excuse to sit on my butt and eat bon bons while I watch you carry them all yourself."

"You say that as if things would be different if you weren't pregnant," Logan called from the living room.

Rory couldn't really argue that point. He was probably right. Sitting around and watching Logan do manual labor was always an entertaining way to spend the day. It was also how she knew that Logan's performance of laziness and foot-dragging wasn't actually genuine. They'd played this game too many times. He would pretend to be put out all day, and then she would reward him for his 'sacrifice' later on.

The truth was that Logan was happy to be here. He'd been happy since the moment they walked through the door and were assaulted by the lime green kitchen back splash, the bright yellow curtains hanging from the windows, and white and pink stripes of the couch that they'd spent so much time on.

That couch held so many memories, and not just salacious ones. It was where Rory had introduced Logan to the wonders of Mystery Science Theater 3000, and he'd told her that Crow and Tom Servo had nothing on her and her mother when it came to their mocking capabilities. And it was where Logan had introduced her to Arrested Development, and she'd told him that Lucille Bluth had nothing on his mother when it came to day drinking and cold hearted snobbery.

It was also where they stayed up late into the night having the first really deep conversations of their relationship. It was where Logan had first opened up about the depth of his resentment for his father and the overwhelming feelings of inadequacy that haunted him every time he was reminded of the legacy that he had to live up to. It was the place where Rory had told him about the extent of her childhood poverty, how she and her mother had lived in a shed for the first years of her life, and how those experiences formed the incredibly close bond that existed between them.

It was where she had spent time actually getting to know Colin and Finn. This was the place where they had gone from being her boyfriends' friends to being her friends. It was where she learned that underneath Colin's snobbish and dismissive exterior was a person who was introspective and fiercely loyal to his friends. It was where she learned that beyond Finn's colorful and capricious personality was a person who was artistic and open-minded and had a unique gift for cheering people up.

It was where she and Logan had woken up one morning after the first time after they'd spent the night together without having sex. He'd gotten into a fight with his father and they got drunk together while watching The Twilight Zone. He'd opened up to her about the definition of true love, and they'd fallen asleep in front of the television while he ran his fingers through her hair.

It was where she had said the words to him out loud for the first time. And where he had, in his own emotionally stunted way, let her know how important she was to him and how much he cared for her by not responding in kind before he was ready.

That couch is where they'd fallen in love.

She knew that Logan felt the same way. That's why it had been so easy to convince him to come over here today despite the prospect of hard work and awkward conversations with her mother. He was happy to be here. He was just as happy to be taking this walk down memory lane as she was – even if he wouldn't admit that in so many words.

"This is my Modest Mouse CD, you thief!" she heard him shout from the entertainment center. "And my New Pornographers CD. And my Decemberists CD!"

"It's not my fault you're careless with your things, and you left them here!" Rory replied with a smile. "And that Decemberists CD is definitely mine."

Logan continued to argue, but Rory paid him no mind. It was her CD. She distinctly remembered Lane giving her that CD on one of her trips to Stars Hollow. She also distinctly remembered introducing Logan to The Decemberists for the first time with that CD. But, if he wanted to remember it as his, then she would let him.

In the end, the difference between his and hers didn't really matter that much anymore.

A few seconds later, the sound of Logan's arguing was drowned out by the sound of The Infanta playing from the stereo, and Rory smiled for the hundredth time that morning.

Lorelai took a deep steadying breath.

It had been ten years since she found herself frozen in this same spot, peering through the windows of her parents' pool house while she watched her only daughter stack her books on the shelves. She would never forget the feeling that had come over her while she watched. It was a feeling of helplessness and failure, colored by the bone-chilling fear that she was losing her daughter forever – losing her to her mother and her father and… Logan Huntzberger.

Now, eleven years later, she was standing in the same spot, paralyzed once again as she watched the same Logan Huntzberger clearing her daughter's books from those very shelves. The feeling was settling over her once again – the feeling that she was losing her, that Logan Huntzberger was taking her away. And, yet, this time around, Lorelai knew that she didn't have any right to feel that way.

She wasn't proud of the way she'd been feeling and acting lately. In fact, she hated that after forty-nine years of life, several sessions of therapy, and a spiritual pilgrimage that lasted weeks, she was still capable of such irrational selfishness. She didn't own Rory. She knew she didn't own Rory. Rory was her own woman and an intelligent and capable one at that.

But there was still a part of her that saw Rory as her little girl. She was hers – hers to nurture, hers to protect, hers to support, hers to love more than anyone else, hers to know better than anyone else. Try as she might, it was hard to let go of that.

Lorelai had always known that watching Rory grow up and start her own family was going to be a bittersweet part of her life. As much as she wanted her daughter to grow up and find happiness on her own terms, she also knew that Rory starting her own family would mean the end of their own tiny, close knit, and undeniably unique family unit. She'd known it was going to be difficult to ever let Rory go the moment she'd been born. But at sixteen, she thought she had all the time in the world before that happened. She had foolishly underestimated how fast it would come to pass.

It was hard. It would have been a little hard no matter who Rory had chosen to start a life with, but the fact that it was Logan made it even harder.

Lorelai didn't hate Logan. She knew that Rory thought otherwise, and she couldn't really blame her for feeling that way. She'd done a bad job at showing it. But, the reality was that she thought Logan was an okay guy. She didn't like how privileged he was, and she didn't like how reckless and irresponsible he'd been once upon a time. But, over the years that he and Rory were together, he'd grown on her. She'd eventually realized what Rory had seen in him. He was smart, witty, fun, polite. He always seemed to genuinely love Rory – to the point where it concerned Lorelai considering how young they both were.

Logan himself was never really the issue. If she'd met him in any other context, she probably wouldn't have had a problem with him at all. What Lorelai always had a hard time coming to terms with was the way that Rory acted when she was around Logan. From the moment that she'd climbed out of that limo in her front yard, it felt like Logan was turning her daughter into an entirely different person. She started partying. She got a criminal record. She dropped out of Yale. She joined the DAR. She started cooking. She carried a Birkin Bag and casually wore diamond jewelry. She considered getting married at twenty-two years old.

And now… well now they were going through it all over again. Logan had somehow waltzed back into her daughter's life three years ago and it was happening again. Rory was accepting nepotistic favors from men like Mitchum Huntzberger. She was taking a break from her career in journalism and going in another direction. She's consented to having an affair with an engaged man.

And, yet, what made it even more complicated this time around was that she was starting to realize that Rory's behavior wasn't all that out of character at all. Logan wasn't the first man she'd had an affair with, and the first had been so much worse. At least Logan wasn't actually married. And she might be pivoting away from journalism into another direction, but she was still writing. She was writing a book, and there was nothing Rory loved more than books.

She'd been up almost all night reflecting on that realization. That combined with the comment Rory had made about how little she actually knew Logan had entirely thrown her. But, Rory was right. She'd made so many assumptions about Logan and about Rory's relationship with Logan all those years ago that she didn't actually know were true. She really knew next to nothing about their relationship.

It made her start to wonder if her behavior all those years ago had really been that out of character either. Maybe there was just a part of Rory that Lorelai didn't understand – a part of her that Logan did.

It was an unsettling thought, but she was going to have to find out. It wasn't going to be easy. She was going to have to swallow her pride and eat a lot of crow – something that Lorelai was definitely not good at doing. She was also going to have to build up the courage to walk into that house and face Logan with her daughter nowhere in sight.

But, there was no time like the present, and Lorelai was never one to shrink away from conflict. Breaking out of her frozen state, she walked over to the door and stepped inside her parents' pool house for the first time since their separation in 2004. Unfortunately, Lorelai had never been known for her graceful and demure entrances.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing with those books?!" she asked, bursting into the room with a playful accusation.

Apparently, that was not the best way to handle her first interaction with Logan since the last time she'd been to her mother's house. He turned around and looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights or a criminal caught red handed. Of course he had no idea she was kidding. Why would he? The last time they'd spoken, the accusations she'd thrown at him had been anything but playful. Lorelai wanted to smack her head against the white brick wall for being so stupid.

"Oh… um…" he placed the book that had just been in his hand back on the shelf.

"I'm joking!" Lorelai said with a nervous laugh.

"Right."

"Sorry."

"No… it's okay - "

"I brought you some pie!" Lorelai said, a little too enthusiastically. She held the pink cardboard box from Westin's aloft between them before walking over to the bright green kitchen counter and setting it down. Logan's eyebrow twitched in confusion and his mouth popped open.

"Oh. Um… thanks?" he replied. Things were already getting off to a rough start. He was confused, understandably so. He was no doubt suffering from some emotional whiplash over the way she'd barged in feigning antagonism and switched so quickly to cheerfully offering him pastry. She knew she was trying too hard, coming on too strong, but she couldn't help it.

"Yeah… you know…" she said with a shrug, trying and failing to sound more aloof. "We've bonded over pie before so I thought - "

"Right!"

Recognition suddenly flashed in Logan's eyes. He seemed to get his bearings back at that moment. He looked relieved at least, remembering the time that they had stayed up in the kitchen of her house late at night and talked over a couple pieces of pie. That was the most time she'd ever spent talking to Logan alone – the only time she'd ever spent talking to Logan alone about something other than Rory. And it had only been about twenty minutes.

God, Rory was so right. She didn't know him at all. If she did, this might not be so painfully awkward.

"It's from Westin's," she offered.

"Sounds great."

"I hope you like cherry."

"Hey, it's been so long since I've had pie without meat in it, I'd be happy with just about anything."

"Good, that's good," said Lorelai.

The silent air hung between them thicker than an August afternoon in Fort Lauderdale. Neither one of them knew what to say. Logan was most likely feeling as if he was walking on egg shells around her, and she wasn't exactly sure how to broach the conversation she knew she needed to have with him.

"So… um…" she started. She supposed there was no point in beating around the bush. The sooner she got it out the sooner they could get on with this day. "I'm sorry about… the other day when I…"

"Oh…" Logan said, his tone dismissive. He placed his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. "It's okay -"

"It's not," said Lorelai. "I was way out of line."

"Oh well - "

"It was just… you know…"

Lorelai could feel the word vomit creeping up her esophagus at an unparalleled rate. She was inwardly begging her mouth to close. But as was often the case in her life, she seemed to have lost all faculty over her vocal chords. They were acting of their own volition.

"Rory was crying on the bathroom floor, and I can't stand to see Rory hurt. Whenever Rory is hurting I kind of turn into Shirley McClain from Terms of Endearment. You know…'give my daughter the shot!' Except it was more like… 'you're a womanizing asshole who's ruining her life!'"

Lorelai only stopped speaking when an uncomfortable and forced laugh escaped her lips. Logan was looking at her with pursed lips and raised eyebrows, obviously trying to gauge how on Earth he was supposed to react to her 'apology.' She couldn't blame the kid. She wouldn't know how to react either.

"I don't actually think that you're a womanizing asshole who's ruining her life," Lorelai cleared her throat. "Just for clarification."

Logan was nodding at her. His brows were still raised and his eyes were wide. She couldn't help but be reminded of the twenty-one year old kid she'd met all those years ago in the dressing room at The Windsor Club. He'd stood there that night looking so much like he did now, having faced down an unsolicited and unparalleled amount of crazy from the family of the girl that he liked just for making out with her at a vow renewal.

Now… twelve years later he was still doing the same thing. He was still looking at her with the same look of discomfort, chagrin, and embarrassment. Still worrying about how Rory's family felt about him. Still sticking around in spite of all of it.

She had to at least give him credit for that. Logan always seemed to stick around in spite of all of it.

"Well… thanks. I think," said Logan. "And I guess I can understand where you're coming from. I don't like seeing Rory hurt either."

Lorelai actually felt a pang in her heart at those words. This kid, for all his faults, really did love her daughter – maybe almost as much as she did.

Another silence fell between them. The tension seemed to have thinned slightly, but it was still uncomfortable. It was going to take a lot more than one apology and a cherry pie to completely mend all of the tears in their relationship. But, Lorelai at least felt like it wasn't an completely lost cause. It was the first step of a long journey.

"Did you want the pie now?" Logan asked, putting an end to the quiet. He pointed to the box and then to the cabinet to the left of the sink. "Cause I can get us some plates…"

"You don't need to play host here, Logan," Lorelai said with a laugh. "I lived here for seventeen years."

"Right. Of course," he responded, shaking his head. He swayed back and forth a bit on his feet, and Lorelai could tell that he was feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Though, you probably spent more time in here than I ever did."

"Oh… I doubt that's true."

It was true. Lorelai knew it was true. She's barely ever stepped foot inside this pool house. And Lorelai had also seen her father turn into a catatonic pile of mush over just how much time he'd let Rory and Logan spend in this pool house together. Though, she didn't really want to think about that too much. It might make her start to worry about whether or not she wanted to sit on that couch… or if she should even keep that pie on the kitchen counter.

She knew that Rory and Logan's history in this little house was extensive and important. She'd heard the story about the rocket. She'd heard about his friend's milk maid. She'd heard about her father dragging Logan into the main house and scaring him to death over a night cap. There were a lot of little stories that Lorelai had come to hear over the years. But, her rift with Rory at the time still made it the period of her daughter's life that was shrouded in the most mystery.

For the most part she liked to keep it that way. She still wasn't comfortable with the turn that Rory's life had taken at that time. She didn't like to remember how she'd almost given up on her dreams, and how close she'd come to not finishing school. And she didn't like to think about the fact that Logan had always seemed perfectly okay with it.

"Hey!" a voice suddenly sounded from the direction of the bedroom. Lorelai turned her head to the left and saw her daughter walking into the living room wearing a pair of black leggings and Yale t-shirt. It was exactly what she needed to see to remind herself that none of her worries had come to pass.

Seeing Rory was filling her with a profound sense of relief, and the t-shirt wasn't the only reason for it. She didn't know how much longer she was going to be able to keep a conversation going alone with Logan, and Rory bursting in was the long awaited rescue she needed. She'd never been happier to be made a third wheel in her life.

"Hey, preggo!" she cheered. "How 'ya feeling?"

"I'm okay," Rory answered with a shrug. "My feet are already starting to hurt though. How are things…out here?"

Lorelai and Logan cast a slightly panicked glance at each other. It seemed neither one of them wanted to let Rory know just exactly how awkward and uncomfortable the last couple minutes had been. Lorelai was about to chime in with a light and pithy response when Logan beat her to the punch.

"Great," he said. Lorelai had to swallow an uncomforatable laugh. "We were just talking about… Terms of Endearment."

For the look that Rory gave him, Logan might as well have said that they were out here talking about booking a months long cruise around the world together. Rory's mouth popped open and her head cocked to the side.

"Like…Shirley McClain?"

"Yep," Logan answered before clearing his throat. "Great movie."

"You've seen Terms of Endearment?" Rory asked, clearly not believing a word of what Logan was saying to her. But, he held strong.

"Of course. Tons of times."

"Okay…" Rory conceded, entirely unconvinced. As she looked over at Lorelai, her eyes landed on the pink box sitting on the kitchen counter behind her and the confusion and doubt that had been marring her features moments before was replaced with sheer joy.

"Is that pie from Westin's?!" Before Lorelai could even answer, Rory was running to the silverware drawer and yanking out a fork. "What kind is it?"

"It's cherry," said Lorelai.

"Oh my god. That sounds so good," Rory gushed as she popped open the lid and gazed down at the dessert ravenously.

"Hey!" said Logan. He walked around the kitchen island and came up behind her, snatching the fork out of her hand. "Excuse me, ma'am. That pie is mine."

Rory looked absolutely outraged.

"Excuse me, sir!" she said as she shot her arm out and started fighting for her fork back as Logan pulled it away. "I am incubating your child."

"So?" Logan asked with a smirk.

"Let me put this in terms that you might understand…" Rory continued. "Upon impregnating me, you relinquished a significant portion of your stake in this pie to our child. And, considering the fact that my uterus is the current custodian of said child, I think you will find that I am now the majority shareholder of this pie."

"Is that so?"

"Yes…" said Rory. "That means I call the shots. I'm afraid you're just a figurehead at this point. A face we roll out for continuity's sake."

Lorelai stood back as she watched Logan and Rory fight over the pie and the fork and everything in-between. It reminded her of the time they'd spent together at the Vineyard. They'd been so good together then, flirtatious and bantery and playful. She remembered feeling jealous of them considering how strained things between her and Luke had been at the time. She also remembered Rory telling her that she thought of Logan as 'the one' and all of the heavy feelings that had come with that statement.

At the time it frightened her. Rory was too young to be thinking in those terms. She hadn't even graduated college yet. But looking back, it was undeniable how happy Logan had made her at the time. In fact, in all these years she hadn't seen Rory that happy ever again… until right now.

Apparently, Logan was still 'the one.'

And if that meant that Rory was truly happy again for the first time in ten years… well then Lorelai was just going to have to get used to that.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen

Sunday, April 30, 2017 – Part II

"It is 2017 and we are living in the golden age of lying. Now's the time to be a liar, and Donald Trump is Liar and Chief. And remember, you guys are public enemy number one. You are his biggest enemy. Journalists. Isis. Normal length ties. And somehow… you're the bad guys."

Rory was on her second piece of pie. She'd been sitting on the couch for the last few minutes. Her plate was balancing on her stomach, and her aching sock covered feet were propped up on the coffee table. Logan, as had been the case all morning, was having a hard time focusing on his work. He was finding it impossible to focus on anything but her.

At first, it had been because walking through these doors had made him (and his libido) feel like he was twenty-two years old again. But, now, something else was keeping his eyes glued to Rory. He couldn't get over how beautiful she looked.

Logan had been with his fair share of beautiful women. They'd flocked to him since the moment he'd hit puberty. It was the natural result of what most people might consider winning the hereditary lottery. The DNA making up his genetic code had made him the heir of a multi-million dollar fortune, provided him with a strong gift for socialization, and had come together to bless him with a thick head of hair, a handsome face, and an athletic build. He'd never wanted for female attention, and when he was younger it was never difficult for him to walk out of a party with the most beautiful girl in the room.

Rory was beautiful as well. She always had been. But there was something about her beauty that was different than the women that Logan had been with in the past. She'd never been a voluptuous Jessica Rabbit type or even a striking model-like Gigi Hadid type. Rory was something else entirely. There was something natural about her beauty. She had curves but not huge ones. She was thin but not a size two. She was tall but not leggy. There was something understated about her beauty – elegant, effortless.

Rory was almost more beautiful to him when she didn't put in any effort at all. When they had first met each other, that hadn't exactly been the case. Logan had always thought that she was pretty, but it was when he saw her in that blue ball gown and made up for her grandparents' vow renewal that he realized how stunning she could be. And, yet, as time went on and their relationship got more serious it started to change.

He started to find her so much more beautiful in every day moments. He started to think she looked even more breathtaking waking up in his bed in the morning than she did when she went to sleep the night before. She looked so much nicer dressed in his shirts and baggy sweatshirts than she did in the tailor made gowns or short skirts she would wear to nice occasions. She was so much sexier to him leaning over a pile of books with her hair up in a haphazard bun and no make-up on than she was perfectly coiffed and put together.

Of course, Rory was stunning when she tried to be. She could be so stunning that it could literally render him speechless. It had when he'd seen her in that red dress in Hamburg for the first time in seven years. But it was moments like the one that he was in right now that really reminded him how beautiful she could be.

Maybe he was biased. Maybe his cave man brain was fried from the pheromones and testosterone coursing through him at the sight of her pregnant belly and the knowledge that he'd done that to her. Maybe it was the rush of their relationship being new and exciting all over again. Maybe it was that he was feeling luckier and happier than he had in ten years because she was back in his life again – for good.

Whatever the reason, Rory sitting on that pink and white couch gorging herself on cherry pie with her hair tied in a pony tail, no make-up on, a baggy old t-shirt covering her round stomach, and a pair of mismatched socks on her feet, was perhaps the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. And he didn't want to take his eyes off of her.

"Stop looking at me like that," said Rory through a mouthful of pastry.

"Like what?" Logan asked. The blood rushed to his face, afraid that he'd gotten caught starting at her in front of her mother.

"Like you're judging me for eating all this pie."

Logan laughed. As if he would ever judge Rory on her eating habits. If he was the kind of guy who judged women on their eating habits, they would have never made it past their first date. In fact, Rory's ability to eat almost twice as much as he did, work out half as often as he did, and still not gain any weight amazed him to this day. It was something that should be studied. He only hoped that their children inherited the Gilmore metabolism. It was clearly far superior to the Huntzberger one.

"I know better than to judge a Gilmore's eating habits," he reminded. "That being said, I do hope you save some pie for me."

"No promises," said Rory. "You know what this is making me crave though?"

"Hmm?"

"That blueberry crumble cupcake from…" Rory trailed off and furrowed her brown in thought. "Oh my gosh, I'm totally blanking. Stupid pregnancy brain…"

"Peggy Porschen?" Logan asked.

"Peggy Porschen!" Rory cheered, raising her fork in the air in triumph. "Ugh. So good."

"What's Peggy Porschen?" Lorelai asked.

A strange look passed over Rory's face at her mother's question. She looked almost chagrined, as if she had been caught doing something wrong. Logan supposed it made sense. He couldn't imagine that Rory and Lorelai talked all that much about their meet ups in London. She'd hid the fact that it was even happening from her mother for so long, much longer than Rory usually hid anything from Lorelai. It was only natural that she kept the details to a minimum to this day.

She was uncomfortable, and her discomfort was making him uncomfortable. But, as much as both of them would rather push the reality of their current history under the rug, they couldn't avoid it forever. They'd had an affair in London. She'd gotten pregnant because of it. No matter of avoiding the subject would change that.

"It's um," Rory started. "This really good cake shop that was a couple blocks from Logan's apartment in London."

"Oh," said Lorelai. The jovial nonchalance in her tone was a little too forced to be genuine. Apparently, Lorelai was uncomfortable with the reminder of the London situation as well. Though, Rory, to her credit, barreled through.

"Speaking of your apartment," she said, turning her attention back to Logan. "Any news on that front? Do you still have one? Or did she set it on fire and throw your television and your Switch out the window?"

"I really hope not," said Logan. "I just got all four Divine Beasts…"

"Is that your little… elf dude?" asked Rory. "What's his name? Zelda?"

"Link," said Logan, firmly. "His name is Link. Zelda is the princess. And he's not an elf. He's a Hylian."

"Wow," Lorelai said with a laugh. This time, it sounded far more genuine. "Logan's a nerd!"

"Okay…" he said, blushing. He turned his attention back to the shelf in front of him, throwing a handful of DVDs into a box marked for donations.

"Quick!" Lorelai continued. "We all need to know! Which is better? Star Trek or Star Wars?"

Logan opened his mouth to form a cutting response, but he was interrupted by his girlfriend's mother once again.

"Wait!" she said, holding up the frying pan she had pulled out of one of the kitchen cabinets up in the air like a stop sign. "Don't answer that. We need to get Luke here for that debate! You know he has opinions."

"Just ignore her," said Rory, looking him in the eye. "I really would like to know what's going on with your place."

Logan sighed. He would much rather let her mother tease him about his more nerd like tendencies for the rest of the afternoon, but if Rory really wanted to know the gritty details, then he could provide them to her. Although, he had to admit that saying the 'O' word around her mother was making him nervous.

"Well, I got a call from Odette's sister a couple days ago saying she'd moved the last of her things back to Paris along with a few more colorful words and insights," he said.

He wasn't going to say this to Rory, but he had actually been a bit upset that Odette hadn't called him herself. He'd been hoping to speak to her one last time. He hadn't wanted to leave things the way they had been left at his parent's house that morning. She'd been so angry and hurt, and he was hoping that after some time they might be able to have an actual conversation. He wanted her to know that he'd never wanted to hurt her. That he did care about her even if he couldn't bring himself to fully love her.

Yet, apparently, Odette never wanted to see or speak to him again. In the end, he supposed it was what he deserved. After all, talking to her again wouldn't accomplish anything but to ease his guilt. And maybe he deserved to feel guilty. She didn't owe him her forgiveness. She didn't owe him anything. If the last memories he had of her were her screaming at him in betrayal and anger and her sister calling him a disgusting waste of a human being, then maybe he would just have to live with that.

"And I asked Anna to arrange getting all the things I want to keep packed and shipped over this week. And then I guess we'll put the place on the market."

"Sad," said Rory with a frown.

It was kind of sad. Logan really liked that apartment. He liked it so much better than his first London flat at any rate. When he'd moved into this apartment, he'd actually been excited about returning to the UK. He didn't have a girlfriend waiting for him at home that he was missing dreadfully. He wasn't overwhelmed with working his first ever job. He wasn't under the same amount pressure from his Dad. All in all he just felt much more… independent. That apartment had been the start of a new phase of his life in an entirely different way.

He had a lot of good memories there. He'd made new friendships and rekindled his old ones with Bobbie, Nick, and Phillip in that apartment. It had been his first real bachelor pad. It was the first place he'd really lived the life of a successful and unattached adult. It was entirely his. He'd dated there. He'd partied there. He'd done a fair share of his job there.

It was small but nice. Masculine but homey. Decorated but uncluttered. It was the perfect balance of traditional architecture and modern interior design. It was perfectly placed, only a couple minutes' walk from the Sloane Square tube station and an even shorter walk to his favorite sports pub.

He loved that apartment. He loved the time he'd spent alone in that apartment. He loved the memories he had with Rory in that apartment. The only thing that tainted it now was the phantom of Odette. And, unfortunately, that was enough to make him not want to go back there.

"You know, I was kind of surprised to hear you were back in London," said Lorelai. "Working for your dad…"

Logan turned to look at Lorelai. He was suddenly finding himself defensive. Although, judging by her face and the fact that she was still busying herself by packing up the pots and pans, it didn't seem like she'd meant to be confrontational. Still, he couldn't help but detect a slight bit of judgement in her voice.

"The last time we talked it seemed like you'd rather die than ever work for him again. I guess I thought you'd still be in California."

"Mom…" Rory said, warningly. She was shooting Lorelai an unhappy glance.

"What?" Lorelai asked. "I guess I'm just curious about what happened there…"

"Well…" said Logan. He tried to keep the edge out of his voice, knowing that Lorelai most likely wasn't implying that he'd come running back to this father because he had no other options. But, the subject had been a sore spot of his for as long as he could remember. Logan didn't like it when people accused him of being a daddy's boy. Especially when the opposite was true. Especially when it was the woman that was likely to be his mother-in-law in a couple years' time.

"The company that hired me back in '07 signed me on as COO and gave me a 5% stake after I helped secure a pretty substantial investment. It was enough to get us up and operating in an actual office environment and start generating a profit. And then Facebook starting eyeing one of our software patents and offered us a bear hug offer that we would have been stupid to refuse. So we sold for a quarter billion."

"Oh…" said Lorelai, eyes wide. "Wow. A quarter billion that's… that's a lot of money."

"It's not Instagram, but it's nothing to spit at."

Logan cringed. Of all the ways to respond to that comment, he had to choose the exact words that his father had spoken to him after receiving the news. Leave it to Mitchum to subtly implant undercutting compliments in his subconscious.

"Anyway…" he continued. "Shortly after we sold, my grandfather died. Some things changed around in the company, and my dad called me asking if I might consider coming back because they were in need of a younger person who understood digital and social media. I thought about it for a while and decided to do it."

"That's… that's great, Logan," said Lorelai.

"I wasn't backed into a corner or anything…" he said. "If that's what you were worried about."

"Oh!" said Lorelai. "No. That's not…"

"I'm in a much better position now then I was then," he continued. "I was actually able to negotiate terms. I'm on the board now. I own more shares. And then they announced my takeover as COO last year at my uncle's retirement party."

"Sounds like California was good for you," said Lorelai with a light smile.

"It was," Logan replied. "I got my MBA. I made some money. There just wasn't anything keeping me there anymore. I didn't have a business to run anymore. I wasn't interested in becoming a venture capitalist, and I had just broken up with my girlfriend. Plus, I guess time and distance made me realize that I actually do care about the family business. It's got my name on it, after all. I want it to do well."

"Of course," said Lorelai. "I hope you didn't think that I was insinuating…"

"Oh," Logan interrupted, waving her concerns away. He had. But, it was probably in the best of both of their interests to pretend otherwise. "No. Not at all. Don't worry about it."

"I gotta say…" Lorelai started.

Logan looked over to her again, nervous about what she was going to say next. He'd hoped that his final words would be the end of the conversation. He'd much rather leave this conversation on a peaceful if slightly awkward note than have Lorelai put her foot in her mouth once again. It was going to be a lot easier to live up the promise he'd made to get along with her if she didn't accidently insult him every five minutes.

"I'm kind of proud of you, actually."

Whatever Logan was expecting, that hadn't been it. He paused his work for a moment, and studied her. Lorelai had already turned her attention back to clearing out the kitchen cabinets and clearly thought that the words that came out of her mouth weren't all that important or meaningful. Clearly she didn't realize that Logan could count on one hand the number of times he'd heard those words from his own parents in his life. The last place he expected to hear them coming from was the mouth of Lorelai Gilmore.

He looked over at Rory. She was sitting frozen, just as surprised at he was, with her fork perched in-between her lips. Her eyebrows raised at him, and her lips curled up in a smile.

"I remember when we were standing in my kitchen and you were talking to me about the digital marketplace and I looked at you like you were growing a second head. But.. clearly I was wrong about that one, and you were ahead of the game. You've really done well for yourself. It may not have seemed like it at the time, but I was rooting for you, you know. I was always rooting for you. Even after you broke up. I always wanted you to do well."

"Um…" Logan cleared his throat. "Thanks, Lorelai. That… that means a lot."

"Your dad must be proud of you too," she continued. "If he asked you to come back."

Logan took a deep breath. He had to admit that his dad was probably proud of him… in his own way. But, Mitchum wasn't the kind to overtly demonstrate fatherly pride. Saying the words out loud might compromise whatever psychological control he still had over Logan's emotions, and that wasn't acceptable. Still, there were plenty of little things about his relationship with his father over the years that implied things had changed.

"Uh… yeah. I guess," Logan replied. "But, you know, Mitchum is Mitchum. We get along a lot better this days. But, we're not booking a Disney cruise together any time soon or anything."

Lorelai laughed.

"Yeah," she said with a nod. "Yeah. I know exactly what you mean."

Lorelai probably did know exactly what he meant. And, perhaps appropriately, the mutual sources of their empathy for each other chose that exact moment to make their presences known. For the third time in the last half hour, the phone in Logan's pocket buzzed and his father's name flashed across the screen.

He chose to ignore the call once again. Whatever Mitchum needed to talk about couldn't be that important. It was a Sunday afternoon after all, and it wasn't as if his father had been in the office. In fact, Logan was pretty sure he was about to get on a plane home from DC any second. This also happened pretty much every year after the Correspondents' Dinner. Mitchum would make the trek to DC, put in an appearance at the most important press event of the year, and spend the next day ranting and raving to Logan as he planned his revenge against whoever made some stupid innocuous comment to him over drinks. He didn't feel the need to participate at this particular moment in time.

On the other side of the room, Emily Gilmore was walking through the French doors. A cordless phone was pressed against her ear and loud and no doubt very fake laugh was falling from her lips as she stepped inside. They all turned to look at her as she entered, wondering why she'd chosen to walk into the pool house in the middle of a conversation.

"Well we'll just have to get lunch before I leave for Nantucket," Emily said into the receiver.

She paused for a moment as the person on the other side of the conversation began talking. She uttered some monosyllabic responses as the conversation continued on. Logan, Lorelai, and Rory all glanced at each other. Lorelai rolled her eyes and shrugged before returning to her task. Logan and Rory followed her lead, Logan starting to pack again and Rory returning to her pie.

"The Club sounds wonderful. It's been so long since I've been there," Emily continued before pausing again. "I'm looking forward to it, Shira."

The hairs on the back of Logan's neck stood up at attention. He dropped what he was doing and every muscle in his body went absolutely rigid. Why on Earth was his mother calling Emily Gilmore?

"Anyway," said Emily. "I have Logan right here. Yes, it was nice talking to you as well. Bye now."

Emily lowered the phone from her ear and placed her hand on the mouth piece before walking over to Logan and holding it out to him.

"Your mother wants to speak to you," she said.

Logan cast a quick concerned glance at Rory who returned his expression with a matching one of her own. Then, realizing he couldn't leave Emily or his mother hanging, he grabbed the phone and pressed it against his ear. As he opened his mouth to greet his mother, he did his best to hide the irritation in his voice. He couldn't believe that she was calling him on his girlfriend's grandmother's landline as if it was 1995 and he was thirteen years old again.

"Mom?" he asked. "What are you - "

"Why are you ignoring your father's calls?!" Shira screeched into his ear. Apparently, the pleasantries she had exchanged with Emily were over.

"I'm a little busy right now, Mom," Logan said, thinking that it should be explanation enough. "I don't know what he has to say that can't possibly wait until he gets home."

"What do you mean you don't know what he could possibly have to say?!" asked Shira. "Are you watching the news?!"

"No, I'm not watching the news, Mom," he answered. "Why would I be watching the news?"

He looked at Rory again and gestured his head quickly to the remote control on the coffee table. Rory set her pie down and reached for it, pointing it at the TV. Logan took a couple steps back from the entertainment center as she started flicking through the cable guide until she landed on CNN.

"This is a disaster, Logan!" Shira exclaimed. "We've managed to avoid this all this time. But your jack ass of a father just can't keep his God damned mouth shut to save his life!"

"Okay, Mom. Calm down," Logan said. "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad…"

Shira, however, did not appreciate being told to calm down. Logan had to remove the receiver from his ear as she started loudly going off about how she wasn't going to calm down, and how it was that bad. Logan sighed. He assumed that his mother was overreacting as she was always want to do. He continued to assume that as she carried on with her ranting and he tuned her out to listen to the anchor on CNN make some boring comments and observations about Hasan Minaj's remarks last night.

It wasn't until the anchor moved on to the next topic of conversation surrounding the dinner and the image of his father with a microphone held up to his face appeared on the screen that he started thinking that perhaps he wrong.

His cell phone buzzed again. This time when he looked at the screen he saw a text message from his dad.

Mitchum Huntzberger

Today 12:13 PM

Getting on plane.

Tell the board it's all fine. Free marketing. Stocks are up. It's good. This is good.

Don't worry about it, you low IQ loser. 😂

"The legendary conflict between President Trump and The New York Times has been put on hold in favor or a brand new feud with The New York Standard. Pulitzer nominated journalist and owner, Mitchum Huntzberger, didn't pull any punches when asked to comment on the President's historic absence at The White House Correspondents' Dinner last night…"

"I think it's pretty clear why Donald Trump isn't here tonight. The President of the United States is running scared from a room full of journalists and a kid from Comedy Central because he can't take a joke and he's terrified of the power of the free press. He knows that it's only a matter of time before we expose him as the dangerous fraud that he is. He's made it his mission to do everything in his power to discredit the hard work of my journalists and journalists across this country because it is the only way that he can hope to hold on to the semblance of power he accidentally stumbled his way into. But we have no intention of backing down. If the President wants to wage a war on the First Amendment, we're ready to go to battle."

"Listen, I know Mitchum Huntzberger. I've met Mitchum Huntzberger, and let me tell you this - he's a loser. His father was a loser. And, his son is a loser. The Dying New York Standard is in even worse shape than The Failing New York Times because it's low IQ, you know? It's low IQ and it's filled with… so much fake news. So much fake news. But this is what we have to deal with, you know? These low IQ dishonest men in the liberal controlled media spreading lies. It's unbelievable. But it is what it is. Sad."

Rory didn't think that there was anything that could happen this afternoon that would ruin her appetite. She didn't think there was anything that happen in the next two months that could ruin her appetite. She was halfway through her second piece of pie, and five minutes ago she had been daydreaming about having another slice after dinner.

Apparently, she was wrong.

"Logan…" she said, her eyes frozen on the image on television in front of her. She placed her plate on the coffee table and looked up at him. He looked just as shocked and unable to tear his gaze away from the television as she did. "Did Donald Trump just call you a loser on CNN?"

"Mom…" he said into the phone that was still at his ear. "I'm going to have to call you back…"

Rory could hear Shira protesting on the other side of the phone. She couldn't make out everything she was saying. But the phrases 'don't you dare hang up on me' and 'people calling all day' and 'what am I supposed to do about this?' came through clear as a bell. Logan, however, didn't seem to have answers for her. He hung up and sat down slowly on the couch next to her, hanging his head in his hands.

"And imagine. Just two minutes ago, you were worried about me thinking you were a loser…" said Lorelai with a laugh.

"Mom!"

"Lorelai!" Emily scolded. "This isn't the time for jokes!"

Apparently, Logan didn't seem to agree with her grandmother's assessment that this was an inappropriate time for humor. Because, a few seconds after the words were spoken, Logan started to laugh. And he didn't stop. In fact, as time went on, his laughter grew louder and more forced. It was so unnatural, that Rory was starting to think that it had little to do with her mother's joke at all.

"Uh oh," said Lorelai. "I think he's cracked."

"Logan…" she said again, concerned. She sat up straight and placed a hand on his back, rubbing slowly in small circles as she looked to her mother and grandmother in concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Ace," he said through laughs. "I'm great. My dad just declared war on the President of the United States on national television. Why wouldn't I be great?"

Logan stood up. He strode over to the kitchen, forcing Lorelai to jump out of his way as he made a targeted approach toward one of the cabinets below the island. He opened it and bent down, only returning when he found what he was looking for. As he appeared again, a partially drunken bottle of Macallan was grasped in his hand.

"Where on Earth did that come from?" Emily asked.

"I left it here," answered Logan with another laugh. "I left it here eleven years ago, and it's still here. Everything is still here…"

Logan gestured around the room before reaching into one of the boxes that Lorelai had been packing up. He pulled out a rocks glass and set it on the counter, filling it up with what was looking like a triple. He took a sip and placed the glass back on the counter.

"It's hilarious. It's like we never left," he continued. He was still laughing. Rory's heart rate was picking up. He was losing it. She'd rarely seen him like this. And she'd definitely never seen him like his around her mother and grandmother. She was terrified of what might come out of his mouth.

"Logan… you're wigging out. Maybe a drink isn't the best idea right now," she said. But, he wasn't paying her any attention.

"Rory told your minister that we were having sex in here and you quarantined it off like that island off the coast of Brazil with all those snakes…" he continued through his merriment. "It's like human beings weren't allowed back here anymore. Like the pheromones we left behind would have been too dangerous for human contact."

"Okay!" Rory said, standing up and walking over to Logan. "That's enough of that. Let's get you some fresh air." She grabbed the glass of scotch out of his hand and handed it to her mother. Then, she grabbed his arm and pressed her hand against his chest, pushing him toward the door.

"I hid a bowl in the bottom of the nightstand, and that was still there too…"

"Logan!" Rory snapped. "Stop talking!"

"You left a bowl in the nightstand?!" Emily asked, outraged. "Well I certainly hope there wasn't any food left in it!"

This time when Logan dissolved into another fit of laughter, her mother timidly joined in with him. By the nature of her laughs, Rory could tell that she was trying very hard to keep them in and remain serious, but she was failing. Rory wasn't finding the situation nearly as funny. If she wasn't so concerned about the fact that her boyfriend was clearly in the middle of a mental breakdown, she would be absolutely livid.

"What?" Emily asked, a look of utter obliviousness on her face. "Why are you both laughing?"

"Don't answer that!" Rory said to Logan before she pushed him out the door and closed it behind her.

On the other side, Rory could hear Emily interrogating Lorelai over what was so funny about the idea of Logan leaving behind dirty dishes in the bedroom furniture. Rory could only hope that her mother would hold strong and fend off those questions without giving her grandmother any clues as to what Logan had really meant.

"Okay," said Rory. "You need to take some deep breaths and calm down."

"Calm down?!" Logan asked. "The President just attacked my entire family by name at a press conference and called my business The Dying New York Standard! Oh God… has anyone checked his Twitter?!"

Logan pulled his phone out of his pocket. As he did, Rory saw that it was now overflowing with notifications. Logan's eyes wide in panic, but Rory snatched the device out of his hands before he could start overwhelming himself even further.

"It's never a good idea to look at Donald Trump's Twitter, okay?" she said. "If he's tweeted anything, I'm sure you'll find out about it. We don't need to seek it out."

Without his phone to distract him, Logan started pacing around the patio. His hand went to this mouth and he spent the next few seconds alternating between opening his mouth to speak and deciding better of it, shaking his head, and letting out strings of unprompted curses.

"I don't know what to do…" he said, eventually. "My dad just walked on a plane and dropped this fucking dumpster fire on me with nothing but a 'don't worry about it, stocks are up,' and a fucking laughy face emoji. I didn't even know he knew how to use emojis!"

"Well," Rory said with a deep breath. "If stocks are up then that's a good sign. Obviously the public is behind you. The same thing happened with The Times during the election, remember? Maybe subscriptions will go up too. This really could be a good thing, you know?"

"Now you sound like my dad," said Logan. "He probably planned this. It's probably a God damn marketing stunt. That's what I'm upset about, you know? I'm not mad about what he said."

"I know."

"I mean he's right."

"He is."

"I just wish he would have given me some fucking warning." Logan shot his hands out in front of him and lifted his elbows to his toward his ears in a shrug like gesture. "I have no idea what to do here. He's on a plane and I'm here in Hartford on a Sunday with my mother screaming at me and my phone blowing up and I don't know what to do. Should I have the paper tweet something? Should I tweet something? Should I put out some sort of public statement? I mean it's not just my dad. He called me out too. And my grandfather. My dead grandfather. I mean the man was a fucking demon, but he's dead. I mean you heard that right?!"

"I did," said Rory. "But I don't think you should say or do anything until you talk to your PR department," said Rory.

Logan nodded as he continued his pacing. His thumb went up to his lips and he started chewing on the fingernail, a tell-tale sign that he was stressed out beyond measure.

"Right…" he said. "You're right. I don't need to say anything right this second."

"And you should probably get the board together for an emergency conference call as soon as your dad lands."

"The board," Logan repeated, his frantic nodding continuing. "Right. The board. You're right. That's probably what I should do. And the shareholders. And my mom. I'm going to need to call my mom back. She was mad…"

"I will call your mother," said Rory. Logan opened his mouth to protest, but she held out a hand to stop him. "I will call your mother, and I will call Anna to have her start contacting everyone and putting meetings together. I'll also see if I can get her to have the head of PR call you as soon as possible. Right now, why don't you just take a walk around the block and try to clear your head?"

Logan's pacing finally stopped. He stood in front of her taking deep and measured breaths. Rory stepped forward and placed her hands on his biceps as she gazed into his eyes. She didn't break eye contact, maintaining a firm and resolute hold on his attention as the next words came out of her mouth.

"Everything is going to be okay," she said. "This is a good thing. Your father is standing up for The First Amendment. So are you. This is a good look, Logan."

He nodded again, and after a few moments Rory could see something shift in his eyes. He was starting to believe it. The initial panic surrounding the idea of a feud between his father and the President was fading away into something a bit more righteous. She smiled at him and let him go.

"You're right," he said as her hands left his arms. "And I think a quick walk is a good idea. I need to get my thoughts together…"

"I'll be here when you get back. Hopefully, with Anna on the line," she said. "And we'll Grub Hub that taco place you like for lunch."

Logan took a deep breath. He reached out and squeezed her forearm affectionately.

"Sounds great," he said. "Thank you."

He paused for a moment, and she sent him one more reassuring smile before he turned on his heel and started walking toward the driveway. He didn't make it very far through the patio, however, before he turned around and started walking furiously back to her.

"Logan, what - "

Rory's inquiry about what he was doing was promptly cut off as he reached her again and pulled her against him. His lips met hers in a passionate kiss, and Rory needed a couple seconds to get her bearings before she closed her eyes and melted into his embrace. As he pulled away, his hand found her cheek and her heart started pounding as he gazed intensely into her eyes.

"Ace… I know you've been stressing out about dinner on Friday…" he said.

"Oh, Logan," Rory replied. "Let's not talk about that now. That's - "

"But you need to know," he continued, interrupting her. "You are exactly the kind of woman that I need at my side right now."

Rory felt a pang in her heart. She hadn't told him, but she had been worrying about the upcoming dinner at his house despite the fact that she was the one that had agreed to it. The words that Shira had said to her all those years ago had been haunting her more and more as that night came closer. As much as she hated to admit it, the implication that she wasn't right for Logan and that she wasn't capable of being the kind of wife that a Huntzberger man needed still cut as deeply as they did when she was twenty years old. She wasn't sure if she was going to be able to handle hearing them again.

"Actually, fuck that," Logan continued. "You are exactly the woman I need at my side right now."

Try as she might, Rory couldn't keep the tears from forming in her eyes at those words. She didn't want to be crying right now. Logan was in the middle of a professional crisis, and she was trying to remain a strong and clearheaded support system for him. She didn't need her pregnancy hormones to get in the way of that. Yet, it seemed like the fight was futile. Logan swiped his thumb across her cheek, wiping away her tears and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I love you so much, Rory," he said.

Rory closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I love you too," she said. When she opened her eyes again, Logan was smiling at her. She'd managed to get a grip on her emotions again and she pulled away from him. "Now go. I've got it for now."

As Logan walked away, Rory entered the passcode into his phone and searched his contacts for the number of his executive assistant. It was only a few minutes past five in London, so she didn't feel guilty about interrupting whatever she was currently up to.

"Mr. Huntzberger!" sounded a young woman with a charming but serious estuary accent. " I just saw the news! I - "

"Hi, Anna," said Rory. "This is actually Rory Gilmore speaking. Logan's girlfriend. He's indisposed at the moment. I'm so sorry to bother you on your day off, but I'm going to need you to make some phone calls…"

TBC….

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen

Friday, May 5, 2017

"Everyone hates his parents. Don't be ashamed. You'll grow up. You'll come through. You'll have kids, and they'll hate you too. Oh, everyone hates his parents. But, I confess. You grow up. You get old. You hate less."

"Look at it this way," said Logan as they stood in front of the rod iron double storm door at the entry of his parents' home. "My mom is going to be in a great mood after holing up at that spa for the last four days."

Next to him, Rory took a deep tactical breath. They had been standing out here for about two minutes at this point. Rory had been staring at the doorbell, but Logan could tell by the look on her face and the tension in her shoulders that she wasn't quite ready for him to press it. At this point, he was at least happy that they had ventured into the pool house the other week. Because, he had a distinct feeling that if this was the first time Rory had been back here at all since the last dinner they had, they would still be sitting in the car by now.

It was strange how the dynamic between them over the last week had changed so quickly just within the last few minutes. Since Sunday, Rory had been the one managing his stress induced freak-outs and remaining a calming voice of reason for him.

Rory had been the one who had suggested booking his mother a relaxing getaway to her favorite spa while he and his father dealt with the aftermath of his viral comments about Trump. She had been the one who'd helped him edit the statement his PR department had advised him to write. She had been the one who picked out a shirt and tie for his talking head segment on MSNBC. She'd been the one screening his calls and taking messages. Rory had all but taken over as his executive assistant in the last few days since his own was five hours ahead of him on the other side of the Atlantic. He wouldn't have been able to make it through this last week without her.

Thankfully, things were now calming down. Chatter surrounding The White House Correspondents' Dinner was quickly being taken over with talking points surrounding the North Korea missile program, Trump's phone call and upcoming meeting with Vladimir Putin, and the House's vote to repeal and replace signification portions of the Affordable Care Act.

By this point, the entire ordeal was almost completely forgotten. It was enough to make Logan consider calling a personal injury attorney to get compensation for the whiplash he was experiencing from it all. He only had to wonder if this is what the entire next four years of his life were going to be. Working in the news used to be relatively boring, save for a couple times a year when something major would happen. He had a feeling that was no longer going to be the case. He had a feeling that he might need to invest in a cervical collar. It felt like they'd already had an entire Presidential term's worth of news and scandal within the first four months. And the worst part was that his father seemed to find it all amusing.

It was easy for Mitchum to find things like this amusing. It was easy for Mitchum to pick fights with the President of the United States and laugh about it, because at the end of the day nothing that Trump did would really affect his life at all – even if he didn't like his politics. His father was old and male and rich and white and powerful. Logan was male and rich and white and powerful as well, but he wasn't old. He was the one that was going to have to live more than half of his life in whatever world emerged at the end of these four years. He was the one bringing a child into this shit storm. And all the money and power in the world wouldn't be able to protect his daughter from a North Korean nuclear missile, or the lack of water when it all gets polluted by pipeline spills, or the lack of food once the bees die out and the oceans boil.

He didn't find it amusing.

Still, even though there were several times throughout the week that Logan wanted to slap the smug and amused look off of his father's face, he couldn't help but feel slightly proud of him. For the most part his dad avoided political statements. He liked to keep his politics a mystery, partially because he didn't want to alienate subscribers and partly because his politics could be swayed with a single gust of the wind.

But, there was one thing that Mitchum couldn't be swayed on, and that was the power and importance of the First Amendment and the essential need for a free press in a functioning democracy. As far as his father was concerned, an attack on the institution of journalism was an attack on Mitchum Huntzberger personally. And when Mitchum Huntzberger was struck, he struck right back – harder and faster. There was a beautiful and entirely vacant house sitting in Maine mocking Martha Stewart to prove it.

Logan had never thought there would be a day in his life where he would feel proud of his father. And, yet, that day was upon him. He supposed it was part of getting older. Even, so, as he had told Lorelai on Sunday he wasn't booking that Disney Cruise quite yet. And, if he ever did, it would probably be for his little girl.

Over the last few days, Logan's growing pride in his dad and the dwindling spotlight on his feud with Trump had helped him settle back into a somewhat normal stress level. Yet, as he returned to normal, Rory had started to grow more and more anxious as this evening grew closer.

Now, they were back to worrying about the normal every day personal stresses that they always worried about. He was even starting to get the feeling that Rory would much rather stay in the national spotlight in the midst of that debacle than be in the middle of this one. She was able to handle those kinds of crises far better than these.

"She's probably loaded up on Xanax too," he continued.

"Just ring it," said Rory as she straightened out her knee length crimson dress and tucked her side parted hair behind her ears. Logan couldn't help but notice that her ears were adorned with the ruby and diamond drop earrings that he had gifted her for her twenty-second birthday. His heart had jumped with the realization that she'd held on to them for all these years. But, then, he knew better than to think Rory would ever causally get rid of jewelry that expensive. Still – she was wearing them after all these years, and that felt nice to see.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Rory sighed and bent over him, pressing the doorbell with her own index finger.

"No time like the present," she said. "The sooner we get in there, the sooner we can leave."

"Now you're thinking like a Huntzberger!" Logan said with a smile.

"I assure you, I'm thinking like a Gilmore," Rory corrected. "Do I need to remind you about the rhinestone penis shirt?"

Logan smiled and threw his head back for a second. He had forgotten about the rhinestone penis story. In fact, he'd forgotten that he still needed to hear the rhinestone penis story. This time, he was determined to get through this dinner with his parents without forgetting to remind of her of that fact.

A few moments passed with the two of them standing in front of the door. Rory continued to fuss with her dress, and Logan wanted to tell her it looked just fine. But, then, Rory wasn't actually concerned about her outfit being rumpled. She was just fidgeting to get rid of some nervous energy.

"You are late for the dinner you begged me to come to!" Honor scolded as the front door finally swung open. Logan placed his hands in his pockets and shrugged at her.

"Fifteen minutes…" he said, as if it was explanation enough.

"Well, this doesn't feel like déjà vu at all," Rory murmured as they stepped through the door. Logan pressed a hand in the small of her back to help her up the step and closed the door behind him.

"It's not an omen…" Logan assured. But, Rory's attention was fixed on his sister.

"Hi, Honor," she greeted with a timid smile.

"Oh my God, you can go straight to hell!" Honor exclaimed.

Rory's eyes went wide in surprise and Logan's entire body stiffened. He knew that his sister wasn't Rory's biggest fan over the way their relationship had ended and subsequently restarted. He'd even warned Rory that there might be a small bit of ice to thaw there before they had arrived. But he hadn't expected Honor to be so strangely hostile the moment they walked in the door.

"Honor!" he snapped. His sister was starting at Rory in what looked like shock and disgust, and Rory was standing there uncomfortable and awkward under her gaze.

"Um…" Rory started, unable to think of any actual words to say.

"You're seven months pregnant?!" Honor continued. "How are you seven months pregnant?!"

"Well… I…"

"You look thinner than the last time I saw you!" Honor cried. "You have ankles! You should go to jail!"

Logan could visibly see Rory's entire body unclench with the realization that Honor wasn't legitimately attacking her. Even so, Logan was filled with an almost adolescent desire to murder his sister. Honor rarely thought before she spoke. It was an element of her personality that they had all come to accept over the years. But, right now, that particular trait was very unwelcome.

"It's all smoke and mirrors," said Rory. "You can't see my thighs or my hips under this dress."

"I don't believe it. I'm calling the police," said Honor. "I need a drink."

Honor spun on her heel and walked purposely toward the living room under the domed stain glass ceiling and through the marbled columns of the foyer. Rory stood there watching her, not knowing exactly what to think about his sister's 'greeting.' But, if Honor was talking it usually meant that all was normal. If she was upset she'd not have said much of anything at all.

"I like your thicc thighs," Logan whispered into her ear as he came up behind her and grabbed at the flesh underneath her dress. Rory turned around and looked at him in revulsion and embarrassment.

"No," she said firmly, stepping away from him. "Never use the word thicc – with two Cs – ever again."

"Never?!" asked Logan, feigning outrage. "I can never use it again?"

"No," Rory insisted. "Not unless reincarnation is real and you come back in another lifetime as something other than the whitest man alive."

"Oh come on," Logan pleaded. He placed his hand on the small of her back and started leading her toward the living room. "I'm not the whitest man alive."

"You have a house in Martha's Vineyard. You're a Connecticut State tennis champion. You own more than five Lacoste polo shirts. You have a weird obsession with Wes Anderson movies. And when you picked me up to come here, you asked me if I was ready to 'rock and roll.'"

"What can I say, Ace? I'm just as God made me," he said with a smile. "But, seriously. There are people way whiter than me."

"Name one," said Rory, throwing him a look. Logan shrugged.

"Doyle?"

"Ha!" Rory blurted with a highly amused grin on her face. Logan didn't think it was that funny, but for whatever reason Rory was highly amused. "I'll let you two fight that one out."

Logan didn't intend to fight anything out with Doyle any time soon. He knew entering back into a relationship with Rory was going to mean entering back into a relationship with Paris. He had made his peace with that (kind of). But, the last he checked, Paris and Doyle were no longer together. So, he really didn't see the need to invite Doyle back into his life at all.

Besides, he had another interpersonal stressor to think about at the current moment without worrying about the impending specter of Doyle McMaster re-entering his social circle. As he and Rory turned the corner from the hallway to the living room, he could feel the muscles of her lower back tightening with discomfort. Every bone in his body was screaming out with a primal need to protect her. But, it was hard to protect her when the person he needed to protect her from was his own mother.

He had no idea what to expect from this evening. He had no idea what his mother was going to do or say. Shira was like a shapeshifter or one of those boggart things from Harry Potter. She had a tendency to transform into whatever kind of beast was the most appropriate for any given situation. She could be passive aggressive. She could be overtly aggressive. She could be saccharinely and artificially sweet. She could simply be openly displeased. She could be cold. She could be overly affectionate. She could be meddlesome. She could be distant and uninterested. And then sometimes, rarely but sometimes, she could just be normal.

There was no telling which Shira Huntzberger to expect at this dinner tonight – even with the recent spa trip and the Xanax.

So far he didn't smell any lingering cigarette smoke, so he was taking that as a good sign.

"Well, there you are!" his mother greeted as she stood up from her arm chair and walked over to him. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up."

"Sorry, Mom," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "We hit some unexpected traffic on the way back from Stars Hollow."

"That horrible construction no doubt," she said as he pulled away from her.

Then, as if in slow motion, Shira's eyes drifted over to his left where Rory was standing next to him, valiantly trying to hide her anxiety through the guise of a strong and steady face. His mother's eyes moved up and down, roving over her flowing mesh dress and the belly that had no doubt grown in size since their serendipitous meeting a month ago. Her face broke into a wide but dead eyed smile, and Logan realized that saccharinely sweet Shira would be their dining companion for the evening, no doubt with a few drops of passive aggression.

"Rory! Don't you look pretty?" she cheered, throwing her hands out an open gesture and moving to embrace his girlfriend in a hug.

"Oh…" Rory murmured as she surrendered into his mother's embrace.

Over Shira's shoulder, Rory shot him a look of confusion, terror, and helplessness. Unfortunately, all he could do was shrug and shoot her a sympathetic glance. As uncomfortable as she clearly was with his mother's less than genuine display of affection, he could hardly pick a fight with the woman for giving his girlfriend a hug – not if they wanted to get through this evening unscathed at least.

"Hello… Mrs. Huntzberger…" said Rory, her voice almost sounding as if she was phrasing the words as a question. "Thank you so much for having me."

"Well of course, dear," said Shira, releasing Rory from her embrace.

His mother didn't step completely away, however. She stayed close, too close for Rory's comfort. And the hands that had just been wrapped around Rory's back just moments before slid around to her front and rested on the swell of her stomach.

"And you must call me Shira. After all…. We're family now."

We're family now.

The words were echoing through Rory's head, and the sensation of Shira's hands on her belly sent her entire body tingling. It was a familiar feeling, the same feeling that she'd had the first time Shira had reached out and touched her pregnant stomach without her consent. Although, this time it wasn't accompanied by the irrational panic that she would have some sort of psychic vision revealing her child's paternity. That cat was obviously out of the bag. But, it still felt like ten icicles were slicing through her skin.

The smile on her face as she called Rory family was also sending shivers down her spine. It reminded her of another panic inducing encounter with Shira, the first time she'd seen the woman after the ill-fated dinner in this very house in 2005. She'd been so cheery that night as she'd walked into that fundraiser without an RSVP, so friendly and polite, so "happy" to see her son's girlfriend. The falsity of her enthusiasm now was just as apparent as it was then. But, this time, Rory refused to let it send her spiraling into a panic attack. She wasn't a twenty year old girl anymore. She was a fully grown woman, a woman who had spent the last ten years of her life as a traveling journalist facing conflict and interviewing powerful and influential men and women. She wasn't going to be afraid of Shira Huntzberger.

"Oh… well… okay… Shira," she said, forcing a smile of her own.

"Come. Come," said Shira smiling at her again. "Let's get you off your feet."

She grabbed Rory's arm and she pulled her into the room, past the grandfather clock and familiar Velasquez still hanging on the wall. Rory wasn't nearly as charmed by it this time. In fact, she wasn't charmed by any of Velasquez's work these days. The last time she'd seen his name next to a piece of work at The Met, she'd physically flinched.

She turned around and sent Logan a pleading look over her shoulder, begging him to do something to get his mother's hands off of her, but he only shrugged at her apologetically and followed them into the living room.

"Do you want a drink, Rory?" Honor asked from the bar table to the left of the fireplace.

"Um… yes. Thank you. I'll have a club soda."

As they reached one of the couches, Shira finally let go of Rory and returned to her armchair. Rory sat down, smoothing out her dress and crossing her ankles in the way that her grandmother had drilled into her since she was old enough to remember. Not that it mattered. The last time she'd walked into this house thinking that years' worth of training from her grandmother had prepared her for the evening she was about to have, she was entirely off the mark.

"I'll have a scotch," she heard Logan say as he walked around the couch and took a seat next to her. When his hand found her thigh, she didn't think for a second before grabbing it like a lifeline, and she pretended not to see the quick glitch in Shira's Stepford-like grin when she did.

"You can get your own drinks," said Honor, shooting Logan an annoyed glance.

"Honor…" scolded Shira from her chair. "Pour your brother a drink."

"Where's Josh?" Logan asked, looking around the room for any sign of his brother-in-law. Rory had been wondering about his absence as well, although she'd been a little less surprised to see that Mitchum wasn't in the room.

"He's outside with the boys," said Honor as she popped open a bottle of Macallan 18 and poured a finger into a crystal rocks glass. "They're running off some energy before dinner. I didn't want to overwhelm Rory with a manic two year old the second she walked in the door."

"Oh… that's okay," said Rory, brushing off the concern even though there was a part of her that was grateful for it. "I mean, I guess I'm going to have to get used to having an energetic toddler around eventually."

"Hmm," Shira tittered from her seat. "You sure are, aren't you?"

An awkward pall fell over the room at the words. There wasn't anything overtly rude about them, but there was something undeniable in Shira's tone, something derisive. Next to her, Logan glared at his mother, but Shira paid him no mind. She merely listed her wine glass to her lips and took a sip as she raised her eyebrows at him.

"That's right, Mom," said Logan, squeezing Rory's hand. "Another grandchild in the house. A grandchild you're excited to have a relationship with, remember?"

"Of course," Shira chirped, breaking eye contact with her son.

"Well I know Josh and I are looking forward to having a little niece to spoil," said Honor as she walked over to them and handed them the drinks she had just poured. As soon as she handed them out, she took a few steps backward and then sat down on the couch across from them. "Little girls are so much more fun to shop for. It's not fair that I'll never have one of my own."

"Now, Honor," said Shira. "Let's not say never."

"Uh… no, Mom," said Honor. The look on her face implied to Rory that this was a conversation they'd had many times. Clearly Shira wanted a granddaughter. And clearly she'd prefer said granddaughter to come from Honor. "It's never. We have surgically seen to that fact."

"Well those things are reversable," Shira said, waving her hand in the air as if to brush the statement away.

Honor turned her head to shift her focus from her mother to Logan, and as she made eye contact with her brother she titled her head to the side like cocker spaniel and dramatically blinked. Next to her, Rory heard Logan conceal a laugh through the clearing of his throat.

"Where's Dad?" Honor asked, sharply. It was clear that she was ready for an abrupt change of conversation. "Wasn't he supposed to be here?"

"Well, you know your father," Shira said, rolling her eyes and taking another sip of her wine. "He's busy on a phone call. They've been non-stop since that debacle last weekend."

"Haven't you been holed up at a Spa for the last few days?" Honor asked.

"Well they were non-stop all day Sunday and they've been non-stop all day today, so I assume it's been much the same all week," Shira countered.

The sugary tone in her voice was slipping and her anger was starting to come through. Rory was actually intrigued. She'd never seen Shira angry before. Logan had told her that it was quite a sight to behold and she'd heard hints of it over the phone on Sunday, but she'd always had a difficult time imagining it in the flesh. It was hard for her to picture his mother behaving in any way other than the way she was behaving right now, artificially and desperately clinging on to a façade of pleasantness. But, then, she supposed even Shira Huntzberger was a human being. There had to be times when even she completely snapped.

"Anyway," the woman continued, softly, as if releasing her anger through a sigh and composing herself. "Dinner might not start on time, so that's why I've set out some hors d'oeuvres."

Shira gestured to the coffee table in between them and Honor. Rory looked down, taking note of the elegantly laid out selection of food arranged on silver platters next to a stack of beautiful crystal plates. Her stomach actually had been rumbling since the moment she'd slid into Logan's car, and she couldn't deny that she could use something to curb her appetite.

"Please help yourself," said Shira. "I know better than to keep a pregnant woman hungry."

"Thank you!" said Rory with a relieved smile as she leaned forward to grab a plate.

Yet, as her hand reached outward, she glanced over the array of food on the table and took note of what was laid out in front of her for the first time. Her hand froze in the air, and she slowly brought it back down to her side. Then, turning her head to Logan, she sent him an entirely unamused look.

"Mom…" he asked with a sigh, thankfully picking up on exactly what Rory was so upset about. "Is there any reason why you chose this particular spread?"

"What do you mean?" Shira asked. "You know I always serve the Beluga caviar for special occasions, and that steak tartare is absolutely to die for."

"And the cheese?" Logan asked.

"It's brie. With a cranberry chutney," Shira explained. "I thought that would be obvious."

"It is obvious, Mom," Logan replied. "It's just that… pregnant women can't eat soft cheeses."

"Oh?" Shira asked, her wine glass at her lips once again. "Well… I must have been mistaken. I could have sworn that was hard cheeses."

"No, it's soft cheeses," Logan assured with a nod and a strained look. "I know that and I haven't been pregnant twice. They also can't eat caviar. Or raw meat."

"Well, my goodness. Silly me." Shira swung her wine glass around in a small circle in front of her and smiled as though amused with her 'slip up.' "I'm terribly sorry, Rory. This is what happens when you get older, you know. Your mind just… starts to go!"

Rory forced a smile of her own. She had to admit, the woman really was masterful. She'd witnessed her grandmother in similar situations of course, but she'd never found herself on the receiving end of a treatment quite like this. She'd never been in the delicate position of fielding insults masqueraded in compliments or slights disguised as gestures of goodwill. The last time she'd been here, Shira hadn't pulled any punches. She'd been overtly disapproving, bluntly unwelcoming, and unambiguous in her words.

Now, things were slightly different. Now, she had her first (and perhaps only) granddaughter on the line, and she couldn't afford to make any obvious gestures of hostility. She'd invited Rory here because she wanted to cement a place in her baby's life and in Logan's life . That didn't, however, mean that she suddenly liked Rory. It didn't mean that her opinion on Rory's compatibility for her son had changed. And it definitely didn't mean that she was happy about the fact that it was Rory sitting in front of her carrying her granddaughter rather than Honor… or Odette.

"That's okay… Shira," said Rory. "I can just… nibble on some crackers."

"Oh you're too kind," she said. "She's really too kind, Logan."

"Yes," Logan replied, firmly as he made steady eye contact with his mother. "She is."

A warm feeling rushed through her at the sound of Logan's clear and steady defense of her. She wasn't surprised by it. Logan always defended her to his parents without fail. But, there was still something about it that filled her with relief. She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers back. Then, feeling an intense affection for him, an overwhelming surge of courage, and an profound urge to rub Shira's face in the reality of her relationship, she leaned forward and kissed Logan on the cheek.

"You're sweet," she said to him.

"I try."

"Well, I need some more wine!" Shira exclaimed, hopping up from her chair and walking over to the bar. "Does anyone else need a refill?"

"I could use a scotch."

Mitchum's unmistakable booming voice echoed through the living room, marking his sudden arrival. Rory took another deep breath. She wasn't sure if she should be grateful for his presence or wary of it, if she should be happy that he was here to reign in Shira's more passive aggressive behavior or concerned about having to deal with both of Logan's parents in the room at the same time.

It occurred to her in that moment, that this was actually the first time she was in a room with Logan's entire family all at once. The first time Logan had brought her here, they had stormed out just as Mitchum was walking through the door. She obviously only ever saw Mitchum at the Stamford Eagle Gazette. And, then at the fundraiser for the DAR, she had, thankfully, only seen Shira. She wasn't sure if she would have survived the night if she had seen Mitchum at that point in her life.

As their relationship had progressed, his parents would come and go, but usually on their own and not very often. Mitchum would show up at The Daily News as he was always want to do, and Shira might show up at the apartment under the guise of visiting friends in New Haven and deciding to "pop by." But Mitchum and Shira were rarely seen together. The only time she could remember seeing them together was at Logan's graduation, and Rory had avoided them like the plague.

This was the first time they were all in a room together. Rory, Logan, Mitchum, Shira, and Honor. If the entire idea wasn't so stress inducing, she might actually be intrigued. This would be the first time she would actually witness the Huntzberger Family dynamic in person. She'd heard plenty about it from Logan over the years. But, as was the case with her mother when it came to her grandparents, Rory couldn't help but think that some of his tales were likely exaggerated.

"Well… look who finally decided to join us," Shira seethed as she poured her Shiraz, passing the filling line that most people might consider appropriate for the type of glass she was using.

"I left the office on time, didn't I?"

Logan sighed and took a sip of his scotch. The mood between his parents certainly seemed hostile. Although, she had to wonder if it wasn't perfectly normal for Shira and Mitchum. From the stories she'd heard from her grandmother and Logan himself, their marriage wasn't exactly a love story for the ages.

"Hi, sweetheart," Mitchum continued, quickly shifting his attention from his wife to his daughter. He bent down and kissed her on the cheek.

"Hi, Daddy."

"Where are the boys?"

"Outside complaining about the pool still being covered."

"It's only sixty-two degrees outside," Mitchum replied as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and took a seat on the couch next to his daughter.

"Well try explaining that to a five year old," said Honor before taking a sip of her drink.

Mitchum grumbled and shook his head, as if he was expecting more from his grandson, as if by the tender age of five he should have outgrown his more excitable personality traits. He should be logical and reasonable with his expectations. He shouldn't be so excitable. Five years old was practically a man, after all. Clearly Mitchum didn't know all that much about children. Though, she didn't know why she was surprised.

Logan had always insinuated that he barely saw his father until he hit puberty. Mitchum had been more of a distant authority figure than an actual father figure. He was a tall looming presence that Logan was expected to be on his best behavior around, as though he was an honored guest at the dinner table every night rather than a member of the family. Logan never really got to be a kid in front of his father, and consequently Mitchum was absolutely oblivious to how five year old boys actually behaved. He'd never been interested in getting to know his son until he was old enough to 'have an intelligent conversation.'

She wasn't sure if that was how she should expect him to be as a grandfather as well. As much as Logan still looked back on his childhood relationship with his father with a sense of resentment and disappointment, he had been pretty clear about the fact that old age was softening Mitchum up. Their relationship was better than it ever had been. And she knew that kind of evolution was pretty common. She'd seen it first-hand.

Richard and Emily definitely hadn't approached their role as grandparents the same way they had approached their role as parents. Her mother had always insisted that the Richard and Emily Gilmore that Rory knew were entirely different people from the ones who raised her. She'd made more than one body snatcher joke over the years. And she didn't just have to take her mother's word for it. She could see how the relationship she had with them was so entirely different than the relationship they had with her mother. She could see how much harder they were on her mother than they were on her. To this day. She would have had to have been blind not to see it.

Perhaps Mitchum and Shira would be the same. She at least hoped they would, not only for her child's sake but for Logan's as well. There was one key difference, however, between her relationship with her grandparents and what would be the Huntzbergers' relationship with her child. Rory had never been expected to shoulder the burden of a dynastic legacy that had lasted for almost two centuries. Her child would carry that burden, and she couldn't help but wonder what that would mean for her relationship with the grandparents that had passed it to her.

She might be able to avoid it, simply by nature of being a girl. It was sexist, but it was the reality they were dealing with. After all, Honor was the oldest of Mitchum's children, and yet she was not chosen to be the heiress and future CEO of the company. She knew Logan would fight his father's more sexist inclinations if their daughter did want to take over the family business. But, if she didn't, he would have no problem playing into them to get her out of it. Although, if she and Logan did end up married in the near future, and they decided to have more children – namely a son – the entire situation would likely become a lot more complicated.

"Hello, Rory," the patriarch in question greeted with a charming smile on his face, breaking Rory out of her thoughts. "You look lovely this evening."

"Oh," Rory squeaked. "Thank you… Mitchum."

Things had been getting better between her and Mitchum over the last week. After the come to Jesus moment she'd had in the mall regarding their history and the amount of time they'd spent together as she was helping Logan get through the insanity of the last few days, they'd transitioned in to a pretty civil relationship. That didn't, however, mean that she wasn't taken aback by getting compliments from him, or that she trusted those compliments to be genuine.

"Did you get that email I sent you?" he asked as his attention moved on to Logan, skipping a greeting entirely. She felt Logan stiffen and she knew that he was biting back a sarcastic remark.

"Yes," he bit out. "I was going to - "

"No, no!" Shira interrupted as she started walking back from the drink cart. She walked in-between the two couches, handing her husband his drink as she made her way back to her chair. "Absolutely none of that. This is a family meal, not a business meeting."

"Fine!" Mitchum said, sharply. "Some ninth inning today, huh? 3 -2. Pulled it through right at the end. I guess the Cubs' luck is running out."

"That wasn't an invitation to talk about sports either," Shira argued.

Mitchum audibly sighed in annoyance, and Rory had the feeling that she was about to witness her first bickering match between the two of them. She didn't know whether to be excited or terrified. But, as it turned out, she wasn't going to find out which reaction would be the more appropriate. Because, just as Mitchum was about to respond to his wife's second attempt to shut down his chosen topic of conversation, the French doors to the patio opened and a five year old blur came running through the door.

"Carter!" Josh hollered, his voice still drifting in from outside just as the door was closing behind his son. "We don't run in the house!"

"Grandpa!" the boy exclaimed, running right up to Mitchum and ignoring the calls of his father.

"What?!" Mitchum asked in a tone that, to Rory's ears, seemed far too harsh for a five year old. Honor's son, however, didn't seem at all phased by it.

"When can we go swimming?"

"When can you go swimming?" Mitchum asked, raising his eyebrow and giving his grandson a scrutinizing look. "When the pool is open."

"But when…" Carter's head snapped over to his mom for a quick moment. He took a step closer to her and bent down, throwing his torso into her lap and wrapping his arms around her legs. His head, however, was still turned to his grandfather and he had a bashful smile on his face. "When is the pool gonna be open?"

After the little boy asked his question, he buried his face in his mother's lap. Honor smiled and started running her fingers through his sandy brown hair. Mitchum's face finally cracked into a smile as well, and Rory felt a slight bit of relief to see that his gruff attitude wasn't genuine.

"Memorial Day," he answered.

"When's memorial day?" Carter's muffled voice asked.

"It's in three weeks, honey," Honor explained. This was not what the young boy wanted to hear. Three weeks might as well be an eternity to him, and the sigh of annoyance that he let out rivaled the one given by his grandfather just moments before.

"I wanna go swimming now," he whined. Honor was about to scold him, but she was interrupted by Logan.

"You want to go swimming now?" he asked.

Logan let go of Rory's hand and stood up, walking over to his sister. As soon as he reached them, he grabbed his nephew around the middle and pulled him up into his arms, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Carter laughed and nodded his head.

"We can go swimming now," he continued, walking back toward the patio doors. "I can take the cover off and throw you in. It'll be so much fun! It's gonna be all cold and green and filled with dead bugs and goo!"

"No!" Carter cried, laughing and wiggling out of Logan's hold.

"No?" Logan asked. "I thought you wanted to go swimming!"

"Not anymore!"

"Not anymore?" he asked. "Well, why not?"

"Okay, Logan…" Shira called. "I think that's enough roughhousing for one night."

Rory didn't quite agree. She was actually quite enjoying the sight in front of her. She'd always assumed Logan would be good with kids. He'd always been somewhat of a Peter Pan type, after all. There was also the fact that he had a very large family and had grown up around plenty of younger cousins and children of cousins. But, this was the first time she was really seeing it in action. And she could watch it all night.

Somewhat subconsciously, her hand found its way to her belly.

"Alright, kiddo," he said with a sigh, placing the boys feet back on the floor. "You heard, Grandma. Let's go sit down."

With a push of his hand, Logan sent Carter running back to the living area. He followed closely on his heels, but he wasn't quite able to keep up with the pace of the hyperactive five year old. As Logan reached her and sat back down, Carter hopped up on the couch right next to his mother and wiggled away as she attempted to wipe an apparent smudge of something off of his cheek.

Rory smiled at the sight. He really was adorable. Not that she expected anything different from Honor's child, but he looked like he's walked off the page of a J. Crew kid's catalogue with his cream colored v-neck sweater, denim button down, and bow tie combo. His hair had a slight curl to it, similar to the curls she remembered Josh having. And he had a brilliant smile on his face.

As he looked back at Logan again, he let out another bashful laugh. However, the brilliant smile that Rory had just been delighting in left the boy's face as his eyes moved over to the left and landed on her. He suddenly turned serious, and he tilted his head to the side in confusion when he saw his uncle holding her hand.

"You're not Aunt Odette."

The mood in the room went entirely rigid. Shira froze as she was lifting her glass. Mitchum pursed his lips. Logan squeezed her knee a little too harshly. And a jolt of electricity shot through her spine. Of all the people she expected to bring up this subject, she definitely hadn't expected it to be a five year old. Honor looked horrified.

"That's right, honey," she said. "Remember we talked about this? This is Uncle Logan's friend, Rory."

Apparently the boy didn't remember, because he responded by furrowing his brow and narrowing his eyes at her in suspicion. He didn't quite know what to think about what was happening in front of him. He didn't understand who she was or why his Uncle Logan was sitting next to her with his hand on her knee, the way that he'd probably only seen him do with 'Aunt Odette.'

Honestly, Rory didn't blame him. It had to be confusing for a five year old. The only woman he'd ever seen his uncle with was suddenly gone and a stranger was sitting in her place.

"But what happened to Aunt Odette?" he asked.

The awkward silence that settled around them was one of the worst that Rory had ever experienced in her life. And she had stood on a stage in front of a crowd of people and several CSPAN cameras as Paris announced the loss of her virginity on air.

She had no idea what to say. She had no idea if she should say anything at all. Logan shifted next to her, and he cleared his throat. She breathed a sigh of relief at that at least. Because it meant that he was probably about to say something. It would probably be better if he was the one that said something.

"Carter," Mitchum suddenly rumbled, loud enough to get tear the boy's attention away from her and right back to him. "Why don't you go outside and get your Dad and Ethan? It's time for dinner."

"Okay!" the five year old exclaimed. He was so set on his new task, that he'd completely forgotten his question from just a moment before and wasn't bothered at all by the fact that it had gone unanswered. He jumped down from the couch and landed on his feet. As soon as he made contact with the floor, he bolted toward the patio doors.

"Don't run in the house!" Honor called after him, to no avail.

Another thick silence fell over the room momentarily as soon as Carter stepped outside through the doors, but it was broken by Logan.

"Thanks, Dad," he said.

His voice was soft – genuine. Even Rory was feeling particularly grateful to Mitchum at that moment.

"He's five," Mitchum replied with a shrug. "He's easily distracted. Anyway, let's eat. I'm starving."

Mitchum stood up. He buttoned his suit jacket and he walked briskly toward the dining room, hollering out to the maid as he went.

"Zara!" he yelled. "We're ready to eat! Can we get some damn food on the table?!"

Shira and Honor quickly followed Mitchum as Logan stood up and helped her up from the couch. Over the last couple days, she had really started to notice a change in her pace. She wasn't moving very quickly, but at the moment she was grateful for it. It gave them an excuse to lag behind for a couple of seconds.

"Only Mitchum Huntzberger can go from savior to asshole in less than point three seconds."

Rory laughed as Logan placed a hand at the small of her back.

"Well at least he isn't stuck in asshole gear all the time anymore," she replied. "That's progress."

Logan only grunted in response. He lightly pushed her forward, guiding her to the dining room. She was suddenly feeling a little bit lighter. She'd been saved from the prying questions of Honor's son. No one had jumped at the chance to attack her once the subject had been brought up. And now she was walking into the dining room. She was about to get some food in her stomach. And then they could leave.

So far, things were going marginally well.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty

Friday, May 5, 2017 – Part II

"Here's to the ladies who lunch (everybody laugh), lounging in the caftans and planning a brunch on their own behalf. Off to the gym. Then, to a fitting. Claiming they're fat. And looking grim, cause they've been sitting choosing a hat... Does anyone still wear a hat?"

In all her life, Rory had never thought that she would reach a point where she was seriously considering stealing the food off of a two year old's plate. Even as a young child, when her mother was at the height of her poverty years, Rory had never gone hungry. When the pantry would grow sparse, there was always leftover food at the Inn. Sookie would sneak her cookies, and Mia would make sure she was eating vegetables (probably because her mother never found it all that necessary).

As time went on and Lorelai would go through other stretches of time being strapped for cash, Luke would always have a warm breakfast waiting for her at the diner. Luke still had a warm breakfast waiting for her at the diner whenever she needed one. It was nice now that she herself was strapped for cash as well.

Rory had lived on ramen noodles, complimentary continental breakfasts, and energy bars on the campaign trail when she first started working. She'd shoved out all her money on rent for an apartment in Brooklyn that cost so much that she barely had enough money to fill the cabinets. But she'd always managed. She's never gone hungry. She'd never wanted to steal the food out from underneath a child's nose.

Until now.

Little Ethan smiled at her as he lifted his tiny little fork to his mouth and started happily munching on the cut up chicken finger that the maid had provided for him as an alternative to the meal on her plate. Rory, a fully grown adult woman, rationally knew that the two and a half year old wasn't being smug. He wasn't reveling in some kind of twisted state of schadenfreude over the fact that he got to eat chicken fingers and macaroni and cheese while Rory's stomach grumbled. But, the hormones and the hangry monster currently overtaking her consciousness was deluding her lizard brain into feeling otherwise.

She needed to compose herself. The angelic little blond haired brown eyed toddler sitting across from her was not the enemy. He didn't seem to have any problem with the fact that she wasn't Odette. He had smiled bashfully at her from behind his father's legs as he came inside the house to sit down for dinner. He had handed her one of the yellow dandelions that he'd picked for his mother during his adventures in the yard. He had even proudly let her in on some deeply personal details about himself, like that his name was Ethan and he was two and he liked Marshall more than Chase.

Ethan was Rory's friend, and Rory could use all the friends she could get at this table.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am again, Rory…" Shira chimed from her seat at the foot of the table. "Are you sure I can't have Zara whip up something else for you?"

"Oh. No, Shira. Really," said Rory, forcing a smile for the hundredth time since they'd sat down at the dinner table. "Between the salad and the broccolini, I've had more than enough to eat."

She looked down at her plate again, her stomach rumbling at the sight of the perfectly seared ahi tuna steak sitting there untouched. It was beautiful. It was delectable. It was so perfectly purple. It was so magnificently full of mercury.

If it hadn't been entirely apparent earlier on in the evening that Shira was purposefully loading tonight's menu with foods that she couldn't eat, it would definitely be clear now. She could have forgiven the tuna if it hadn't been for the fact that every single hors d'oeuvre that's she'd set out was also coincidentally on the 'do not eat' list her OBGYN had given her. It was more than just a coincidence.

Shira also wasn't an unintelligent woman. She was quite smart, actually. And incredibly calculating. Rory didn't believe for a second that she wasn't aware of what she was doing. After all, she herself had given birth to two children, and her daughter had just recently been pregnant twice. Shira was perfectly aware of the dietary restrictions that came with pregnancy. She was just finding creative ways to get out her hostility.

Logan had assured her on more than one occasion over the past week that he'd spoken to his mother and made it absolutely clear that if she said anything untoward to Rory they wouldn't hesitate to walk out the door. Shira had apparently promised not to say anything other than a friendly word for the entire evening. And well… so far she had technically kept that promise.

"Are you sure, Ace?" Logan asked from his seat next to her. "It's really not an issue."

It wasn't an issue for him. But, Rory wasn't going to ask the maid who had already slaved away cooking a dinner for six adults and two children and was no doubt up to her elbows in dish detergent at this very moment to stop what she was doing and cook yet another meal. She would eat later, and she would spend the rest of the evening complaining to him about his mother and he would sit there and listen to her until his ears bled.

She knew it wasn't his fault, and she wasn't mad at Logan. Still, she was going to need to vent, and Shira was his mother. No amount of seething anger and subtle glares coming from him would change that fact. It was his fault that she had to put up with her. If he hadn't made her fall in love with him then she wouldn't be in this predicament.

"I'm fine, Logan," she said, firmly. "I'm really not even that hungry."

Logan was unconvinced. The look he shot her as he took another sip of his scotch was entirely disbelieving. But, the subtle furrow of her brow that she'd sent him in return communicated to him in no uncertain terms to just drop it. She was determined to make it through this dinner without letting his mother get to her. She would leave here with her head held up high if it was the last thing she did.

"I know I wouldn't mind a nice steak…" Mitchum grumbled as he cut up a piece of the fish in front of him and halfheartedly brought it to his lips.

"Mitchum," Shira started through clenched teeth. "We've had this conversation. You need to cut back on your red meat."

"Says who?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at his wife from across the table.

"Says your cardiologist, Dad," Honor added. "And your oncologist."

"What's the point of having them cut all the cancer out of you if you have to go on living like you still have cancer?!"

"Avoiding death is typically the point, Dad." This time it was Logan who decided to jump in. "And something like 40% of men with prostate cancer relapse even after surgery. You know that. I imagine it's something you'd like to avoid."

"Logan, don't say 'prostate' at the dinner table," Shira scolded.

Rory chuckled under her breath at Shira's displeasure. It was the first time she'd genuinely laughed at something the woman had said all evening. Granted, she was laughing at the sheer absurdity of it, but she was laughing all the same.

"What's a prostate?" Carter inquired as he wiggled in his seat next to his father.

"See what you've done?" Shira said to Logan, gesturing to the five year old with a wave of her hand.

She wasn't sure what Shira expected to happen. Was she worried that with Carter's innocent question, someone would start to explain the entire male reproductive system from seminal vesicle to testicles in the middle of their meal? Was she worried they'd bring charts out? Was she concerned that someone would start expounding on the ways in which the prostate contributed to male sexual pleasure?

"It's an organ inside your body," Josh explained, simply and succinctly. "Like your heart or your lungs. Now, stop wiggling please."

"Oh," the child said, entirely bored by the answer. With a gentle nudge from Josh, he settled down in his chair and resumed munching away on his macaroni and cheese. His chicken fingers were practically untouched. This child had no idea the blessings that had been bestowed upon him that he was taking for granted.

"Cancer aside, you need to start taking what you eat seriously," Shira continued. "How many of your friends have died of heart attacks in the last five years?"

The ambient sound of clattering silverware that had been surrounding them for the last several minutes suddenly stopped. Rory's heart fell all the way through her chest down into her gut. She felt every single pair of eyes in the room land on her, save for those of the two children who were absolutely oblivious to what was going on. Logan's hand found her knee under the table, and he squeezed.

"Mom…" he growled.

But Shira didn't look smug this time. She looked genuinely horrified at the words that had tumbled out of her mouth.

"Oh, Rory," she said. "Me and my stupid mouth. I should think before I speak. I'm so sorry."

There was something different in her tone this time, something different than anything Rory had ever heard from her before. She couldn't help but wonder if this was the first time she was actually hearing the real Shira Huntzberger speak. It didn't stop the prickling feeling from spreading out over her eyes, or the rapid increase of her heart beat. But, it did make it easier for her to genuinely mean her following statement for the first time that evening.

"It's okay," she squeaked. "I know you didn't… mean to…"

"I didn't…"

Mitchum, apparently uncomfortable with the level of emotion transpiring between his wife and his son's girlfriend loudly cleared his throat, succeeding in gathering all the attention away from them.

"Great man, Richard," he said, gruffly. "We all miss him." Rory nodded and wrung her hands together under the table.

"The greatest," she whispered. Logan squeezed her knee again and she sent him a small smile, reassuring him that she was going to be okay. It had been over a year, after all. It was about time that she was okay. Right?

"Ruthless!" Mitchum started with a laugh, only pausing to finish chewing the bite of tuna that he had just put into his mouth. "Did he ever tell you about the pissing match he started with Hennessey's cigars?"

"Um… no, he didn't," Rory said with a shake of her head and slight curl of her lips. It was odd hearing Mitchum reminisce about her grandfather in such a casual way. She'd known they'd been friends, of course, but they'd never really talked explicitly about interacting with each other. All she knew was that Mitchum and Shira came to their Christmas parties every year.

"Oh that story's a legend. He couldn't get Hennessey's to keep enough Romeo y Julietas in stock so he bought every single box of out from under them – cash on the barrel - by going straight to their supplier. Hennessey's ended up having to go to him for their supply and he basically ran his own cigar shop out of his basement for a while. He spun a twenty percent profit. I think I still have a box that he gave me actually. I should have one tonight…Balls of steel, your Grandpa."

"We were so sorry to have missed the funeral," Shira added.

Rory knew that wasn't true, and that Shira was once again putting on airs an effort to present a socially acceptable façade. The relationship between her grandparents and the Huntzbergers had never been repaired after that fundraiser for the DAR. They would pretend to be happy to see each other on the few occasions they would run into each other in public, but their friendship had abruptly ended after that night. She hadn't been surprised at all when Shira and Mitchum hadn't made an appearance at her grandfather's wake. She would have been far more surprised if they had.

"Thank you," Rory responded.

"I'm sure it was lovely," Shira continued. "Everything Emily touches is just lovely."

"Yes," Rory said. "It was."

The truth was she didn't really remember if it was lovely or not. That entire day had passed by in such a blur, and she had spent every second of her time alternating between managing her own grief and making sure her grandmother was still functioning. She hadn't had any time to reflect on whether or not their surroundings were lovely. She remembered there were some flowers. And a lot of people in black. And somehow her grandmother's legendary salmon puffs had entirely lost all flavor…

"It was so nice catching up with her on the phone last Sunday," Shira said, shifting her tone from somber to chipper in an effort to keep the conversation from lagging to long in the macabre. "I do hope we're able to get that lunch together before she leaves for Nantucket. I've been wanting to put our heads together for shower plans."

Shower plans.

Rory had completely forgotten about her shower plans. The past month had out been so full with other concerns – Logan finding out about the baby, starting their relationship over, packing up her grandmother's house, dealing with his family, dealing with her family, working on her book. The last thing on her mind had been her upcoming baby shower. She'd actually forgotten about it entirely.

Of course Shira would want to come. And Honor. It was pretty customary for the father's family to be invited to the baby shower, after all. It's just that when they had sent out the invitations, there hadn't been a father's family. But, as bad as she'd felt that it had completely slipped her mind to extend invitations to them, she couldn't help but be a little annoyed that Shira had assumed there hadn't been any plans made at all, or that it would be her grandmother making them. It made her wonder if Shira simply liked to pretend that Lorelai didn't exist.

"Oh. Well…" she started. "We've actually already planned the shower. My motherhas that is."

"Your mother?" Shira asked, her dead-eyed smile returning. "How nice."

"It should be," said Rory with a forced smile of her own. "We're having it at The Dragonfly Inn. My mother owns it, and she's also the acting event coordinator there. You and Honor are invited of course. I actually meant to bring the invitations with me this evening. But, it just slipped my mind entirely. Baby brain…"

"Oh I understand that," Shira said, sweetly, too sweetly. Rory could tell that she didn't believe the lie, but was going along with it all the same. "Well… I guess Emily and I will just have to move on to the bridal shower then."

Shira seemed to have no idea how heavily the words she'd just said hung in the air. Oblivious, she returned to her meal, not even bothered by the fact that the table had once again gone silent.

Logan had set his fork back down on his plate and straightened up in his chair. Honor was glancing back and forth between him and their mother with subtle turns of her neck. Mitchum's fork was suspended mid-air as he was distracted from eating his next bite of fish. Josh was suddenly busying himself with making sure the boys were actually eating their dinner. And Rory… well the blood rushing to Rory's brain made it hard for her to contemplate what exactly she was doing, where she was, or what in the name of God was going on.

"Bridal shower?" she heard Logan ask next to her. "What bridal shower, Mom?"

Shira's eyes snapped up to Logan. She looked at him, baffled and confused.

"Rory's bridal shower, of course," she explained as if it were obvious. "What on Earth do you think I was talking about?"

Rory let out a single breathy laugh. She hadn't thought it was possible, but the all-encompassing hunger that just five minutes ago was torturing her with every passing second was suddenly gone. She's completely lost her appetite.

"Rory's not… having a bridal shower, Mom," Logan continued. "We're not getting married…"

The clank of Shira's fork as it fell on her plate was loud enough to startle her two and a half year old grandson out of the little dance he had been doing on his chair. He looked at her in alarm and then at his mother who quickly tried to redirect his attention back to his dinner.

"What do you mean you're not getting married?" Shira asked. "She is having your child. You are getting married."

"No. We're not," Logan said, firmly. "At least not any time soon."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Shira all but shrieked. "I will not have my granddaughter raised in sin! If you didn't want to marry her, then you should have thought of that before you decided cheat on your fiancée and get her pregnant! Honestly, Logan, when exactly did you make it your mission in life to do everything in your power to drive me into an early grave?!"

Across the table, Honor took a deep breath. She gestured for Josh to round up the boys and take them out of the dining room. He complied without question, picking Ethan up and dodging comments from Carter about how Grandma was mad and Uncle Logan was in trouble.

"Believe it or not, you don't factor at all into the decisions that I make about my relationship," Logan countered as he leaned over the table to fix his mother with a hard and angry stare.

"Mom," Honor interrupted. She held out her other hand in front of her, hoping to pause whatever show down was about to happen between her brother and her mother before it got entirely out of hand. "I realize that you're upset. But, Logan and Rory are grown adults. I think they can make their own decisions about the best way to - "

"Well they clearly can't!" Shira interrupted.

Rory couldn't believe what she was hearing. Although, she was strangely calm. She had expected some kind of blow out to happen over the course of the evening. She would have been stupid not to expect it. She didn't, however, expect it to entail Shira Huntzberger so vehemently insisting that she and Logan needed to get married. She felt a bit like she was caught in a strange fever dream.

"The last time I came here you told me that I wasn't good enough to marry into your family. That I wasn't bred for it."

"Well, you've clearly found a way to get around that, haven't you?"

"Mom!"

"Excuse me?!" Rory exclaimed at the same precise time that Logan jumped in to defend her from that particular accusation. She appreciated him coming to her defense, but she didn't need him to. Not even from his own mother.

"I think it's pretty clear what's going on here," Shira explained, gesturing between Logan and Rory with a wave of her hand.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, Shira," Mitchum grumbled from the head of the table. His own fork clanked loudly against his plate at the exclamation, and he started rubbing the tension out of his forehead.

"I don't know what you're insinuating," Rory began, lying. She knew exactly what Shira was insinuating. "But if you think that I've somehow manipulated Logan into being with me, I'd like to remind you that he didn't even knowI was pregnant with his child until you told him."

"Well you certainly haven't done anything to stop him from calling off his engagement or moving back here to attend to your every whim have you?"

"Mom, I am not going to sit here and let you - "

"Oh yes you are!" Shira interrupted. "I've kept my mouth closed long enough while I've sat on the side lines and watched you blow your life apart. Now, I may not be happy about this, but there is a way these things are done. I did not raise my son to be the kind of man that gets a woman pregnant and doesn't marry her. I don't care who she is or what her motivations are - "

"OH, FOR GOD'S SAKE, SHIRA! WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?!"

There was an almost literal seismic shift in the dining room as Mitchum's titanic voice echoed through the air. The booming sound resonated in the room around them, almost vibrating to the point of creating an actual quake. Shira's face went white. Honor's face fell into her hands in exasperation and Logan cringed next to her before picking up his rocks glass and swirling it in his hand. None of them, however, looked all that surprised by the outburst.

Rory was. She'd never found herself in a situation like this before in her entire life. Even with all the knock down drag out fights between her mother and her grandmother that she had been party to, even with the dinner that she'd attended with the Hayden's that had dissolved into a screaming match in her grandparents' living room, even when her grandparents were separated and fighting on a nightly basis, she'd never seen anyone speak to his wife that way in front of her – in front of his children.

"Dad…" Honor said as she tried to reign him in. It was no doubt a role she'd found herself in many times as the oldest child. But, Mitchum paid her no heed.

"Not every single woman who gets pregnant out of wedlock is trying to trap someone into marrying them! Not everyone is like you!"

The silence that followed was thick.

All that could be heard was the steady ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room across the hallway and the soft sound of Chopin's Prelude in D-Flat Major suspending in the air.

Every single member of the Huntzberger family was avoiding eye contact with each other in the moments that followed. Honor's eyes were closed and she was taking calming breaths. Logan was still finding something about his drink absolutely fascinating. And Shira was looking ever so slightly off to the side. Her chin was held high, but Rory could detect a slight quiver as she processed the accusation just flung at her from her husband of thirty-eight years.

"Will someone please take this fucking tuna steak away from me?"

Shira shot up from her chair with a determined look on her face. She quickly and intensely walked across the room to the other side of the table and snatched the plate from in front of him before disappearing around the corner toward what Rory assumed was the kitchen. About twenty seconds later, the sound of shattering china filled the air. It seemed to knock Logan out of his trance. He flinched at the noise and started shaking his head.

"Jesus, Dad…" he whispered before taking a sip of his drink. Rory's eyes traveled to Honor again. She was still sitting across from her with her eyes closed, breathing, steadying herself.

"What?!" Mitchum asked, throwing his hand up in the air. "You're welcome!"

"Am I supposed to thankyou for that?" Logan asked, glowering at him.

Mitchum didn't respond to the question. He wouldn't have been able to if he tried, because Honor abruptly shot up from her spot at the table, her chair scraping loudly against the wood floor. She balled up her napkin in her hands and threw it down on the table before storming out without so much as a word. Mitchum watched her the whole time in exasperation.

"Oh, Honor, don't be so dramatic!" he yelled after her as she walked to the living room toward the staircase to find her family.

Mitchum mumbled something unintelligible under his breath as he stood up from his seat. He made his way through the living room, calling out to Honor as he followed her path up the stairs.

Rory didn't say anything, but she knew first hand that it didn't matter how many times he told her that his statement hadn't had anything to do with her. There would always probably be a part of Honor that believed it did. Just like there was always a part of her that still believed she was responsible for ruining her mother's life, and keeping her father from going to Princeton, and causing a rift between her mother and her grandparents that to this day was never fully closed.

She could imagine how difficult it had to be for Honor to live with the insinuation that her conception was responsible for the thirty-eight miserable years her parents had spent married to each other. She couldn't imagine, however, how much worse it would be having her own father be the person to speak the words out loud and then call her dramatic for being upset about them.

She suddenly had a deep desire to go back to her grandmother's house and give her a long hug. She wanted to thank her for the conversation she'd had after that dinner with the Haydens where she'd to told her with such a steady calming conviction that Rory – her existence -wasn't the reason why everyone was so upset.

As Mitchum left, Rory and Logan found themselves alone. This time they were the last survivors of a Huntzberger Family meal rather the first to go. They were quiet for a moment. Shell shocked. Logan slouched in his chair next to her and continued to swirl his scotch in his hand. She had no idea what to say, or if she should even say anything at all. A few more ticks of the clock passed as Logan took some calming breaths. Then, he finished off his drink and stood up, holding his hand out to her.

"Come on," he said. "I'll make you some dinner."

The walk back to the pool house was quiet. Neither one of them knew exactly how to process the dinner that they had just sat through. It was strange… because as they left the dining room and the main house behind them, Rory realized that she wasn't even all that upset at the insinuations that Shira had flung her way. She's always assumed Shira had felt that way in the back of her mind anyway.

She was upset, but not for her own sake. Instead her thoughts were focused on Logan, focused on the thought she'd had at the beginning of the evening. She'd been so sure that his stories of family turmoil over the years had been embellished. She'd based that surety on nothing more than her own personal experience. She knew, of course, that Mitchum could be gruff and mean. She knew that his mother could be crazy. She knew from comments and quips from her grandmother that Shira was a 'two-bit gold digger' that 'somehow managed to bag Mitchum.' She knew that Mitchum 'still played around.'

She'd laughed at that Friday Night Dinner, laughed at the way her grandmother delighted in taking Shira down a peg by rubbing her face in the grim reality of her life and marriage. But, she wasn't laughing tonight.

Tonight, she was walking hand in hand with a man who had spent his entire life living inside that grim reality. He had faced that grim reality from the moment he was born, trapped in a house where it was entirely normal to hear his father scream curses at his mother from across the dinner table, trapped inside a city where whispers of his father's sexual promiscuity and his mother's shrewd manipulations broke amongst crowds every single time he walked into a room.

It was no wonder that Andover had been his favorite school, that the semester he'd spent studying in an entirely different country was his most cherished childhood memory. It made total sense that he was still conversational in Spanish, and that he still knew how to make paella without a recipe. It had probably been the first time he ever felt free of it all.

He had that look on his face, the dazed faraway look that he always got when things got particularly serious and he wasn't quite able to wrap his head around them. He would probably be quiet for a little while, maybe even broody. But that was okay.

Rory wasn't twenty years old any more. Logan wasn't twenty-two. And their relationship was much longer than a single day old. She'd give him the space to be quiet and broody without worrying about what it meant. He wouldn't end up walking away from her and leaving her alone to clear his head. They'd just be quiet together and eat whatever food Logan managed to scrape together in his fridge.

And then they'd deal with it all in the morning.

Shira was beginning to regret letting Honor pick out the wallpaper with the foil trimmed roses. At the time, it hadn't really mattered. She never imagined she would spend enough time in this room to really care about the iridescent flowers on the wall. She had just been so relieved that her ten year old daughter hadn't chosen some gaudy neon monstrosity to put on the wall that she hadn't given it a second thought. Honor could have her 'shiny' flowers if that meant that Shira would be spared having to look at a bright purple wall covered with a bunch of triangles and circles and oddly placed squiggles.

Now, though, she was finding it difficult to sleep with the way the moonlight bounced off the foil and made the walls move as though hypnotizing her. Between the flowers that seemed to be alive and the eyes of the Samantha and Kirsten dolls that were still perched on the top of her daughter's bookcase, she was feeling uneasy. Haunted.

But then, this house had always felt haunted no matter which room she was in.

It probably was. It had been standing here since 1862. While the rest of the country was battling a gruesome civil war, Augustus Huntzberger was investing in real estate. It was probably crawling with the ghosts of servants, of construction workers who had fallen from great heights installing the opulent stain glass ceilings, of past Huntzberger wives perhaps locked away in attics like the Mrs. Rochesters of their time – deemed mad for not suffering quietly under the cruel and unloving thumbs of their husbands.

Not that Shira would have much sympathy for them. It wasn't that hard to suffer quietly. She'd done it all her life. She was doing it now, lying in her daughter's childhood bed while her husband occupied their bedroom, unable to sleep while he slumbered away without so much as a thought about her.

It wasn't the first time she'd slept in Honor's room, and it probably wouldn't be the last. The first time had been when she'd left for Wellesley and Shira found herself staring down a future in this house without the daughter she'd always wanted. And then eventually without her son. Left alone in a giant mansion that had never been hers with no one but a husband who had never loved her and the phantom presence of whichever woman he brought in through the wafting scent of lingering perfume on his blazer.

She wasn't sure when her life had taken such a turn. But, then she wasn't sure if her life had ever actually taken a turn at all. She wasn't sure which house was worse – her husband's or her father's. In the end, she'd just traded one demon for another – the demon of poverty and gambling and alcoholism for the demon of wealth and gambling… and alcoholism. Mitchum was somehow all the things that her father wasn't, and all the things her father was at the same time.

But at least she'd never been cold in Mitchum Huntzberger's house. She'd never had to sell her dead mother's wedding ring to put food in her children's mouths, and those children never had to choose between an getting an education or paying their bills. It was more than she could say for father's home at the very least.

In the end, that made all of it worth it – all of the sneers and implications, all of the rash decisions she'd made. She'd done them all with a purpose, with a determination rivaling Scarlett O'Hara crumbling the dirt of Tara in her fist and vowing to never go hungry again. She used the one piece of capital she had to her name and she had done it unashamedly.

Shira had been beautiful – the type of beautiful that stopped men and women alike in their tracks, the type of beautiful that seemed to jump right off of an old Hollywood movie screen, the type of beautiful that made women win pageants and book modeling contracts. She was beautiful and cunning and ruthless. And she wasn't afraid to use any of it. If that made her a tramp or a gold digger or whore in the eyes of the women that frequented The Windsor Club, then so be it. Shira could buy and sell them all tomorrow in the blink of an eye of she wanted to.

She'd won.

She'd hopped on a bus out of Hicksville, Long Island when she was twenty years old, and she didn't stop until she reached New Haven. She'd haunted every bar and night club frequented by the Ivy League elites who were dripping in money, and she'd managed to scoop up the wealthiest one of them all.

Mitchum had given her a Tiffany engagement ring, a dynastic mansion, two yachts, a summer home in Martha's Vineyard, and dinners at the most expensive and exclusive restaurants in the world. He'd given her more than she could possibly mention. He'd given her more than the financial security she'd always craved as a child. He'd given her financial power. And in return she'd given him two beautiful children.

It had all worked out in the end.

Shira had gotten everything she'd ever set out to get in life. She didn't need anything else – at least that's what she'd always told herself every time she ended up lying in a bed that wasn't hers because she couldn't stand the thought of lying next to her husband. This was the sacrifice that she'd made to achieve her goals, to build the best kind of life for herself and her children. It was worth it. It had to have been worth it.

Sometimes you have to sacrifice the things you might want to get the practical things that you need.

Suddenly, with a somewhat involuntary flourish of her arm, she was flinging her daughter's light peach silk duvet off of herself and swinging her feet over the side of the bed. She grabbed her robe off of the chair next to the bed and wrapped it around herself as she walked out of the room and down the hallway to the stairs.

Five months. She had lasted five months this time. It wasn't bad, comparatively. In fact, it was one of the longest stretches she'd ever gone.

When she reached the living room, Shira walked with purpose up to the mantle. She lifted the lid off of an antique Limoges urn and reached inside, pulling out an unopened pack of Camels and a sterling silver lighter. As she made her way to the patio doors, held the carton between her thumb and middle and index fingers, turning it over to hit the top of the box against the palm of her other hand in rapid succession.

As soon as she stepped outside, she starting peeling the cellophane from the box. She flipped open the lid and pulled out a cigarette, lifting it to her lips. Then, she flipped the lighter open, palmed her hands around the flame to protect it from the brisk breeze, held it against the end, and inhaled.

As the smoke spread through her lungs, every single muscle in Shira's body felt as though it was melting. She closed her eyes as the tension held within her eked out of every single pore, and a wave of pleasure traveled from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. Whoever said that mindful meditation was a superior substitute for a puff of smoke and a jolt of nicotine had clearly lost their mind.

She exhaled the smoke into the night air, and as she blew a familiar sound rung out from the direction of the pool house. It was the sound of her son's laughter, a sound that she realized – in this moment – that she hadn't actually heard in quite some time.

She turned around to look in the direction of the pool house, expecting to catch a glimpse of Logan. However, a precariously placed Japanese Maple was blocking him from her view. All she could see was the flickering light of the gas fire pit shining through the leaves of the tree. She could hear the sound of Neil Young playing from the outdoor speakers and the sound of a feminine voice in the middle of a story.

Some people might find it rude to eavesdrop, but eavesdropping had always been a particular interest and talent of Shira's. She took a step to the side, allowing the Japanese Maple to further obstruct her from view, and listened.

"…and it backfired on her because we didn't have a car once it got towed away, obviously."

"Obviously."

"So we were stuck there in the driveway for forty-five minutes waiting for Luke come get us because Mom refused to go back in the house. And Grandma refused to go back into the house until we came back into the house. But that meant that she had to keep looking at the shirt, which she was very upset about. And eventually she told Mom that she needed to go upstairs and change into a different shirt while we waited. And Mom still refused."

"Naturally."

"So then Grandma kept yelling 'Lorelai go take that shirt off right now!' and 'Lorelai, I can't believe you wore that shirt in front of your teenaged daughter!' and 'Lorelai, I won't let you get into a strange man's car with a pornographic t-shirt on!'"

"A strange man?"

"Well… my grandma had only met Luke like once at that point. So, in Emily Gilmore land that made him a strange man."

"Ah, of course."

"But so then Mom got tired of Grandma yelling at her so she just screamed 'Fine!' and she took the shirt off in the middle of the driveway and stood there in nothing but her bra and a skirt."

The melodic sound of Logan's amused laughter traveled through the patio once again.

"And, then Grandma had an aneurysm and she started yelling more about how my mom was a terrible influence on me and she was teaching me to be a 'wanton woman.'"

"A wanton woman. Wow…"

"Well, look at me. She was right. Here I am sleeping with other women's fiancés and tricking them into marrying me by getting pregnant."

Shira didn't know how she expected her son to react to that comment, but she definitely hadn't expected to hear him laugh again. That was three times. Three times he'd laughed in the course of a single conversation. She couldn't remember Logan finding cause to laugh around her in the last three years… possibly longer. The worst part of it was that she hadn't really thought about it. She'd never noticed the point at which her well humored son had stopped laughing. It had come and gone without her taking any note of it at all.

He used to laugh so much. Logan had been such a happy baby and such a mischievous little boy. He'd been curious and excitable and energetic – to the point of driving her, Mitchum, and the help to madness, to the point of considering Ritalin and other new wave cocktails of supplements to attempt to control his uncontrollable hyperactivity. In the end it was no use. They were never able to reign him in.

Apparently, only life had been able to do that.

The sound of Logan's laughter trailed off, and a still silence settled between the couple. Only the crackling fire and the opening chords of Harvest Moon could be heard. Shira took another drag of her cigarette.

"I'm sorry she said that to you," she finally heard Logan say. His humor was gone. His voice was heavy and serious with disappointment. Shira's heart started beating rapidly, and she almost considered going back inside. She'd already heard her husband all but say he couldn't stand her this evening, she didn't need to hear it from her son as well.

"It's okay," Rory replied.

"It's not…" said Logan. "I promised you that I would keep her from attacking you tonight and - "

"Logan," Rory interrupted him. "Remember what I told you in New Hampshire? I don't need you to rescue me."

"Well maybe I want to," Logan said. "Okay? You're the mother of my child. I'm supposed to protect you. That's my job."

"Well that's…" Rory trailed. "…very benevolently sexist of you to say."

Logan groaned.

"Great," he said. "Now I'm a sexist. I'm a sexist who sits there and does nothing while his mother slings accusations at his girlfriend - "

"Logan, stop," Rory said firmly. "You don't need to protect me from your mother. She can think whatever she wants to think about me. I don't care. I only care what you think about me."

"I love you," said Logan. "That's what I think."

Love.

He loved her.

Shira didn't put much stock into love. There was no need to be so sentimental. At the end of the day, love was useless. Her mother loved her father, and all that had gotten her was a deadbeat drunk of a husband who couldn't keep a job and gambled their mortgage payments at Yonkers.

There were more important things than love. Surviving was important. Finding security and stability was important. Building the right kind of life for yourself was important. Filling your life with the kind of people who would lay the proper foundation for that life was important.

Love was just a garnish. It made a plate pretty to look at, but it didn't feed anyone.

Deciding she'd heard enough for the evening, Shira threw her cigarette but on the ground and crushed it under her slipper with the ball of her foot. She walked back into the patio and closed the door behind her.

She quietly walked up the stairs, avoiding each step that she had come to learn was creaky after all of her years maintaining this house. And, as she got closer and closer to the room where she would spend the night alone, away from the husband who she didn't love and who didn't love her back, she echoed her previous sentiments in her head.

It didn't matter that she had missed out on experiencing love.

She had gotten something better.

She kept telling herself that as the sound of her son's newly restored laughter continued to ring in her ears all night long.

TBC...

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty – One

Saturday, May 27, 2017

"The past was like a bad dream; the future was all happy holiday as I moved Southwards week by week, easily, lazily, lingering as long as I dared, but always heeding the call!"

"Oh my God! Oh my Goooood!"

Rory didn't have a single moment to get her bearings before an excitable blur was hurdling itself toward her. The second she appeared in the doorway of the Dragonfly's kitchen her arms were completely full of Sookie.

"There she is! Look at you! You look so pretty!"

Rory let out a small 'oof' at the contact, being taken off guard. But she relaxed as Sookie's giddy and infectious giggle sounded in her ears. Despite her surprise at being borderline assaulted without any warning, a bright smile started spreading across her face and she returned the hug enthusiastically.

"Hi, Sookie!" she greeted. "I've missed you."

"Oh, honey, I missed you too!" Sookie said as she pulled out of the hug. She didn't let Rory go, however, instead she placed her hands on Rory's arms and held her out in front of her to get a good look. "You're so big! I can't believe you got so big!"

"Ah, yes," a sardonic French accented voice carried from the other side of the room. "What every woman wants to hear. How incredibly massive she has grown."

Rory smiled a greeting to Michel over Sookie's shoulder, but Sookie ignored him entirely. Her focused remained glued to Rory's belly and her hands traveled from her arms to the sides of her now eight month old baby belly.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay? Your mom told me you've had really bad morning sickness. Have you had back pain? I remember with Davey I had back pain for weeks before I went into labor. Have you been eating? I hope you've been eating. But if not…we have plenty of food! Your mom gave me free reign so I went all out. Come on! Come on!"

Rory didn't bother to fight as Sookie dragged her into the kitchen and started gesturing to the trays and trays of hors d'oeuvres, snacks, and desserts laid out on the island and on counters. She started pointing at them one by one, smiling and laughing with delight at every gesture.

"We have blinis. We have quiches. We have salmon puffs. We have deviled eggs –your mom was very clear for some reason that we needed to have deviled eggs. We have cupcakes and cookies. And oh my God I can't get over how pretty you look!"

Rory's arms were suddenly filled with Sookie yet again. This time, being a little bit more prepared for the embrace, Rory managed to gather herself in time to actually hug her back. As they hugged, Rory looked around the kitchen and her eyes went wide at the sheer amount of food Sookie had decided to cook for the occasion. There were quite a few people coming, but she still had a hard time imagining how they could possibly eat this much in the course of a few hours.

Not that she was all that surprised by the fact that Sookie had gone overboard. She'd known Sookie her entire life, after all. She'd expected this. She'd expected her to cook enough food to feed a small army and have days' worth of leftovers. It's why she hadn't bothered to let her know that there would possibly be seventeen more people showing up to this shower than had been initially counted for. She'd actually been hoping the increase in people might offset the potential for waste. But… apparently that wasn't going to be the case.

When Logan had told Rory that there were a total of seventeen women in his extended family that would expect to receive invitations to the shower, she'd almost had an aneurysm. She'd always known that he came from a big family. She'd learned that when she first started researching his father and found out that he was one of four siblings. And she'd assumed they had all been pretty successful at reproducing when her grandparents went on and on about how there were so many children in his extended family who probably liked beaches.

Still… seventeen was a number that had sent her mind reeling. He assured her that some of them would likely not show up. His mother and her sister apparently couldn't stand each other so the odds of his maternal family showing up at all were slim to none. He'd also assured her that a large portion of that number were children and teenagers. Their mothers might drag them along, but it was just as likely they would choose to stay home rather than go to a stranger's baby shower.

That had calmed Rory a bit. The last thing she wanted or needed was an entire army of Huntzbergers descending upon her party. So far she'd only gotten RSVPs from six of them, Shira and Honor included. But, knowing her history with Huntzberger women, a lack of an RSVP was no guarantee that they wouldn't show up.

Logan, of course, had insisted that she didn't need to invite any of them. He'd tried to talk her out of inviting his own mother after the disastrous dinner that they'd sat through a few weeks ago. But, Rory refused. She was determined to come out of all of this on the right foot with his family. She was determined to be the better person.

Besides, she would have plenty of moral support. Honor was going to be here. She and Rory had talked a couple of times on the phone since dinner, and were slowly starting to rebuild the relationship they used to have. Rory could tell that Honor was still a little distrustful that Rory wasn't going to break her brother's heart again, but things were getting better.

She would also have her grandmother here, and as Rory knew from experience there was no one better at putting Shira in her place than Emily Gilmore. If Shira attempted to make a scene, which Rory doubted would happen in such a public environment anyway, she could trust her grandmother to put a swift end to it.

Finally, if all else failed Paris would be here, and nothing more needed to be said there.

"Thank you," Rory replied with a laugh, breaking away from the hug. "This all looks amazing, Sookie. Thank you so much for doing all of this."

"Are you kidding?" Sookie asked. "I wasn't going to let just anyone cater your baby shower! Oh my God, I can't believe you're having a baby shower! I can't believe you're having a baby! It feels like yesterday that you were so freaked out at Martha 'comin round the mountain!' And now look at you, about to be a mom! It's so exciting!"

Rory was still freaked out at the thought of babies 'coming round the mountain.' In fact, she was having frequent freak outs about what her body was going to have to go through in a month's time that kept her up at night and sent her into anxiety spirals. But, she didn't really want to think about that right now… lest another anxiety spiral occur right before she was supposed to play hostess to a room full of family and friends.

"Michel!"

Her mother's voice suddenly pierced through the air, coming from the dining room and traveling into the kitchen. Not a moment later, she appeared in the doorway with a displeased look on her face.

"What?" the Frenchman asked, raising a brow and taking a sip of the drink that he had been nursing since Rory had walked into the room.

"I thought I asked you to set up the furniture in the front room for opening gifts!" she continued. "People are going to be here in like twenty minutes."

"Yes, you did ask me," Michel simply droned. "I am simply finishing my kombucha before I continue to slave away for the baby shower that I did not receive an invitation to. I can assure you that I will resume my duties as soon as possible."

Michel still did not budge. He lifted his kombucha to his mouth and took another long sip, maintaining eye contact with Lorelai the entire time. Her mother looked thoroughly annoyed, but Rory suddenly felt remorseful.

"Oh, Michel," she started. "The only reason I didn't invite you was because it's a girls only shower. If I knew you wanted to come, I would have - "

"I have no need for your pity invitations, Little Lorelai," Michel huffed. He placed his mug down on the counter and stopped leaning. Now standing at full attention, he fixed her with a hard glare. "Now that I can clearly see where I stand in your life, I will tamper my expectations for the future."

With one final affronted puff, Michel purposely strode out of the room, maintaining eye contact with her for as long as possible as he went. Once he was out of ear shot, Rory looked at her mother and at Sookie and smiled affectionately and unironically.

"Michel seems like he's in a good mood."

"Mom, did you by chance get anything that was actually on Rory's registry?" Honor asked as she popped open the back of Shira's metallic silver Porsche Cayenne.

Sitting in the trunk was a tower of gifts, a very beautifully assembled tower of gifts, wrapped in paper that was a strikingly recognizable color of light blue and tied together with an iconic white bow. She sighed in disappointment at the sight, putting aside the irony that disappointment was never something she would have expected to feel at the sight of the wrappings in front of her.

"Why would you ask that?" Shira asked as she climbed out of the driver's seat of her car and walked around to the back.

"Because…" said Honor. "It's usually considered polite these days to stick to the registry, and knowing what I know about Rory I just doubt that she registered at Tiffany."

"Well these are nicer gifts than what was on her registry," Shira growled. "Besides, by the time I received my invitation all that was left over were some onesies and plastic teething rings. It's hardly an appropriate contribution from the baby's grandmother."

Honor sighed. She had to admit that her mother had a point. She herself had found pretty slim pickings on the registry lists that she'd printed off. She'd ended up supplementing a few nice items that she hadn't seen listed on top of purchasing a couple of things Rory had asked for. Still, she wasn't sure why her mother thought that Tiffany of all places was the right move, and she didn't quite think it was fair of her to act to resentful about receiving a late invitation under the circumstances.

"So you went for a sterling silver teething ring instead?" Honor asked, incredulously. Her mother, however, didn't seem to pick up on the implication of absurdity in her tone. She continued on as if her gift selection was entirely reasonable.

"And a silver rattle, and a hair brush, and a fork and spoon set, and cashmere blanket."

Shira pointed at each box as she listed all the items that she'd purchased for her granddaughter. When she turned her attention back at Honor and took note of her skeptical face, she sighed.

"These aren't just items for the baby, Honor! These are timeless keepsakes. They'll last forever, and Rory will be grateful to have them thirty years from now. I still have yours."

"That's…nice, Mom. But, you know that Rory and Logan have struggles with class differences, and you have literally purchased her baby a silver spoon."

"Oh, please," Shira scoffed. "As if this isn't exactly what she wants."

Honor sighed again, but she knew better than to respond. Shira was still under the impression that Rory's motives for being with Logan were questionable despite several arguments between with her, her father, and Logan himself over the past few weeks. She was stubbornly holding onto the idea, refusing to acknowledge that it was Logan's previous relationship that fell under the veil of obligation, and not his current one.

Shira was still mourning the loss of Odette, and probably would be for the rest of her life.

Shira's attitude was getting frustrating already, and Honor was well aware of the fact that her mother's ability to wade in denial was unparalleled. As much as she hoped this psychological battle between her and Rory would end, it was quite possible that it would last forever. The one hope they had was the baby. As much as Shira still resented Rory, she was undeniably excited about the baby. When Honor met her at the house this morning, she was in the process of setting up the makeshift nursery she'd made for the boys in one of the guest rooms upstairs, replacing all of the blue linens with pink and arranging new stuffed animals on the glider. Eventually Honor was going to have to tell her that if she didn't start putting a better effort in with Rory, she might not find herself having many opportunities for grandma cuddles in that glider.

For now, however, she was going to drop it. Shira was actually in a relatively good mood this afternoon, and she didn't need to ruin that by starting an argument right before they walked into Rory's baby shower.

"Okay, Mom…" she said with a sigh.

"Shira!"

A melodic voice called out to her mother across the parking lot. Turning around, Honor was met with the sight of Emily Gilmore walking toward them in a navy blue sheath dress paired with a matching tipped jacket lined in a cream colored stripe. Her arms were outstretched as she approached them, and her mother, momentarily forgetting the gifts still sitting in the trunk of her car, turned around and plastered a wide smile on her face.

"Emily!" her mother sang back, stepping forward to meet the older woman with some kisses on the cheek. "Don't you look lovely?"

"Same to you, Shira! It's been too long."

Emily's eyes shifted over to Honor, and she could see a subtle change in her eyes. Emily, who had obviously been feigning enthusiasm with her mother, actually seemed a little more excited to lay eyes on Honor. At least Honor hoped so.

"Oh, my goodness! Honor!" Emily said with a smile, leaning over to greet her with a couple of kisses on the cheek as well. "Now it's really been too long since I've seen you. I don't even think I remember the last time…"

"I think it was my high school graduation party," Honor responded. "1997."

"Twenty years! My God!" Emily exclaimed. "How is that even possible?"

"Time certainly does fly," Shira chimed.

"That it does," Emily agreed. "Who would have thought ten years ago, we'd end up here?"

"Certainly not me," Shira responded through clenched teeth.

"Well, now. Let's get you inside," Emily said, swiftly changing the conversation. "Can I help you with any gifts?"

"Oh, no, Emily. Thank you," said Honor, grabbing the gifts out of the car and closing the trunk. "I can handle it."

"It's certainly nice of you girls to arrive so early," Emily said as she hooked her hand through Shira's arm and escorted her through the parking lot to the entrance of the Inn.

"Well, I am the baby's grandmother," Shira responded with a tight smile.

Honor watched as she trailed behind them, worry settling in her gut at the passive aggressive shots they were slinging at each other. She was losing hope that she might be able to get through this afternoon without needing to guide her mother through a breakdown. But, as long as she could stave it off until they got into the car to leave, then Honor would consider the day a success.

"This place is lovely, Emily," said Honor, hoping to cut in with a change in topic that would keep the two 'friends' from going for each other's throats.

"It really is," Honor heard her mother agree. Her tone was a little too surprised for it to sound like a truly authentic compliment. "You must be so proud of all that Lorelai has accomplished… considering…"

"Yes, she's done rather well for herself," Emily replied. "But then Lorelai has always been a very capable and driven woman. She's never liked the idea of getting anything handed to her without hard work. Unlike some…"

"Well, now we know where Rory gets her… restless spirit from…"

"indeed," Emily agreed with a sly smile as the three women reached the front door of the Inn. She opened the door, ushering them inside and to the right. "Well, I know that Lorelai is just so excited to finally meet you - "

"Michel, we can't keep the coffee table in the middle of the room!"

Honor watched Emily's face fall in annoyance as the three of them walked into the front room of the Inn to find rather tall middle aged brunette snipping at a clearly annoyed and well-dressed man as he was arranging a couple of arm chairs in front of the fireplace.

"Why not?!" The man asked in what sounded to be a French accent.

"Because there are going to be people walking through here and mingling. They're going to trip over it!"

"Well, what would you like me to do with it?!"

"Put it in-between the two chairs so we can put gifts on it, and then Rory can sit there while she opens everything," the woman, who Honor was assuming was the infamous Lorelai Gilmore, pointed to the arm chairs that the man had just dragged across the room. Her back was still facing them, but Honor didn't need to see her face to know that she was clearly put out with the man. The feeling seemed to be mutual, and the man started grumbling under his breath.

"Re-arranging all this furniture like some kind of one-man moving company…" he mumbled as he walked toward the coffee table.

As he moved, his eyes suddenly landed on the three of them. His face broke out into a wide grin, masking the previously obvious anger so quickly that Honor honestly thought he could give her mother a run for her money. He stood up straight and ran a hand over his pink paisley tie as he approached them.

"Mrs. Gilmore!" he sung as she stepped toward her with his arms open. Emily stepped forward to meet him and they kissed each other's cheeks as their hands met. Behind him, Honor watched as Lorelai turned around, noting their presence for the first time.

"Hello, Michel!"

"As always, Mrs. Gilmore, you look absolutely radiant this afternoon."

"Well, thank you, Michel. You're too kind."

"And who are your lovely guests?" Michel asked, turning his attention to Honor and Shira. Apparently charmed, the smile on her mother's face grew as she held out her hand to the Frenchman.

"I'm Shira Huntzberger, and this is my daughter Honor," her mother introduced. "I'm the baby's grandmother."

"Another grandmother! How lovely!" the man, Michel, chimed with a tilt of his head. "Tell me, would you find it appropriate to ask your business partner to set up your daughter's baby shower and then not invite him to attend?"

"Michel!" Lorelai yelled, as she approached them. A reproached look fell on the man's face.

"Let me take these for you," he said, addressing Honor with a frown and taking the gifts from her hands. As Lorelai approached, Michel disappeared, walking back into the room he had been setting up and placing the pile of gifts on the coffee table that still needed to be moved.

"Lorelai," Emily asked, appalled. "Did you really not invite Michel to the shower?"

"It's not that he wasn't invited, Mom," Lorelai answered with a sigh. "It's just that it's a women's only event."

"Nonsense! Michel is more than welcome," Emily replied. "Michel! You're more than welcome to stay for the shower. In fact, I insist on it!"

Across the room, Michel smiled.

"Why thank you, Mrs. Gilmore. I would be absolutely delighted. I will go get my gift from the car. Excuse me."

With a final sigh, Lorelai watched her business partner walk out the front door and gather his gift as if he had planned this all along. Honor couldn't help but be slightly amused. He certainly seemed colorful, and by the way they interacted it seemed like this kind of back and forth was the norm between them.

"Lorelai," said Emily, recapturing her daughter's attention. As Lorelai's gaze snapped back to them she took another deep breath. Honor could tell that she was obviously uneasy about meeting them. From what Logan had told her, Lorelai hated her parents perhaps even more than the President did at the moment. And she wasn't exactly holding hands and skipping with him either.

"This is Shira Huntzberger. Logan's - "

"Mother," Lorelai interrupted. "Yes, I know, Mom."

Lorelai held her hand out to Shira and Honor watched her mother's eye glance down at it as if it was a foreign object. With a strike of her elbow, Honor nudged her mother into responding. Shira plastered another smile on her face as she accepted Lorelai's out stretched hand and shook it.

"Lorelai Gilmore," the other woman said simply but not impolitely.

"Pleasure," Shira replied.

Silence hung between the two women as they stared each other down for a moment. To say that neither one of them would become fast friends by the end of the afternoon was probably an understatement. The air was thick and tense. It felt volatile, as if the smallest wrong move might set the day off on a track that would be impossible to turn around from. Feeling that she needed to jump in as quickly as possible, Honor stuck her hand out as well.

"Hi, I'm Honor Abrahams," she said with a bright smile. "Logan's older sister."

To her great relief, Lorelai actually smiled at bit at her introduction

"Hi, Honor," she said, shaking her hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh God!" said Honor, feigning worry. "Nothing too horrible I hope."

"Not at all," Loreal responded with a laugh. "Mostly that you're nice to my kid and you like Bergdorfs."

"Ah, yes. Bergdorf Goodman is my happy place."

"Mine too!" said Lorelai, her smile growing.

"Well, now that we have the introductions out of the way, why don't we find Rory?" said Emily. Thankfully, they both seemed to be on the same page keeping any interaction between Shira and Lorelai to a minimum was best for all in attendance today.

"She's helping Sookie set up the food and the mimosa bar."

"Wonderful," Emily said as she dragged Shira through the front room and into what looked to be the dining room. Honor and Lorelai were left behind for a moment, looking at each other slightly awkwardly but at least not contemptuously.

Honor cleared her throat.

"Did you say mimosa bar?" she asked. Lorelai smiled.

"Follow me."

There seemed to be two things that Honor and Lorelai were in full agreement on. First, that anyone with sense knew that Bergdorf Goodman's far surpassed Disney World as the happiest place on Earth. And second, that the best way to get through this afternoon was going to be to load up on champagne and orange juice.

Honor planned to start immediately.

Rory was starting to regret her decision to serve booze at this shower.

It wasn't that she had a problem with drinking. Rory had never had a problem with drinking. In fact, she had always found it rather amusing to be the sober person in a room full of tipsy people – provided they weren't completely belligerent.

No, now Rory was regretting her decision to serve alcohol because she was starting to feel contemptuous over the fact that everyone else got to drink, and she didn't. A little liquid courage would go a long way right now, and it also might ease the guilt she was feeling as she watched her father's fiancée on the other side of the room.

Rory was too hard on Lana. She knew that she was. She'd known that from the moment her father had first introduced them. She knew it wasn't fair, and she knew that her issues had little to do with Lana herself. But, nevertheless, she had always been uncomfortable around the woman. Rory was always uncomfortable when her father had a new love interest, and the more serious it got, the more uncomfortable she tended to grow.

Christopher's love life rarely yielded positive outcomes. It seemed like every time there was a woman in his life things tended to implode. She would probably be trepidatious of any woman that her father had decided to marry. But, the fact that it was Lana made things even worse – through no fault of her own.

Lana was only eight years older than Rory. When they were seen together in public, people probably assumed they were sisters – or friends. In fact, the age difference between Rory's actual sister and herself was wider than the age difference between her and the woman that was about to become her step-mother.

And the weirdest thing about it was that, rationally, Rory knew it wasn't that weird at all.

Rory had always been aware that her parents were young. She'd always known that sixteen years old was scandalously young age to have a child. She'd always known that she and her mother were different than Lane and Mrs. Kim or even her mother and grandmother because of how uniquely small their age difference was.

But, there was a difference between knowing it and feeling it.

When Rory was a child, sixteen years still felt like a lifetime. Her parents still seemed like adults to her. Rationally, she'd known that they were younger than most parents, but at the end of the day she never really saw it. They were all grown-ups to her. They were all so much taller than her. They all had jobs. They all drank wine. And they all talked about things like mortgages, taxes, and car payments.

Yet, the older she got the more she began to truly understand how young her parents were. When her mother was the age Rory was now, she had a seventeen year old daughter contemplating college applications. Rory was just now getting ready to give birth to her first child and felt in her heart like she was still too young and clueless to be doing it. And her father was set to get married to a woman who had gone to high school with her boyfriend's sister.

And she didn't even get to feel grossed out about it.

Most people got to feel grossed out when their fathers remarried a woman young enough to be their sisters.

But, the reality was that while Lana was only eight years older than Rory, she was also only eight years younger than Christopher. And in the grand scheme of things, that was hardly a significant age difference at all. Rory herself had briefly dated a man who was seven years older than her and hadn't even blinked an eye about it. It just felt strange to her. But, none of that was Lana's fault.

Rory tried, she really did, but she had never been good at keeping her discomfort hidden when it came to relationships with other people. She didn't have the gift that her grandmother seemed to have where she could effortlessly put on social graces despite how she felt about the people around her. When Rory was uncomfortable with someone, she got quiet and awkward, and that often came across as cold and resentful.

She needed to try harder with Lana, and if that hadn't been obvious before, it was plainly obvious now.

Lana had been her savior this afternoon. As soon as the extended Huntzberger family had arrived, Lana had taken note of the look of sheer panic on Rory's face and didn't hesitate to latch herself on to them and keep them entertained. She'd used her connection with Honor to slip into a conversation with grace and ease, to make them feel comfortable, to be the representative of Rory's family that offered them a warm and inviting welcome while Rory herself pretended to be doing the rounds and tried to psych herself up to go speak to them.

Rory would never be able to repay her for that.

She'd been watching them for the past few minutes. Gigi was standing next to Lana as well. The fourteen year old hadn't left Lana's side since Lorelai had interrogated her about why she'd wrapped Rory's gift in pink paper instead of green. Because green was the new pink and Gigi of all people should know that. Gigi had always been aware that her 'Aunt Lorelai' was a bit odd, but Rory had to admit that this time her mother had come off a little crazy.

She knew she was going to have to go over there soon. She was running out of time before it officially became impolite for her not to introduce herself to Logan's aunts and cousins, and she might as well take advantage of the fact that she had Lana, Gigi, and Honor over there at the moment to offer her some moral support. Yet, she seemed frozen in place, too comforted by the safety of her friends to risk the danger facing her at the other side of the room.

"So then I told him 'If you need to see me naked before you can know if I am right type of woman for this role, then I don't think you're actually interested in telling authentic stories about the feminine experience at all' and then I walked up to the director's table, snatched my resume out of his hands, and walked out!"

Rory was startled out of her thoughts by Lucy's enthusiastic telling of her latest nightmare audition. She couldn't help but admire Lucy's relentlessly optimistic spirit. If Rory had thought that the last ten years of her career as a journalist were tumultuous and stressful, then she didn't even want to think about how she might fare in Lucy's line of work. The stories she had heard over the years of the things she'd gone through were truly hair raising. A director asking her to take her shirt off in the middle of an audition for what was supposed to be a feminist piece of work was actually pretty tame in comparison.

"Men are pigs," Olivia commented dryly as she took a sip of her champagne.

"Useless pigs. They should all be killed. We could put the world out of its misery…" Paris agreed with a nod.

She and Doyle must have had another argument before she arrived. That was usually the case when Paris was feeling this misandric. Rory would have to ask her about it later. Things had been going so well between them lately that Rory was actually starting to regain some hope that they might patch things up. Something had clearly happened, Rory just hoped that it was more of a road bump than a final nail in the coffin.

"Speaking of useless pigs…I still can't believe you let Anatole Kuragin knock you up. And that I'm just hearing about it today."

"Logan is not Anatole Kuragin, Paris," replied Rory with a roll of her eyes.

"Name one difference."

"Well… for starters, I don't think he's ever tied anyone to a bear."

Paris was almost as bad as her mother when it came to the irrational belief that Logan was some roguish scoundrel that had corrupted her mind and led her down a path of debauchery. She knew Paris blamed him for her lost semester, and she knew Paris still thought of him as a good-for-nothing lazy trust fund kid with nothing to offer – never mind the fact that he'd done rather well for himself over the last few years. Though, Paris didn't know that. Paris, like most, wasn't even aware that Logan was a part of her life again until she'd walked into the Inn this afternoon.

For that reason alone, Rory would overlook her somewhat hostile attitude for the time being. Afterall, hostile for Paris was slightly miffed for most, and Rory had kept a rather large secret from her for the past three years. She had to admit that she'd probably also be upset of the tables were turned.

"You know, I gotta say, I was pretty surprised to hear that your imaginary London boyfriend was the mystery daddy as well," said Lucy. "Not that I have a problem with it because he was always nice to me. Plus he was cute."

"And rich," added Olivia.

"And rich! Is he still rich? Does he still have one of those fancy rice popper things? Or an air fryer? I bet he has an air fryer. He seems like the type of guy to buy an air fryer and then never use it."

Logan did have an air fryer. Though, he actually did use it. Logan used most of the kitchen appliances that he purchased. Logan was a good cook. He'd always been a good cook, but he'd only gotten better over the years. Rory might even go as far as to say it was a full blown hobby of his.

"Logan has an air fryer," Rory confirmed. "Or… well… he did. At his London apartment. Can you guys excuse me for a second? I need to make the rounds."

"Sure!" Lucy sang as Rory took a step away from them.

She didn't know what exactly had come over her, if it was the guilt she was feeling toward Lana or the desire to flee from Paris' scrutiny, but Rory found her feet moving toward the pack of Huntzbergers standing on the other side of the dining room almost of their own accord. She wasn't going to fight it, however. She knew she was going to have to do this eventually, and if her body felt so compelled to do it now, she wasn't going to argue.

As she stepped closer and closer to the group of women she'd been avoiding, she saw her mother look at her in concern. She also made eye contact with Lane who shot her a supportive look as she listened to Babette detail a list of Morey's current ailments.

She could do this. All she needed to do was introduce herself.

"Here she is!" she heard Lana cheer as she approached. Her future step-mother grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in, squeezing her tightly in a show of support. "The woman of the hour. Ladies, this is Rory."

"Hello," said Rory, demurely. "Thank you all so much for coming."

"Rory," Honor jumped in, quickly. Rory breathed a sigh of relief. Another ally in the group. "These are my aunts, Prudence and Margaret, and my cousins Hope and Charlotte."

Rory wondered briefly at the abundance of virtues that seemed to be apparent in the names of the Huntzberger women. She wondered if it was some kind of tradition, and made a mental note to ask Logan about it at a later time. But, as much as she would like to distract herself with more trivial matters, she'd come over there for a reason.

Rory took a deep breath as she looked upon the four women. In true Huntzberger fashion, all of them held a certain air of gravitas, especially Prudence who Rory assumed was the eldest of Mitchum's siblings. Her strawberry-blond hair was tied in a tight chignon, and she had a certain harshness about her. It was almost librarian like - the way that she looked down at Rory through a pair of glasses perched on her nose. Her sister, Margaret, didn't seem quite as foreboding, but to say that she looked happy to meet Rory would be an overstatement.

Logan's cousins seemed far less intimidating, yet still aloof. Rory couldn't help but notice the small bump protruding out of Hope's midsection, and she wondered for a moment if she should expect an invitation to a baby shower herself in the next few months, but she wouldn't hold out hope. By the looks of them, they had more likely come here to scope out the Rory situation rather than offer her a genuine gesture of welcome and acceptance. Even so, perhaps if Rory could remain pleasant for the day she could start to sway them to her side. Logan had always told her that his father's sisters weren't huge fans of Shira. Perhaps, she might be able to make some allies over time.

"It's so nice to meet you," Rory replied with a smile. "Logan has told me so much about you."

It was partially true. Logan had never tired of complaining about his family over the years, and it wasn't confined only to his immediate one.

"You as well, dear," Prudence said with a serious look.

"Honor and I were just trying to convince Gigi here to go out for the track team next fall," said Lana, squeezing Rory's arm again.

Rory glanced over at her little sister who was looking at Lana as if she'd just turned purple. Gigi was hardly an athletic person. She was far more interested in shopping, gossip, and YouTube makeup tutorials than she'd ever been in sports. She'd danced a little when she was younger at Sherry's insistence, but even that had come to an end a couple of years ago.

"I don't run," Gigi replied, simply.

"I hear ya, Gigi," Rory said with a conspiratory nod.

"So, Rory," Logan's Aunt Margaret chimed. "Shira tells us that you're a journalist?"

Rory wasn't quite able to tell if that was a loaded question. She wasn't sure if it was asked in the genuine spirit of small talk, or if there was an underlying implication to it. Did they all assume that she was using Logan for his connections? She knew that Shira had believed that once upon a time. Just how much had Shira said about her to Logan's extended family? And just how much of it did they believe?

"Um, yes," Rory answered with a nod. "I was the editor of The Yale Daily News. That's actually how Logan and I met - sort of. On the paper. Well, we became friends working on the paper. And then I worked as a political correspondent for a couple of online magazines after I graduated. I also got some pieces published in The New Yorker and Slate. But, right now I'm working on a book."

"A book?" Margaret asked. "How interesting."

"Didn't Mitchum ever offer you a staff position at one of our papers?" Prudence asked, a single brow arched.

"He did, actually," said Rory, thinking back to Logan's twenty-fifth birthday dinner. "But I never felt right taking it."

Prudence replied with nothing more than a single hum, a single unreadable hum that Rory wouldn't have been able to dissect if she had a scalpel in her hand and all the formaldehyde in the world.

"Well my husband certainly never had a problem taking any handouts from Mitchum," Charlotte chimed with an amused laugh. The rest of the women joined in with her, and Rory stood there looking confused.

"Charlotte's husband is Brian Carmichael," Honor explained. Rory's eyes went wide.

"Brian Carmichael? Like… HuffPo's Brian Carmichael?" she asked.

"Formerly HuffPo's Brian Carmichael, now The New York Standard's Brian Carmichael."

"I've read some of his work. He's great," said Rory.

She highly doubted Mitchum offering Brian Carmichael a staff writing position at The New York Standard was purely nepotism. He was good. Very good. The kind of good that made Rory want to pull her hair out and bang her head against a wall because it all seemed so easy coming from him. He'd probably jumped at the chance for a full-time writing position, most freelance journalists would. But, Rory had a distinct feeling that Charlotte didn't have to twist Mitchum's arm in order for him to offer it.

"Don't tell him that. It will go straight to his head," said Charlotte.

It did make Rory feel slightly more at ease, knowing that she wasn't the only Huntzberger partner that was involved in the family business. Perhaps it was more common than she'd thought. After all, the Huntzbergers lived and breathed their business. It only followed suit that a lotof the people they knew were likely met through work or school. Perhaps they didn't think that she was using Logan after all. Perhaps she was just another in a long line of journalistic professionals that found themselves wrapped up in their web.

"So, Rory, what is Logan up to this afternoon since we're all stealing you away?" Margaret asked.

"Oh, he's… um… Logan's in New York. His real estate agent called him about a showing for an apartment."

"And you let Logan go by himself? To pick out family friendly living spaces?" Hope asked.

"Oh. Well. We're actually not planning on living together… quite yet."

Apparently, that was not what the Huntzberger ladies were expecting to hear. They were all quiet for a moment as looks of confusion and surprise settled on their faces. Worried about what they might be thinking, Rory decided to further explain their decision.

"It's just… we're trying to take things a bit slow at the moment. We haven't been in a committed relationship with each other since college. And, I mean, this wasn't exactly planned… as you all… know…"

They were quiet yet again. Rory was withering underneath their scrutinizing looks, and she found yet again, that these women were entirely unreadable. She was starting to wonder if she was better off with Shira. At least with Shira she never had to wonder where she stood.

"To hear Shira talk about it, I was thinking you'd already dragged him to Tiffany for a ring and picked out a $15,000 wedding dress by now…" Hope said before twitching her eyebrows and taking a sip of her champagne. She bore a striking resemblance to Kermit the Frog drinking his cup of hot tea.

"Well, Hope, dear, that's what you get for listening to Shira…" the eldest, Prudence, quipped. "Sorry, Honor."

Honor didn't bother defending her mother. She only shrug and took a sip of her own drink.

"Rory."

Rory felt a hand on her forearm. She turned around and smiled at the sight of her best friend who had somehow managed to extricate herself from Babette.

"Your Mom sent me over here to tell you that it's time to start opening gifts."

Looking over Lane's shoulder, Rory made eye contact with her Mom. Lorelai gave her a knowing look, and Rory smiled. It was a few minutes early for gifts, but Rory had a feeling that her mother had really sent Lane over here to rescue her.

Although, Rory didn't know what was nicer – the fact that her mother had made the gesture, or the fact that Rory didn't actually feel like she needed it.

"It's never too early to start them on the right path."

Rory smiled as she lifted a navy blue onesie with an attached navy and white ruffled skirt out of the box. The front was embroidered with a single 'Y' and the face of a serious looking bulldog. Underneath the onesie was a Yale baby beanie, a three pack of Yale baby socks, and even a Yale bib. Apparently, Rory's little girl was keeping up with the tradition of singlehandedly keeping the Yale University bookstore in business.

"Thanks, Olivia," Rory said with a laugh as she folded up the onesie and placed it back in the box.

She looked around in slight alarm, trying to figure out where exactly to set the latest gift she'd opened. She was running out of room. Even with lane sitting next to her and diligently helping her to get all of the paper cleaned up and packages nearly organized, the front room of her mother's Inn seemed to have completely exploded with gifts.

Rory had never been given so many gifts at one time in her entire life. She supposed that was the entire point of having a baby shower, but it still felt a little odd to have an entire room of people sit around you and watch you open things for an hour. It felt a little greedy and excessive – and Rory had felt that way before she'd opened Shira's set of outrageously expensive and yet mostly useless items.

She'd smiled and acted overwhelmed with gratitude of course, but in the back of her mind she couldn't stop wondering if she was actually supposed to let her infant daughter play with that rattle when her chances of losing it somewhere were likely 80%, or if they were just supposed to sit on a shelf and collect dust. She guessed she would have to ask Logan… or maybe Honor might know.

But, for the most part her gifts had all been very practical and limited (mainly) to her registry. Her grandmother had gifted her the Pottery Barn furniture set that she'd been day dreaming about, even though Rory had protested that it was all way too expensive. All she needed to do was make arrangements for delivery once she figured out where she'd be staying. Her Dad had given her the convertible stroller/car seat that she'd seen rave reviews of online. Her mother handled the diaper genie, and the baby swing, and a million outfits and toys.

Rory was now swimming in outfits and toys. And diapers. She felt like she had enough diapers to last her through the remainder of the decade, but everyone in the room assured her that the supply she had now would maybe get her through the first couple of months.

Overall, Rory felt incredibly spoiled. Or rather, the baby felt incredibly spoiled. Although, she wasn't complaining. Lord knows what she would have done without the generosity of her family and friends. She would have never been able to afford all of these things on her own. And having Logan purchase everything for the baby would not have set right with her.

"Here," Lane said, looking up from the running list she was making and reaching out to take the opened gift from Rory's hands. She handed it to her and Lane set it down on the ground next to her in one of the few open spots left in the room. Once the gift was out of her hands, Rory reached down to the floor and picked up the next. It was a small pink bag with white polka dots and sparkly tissue paper shooting out of the top.

"This is from Ms. Patty," Rory said to Lane as she looked at the tag.

Rory dug through the tissue paper until her hands landed on a rectangular box. Her eyebrow raised at the sight of it, not knowing entirely what she was holding. The box was strangely heavy for being as small as it was, and on the front of it was pictured a series of pink and purple oval shaped objects with a sort of plastic tail trailing off one end.

"They're kegel weights, dear. To help… tighten things back up." The sultry voice of Ms. Patty floated the explanation from across the room.

Rory was mortified. She tried as hard as she could to keep her face from turning completely red. It was bad enough that she'd had to listen to Paris prattle on about the benefits of the breast pump she'd chosen for her in front of all these people. She really didn't need that same group of people – including the potential future in-laws that she'd just met - thinking about what she'd be doing with her other parts after she'd given birth. Unfortunately, her embarrassment kept her from uttering a proper reply in enough time to keep Ms. Patty from further expounding upon the benefits of her gift.

"Everyone is always so excited about the new baby at these things, they never think about the woman who's just given birth. So, they're more a gift for you. They're also a gift for Daddy if you know what I - "

"Oh, wow! Okay. Thank you, Ms. Patty!" Rory exclaimed as the blood rushed to her cheeks. She looked around her, desperately trying to find a place to put them that would get them out of sight and out of mind as quickly as possible. As her eyes landed on the Noah's Arc themed gift bag that had contained Mrs. Kim's collection of organic diapers, clothing, and wipes, Rory dropped the box inside as if it was burning her fingers. "That's very… um… thoughtful."

"I think that might be everything," she heard Lane say from her seat next to her.

Rory wanted to groan. Off all of the gifts to close out on, it had to be Ms. Patty's kegel weights. She probably should have known better. She probably should have thought to find Ms. Patty's gift and open it toward the beginning of this entire process so that people might forget about it. If anyone could find a way to slip a sexual innuendo into a baby shower gift, it was Ms. Patty.

"Ya got one more, sugar!" Babette hollered. She pointed down at the floor. "Right there by your feet."

Shifting her foot ever so slightly, Rory looked down and saw the package that Babette was referring to. It was no wonder that it had gotten lost. It was quite small and quite plainly wrapped in solid forest green wrapping paper. Unlike the other gifts she'd been given, it didn't come with a brightly colored bow or even a single ribbon.

When Rory picked up the small rectangular gift, she instantly recognized it to be a book. The weight and feel of it in her hands was undeniable. Of course, Rory had asked for books. She'd asked for a plethora of books. But, she had expected to get piles of thin, light, cardboard things. Perhaps even plush books with pages that crinkled and twinkled and could be easily turned by chubby baby fingers. She hadn't expected to get what felt to be a novel.

Further adding to her confusion, when she turned over the gift in her hand, she noticed that it was unmarked. There was no tag indicating who it had come from.

She furrowed her brow while she tore into the paper. But, once it was removed, the mystery revealed. Rory took a deep shaky breath as she ran her fingers along the sage green cloth bound book, reveling in the familiar illustration of an anthropomorphized Badger and Rat sitting in front of a fire. The illustration was surrounded by a delicate vine and dragonflies wrapping their way around the books cover and spine.

It was a beautiful book. A collector's edition. No doubt expensive and limited in supply. Rory, despite knowing that the now clear giver of this gift would make fun of her, felt an unbridled desire to lift it to her nose and inhale. Deciding not to deny herself the pleasure, she opened the cover to let the full fragrance out, but her heart stopped when she saw a fresh inscription written on the title page.

To my beautiful baby girl,

Before you burst into my world, I thought that my wild ride was at an end.

Thank you for showing me that it was actually just beginning.

I love you so much.

Daddy

P.S. There really is absolutely nothing half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.

The breathy laugh that Rory let out at the post script betrayed the tears that had started to pool in her eyes.

Suddenly, it made sense. Logan had probably asked Honor to slip this gift among her others because he didn't want to simply purchase it for the baby. He wanted her to open it. He wanted her to see the book. He wanted her to read the message. It was as much for her as it was for their little girl. Selfishly, Rory thought it might even be more for her than it was for their little girl.

She lifted her hand to her mouth as she tried to keep the tears at bay. But, as had been the case for the last eight months of her life, she wasn't very successful. Why did he have to make her cry in front of a room full of people?

"Oh, The Wind in the Willows! I loved that book," she heard Lane comment from her seat at her side as she pressed her pen against her note pad. "Who is that from?"

"It's from Logan," Rory answered, as she lifted her fingers to her eyes and attempted to wipe her tears away without smudging her make up. "We don't need to send a card."

She would thank him for this later, in person. She would thank him for remembering what she'd said to him that night about their 'wild ride' – a comment that had seemed innocuous and ultimately unmemorable. It made her realize that Logan had also remembered every single detail of that night – the night that they thought would be their last together – just like she did.

She would thank him for showing her through this message to their daughter how grateful and happy he was that they'd both been wrong about that night.

She would thank him for finally learning that these were the kind of gestures that meant the most to Rory. The small, intimate gesturers that were grand in her heart and mind, but private and intimate to them.

She would thank him for finding a way to be present at this shower for her while he was over a hundred miles away.

Right now, she wasn't sure how long she was going to be able to last with him a hundred miles away.

TBC...

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Two

Monday, May 29, 2017

"What late people don't understand about us on time people is that we hate you. And the reason why we hate you is that it's so easy to be on time. You just have to be early, and early lasts for hours . And on-time is just a second, and then you're late….forever. Late people always try to rebrand. Late people say 'I'm fashionably late,' which is like saying 'I'm stylishly racist.' Which is another thing about late people… a lot of them are racists. And the reason these late racists drive me crazy, is that they're so often good looking. You ever get ready for something with a late person? They look into their closet like it's Narnia. Like it's an infinite well of possibilities."

For as long as Logan could remember, he was late. He didn't do it on purpose. He didn't even know exactly why. But he was late. He was always late. Late for school. Late for dinner with his parents. Late for business meetings. Late for picking up dates. The only things he ever managed to be on time for were airline flights and court appearances. And he was only on time for those because of the absurd paranoia that had settled into him after he actually had been late for a flight once and the fresh hell that followed, and because his father's attorneys usually showed up to wherever he was living to literally drag him to the courthouse on time.

Nevertheless, when left to his own devices, he was usually late.

Rory, of course, knew this about him. They had been together far too long for that particular personality trait to go unnoticed, especially considering that Rory Gilmore was notoriously on-time to the point of arriving at places irrationally early. He would wager that his tendency to run late was the source of about a third of their arguments over time. After all, Logan had run late on the day that he picked her up for the LDB event at Yale – the very first time they ever spent any scheduled time together. Although, in his opinion that was clearly Finn's fault more than it was his own.

If he had to put together a pie chart, it would probably look something like thirty percent Rory being angry that he was late for something important, thirty percent Rory being angry that he was flippant with his money and privilege, thirty percent Rory being angry that he was acting irresponsible and stupid, and then ten percent miscellaneous – including recurring themes about his drinking, smoking, sexual past, and of course anything that was currently annoying her about him at any given moment. The latter category contained complaints too broad and varied to truly narrow down into any coherent genus, and often had far more to do with whether or not she was on her period than they did with any legitimate problem in their relationship.

Perhaps that thought was a bit sexist, but he couldn't help but find it at least marginally true. Logan had lived with five different women over the course of his life. His mother, his sister, Rory, Seema, and Odette – and all of them seemed to be far more angry at him around that certain time than they otherwise tended to be. Or at the very least far less interested in staying silent about the plethora of ways he drove them crazy than they otherwise tended to be.

It was for all these reasons that Logan was absolutely shocked when, after arriving to Stars Hollow an hour and a half later than he was supposed to, he wasn't met with the wrath of one Rory Gilmore as he had expected but rather a gleeful and passionate embrace.

When Logan had pulled up to Lorelai's driveway, he had been mentally rehearsing all of the ways he was going to apologize to his hormonal and eight-month pregnant girlfriend for being so unbelievably late and making a mental list of all of the ways in which he could promise to potentially make it up to her. He'd expected having to grovel. He hadn't expected needing to fight to maintain his balance as Rory jumped into his arms.

As soon as he'd climbed out of his car and thrown his laptop bag over his shoulder, Rory had come running down the porch steps and launched herself at him. She'd wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his in a passionate kiss, one that Logan almost missed from the surprise of it all. But, once he got his bearings, he was able to relax and return it with fervor.

"Hi," Rory said with a smile as their lips separated. She kept her forehead pressed against his and Logan held on to her tightly.

"Wow…" he said. "If that's the kind of welcome I get after getting here an hour and a half late, I'm never going to be on time again."

Rory rolled her eyes and lowered herself off of her tip toes as she pulled away.

"When are you ever on time to begin with?" she asked. Then, she looked down at his laptop bag and tugged at the strap around his shoulder. "What's this? Are you working? You can't work on Memorial Day. It's unamerican."

"Tell that to those limey bastards across the pond," Logan answered with a smile. "I got caught up on a phone call. It's why I was late. And I just have to send a couple emails and then I'm done. I promise. Besides… I'm pretty sure a lot of people work on Memorial Day. I mean you wanted to go to Luke's for lunch, right?"

"Are you still managing the London office?" Rory asked, ignoring his comment about Luke's being open and raising her brow raised in confusion.

Logan shrugged.

"We don't have a replacement yet."

"You told me that you were offering the job to Bobbie. That you were giving her stock options and a board placement…"

"We are," said Logan.

"You told me that a month ago…"

"These things take time, Ace. We're a public company. We can't just hand out jobs. There's a process. We have to go through HR and they have to post a listing and we have to collect a pool of applicants and we have to 'look through them' and interview people and - "

"But it's fake," Rory said with a furrowed brow. "You've all but filled the position. You're not going to hire any of those people. You're just getting their hopes up and wasting their time."

"Well when you say it like that, it sounds bad…" Logan said with a shrug.

Rory was looking at him discerningly. He didn't know why she was upset with him about it. Logan thought the entire thing was asinine as well. It would be a hell of a lot easier if they could skip all the bureaucracy and just do what they wanted, but that wasn't how the world worked these days. Though… come to think of it, it probably wasn't the existence of the bureaucratic process that upset her as much as the fact that they were making a mockery of it.

"And meanwhile, while you're waiting for this farce of an applicant search to end, you're running two offices?"

"Well… more like one and a half," Logan shrugged. "My Dad does still work here."

"Anyway…" Rory said with a sigh. It was clear that she didn't approve, but it seemed like she didn't want to get stuck on the conversation. "How did your showing go?"

Now it was Logan's turn to sigh. He let out a groan as he started following Rory back toward the house.

The showing had not gone well. So far, none of his showings had gone well, and he was starting to get desperate. As isolated as the pool house was at his parents' house, he was still living at his parents' house. He still saw more of them than any thirty-five year old man needed to see, let alone a thirty-five year old man who had a tumultuous relationship with his parents to begin with. If he didn't get out of there soon, he was running the risk of turning homicidal. The entire reason why he was there to begin with was because he needed to reestablish a life in the tri-state area to be there to raise his daughter, and at this rate he'd still miss out because he'd be serving life in prison for going at his parents Lizzie Borden style.

"That good, huh?" she asked.

"It had a sunken living room."

Rory stopped in her tracks and Logan followed suit. She had a look of confusion on her face even more pronounced than the previous one.

"And you said no?" she asked. "That sound like something out of your wildest Mad Men fantasies. Next, you'll be telling me it had a gourmet range in the kitchen and an infinity pool…"

Rory had a point. A year ago, if Logan had been shown a Manhattan apartment with floor to ceiling windows and a sunken living room he would have made an offer on the spot. Now, however, things were a bit different.

"As much as the prospect of jumping into a pit of cushions every evening appeals to me, I kept having visions of an eighteen month old taking one wrong step and tumbling to her death while my back is turned."

It wasn't an exaggeration. It was quite literally the first thing that had flashed through his mind the second he had stepped foot inside the apartment. The minimalist design that he would usually love and the unbelievable view hadn't even registered with him. All he could see was the millions of ways that a baby could ultimately die in an apartment like that. The sunken living room. The sharp corners everywhere. The lack of railing on the stairs. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Normally, Logan would have been irritated with his real estate agent for even bringing him to a place like that when he had told her that he would have partial custody of a baby, but he had to admit that he didn't think he really had a right to feel annoyed with her at this point. Over the past several weeks, Michelle had shown him an endless number of apartments littering the entire island of Manhattan. Most of them would have been perfectly fine considering baby-proofing standards. They also would have been perfectly fine considering Logan's typical standards. She'd even shown him a place in his old building when he'd lived in New York in 2007.

Yet, for some reason there was just something about all of the apartments she'd shown him that just didn't feel right to him. And he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Maybe he should have put an offer in on that studio in Midtown while he had the chance.

"I suppose that would be an issue, yes," said Rory before resuming their walk toward the house.

"Anyway, I don't want to talk about my apartment search anymore. It's depressing," said Logan as he threw an arm over her shoulders. "How did the shower go? Did my family behave them- "

"RORY!"

Logan jumped in alarm as he was suddenly interrupted by the squawking sound of a woman calling out to Rory across the yard. Now on guard, his arm left her shoulders, and he whipped his head around trying to decipher where the voice had come from. It definitely wasn't Lorelai. Whoever it was had a voice that would wake the might Smaug from his slumber.

"Oh God…" Rory said under her breath as she turned toward the little red house next door. "Hi, Babette!" she called with a cheery smile.

As soon as she had uttered her greeting, Logan caught sight of a short and stocky blonde woman running with all of her might toward them. Halfway through her jog through the grass between their houses, she lifted her hands to her breasts and grabbed them in what seemed to be an effort to provide some extra support as she moved as fast as she possibly could toward them. Logan watched the entire spectacle with his mouth agape, but Rory seemed absolutely non-plussed.

"Rory!" The woman, Babette apparently, called again right before she reached them. Once she did, she leaned over with her hands on her knees and started panting. "Rory, sugar, I've been callin' your mom all morning, and I can't get a hold of her!"

"Oh… well… I think she's busy setting up the doggie swami booth for the festival - "

"That's why I need to talk to her!" Babette squawked again. "I'm not gonna be able to help her today after all! It's Pickles!"

A lot of information was flying past Logan's head at an alarming rate. He wasn't quite sure what entirely was going on, but he was able to make out the basic fact that this woman was apparently supposed to be assisting Lorelai with some kind of fortune telling booth at the Memorial Day Festival and wasn't going to be there. He doubted, however, that it had anything to do with fermented vegetables.

"He's in bad shape, Rory," said Babette. "Morey's puttin' him in the car now!"

With a quick glance back over to the house, Logan was able to make out the very tall form of a man dressed all in black with a fedora perched on his head. In his hand was a light blue animal carrier, and Logan could faintly make out the sound of him murmuring 'Oh, man' under his breath over and over again from across the yard.

"Oh…" Rory said as she observed the scene across the yard as well. "I'm so sorry, Babette. I hope… Pickles… is okay…"

"Oh, thanks, doll," Babette replied, her tone finally leveled down to a state of near normalcy. "Will you tell your mom for me? And tell her how sorry I am?!"

"Yes. I'll tell her, Babette," Rory replied. "But there's no need to be sorry."

"Thanks, sugar."

Suddenly, with the topic resolved, Babette looked over at Logan as if she was seeing him for the first time since she'd run over to them. She scanned him head to toe, her eyes taking in everything about him from the dark blonde hair on his head to the heather gray Henley he was wearing under his tight-fitting navy blazer, to the pair of jeans on his legs, and all the way down to the white Vans on his feet.

"Oh my God!" Babette exclaimed, somehow causing Logan to jump in surprise yet again, despite all his senses already being on high alert. "Is this him?! The baby's father?!"

"Um…" Rory said, turning to look at him sheepishly for a second. "Yes. Babette, this is Log - "

"Oh my God!" Babette interrupted, throwing her hands up in the air. "I can't believe I'm finally meeting your baby's father, and I don't have time to properly introduce myself!"

"Well, that's okay, Babette. We'll be here later – "

"What's your name, hun?" Babette interrupted yet again, turning her attention to Logan. His eyebrows were at full attention by this point, and he was starting to feel a little stressed out. "Rory and Lorelai told me already. I'm sure they did, but I forgot!"

"That's okay…" Logan said, laughter tracing his voice. He held out his hand to her. "I'm Logan Huntz- "

"I'm Babette. I'm Rory's neighbor! I've been her neighbor since she moved in here! I watched her grow up!"

"Oh, well… of course. Yes, I've heard a lot about you." It wasn't entirely a lie. He'd heard so many stories about the people of Stars Hollow that he couldn't even begin to count them all. At the moment, he couldn't really remember anything about her specifically, but he remembered that Rory had mentioned her boisterous next door neighbor before. She's probably even mentioned her name, but after years of sitting in his subconscious, the memory had vanished by this point.

"I've heard some things about you too, but Lorelai never mentioned how handsome you are!" said Babette. "Rory, your mom never told me how handsome he is!"

"Well, I've never kicked him out of bed…" Rory replied with a shrug.

"But all of Rory's boyfriends have been handsome, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Babette continued with a shrug. "Anyway, I have to run, sugar! Tell your mom I'm sorry. I'll see you later! Bye, toots!"

"Bye, Babette!" Rory called after the retreating woman.

The moment she climbed into her car and the vehicle started pulling out of her driveway, Logan turned to look at Rory with an expression of utter bewilderment. He realized in that moment, that the first time Rory had brought him to Stars Hollow for a proper visit all those years ago had been nothing more than a practice round. They had observed some people. They had gotten burgers at Luke's and walked through the giant maze. But, Logan hadn't really met any of the crazy people that had made up Rory's life. Logan had spent most of that visit with people that he'd already met. Lorelai, Luke, Lane and her husband.

Something gave him the distinct feeling that today that was going to change.

Rory returned his flummoxed look with a sigh and a shrug of her shoulders.

"So, that was Babette…"

"That was Babette," Logan echoed.

Logan returned his arm to Rory's shoulder and they continued their walk toward the house. On his way here this afternoon, Logan had been worrying about keeping Rory out on her feet at a Memorial Day festival all day long. She was pretty easily fatigued these days, and it didn't take long at all for her back to start hurting and her feet to get sore. He just wasn't sure how much energy she was going to have at the end of the day.

Now, however, he was starting to suspect that he was the one that was going to run out of energy before the day was done.

When Logan had texted her and told her that he was going to arrive in Stars Hollow a "few" minutes later than they had planned, Rory's stomach was already growling. Lately, it seemed like Rory's stomach was growling no matter what the hour. It wasn't like she had skipped breakfast, the one wonderful benefit of moving back into her childhood home was that Luke now lived there, and that meant that she had easy access to a full pancake breakfast without even having to get out of her pajamas.

Rory had eaten breakfast. She'd eaten a snack after breakfast. After Logan had texted her she's eaten another pre-lunch snack, assuming that in Loganese a "few minutes" translated to at least an hour. And, now, her stomach was growling once again. She was an hour and a half behind on lunch, and if she didn't get a burger in her stomach soon, then it was very possible that Logan might see a part of her that he had never seen before – a part that could only be compared to Linda Blair in The Exorcist.

She was hungry. It didn't matter how much she'd eaten already. She was still hungry. Baby was hungry. And they both wanted food now.

"Hey, Rory," Luke greeted her as soon as the bell above the door chimed upon her entrance. He was brushing past her with plates full of food, and she had to use every ounce of self-restraint she could possibly muster not to grab both of them right out of his hands and shove them into her mouth.

"Hey, Luke," she greeted with a smile. "I need a burger two hours ago! And fries!"

"Find a seat," he hollered as he walked away from her into the crowd of people sitting at the tables.

Rory took that moment to look around the diner. Apparently, the Memorial Day festivities in the town square had brought in quite the lunch rush, one that she hadn't been expecting to still be around this late in the afternoon. She was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling a rage that she hadn't known that she was capable of until she had gotten pregnant. If this meant that it was going to take even longer to get her cheeseburger, she might end up picking up chairs and throwing them across the room.

"It's packed in here…" Logan said in her ear as he walked in behind her and pressed his hand up against her back. Rory almost snapped at him for pointing out the obvious, but she wasn't so hangry at this point that she'd lost all power over her inhibitions. There were no guarantees for how true that was going to remain if she didn't get some greasy food into her stomach this second.

"Let's just sit," she said instead, scanning the room for an open table. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to find one.

Every single table in the diner was taken up. Even all the seats at the counter were accounted for, and there was a group of people waiting outside on the sidewalk. Her temper continued to boil in a very uncharacteristic way as she realized that she barely recognized a single face in the room. More than half of these people probably didn't even live here. They'd probably driven in from nearby towns to enjoy their Memorial Day festival and take up tables at their dining institutions, and meanwhile the people who actually lived in this town were left out in the cold.

At the end of the day, she supposed it was good for Luke… but right now she was more concerned with how annoying it was to her. And her appetite. And her back.

"Where?" Logan asked.

"Rory!"

Rory whipped around at the sound of the familiar voice calling out to her from the other side of the diner. With a look over the crowd, Rory's eyes landed on the familiar face of her best friend. She was seated at the table that Zack had long ago claimed as his own. The twins were seated on either side of her, fighting across the table over who was the rightful owner of a single Nintendo Switch. Across from Lane was a head of shaggy blond hair that had to be Zack. Though, by the way that his head was buried in a stack of folders and papers, there was no telling for sure. Lane waved them over and Rory carefully maneuvered herself through the maze of tables to get to them with Logan following closely behind.

As they moved closer to the table, the sounds of Steve and Kwan's arguing grew louder, and the look of frustration on their mother's face grew along with it. For as long as Rory could remember, Steve and Kwan's relationship existed in two extremes. At any given point, the two boys could either be an inseparable pair of the two best friends to have ever lived, or they could be absolutely brutally hateful toward each other. There was rarely an in-between, and the dynamics could switch on a dime.

"Are those Lane's kids?" Logan asked, brushing his lips against her ear so that he could speak softly and still be heard as they made their way over to the table.

"Well, I can't see why Lane would want to randomly take two kids who aren't hers out for lunch on a Monday afternoon…" Rory answered. There was a touch of sarcasm in her tone, but Logan's shock at seeing the boys was actually pretty amusing. If he hadn't already been through a quarter life crisis ten years ago, Rory might worry that the sight of them alone might send him down an existential spiral.

"Those are… the twins… the ones that she had when we…"

"Yeah," Rory answered with a slight laugh. When she turned to look at him his jaw was slack and he was running a hand through his hair.

"Jesus… fuck…" said Logan. "Are we that old?"

"Yeah," Rory said again with yet another amused laugh and a nod.

Logan didn't have time to respond any further as they reached the table. Instead, he slapped a charming smile on his face, suppressing his horror around the concept of his own mortality, and stood ever so slightly behind her as Lane jumped up from her chair and greeted them.

"Hey, guys!" she said, wrapping her arms around Rory in a brief hug.

When she pulled away, she looked over to Logan. Rory could see a slight break in her enthusiasm – not large enough for her to worry that Lane was upset at the fact that Logan was here, but enough to make it clear that she was feeling at least a little bit awkward.

Rory supposed Lane had a right to feel a little awkward around Logan. They hadn't seen each other for ten years, and it wasn't like they had ever spent all that much time around each other to begin with. Also, the last time they had spoken had mainly consisted of Lane yelling at him over the phone to leave her alone.

"Hey, Logan! Long time no see," she greeted with a smile. This time, she didn't offer up a hug. But, she was being friendly enough that Rory at least felt like she didn't have anything to worry about.

"Hi, Lane," he responded in kind. "You look great."

"Thanks!"

"Oh, God!" Zack's loud and sudden exclamation broke through their greetings and all three heads snapped over to him. Still immersed into whatever it was that he was looking through, he didn't even lift his head to acknowledge the fact that they had arrived. Rory honestly wasn't sure if he had even noticed them at all. Instead, all he did was reach over to the phone on the table in front of him and punch some numbers into the open calculator app.

Rory and Logan both looked over at Lane in confusion. She rolled her eyes and was about to comment on whatever it was that had Zack in this peculiar mood, but she was interrupted by the sound of a three-hundred dollar gaming device crashing against the table and almost knocking over a glass of coke unto Zack's paperwork in the process.

"Hey! Cut it out or neither one of you is getting this for a week!" she stared, reaching into the middle of the table and grabbing the fallen device. Chagrined by the tone in their mother's voice, the two boys sat back in their chairs and looked up at her wide-eyed.

"Steve was trying to - "

"I don't care!" Lane interrupted before dropping the game system into her purse.

"Oh God…" Zack groaned again. This time, all five of them looked over at him as he started shuffling through the pile of documents he was reading through. After a moment, the twins looked up at their mother in alarm, obviously concerned by whatever it was that had their father acting so strangely. Lane only sighed.

"Are you two done eating?" she asked. Both of them nodded, and Lane reached into her purse to take out her wallet. "Then why don't you go across the street and entertain yourself so Aunt Rory can sit down?"

Slipping out a bill from her wallet, Lane handed it to Kwan who snatched it away with enthusiasm. Feud forgotten, the two boys jumped out of their seats and started clamoring for the door, uttering a both hello and goodbye to her and nearly slamming into Andrew as he walked through the door.

"You both need to split your tickets equally!" Lane shouted after them.

"Tickets!" Zack suddenly exclaimed, jumping in his seat. He had a crazed look in his eyes and he turned around to look out the window at the twins as they ran across the street toward the ticket both at the festival. "You gave them money for tickets?!"

"Yeah, Zack," Lane answered with an annoyed lilt to her voice. "That's kind of how these things work. You need to buy tickets to - "

"How much money did you give them?!" he asked.

"Ten dollars," Lane answered, with an inconsequential shrug. Zack's complexion went absolutely pale.

"Oh, God…" he said for the third time. He lifted his hands to his head and ran his fingers through his hair, stopping at the top of his scalp and digging in with a tense pull. He leaned forward again, returning his focus to his paperwork. Lane only rolled her eyes.

"Sit down!" she said, ignoring Zack's meltdown and gesturing for Logan and Rory to take a seat.

Rory walked around to the other side of the table, noting that Kwan had left a half-eaten serving of French fries on his plate that were probably still warm. In all her life, she never thought's she sink so low to eat the leftover food off of a ten year old's plate, but then she'd never anticipated that being pregnant would turn her into such an enormous gluttonous pit of irascible hunger.

"Is it gross if I eat these?" she asked as she sat down. Lane shrugged as she followed suit.

"I don't think he licked all of them or anything if that's what you mean…"

That was all the permission Rory needed. As soon as her butt hit the chair, she grabbed a total of three fries in-between her fingers and shoved them into her mouth as quickly as she could. The moment that the salty starchy goodness exploded over her tongue, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She loved Logan, and they had an extremely satisfying sex life for the most part. But, if she was being honest, the pleasure she was deriving from the flavor sensation of the friend potato sticks she had just shoved in her mouth was better than any orgasm she'd had in recent memory, and her groan of approval gave it away.

"Zack, you remember Logan?" Lane said as Logan pulled out the chair opposite of Rory from the table.

"Hey, Zack," said Logan, sticking his hand out in front of him.

"Huh?!" Zack asked, shooting up in alarm at the unexpected sound of his name. His eyes landed on Logan and a look of familiarity flashed across his face. Once he realized he was leaving Logan hanging, he quickly met Logan's own hand in a shake. "Oh… yeah. Hey, man. What's up?"

Apparently, that question wasn't meant to be answered. Those words were the only spare thoughts that Zack could muster in the middle of whatever mental breakdown he seemed to be having. As soon as the men broke apart and Logan sat down, he started shuffling through his papers again and typing more numbers into the calculator that was still open on his phone.

Rory, not wanting to risk setting him off, shot Lane a silent look. The benefit of being best friends since Kindergarten, was that they didn't always need words to have a conversation with each other. Years of getting to know each other intimately and having to master the art of subtlety in Mrs. Kim's house, had provided them with a silent communication style almost as detailed crystal clear to each other as American Sign Language. Rory knew that by gently pursing her lips, raising a single eyebrow, and rolling her eyes in Zack's direction, that Lane would know she was asking her what exactly was going on with him.

"Zack is convinced we're going to have to file for bankruptcy," Lane stated manner-of-factly. She didn't seem at all concerned with Zack hearing her tell everyone within a ten foot distance of their table, and instead merely crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side while she looked at her husband in scrutiny.

"I'm sorry?" Rory asked. Even if Lane didn't seem all that concerned with the words that had come out of her mouth, they were certainly alarming to her.

"Oh God!" Zack exclaimed again. "What did we do? What did we do?!"

"He's been like this for three days," Lane said, gesturing to him with a wave of her hand.

Rory looked across the table at Logan who was looking particularly uncomfortable. Having lunch with people you hadn't seen for over ten years was awkward enough, but having that lunch take place when they were clearly going through a financial crisis was so much worse. What made things all the more awkward was the fact that surely to Logan, any financial problem Lane and Zack might find insurmountable would be easily fixed with a blink of an eye and a sloppy signature on a check.

He was never quite sure what to do in these situations. Logan, being at his core a kind hearted person, usually had an instinct to help. He was probably doing everything in his power to keep his mouth shut at this point in time. He was probably torturing himself over not knowing if an offer to help would be considered kind or condescending. Twelve years ago, he wouldn't have hesitated to whip his check book out and write off all of their problems.

It was Rory that had taught him that those kinds of gestures were more often received negatively than positively. It was Rory that had to explain to him over pillow talk after the first time they'd ever had sex why Marty had rushed across the street to an ATM to try and pay for his share of dinner. It was Rory who had to explain to him why living in his New Haven apartment rent free when he was in New York felt so terrible to her.

Logan was raised to think that money was expendable. It was something that Rory used to hate about him. She used to think that his tendency to throw his money around was about ego and power and recklessness. She used to think that people in his position liked to use their money to condescend to others as a show of status.

But, it was Logan that explained to her that it was something else entirely.

Logan was raised to believe that money was expendable, because to him it was. But that didn't mean that he was ignorant to the fact that it was important. Logan was raised to understand that he came from of a life of privilege. He was raised to understand that he was often going to be the wealthiest person in any room that he walked into. And, to the uncommon credit of his parents, he was raised to believe that privilege of that nature came with a certain responsibility of generosity. He was raised to believe that if the people he cared about had a problem with money, that he had a moral obligation to help them.

Logan paid his taxes. He voted for politicians who wanted him to pay his taxes. He donated to countless organizations. He threw fundraisers. He was an enormous tipper. He paid for dinner when his friends were going through a rough patch. And when his girlfriend's best friend alluded to money problems, he had an instinct to solve it.

Still, no matter what his intent, age, experience, and Rory had taught him that those kinds of gestures weren't always welcome.

"Are you guys… okay?" Rory asked. Lane, to her shock and confusion, only scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Yeah," she said, confidently. "We're fine."

"Oh, God…"

"Zack just has buyer's remorse," she explained with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Did you guys buy your house?!" Rory asked, chewing on another french fry. Lane and Zack had been renting that house for years, and they'd had several conversations about potentially buying it for themselves someday. Mustering up the down payment, however, had proved to be an issue for some time.

"Nope," answered Lane with a sly smile.

Rory looked at her appraisingly. For as serious and terrified as Zack looked, Lane seemed to be particularly happy, and perhaps even a little smug. Rory honestly had no idea what all of this was about. But, she was determined to get to the bottom of it. Yet, before she could ask any more questions, Emma, the teenager that Luke had recently hired to help him out part time came to their table and tried to clear their plates.

"Thanks," Logan said with a smile. "Can I get a menu and a diet coke, please?"

Emma, to Rory's equal parts amusement and annoyance, beamed in response to his simple question. She tucked her curly red hair behind her ear and laughed, despite the fact that he'd said absolutely nothing funny at all.

"Yeah," the seventeen-year-old answered, breathlessly. "Of course."

Distracted by her brand new crush, Emma didn't bother to ask Rory if she wanted anything. She did, however, try to reach down and take the plate of fries that Kwan had left behind away from her. Thankfully, before Rory bare her claws and hiss at the girl, Lane shot her hand out and placed it gently on her forearm, stopping her in her tracks.

"Emma," Lane started. "I was a waitress here for a long time. Let me give you some free advice?"

"Okay…?" the girl answered, clearly confused as to what she was doing wrong.

"Don't ever take a plate of food away from a pregnant woman."

"Oh," said Emma, blanching as she looked over at Rory in remorse. "I'm so sorry…"

"It's okay, Emma," Lane assured with a comforting nod. "I'll take another iced tea, though."

"Lane!" Zack suddenly exclaimed. "We can't afford refills on iced tea!"

Poor Emma's mouth dropped. The girl had only recently started working here, and they'd already managed to terrify her between the presence of Logan Huntzberger, certified dreamboat and a snarling eight-month pregnant bottomless pit of hunger. Now, she was trying to manage a marital spat, wondering helplessly whether she should or shouldn't honor the order for the iced tea.

"You can put that iced tea on my check, Emma," Logan said effortlessly. In this particular instance Rory was grateful for his stepping in. Lane certainly wasn't going to feel condescended to over Logan offering to pay for a one dollar iced tea, and they might keep Zack from melting down in the process. Emma, obviously anxious to get away from them, turned on her heel and hustled back behind the bar.

"Wait!" Zack suddenly said, his head shooting up from his papers and landing on Logan. "You're like…rich, right?!"

It wasn't the first time that Zack had asked that same exact question of Logan. Yet, within the eleven years since he had first posited it, Logan apparently still hadn't managed to think of a response. Rory watched in amusement as his mouth popped open and his eyebrows twitched in alarm.

"Uhhh…" he uttered, his eyes flashing between her and Lane. Lane looked mortified. Rory was delighted.

"You are," said Zack. Papers suddenly forgotten, Zack sat straight up, focusing all his attention on Logan. "You're like some Mark Zuckerberg type tech billionaire right?"

"Uh... not quite," Logan answered. "I'm definitely no Zuckerberg. And I'm nowhere near being a billionai - "

"Can I ask you something?" Zack asked, not even giving Logan time to respond. "Can you teach me how to do that thing that rich people do where you have money and it just sits somewhere and magically turns into more money?"

"I uh… I don't…"

"Zack, you're being rude," Lane scolded as if talking to her ten year old children. She looked pointedly and Rory and Logan. "We're fine. Ignore him. I'm sorry, Logan."

"It's fine."

"So if you didn't buy your house, then what's this about buyer's remorse?" asked Rory.

As much as she was amused with watching Logan squirm a bit at the little turn the conversation had taken, she was still genuinely concerned about why Zack seemed so upset. Clearly, they had made a massive purchase, and Lane hadn't mentioned anything to her about it.

"Well…" Lane started, popping one of her own french fries into her mouth. "Remember when I talked to your mom about the business courses she took before she opened the Inn a while ago?"

"Yeah," Rory answered.

"I decided to enroll."

"Lane!" Rory exclaimed with a smile. "That's great!"

"That is great," Logan echoed. "Congratulations, Lane."

"Thanks," Lane replied. "And… well… it just so happened that the day after my first class I went to Sophie's and she told me she was retiring."

"Sophie is retiring?" Rory asked. She probably shouldn't be so surprised. The woman was well into her sixties, maybe even her seventies by now. Still, she wasn't exactly happy to hear the news. "Sophie's can't close! It's the only music store for miles!"

"My thoughts exactly," said Lane. "So we bought it."

Rory's eyes went wide. Her face froze, and the fry she had picked up fell back down onto the plate in front of her. She blinked, trying to figure out if she heard her right.

"You bought… Sophie's?!"

"Yep!" Lane said with a wide smile.

"Oh my God. Lane!"

"We got a loan. And we had some money saved up that we were planning to use for the house. But it just seemed like a sign, you know? Like this was meant to be. Like it was always meant to be, somehow. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. The boys are older now, and I finally feel like I can have my own life."

"That's amazing…" said Rory.

"Remember when I was pregnant with the boys and I told you that I envied you because I felt like I never got to be my own person? Like I just had this brief flash of independence that was gone before I even knew what was happening? I went from being my Mom's daughter to my kids' mother in the blink of an eye and somewhere I got lost in-between?"

"Yeah," Rory replied, breathlessly.

She remembered that conversation well. It had always sat strangely with her because there was a small part of Rory that had felt envious of Lane at that time. As glad as Rory was to not be tied town anywhere, she'd also felt scared and unstable. She'd been looking down at this endless chasm of life, not knowing where she was going and what she was doing. To her, Lane at least seemed like she'd found some kind of solid ground. A part of Rory had felt like she was sinking.

"Well now I feel like I'm finally getting the chance to be my own person. To live my own life. To run my own business."

"I'm so happy for you, Lane," said Rory.

"You know, it's kind of funny," she said. "Now I'm the one diving into school and a career, and you're the one starting a family. It's like we switched places."

Rory laughed. Ten years ago, that thought probably would have absolutely horrified her. As envious as she was of Lane's solid ground in those briefest of moments, she ultimately knew that settling down at that time in her life was not the right path for her. It was why she'd said no to Logan in the end. She'd sacrificed happiness with him, knowing that she wanted and needed something else from life at that moment.

Rory and Lane had both sacrificed. Rory had sacrificed a family with the man she loved for the career that she'd always dreamed of, and Lane had sacrificed the career she had always dreamed of for a family with the man she loved. And now, ten years later, by some stroke of luck and good fortune, they were both sitting at a table next to each other having their cake and eating it too.

She couldn't stop smiling.

"Hey, I'm happy for you too," Logan said with a smile. "Lunch is on me!"

"Oh, no," said Lane. "That's nice, Logan. But you really don't have to - "

"Don't be ridiculous!" Logan said. "We're celebrating. You guys can't pay for your own meal when we're out celebrating. I won't have it."

Lane relaxed, and when her face changed from one of awkward concern to a relived smile, Rory relaxed as well. It was nice that Logan had learned to keep his acts of generosity appropriately small. And it was nice to know that her best friend was able to see that they were offered as genuine gestures of good will and congratulations.

"Besides…" he continued as a teasing smile broke across his face. "I know what it's like to start your own business. You're gonna be broke for a while. It's really the least I can do."

At the same time, all three people at the table reacted to Logan's statement. Lane chortled. Zack let out yet another exclamation to the Lord, and Rory scolded him. Logan let out a laugh, and Emma returned to their table with the two drinks and a menu that they had ordered.

Over the next few minutes, Rory and Logan were served their lunch orders. The four of them talked for a while, Logan getting to know Lane and Zack better while also offering up some business advice and letting them know they could call him at any time if they ever wanted his input on anything.

They talked about the twins' school and little league. They talked about Rory's plans for after the baby was born, and how she'd decided to continue staying with her Mom for a couple months. They talked about wrapping up the sale of the Gilmore house, about Mrs. Kim's knee surgery, about Logan's remarkably mediocre guitar skills.

They just talked. And Rory was reminded, as she always was when she was here, just how much she missed Lane when she wasn't a more active part of her life.

Once Rory had finished her meal and baby had been sated for at least the next two hours, the four of them stood up and walked up to the counter to pay. After Emma rung Logan out, the four of them left the diner and started walking over to the Memorial Day festival to catch up with the twins and see who Lorelai had conned into helping her with Paul Anka's doggie swami booth in light of Babette's emergency.

Then, after a small lull in the conversation, Zack broke the silence. His thoughts still clearly laser focused on one issue.

"Hey, so…" he said, sliding up next to Logan with his hands in his pockets. "…what exactly is Bitcoin?"

TBC….

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Three

Monday, May 29, 2017 - Part II

"The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their proper name."

"Do you want some?"

The question poured from Rory's mouth muffled as she chewed on the handful of stringy fried dough that she'd just shoved into it. Once she swallowed, she brought her powder covered fingers to her mouth and stuffed them inside, licking and sucking them clean in a manner that in any other context would drive Logan absolutely mad. Now, though, the sight in front of him didn't appear all that sexy.

"I think I'm good. Thanks," he said with a fair amount of disgust dripping from his voice. It didn't go unnoticed by Rory. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"What? You mean to tell me you don't like funnel cake?!" she asked.

Logan's eyes flashed down to the squiggly lump of fried crap piled on a paper plate and dusted with an extremely heavy layer of powdered sugar that Rory was holding in her hands as they walked through the crowded booths in the middle of the Stars Hollow Town Square. Not a single thing about it looked appetizing to him, and it absolutely boggled his mind why Rory would ever want to eat something like that. But, then, by this point in his life he shouldn't find anything about Rory's eating habits surprising. He shouldn't be surprised that she would eat something like that, and he really shouldn't be surprised that she'd managed to find space for it in her stomach after the massive lunch they'd just had at Luke's.

"I can't say that I've ever had… funnel cake," he replied.

Rory, frozen in shock, stopped walking. As she did, a ten year old girl that had been trailing too closely behind them almost slammed into her from behind. Her jaw dropped open as she stared at him upon his revelation, and the hand that had been in the process of lifting another handful of dough into her mouth was hovering in midair. Suddenly, Logan had the feeling that this was going to be a repeat of the Jack in the Box taco incident of 2005.

"What do you mean you've never had funnel cake?!" asked Rory. As she stood in front of him with her mouth open in shock, Logan took notice of a small splotch of powdered sugar hovering just above the right corner of her lip. "How you could go to a fair and not have funnel cake?"

"I don't think I've ever been to a fair before…" Logan admitted with a shrug.

If he'd thought that Rory's look of surprise at his lack of experience with funnel cake was an overreaction, then he really didn't know how to even describe the look that she was giving him now.

He didn't think it was all that strange, really. Fairs and festivals of the kind that tended to happen every other week in Stars Hollow hadn't been an big part of his childhood. In fact, he could only remember being made aware of one happening near him once in his entire life. When he was a sophomore at St. Marks, there had been talk about a yearly fair in May. His friends there had seemed excited about it, but the idea of standing around in a parking lot all night, waiting in line to climb to steel rides that had been loaded off the back of a truck, and drinking light beer hadn't ever appealed to him – or to anyone in his family for that matter.

If St. Mark's needed money, his dad would write a check - not spend ridiculous amounts of cash on overpriced tickets and cotton candy while listening to shitty cover bands in folding chairs and watching ten year old children throw up after getting off the sizzler. His dignity wouldn't stand for it. Frankly, Logan's dignity wouldn't stand for it either. Yet, here he was, surrounded by booths, screaming sugar hyped children, and one very enthusiastic gentleman walking around the square on stilts in an Uncle Sam costume while yelling at people that he was fine every time he almost tripped over the pig that was following him around.

"You're never been to a fair before!?"

"Nope," Logan replied, pursing his lips. Realizing they were holding up the crowd around them, he placed his hand on the small of her back and started pushing her forward.

"Never?!" Rory asked. Apparently, she was nowhere near letting this go.

"Well…" he started. "Not really no. Other than that maze thing you took me to here years ago…"

"Okay, but that wasn't really a fair," said Rory. "That was just one attraction. You've really never been to a fair before? You've never ridden on one of those spinny swing things or thrown a baseball at a bottle pyramid for a crappy stuffed animal?"

"I've thrown a baseball before…" he answered with a shrug and a smirk.

"It doesn't count if it was heading toward a person with a bat in their hand."

"Then, no. I can't claim to have any valid fair like experiences under my belt," said Logan. Rory started shaking her head.

"Poor little rich boy…" she said. Her head snapped to the side, and the next thing Logan knew, she was grabbing his hand and pulling him in the other direction. "Come on!"

"What?" he asked, taken off guard by their sudden change in course. They'd been making their way steadily toward Lorelai's booth, and Paul Anka's turbaned head was finally within their sights. Considering that Rory had spent the entire time in line for her funnel cake complaining about her feet and her back, the last thing Logan expected was for her to suddenly decide not to make her way toward the chair that her mother had waiting for her.

"Come on!" Rory sang, pulling him harder in the other direction. "We're going to give you your first fair experience! I am your fair wing man, and we're going to lose your fair virginity!"

"My fair virginity?" Logan asked with an amused smirk.

Rory kept pulling him toward a wooden booth with only a couple of people lined up in front of it. Behind the counter was an older heavy set gentleman. He had a fluffy grey beard and matching grey hair that was covered by a boater straw hat with a red, white, and blue sash around the middle. We wore a striped suit with a ribbon bow tie around his neck. And the way that he was barking for people to come line up displayed a level of enthusiasm unrivaled by anyone else within a twenty foot radius. Logan thought he might even give Lorelai a run for her money.

"Yes, your fair virginity," said Rory as they settled in line in front of the booth. "This might be the one of the only deflowerings of yours I get to witness. So don't ruin it for me."

"Oh, that's not true," said Logan. He leaned in closer to her, brushing his lips against her ear. "You're the first girl who ever let me - "

"Well hello, Rory!" the old man greeted warmly as the people in front of them stepped away empty handed. Rory jumped at the sound of the man's voice, and Logan noted a pink blush spread out over her cheeks as she put a bit of distance between them.

"Hi, Taylor!"

At the sound of the name, Logan's heart almost burst through his chest. This was Taylor. The famous Taylor. Of all the stories that Rory had told him about Stars Hollow and the insane cast of characters that resided there, Logan had always been the most enraptured by the tales of Taylor Doose. As far as Logan was concerned, the man was a living legend. Between the countless businesses he ran and the way he apparently ruled Stars Hollow with an iron first, he was truly something to behold. Logan knew first-hand how difficult it was to run even one business, let to take on another one and the civic responsibilities of running an entire town on top of it.

The unexpressed journalist that lived buried deeply within his genetic code desperately wanted to write a feature on this man.

"And who is this fine young man?" Taylor asked, looking over at Logan. Logan wasted no time waiting for Rory to introduce them. He stuck his hand out with gusto as a smile spread across his face.

"Logan Huntzberger, sir."

"Ah, the illustrious Mr. Huntzberger," Taylor said, puffing his chest out and taking Logan's hand in his own across the divide in front of them. "It's about time us lowly townsfolk get to see the face of the man who stole our dear Rory's heart."

"The feeling is mutual, sir," Logan replied, more amused by the passive aggressive comment that Rory had informed him was a staple of the man's personality than offended. "I've heard a lot about you over the years."

"Oh?" Taylor asked. His eyebrows shot up and he rocked back on his heels as he looked over at Rory. "All good things I hope."

"Of course, Taylor," Rory said with a touch of a sigh. "You know I only have good things to say about you."

Taylor didn't look like he quite believed her, but that only endeared him to Logan even more. With all the things that he'd heard about Taylor Doose over the years, he'd always thought that Taylor was a man born out of his element. Stories of his caddy manipulations and grandiose nature always made Logan think that he was a man born more for the world of high society than small town Americana. But, then, had Taylor not been born a big fish in a small pond, perhaps his potential would have been wasted.

"Rory tells me you're quite the entrepreneur," Logan assured with a smile.

"Well, I suppose one could put it that way…." Taylor replied, his chest once again puffed with ill-concealed pride.

"It's quite impressive the empire you've built here," said Logan.

"Well… Coming from a businessman of your stature I take that as a high compliment," Taylor replied. "I'll have you know Doose's Market has placed The New York Standard on the top  shelf of the newspaper rack for thirty years."

Logan let out a breath of laugher at Taylor's clear attempt to suck up to him. Rory flashed him an amused look as well, her eyebrows twitching as she shoved another handful of funnel cake into her mouth.

"Well, thank you, sir. We certainly appreciate that," he said with a nod.

"What can I do for you kids?" Taylor finally asked. He raised his hands in the air to gesture at the booth surrounding him. "It's a dollar a ping pong ball or six for five."

"We'll take six ping pong balls please, Taylor!" Rory answered with a smile. She then looked over at Logan with a serious expression. "I spent the last of my cash on the funnel cake."

Logan sighed. It wasn't that he was hurting having to put out five dollars cash to play whatever game Rory was forcing him to play, it was just amusing to him that he was being made to be fiscally responsible for participating in an activity that he didn't care about participating in to begin with. He dug into his back pocket and took out his wallet. Then, opening it, he pulled out a five dollar bill and handed it to Taylor.

"Six balls coming right up!" Taylor cheered as he accepted the cash and set out five bright orange balls on the wooden surface between them.

"What am I supposed to do here, Ace?" Logan asked as he picked up the first ball in his hand. Rory swallowed down another mouthful of cake before answering him.

"You throw the ping pong balls in the bowls, and if you land in the right one you get a prize."

"I get a prize, huh?" Logan asked, his eyes flitting up to the array of stuffed animals handing from the ceiling.

"Yep!" Rory replied with a smile. "You gotta sink it in the bowls with the gold rim."

Logan looked over the expanse of small water filled bowls in front of him. It seemed easy enough, but then he noticed that there was a slight tilt to the board that that they were all hanging from. That might complicate things, but he still felt like he could manage it. Years of beer pong had prepared him for exactly this moment.

"Okay…" he said, lifting up one of the balls in the air and tossing it gently toward his target.

Logan watched confidently as the ball arched in the right direction, but that confidence was wiped away when it bounced off the rim and lodged itself in a corner between the gold rimmed bowl and three others, not even managing to fall inside a single bowl.

"Aw," said Rory. "That's okay, babe. The first time is always disappointing."

Logan grimaced at her as she smirked over her powdered sugar covered convection.

"Speak for yourself…" he grumbled.

The next four tosses didn't go any better for Logan. He at least managed to sink three of them. However, not a single one had landed in the bowls that he had been aiming for. He was starting to think that he was horribly out of practice. Twenty year old Logan would be ashamed to see the spectacle he was making of himself. Though, he also had to wonder if maybe he should have had a few beers before he tried this. There must be some level of state dependent memory at play. Deciding to get the humiliation over with, he picked up the final of his six ping pong balls, held it delicately between his finger-tips, and made one final attempt to send it to its proper home.

The ball bounced off the rim of the bowl to the right of his target. It skipped upward to the bowl on top of the prized destination, and then through some serendipitous turn of fate it turned course just in time to land inside the gold rimmed glass container.

Rory and Taylor both erupted into cheers at the sight of his triumph. Even Logan himself found that he as feeling far more giddy over his victory than he ever expected to be. A wide smile fell over his face, and he leaned forward to capture Rory's lips in a quick kiss, taking special care to wipe away the smudge of powdered sugar that still remained perched over her upper lip.

"Mm," he uttered as he pulled away. "You know what? That actually does taste pretty good."

Reaching forward, Logan grabbed a handful of the dough still left on Rory's plate and twisted. A small piece broke off of the tangled mound and he lifted it to his mouth, popping it inside and closing it around the sinfully greasy yet delicious dessert. When he pulled away, Rory was smiling up at him with a satisfied grin.

"We'll make a carnie out of you yet, Huntzberger."

"Step on up and get your prize!" Taylor cheered, capturing Logan's attention away from the beautiful woman in front of him.

As Logan turned toward the older man, he was expecting to see him reach upward to grab one of the pink stuffed bears that were dangling from above. Much to his surprise, however, Taylor didn't reach to grab a stuffed animal, but rather reached to pluck the glass bowl he'd just thrown his ball into out of the wooden board it was being held in. As the bottom of the bowl came into view, Logan immediately took notice of a bright orange creature swimming around within the bowl.

"Congratulations!" Taylor said with a beaming smile as he dumped the small fish into a plastic bag and handed it to Logan. Unamused, Logan looked over his shoulder at Rory and gave her a pointed look.

"Yeah, congratulations!" she said with a devious smirk. "Now you can practice being a new daddy with your little friend here."

Logan shook his head and glowered at the look Rory was giving him. She knew. She knew the entire time that they were going to leave this booth with a living fish. She did this on purpose. But, the joke was on her.

"Oh, no no no," he said as he took the bag from Taylor. "I may be a fair virgin, but I do know a thing or two about the rules of these things…"

"Do you now?" Rory asked. "And what, pray tell, is this rule about fairs that you are so confident that you know?"

This time it was Logan's turn to smirk. He turned in her direction and extended his arm out to her. The clear plastic bag containing his newly won prize was dangling in the air between them. Rory raised an eyebrow as he held the bag out to her, clearly wondering why he was trying to get her to take it off his hands.

"That the victor's spoils always go to his girl."

"I'm gonna name her Gail," Rory said with a smile as she gazed upon her newest pet as she swam around in circles within her small plastic cage.

She wasn't sure why she was suddenly so enamored with the idea of having a fish. She'd never wanted a fish before in her life, even as a small child. The idea had always seemed strange to her. Fish didn't do much other than swim around and demand to be fed. But, there was something about this fish that was pulling on her heartstrings for whatever inexplicable reason.

Maybe this was a weird form of nesting. Her maternal instincts were taking such a hold on her at this point that she was transferring her feelings on to this little orange blob in front of her. Whatever the reason, she was excited to be a new fish mom. Far more excited than Logan seemed to be about becoming a fish dad.

"Gail?" Logan asked as he stumbled out of the pet store behind her with bags of new merchandise in his hands.

Rory had gone a little bit crazy. Clearly, in lieu of having her own permanent space to set up a nursery in, she had transferred all of her nesting urges onto a fish tank for Gail. She'd made Logan purchase not just a standard tank, but a sleek looking minimalist square tank that would look sharp in any room. They'd bought plenty of sand, stones, foliage, and little replica of Squidward's Easter Island head home for Gail to live out her days in. She'd spared no expense. Gail was going to be the luckiest goldfish to ever live.

"Yes, Gail," Rory confirmed with a nod and a smile.

"Any particular reason why?" Logan asked as he stepped up next to her and they made their way down the sidewalk toward Lorelai's house.

They'd thought about staying at the fair a little bit longer, but with Lorelai assuring them that she was able to handle the doggie swami booth on her own and Rory's tired aching body, they eventually decided that calling it a day was for the best. The pet store was their final stop for the day, and with the sun going down and the air getting a little crisp, Rory was more than ready to get inside and get her feet up.

"Logan…" she said with a trace of disappointment. Careful not to jostle Gail too hard, she reached around Logan to place the bag she was being carried in gently into the tank they had purchased. "How could you forget about Gail?"

Rory felt slightly guilty about the look on his face after her phrasing of that particular question. Clearly, he was thinking that Gail was an actual human being – someone that must have been important to them, or at the very least her.

"From The West Wing?" Rory continued. "C.J.'s fish?!"

"Ah!" Logan said with sigh of relief before nodding his head. "Of course. How silly of me."

"They have so much in common," Rory went on. "They're both goldfish. They were both gifts from newspaper men. Their moms both talk too fast for their own good. They're both girls…"

"How do you know it's a girl?" Logan asked with a skeptical brow.

"Logan…" Rory sighed. "I just know. Okay? I have a feeling for these things."

"Of course," Logan replied. "How could I ever doubt you?"

"You think you'd have learned your lesson by now," Rory teased.

Next to her, she heard Logan let out a small amused huff. Another wide smile spread across her face as she turned her head to look at him. She'd lost count of all the times she'd smiled today. She was giddy. She felt lighter than she had in a long time, happier.

Of course, Rory had been feeling happier overall since Logan had walked back into her life two months ago. Being with him again was like living in a fantasy that she'd never expected to actually come true. But, there was something about this day that left her feeling even more joyful than before.

She felt like a school girl again. Maybe it was being back in Stars Hollow that was making her feel that way. But, she also wondered if there wasn't something more to the feeling. There was just something about the way the day had gone. There hadn't been any problems. They hadn't had any serious conversations. They weren't stressing out about their families, or Logan's job, or Rory's book, or getting things ready for the baby. Today was one of the first days in a long while that they were just existing. They were two people in love with each other enjoying a day full of meaningless frivolity. They played carnival games. They ate crappy food. They flirted, and held hands, and kissed in front of strangers. All of it made Rory feel like she was sixteen years old again without any cares in the world other than the boy next to her.

It had been too long since they'd had one of these days.

"You know…" said Logan. He reached out to grab her hand in his free one and squeezed. "Speaking of naming things…"

Rory should have known that as soon as she started thinking about how wonderful the day had been going, things would take a turn. She knew exactly where Logan was going. It was shocking, actually, that it had taken him this long to bring it up.

They hadn't sat down to have the conversation about naming the baby. It was partly because there were so many other issues requiring their attention over the past couple months, and partly because Rory had been intentionally avoiding the topic. It was strange – the fact that Rory was dreading a conversation that most parents looked forward to having. Yet, the fact remained that she had been putting off talking to Logan about baby names since the moment he'd found out about their little girl.

She'd been avoiding the conversation because she'd already had it. With herself.

Perhaps it was selfish. In fact, Rory was fairly certain that it was definitely selfish. But, she already knew what she wanted to name the baby. She'd already decided. Months ago. Months before she imagined that Logan would ever be involved with selecting a name.

Since the moment Rory had heard the ultrasound technician tell her that she was going to be a mom to a baby girl, Rory had instantly known what she wanted to name her daughter. There hadn't even been a question in her mind. And, in truth, Rory had been referring to her baby girl by that name in her mind ever since.

It wasn't that Rory didn't care about Logan's opinion about their daughter's name. She did. It was why she was avoiding the topic. Because she was caught between knowing that Logan had a right to chime in, wanting to him to, but also being absolutely sure of the name that she'd all but legally given to her child already. And, as was the case when it came to most uncomfortable conversations, Rory found it much easier to put off than actually talk about it.

"Yeah?" she asked timidly.

"Have you…" Logan took a deep breath. "…thought at all about names for our little rhubarb in there?"

Rory allowed herself another small smile at the reference to the vegetable of the week on their baby app. Underneath that smile, however, was the tension of knowing that their otherwise perfect day might end on a sour note if Logan was upset about the name.

"Um…" Rory started, strained. She tucked her hair behind her ear and swallowed. "Yeah. I guess. I mean… I've thought about it a little bit."

Rory probably should have known that Logan was going to see right through her efforts to appear aloof about the topic. Logan always saw through her efforts to hide her underlying emotions. He was better than almost anyone at it, except for maybe her mother.

"A little bit?" he asked, doubtfully. He was clearly on to her. Rory bit her lip.

"Um…. yeah…" she answered, leaving the thought open ended.

When a silence settled between them, Rory turned her head to the right. She pretended to be distracted by the tap dancing routine being carried out in the gazebo by Patty's beginner girls all dressed in tiny little USO costumes as the sound of You're a Grand Old Flag filled the square. Though, it wasn't all pretense. It was actually pretty darn cute. Still, it was obvious that she was trying to avoid the subject, and Logan took no time at all to pick up on that fact.

"You already picked out a name, didn't you?"

Rory took a deep breath and pried her eyes away from the town square. When she looked back over at Logan, she didn't quite know what to think. He was smiling softly at her, but there was definitely a sadness behind his eyes. Rory's heart felt like it was being shattered into a million pieces.

Logan had already missed so much, and to make matters worse it was all entirely her fault. He'd missed the first ultrasound. He'd missed the first kick. He'd missed picking out items for the registry. And, now, he was realizing that he'd missed out on yet another important milestone in celebrating her pregnancy. That face was exactly the reason why she didn't want to have this conversation. Rory was getting tired of facing all of the different ways that she had broken Logan's heart.

She didn't deserve him.

"I…"

Rory expected a lot in that moment. She expected him to go quiet. She expected him to get sullen. She expected him to look away from her and shake his head in disappointment. She expected him to let go of her hand and spend the rest of the evening emotionally distant and upset. What she didn't expect, however, was for him to nod his head a few times, squeeze her hand, and bring it up to his lips in a reassuring kiss.

"Okay…" he said with a nod. There was a slight croak in his voice, but to Rory's shock he didn't seem at all angry.

"Okay?" asked Rory. "Are you sure?" The look of remorse on her face must have thawed whatever negative emotions Logan was harboring at the moment, because he suddenly stopped where they were and lifted a comforting hand up to her cheek.

"I think Lorelai is a beautiful name."

Rory let out a sigh of relief. He knew. Of course he knew. Logan was no stranger to what had become the Gilmore naming tradition. She had regaled him with legendary stories about her great-grandmother and her mother's drug induced decision to name her child after herself. He'd probably always guessed that if they ever had a baby girl together that she would want to name her Lorelai.

Rory just regretted so much that she'd ever thought to not include him in the decision. She regretted too many things to count at this point.

"Yeah?" she asked. Her stupid hormones were betraying her yet again. Because as the question came out, Rory could hear the quiver in her voice and felt the sting of tears lining her eyes. She was getting so tired of crying at the drop of a hat. It made her feel silly and weak.

"Yeah," Logan confirmed. He lifted his thumb to her eye and wiped away the moisture that was pooling in her tear ducts. "In fact one of my favorite people in the world is named Lorelai."

"Really?" Rory asked with a teasing smile. "I didn't know you liked my mom so much."

Logan laughed at her tongue in cheek response and shook his head.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" she asked, turning serious once again. "I mean… we haven't even talked about it. I don't want to steam roll you. You've already missed so much…"

"Rory…" he interrupted pleadingly. "I was going to suggest it anyway."

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Yeah."

Rory looked down at her feet and then back up at Logan's face. She didn't see a trace of falsehood in his expression, and it still didn't seem as if he was angry with her. Somehow, this conversation had managed to go off better than Rory could have ever hoped. He still looked a tiny bit sad. He was probably mourning the loss of looking through baby name books and making lists of the ones they liked while making fun of the ridiculous things people were calling their children these days.

Rory was mourning the loss of those experiences with him as well. But she was slightly comforted at the idea that maybe, at some distant point in the future, they still might be able to do those things together.

"I've been calling her Ellie for short," Rory expounded.

Suddenly, the solemn look on Logan's face was replaced by a wide smile.

"Ellie?" he asked, prompting a nod in response from Rory. "I like that."

"You do?"

"Yeah," he breathed as he looked down at her bump. "I really like that."

The hand that Logan was holding to Rory's cheek dropped down to rest on the side of her belly. Apparently feeling the need to be even closer to her, Logan dropped the bags he was holding in order to free up his other hand to rest on the other side. Then, he bowed his head and leaned down slightly to address the little being that was currently doing somersaults while being sandwiched between his fingers.

"What do you think, huh?" he asked, beaming when he received a kick against his hand in response. "Do you like your name, Miss Ellie Belly?"

Rory practically giggled in response at the birth of what was clearly going to be Logan's pet name for their baby girl from here until the end of their lives. Relief couldn't even begin to describe what she was feeling at this moment. She was overwhelmed with joy and love for her unborn daughter and the man standing in front of her. She was so happy that she didn't even care that they were both standing in the middle of a public sidewalk making fools out of themselves with how sappy they were both being.

"I think she likes it too," Logan said as he received another confirmatory kick from inside her womb.

"Yeah, she's in a pretty hyped up mood today," Rory responded. She lifted her own hands to her belly and started rubbing in circles, hoping to calm the movements that had been non-stop for the last few minutes. As much as she loved to feel her baby move around inside of her, it was getting to the point now where the more active Ellie was, the more uncomfortable Rory was. And Rory was already uncomfortable to begin with.

"Alright. Come on," said Logan, picking up the bags he had just set down on the ground and placing his free hand against Rory's back. "Let's get you on a couch and in front of a television."

"Oh! The West Wing?" Rory asked with delight. Logan reluctantly agreed.

"I suppose I can suffer through a night of Aaron Sorkin walk and talks if it puts a smile on your face."

"I'm so excited," Rory gushed. "It's been so long since I've had a cozy night in alone with a good show, a hot cup of tea, and the love of my life."

"Aw," Logan replied. "The love of your life? Me?"

"Josh Lyman."

"Ouch!" Logan exclaimed. "Brutally rebuffed for a Harvard man. That hurts, Ace."

"Harvard undergrad," Rory clarified. "But he's still an Eli. He went to Yale Law."

With a laugh and a shake of his head, Logan took a step forward to get them back on their trek to the house. But, Rory froze. Even with the segue into some playful banter, the conversation about names wasn't entirely over, and she didn't know when there would be another perfect time to bring it up again.

"Logan…wait," she said. She tugged on his hand as it slipped away from her back with his footsteps. When she pulled him back toward her, confusion settled over her brow in a silent prompt to continue with whatever it was she needed to say. "The name Ellie… that's not the only thing I've been thinking about, you know…"

Logan was still confused. He set the bag down again and pulled them off to the side of the sidewalk so that people could pass them as they carried on with their conversation. Rory slipped her hand underneath her belly for some support and rested the other one on top.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean…" she said before pausing to take a deep breath. "That I've been thinking about more than just her first name."

"You have a middle name picked out already too?" Logan asked, curiously.

"Actually… no…" said Rory. Strangely enough, she hadn't given much thought at all to a middle name at this point. Perhaps they'd still be able to have some fun with that name after all. But, that was beside the point.

"What I mean is I… I've been thinking that I want to break with the Lorelai Gilmore tradition a bit."

The confused expression that crossed Logan's face now made his previous expression seem confident. Rory was hoping that he would pick up on what she was trying to say. She wasn't very good at overly emotional conversations, and she knew that what she was going to tell him was going to make him emotional. Doing this in the middle of a sidewalk probably wasn't the best venue. But, then, life rarely worked out according to plan. That was a lesson she had learned tenfold over the last year.

"I thought we just decided - "

"No, Logan…" Rory said with a sigh as she grabbed his free hand in hers. "I've been thinking that... Lorelai Huntzberger… is a pretty good name."

Over their years together, Rory had come to realize that one downside to being in a relationship with a wealthy man was that there was never anything she could give him that would make him all that excited. Logan had never wanted for anything. As a result, the wide eyed rush of wonder that most people got at receiving a particularly cherished gift Christmas morning or on a special birthday wasn't something he had ever experienced. It was hard to surprise him. It was hard to impress him.

Logan was always happy to get gifts. He liked the watch she'd gotten him for the Christmas they spent in London together. He liked all the hoopla she'd put together for his twenty-fifth birthday. But, he'd never been overwhelmed with joy over a gift before. Content and grateful was the best one could really hope for when it came to the man who had everything.

Years ago, Rory had made it her mission in life to someday achieve putting that particular look of wonder on his face with the presentation of a particularly amazing gift. She'd always failed. She'd failed so much that she'd long ago given up on the goal. And of all the ways that Rory had plotted and attempted to see that look on Logan's face, she'd never thought that it would come from something like this.

"I…" Logan was looking at her in utter disbelief. His jaw was quivering, and she could have sworn that his eyes were even getting a bit glassy. "What?"

"I want her to have your last name, Logan," she stated, unwaveringly. But, he still didn't seem to believe his ears.

"But… I…"

He was speechless. Rory couldn't say that she'd never seen Logan speechless before. They'd been through far too much together for her to have never experienced his speechlessness. But, it was rare. He was typically ready with a sharp comeback, typically cool and calm under pressure, typically always able to formulate some kind of intelligible response. Right now, however, he was lost.

For a moment she actually felt oddly guilty. Was it really so shocking that she would consider giving their baby his last name? Had she somehow made him feel like that wasn't even within the realm of possibility?

"Are you sure?" Logan finally asked as he found his words.

"Yes," Rory confirmed. "I'm sure."

"It's not a small thing, you know," Logan continued. "It's a heavy name. It comes with a lot of baggage. I could understand if you don't want - "

"Logan," Rory interrupted, this time taking her moment to reach her hand up to his cheek. With a gentle turn of her wrist, she maneuvered his gaze so that it was focused on hers. "She's going to have my first name. I want her last name to be yours."

When Logan turned his chin to look away this time, Rory let him. She could tell that he needed a moment to gather himself. His thoughts and emotions were so abundantly clear behind the expressive eyes that she loved so much. He took a couple moments before he turned back to her, and when he did he had more questions.

"Are you sure you don't want to hyphenate it or- "

Rory shook her head.

"It's kind of a mouthful, don't you think?" she said. "I mean… Huntzberger alone is tempting the scantron gods as it is."

"You're sure…"

"Logan," Rory pleaded. "Trust me. I've thought about this. A lot. I thought about her name being Gilmore. I thought about Gilmore-Huntzberger and Huntzberger-Gilmore and they just… none of them felt right. I've taken so much from you by hiding this from you as long as I did - "

"Rory, no," Logan interrupted. "That's not how I feel - "

"Logan, please. Let me finish." Rory said, interrupting him this time. "There is so much that you didn't get to have because of the stupid decision that I made. I want you to have this. I want her to have this."

"But we're not married," Logan said. "And I know how important the Gilmore name is to you."

"My mom gave me her name because it was the only thing that made sense," said Rory. "I wasn't a Hayden. I was never a part of the Hayden family, and I was never going to be. Not really. Me and my mom, we were it. We were each other's family. I love him, and I love how much he's changed over the years…but…my dad was never a big enough part of my life enough to… to be a part of my identify in that way."

Rory took a deep breath as she paused. She wasn't lying when she said she'd been thinking about this a lot. And it wasn't just the matter of the name. She'd been thinking about her dad a lot. And thinking about Logan a lot. She'd been thinking about what he'd said to her all those months ago, and the plethora of ways that he'd proved it to be true over the past few weeks.

"But you're not my dad," she said. "And you are going to be a part of her identity in that way. And I want her name to reflect that."

Logan was speechless again, but as it turned out, words weren't entirely necessary in this instance. Instead of responding, Logan leaned forward and captured her lips in a passionate kiss. Once again, Rory could care less that they were standing in the middle of the sidewalk. She heard the scoffs and mutterings of the people walking past them as they embraced, but not a single one of them could break the happiness she felt at that moment.

The only thing, it turned out, that could ruin their moment was the sound of the familiar scolding tone of Taylor Doose cutting through the disapproval of everyone else around them.

"Excuse me, young lady!" Taylor huffed, causing Rory to break away from Logan and look bashfully at Taylor.

"Yes, Taylor?" she asked, slightly surprised and ashamed to have been caught red handed sucking the face off her boyfriend on the sidewalk near his store at thirty-three years old. If only his shift at the goldfish booth had lasted just a few moments longer…

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't clog up the side walk outside of my family establishment with your rather lewd public displays of affection."

"Sorry, Taylor," Rory responded as she unhooked her arms from around Logan's neck. Logan, slightly embarrassed himself, reached down to grab their bags off the ground. "We'll just be on our way."

Taylor turned around and walked back into the market, grumbling to himself all the way. Logan's embarrassment seemed short lived, because as soon as Taylor disappeared from sight, a grin broke out on his face and he ran a hand over his mouth.

"Well, look at that," said Rory. "You got to meet Taylor and be yelled at by Taylor all on the same day. You are now well on your way to having the full Stars Hollow experience."

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Four

Monday, May 29, 2017 – Part III

"But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one compares to you. And these memories lose their meaning, when I think of love as something new. Though I know I'll never lose affection for people and things that went before. I know I'll often stop and think about them. In my life, I'll love you more"

On a good day, the walk from the Stars Hollow Town Square to Lorelai Gilmore's house took approximately four minutes. The walk was so short that Rory and her mother had realized quickly after moving into their home that the time it took to climb in the car, start the car, choose something to listen to on the radio, and back the car out of the drive way usually ended up taking just as long, if not longer, as simply traveling on foot. As long as there wasn't any snow on the ground, or a torrential pouring of rain, walking to and from the house took no time at all.

At least it used to.

Rory was moving a little slowly these days. In fact, that was an understatement. And, after being on her feet longer than she had initially planned due taking up the task of showing Logan his way around a Stars Hollow Memorial Day Fair, she was moving even slower than her previously defined version of slow.

Logan, bless his heart, had modified his pace as to not outrun her. But, Rory suspected that he had to be somewhat annoyed at the fact that walking his thirty-three year old girlfriend home was becoming alarmingly similar to walking a ninety-three year old grandmother to her car. There were a lot of aches involved, along with small steps and hands on backs. Although, there was less shuffling of feet and more waddling.

"Are you sure you don't want to sit here, and I can go get the car for you?"

It was the third time he'd asked. And while Rory knew rationally that the question likely come from him wanting to be protective and helpful, she was starting to feel like it was some sort of passive aggressive way of him losing patience with her.

"I said I'm fine…" Rory answered. She pressed the hand she was holding under her belly upwards a little more, giving herself a bit more support. Right now she was regretting not buying the belly band that she'd seen the other day. Her back would probably be thanking her for it right now.

"It's not a problem. I -"

"Logan!" Rory snipped. "I'm not an invalid, okay? I can walk the quarter mile from here to the house. Drop it."

She felt a little guilty for snapping at him. All he was doing was trying to help her. The idea that he was passive aggressively poking at her to pick up the speed and stop slowing him down was a made up fallacy that was only taking place in her mind. Still, it felt real to her. Perhaps because Rory was frustrated with herself more than anything else.

She was done.

Four months ago – hell, even one month ago – she'd been arrogant and foolish enough to think that women who complained so much about the discomfort of pregnancy were exaggerating. Sure, her never ending morning sickness was annoying. But other than that, Rory had found the whole thing pretty easy. Her belly was prominent but relatively small. Her ankles hadn't swollen. She didn't feel bloated, winded, or all that hindered at all by the extra weight in her mid-section. For the most part she was able to get up and go wherever she needed with ease.

That had all ended about two weeks ago.

Toward the end of her seventh month, Ellie had decided to go through something of a growth spurt. Her belly had gotten larger. She felt more pressure on her spine. She started noticing the swelling in her feet and ankles by the end of the day. She was haunted by an ever present feeling of low back and pelvic pain. And to top it all off, she'd had her first breach with Braxton Hicks a few days ago.

She was ready to have this baby.

During her more panicked moments of pregnancy, when she was reading, researching, and taking birthing classes, Rory had been utterly terrified of what she was going to have to put her body through in the coming few weeks. She'd always been mildly freaked out by the idea of childbirth, and learning more about it with the reality that she was about to go through it hanging over her head had only made matters worse.

She'd gone to her mother, to Lane, and even to Paris with the all-consuming anxiety she was feeling, and each and every one of them had told her that by the time she'd reached the end of her ninth month of pregnancy, she'd be well over the fear of going through labor. The promise of getting her baby out of her would be so enticing that she would welcome labor with open arms. She hadn't believed them at first. But now… well now she was starting to understand.

She was already almost there, and she still had a month to go.

At this rate, Rory had a feeling that by the time the end of June came around she'd be pulling a full on Rachel Green, screaming at her child to get the hell out of her and terrifying everyone around her in the process.

Of course, relief from the pain and discomfort wasn't the only reason that Rory was anxious to give birth. She was also ready to see her baby. To hold her. To feed her. To find out what color her hair was and her eyes were and whether or not she looked more like her or like Logan.

She thought about it a lot, about all the different combinations of features and personality traits that might show up in their child. She dreamed about a blonde haired blue eyed baby with Logan's smile and her nose. Or sometimes it was a brown haired brown eyed baby with her dimpled chin and his nose.

She was day dreaming about it now all over again, so lost in the endless combinations that she didn't see the small child running her direction with his head buried in a tablet until he rammed right into her, almost knocking her off her feet. Logan, thankfully, was far more on top of things. His free arm shot out instantly, grabbing hers and steadying her. And when she looked over to see his face, he was gazing at the young child like he was contemplating murder.

"Grady!" she heard a voice yell angrily from a few feet in front of her. It was a voice that she knew, one she would recognize anywhere – one that she would normally be happy to hear if Logan wasn't standing next to her already ready to commit heinous crimes due to the fact that this child had almost knocked his eight-month pregnant girlfriend into a gutter.

"Watch where you're going!" the voice continued. "Apologize right now!"

"I'm sorry," the little boy said, looking up at her with a pair of pair of wide hazel eyes. The boy looked genuinely remorseful, like he understood exactly what he'd almost done and was almost about to break out into tears over it. Rory's heart broke a little for him. It was clearly an accident, and everything had turned out okay. Plus, that little face of his was tugging on her heartstrings in a very significant way. It was just too familiar not to.

"It's okay, sweetie," she said, assuring him. She heard Logan grumble something about how it wasn't okay, but she ignored him.

"I am so sorry," the familiar voice said as it continued to grow closer to them. "He's knows better than to walk around with his head in the clouds like that. Are you o – Rory?!"

"Hi, Dean," Rory said with a smile as she caught up to them and his face came clearly into view.

Dean's hand reached out to pull his son closer to him and give her a little more space. The little boy looked up at his father, confused. At his age, the concept of his father knowing people that were random strangers on the street was probably odd to him. The concept of his father having a life at all before he was in the picture was probably odd to him. But, as Rory well knew, Dean had had a life before Grady. And she'd been a pretty big player in it.

"I…" Dean started. His eyes were flashing between hers and her belly, and the look on his face was one of utter shock. "Um… I… wow. You're…"

"Yeah," Rory answered, rubbing her hand over her belly subconsciously. "Turns out Jenny wasn't the only person about to have a baby when we last talked…"

"That's…." Dean was shaking his head back and forth, trying to find the words.

Rory could understand why he was so caught off guard. After all, the last time they'd run into each other at Doose's she hadn't mentioned anything about a baby or even a man in her life. And, admittedly, she hadn't posted anything about it on social media. Rory was pretty quiet about her life in general on Facebook and Instagram to begin with. She mostly used it to see what other people were up to rather than post information about her own life. She did occasionally, but not often.

Her relatively low profile online presence combined with the fact that she'd spent the first six months of her pregnancy trying to keep her baby under wraps had resulted in her not posting a single thing about it. And now… with the complications around the shocking end of Logan's engagement and the rumors flying everywhere it wasn't like she was suddenly posting ultrasound and belly pictures left and right. She and Logan had remained relatively quiet still. They hadn't even changed their relationship status yet. The energetic response from their college friends and Daily News colleagues at the fact that they'd become friends alone was bringing enough attention to them. They didn't feel the need to invite more.

"That's… great! Congratulations," Dean said, finally landing on reacting positively to the news. Rory smiled.

"Thanks…"

A somewhat awkward silence fell over the group, and Rory could feel Logan tensing next to her. He'd never been a fan of Dean. She'd had a feeling that Logan wasn't happy about the existence of Dean from the moment that he'd found out that she had a boyfriend when they'd first starting spending time together at Yale. And then, when Dean had shown up later that same night to break up with her in front of a group of strangers, Logan had made no effort to hide his distaste for him. Looking back, Rory realized that it was an odd mixture of jealousy and protectiveness. Though, she hadn't realized it at the time.

There'd been a lot of signs of Logan's early interest in her that Rory hadn't realized at the time. But hindsight was 20/20.

"Dean, this is my boyfriend, Logan Huntzberger," Rory introduced, praying that this introduction might go at least somewhat smoother than Logan's first introduction to Jess. But, his pursed lips and furrowed brow as he outstretched his hand to Dean weren't giving her much hope.

"Hi, Dean Forrest - "

"I know who you are," Logan interrupted. Dean furrowed his brow and sent her a questioning look as he shook Logan's hand quickly.

"Okay...?" he responded. Rory opened her mouth to explain, but unfortunately, Logan cut her off.

"We've met," he explained. Rory sighed. They hadn't met. Making eye contact across a driveway more than a decade ago was hardly an official meeting.

"We have?" Dean asked.

"Sort of," Rory jumped in quickly, shooting Logan an unhappy look. "Logan and I met at Yale. He was at that party that… well…"

"Oh…right," Dean said, looking slightly embarrassed. He'd long ago apologized for the way in which he'd ended things that night. Still, it wasn't something that either one of them liked to spend time talking about on the occasions that he was in town.

"So what are you doing in Stars Hollow?" Rory asked, jumping to change the subject. "I have to admit I wasn't expecting to see you so soon since you were just here a few months ago."

"We just brought the baby down to see my parents," he explained. Rory smiled.

"I saw the pictures on Facebook," said Rory. "She's beautiful. Congratulations."

"Thanks. She is," Dean said with a smile of his own. "Anyway, we should probably be getting back…"

"Of course!" said Rory. "I don't want to keep you."

"It was good to see you," Dean continued. "I'm sorry again about Grady."

"It's okay," said Rory. "No harm no foul."

"Did you apologize?" Dean asked his son. The boy cranked his head up to his father and nodded, his floppy hair bouncing along.

"He did," Rory confirmed. "He was a perfect gentleman."

"Good," said Dean. "Well…bye. Congratulations again."

"Thanks, Dean," Rory answered.

With one final awkward nod at Logan, Dean steered himself and Grady around them on the sidewalk and they continued making their way back to what Rory assumed was his parents' house. Logan and Rory started making their way again as well, but Rory could feel the silent fumes still wafting off of him as they went.

"You okay?" she asked, turning toward him to see his tense jaw. "Do you wanna… stop for a second and pee on my leg or something?"

Logan started silently shaking his head, and all Rory could do in response was roll her eyes. Just moments ago on this very same sidewalk, she'd just thrown her arms around him and kissed him for the whole town to see. But, one interaction with a man that she'd broken up with twelve years ago had him utterly seething.

She didn't know what it was about her that turned perfectly nice and decent men into green monsters of jealousy every time they felt slightly confronted by another man in her life. It wasn't like she could say it was a problem specific to Logan. Both Dean and Jess had also been intensely jealous. Dean with Tristan and Jess. Jess with Dean and Logan. And Logan with Jess and Dean. Even Marty was insanely jealous of Logan, and they had never even dated. Sometimes her love life felt like a never ending teenaged melodrama set in Dawson's Creek or Degrassi.

She'd been hoping after Easter that Logan's jealous days were behind him. He'd been so well behaved that day, doing his best to get along with Jess and keep things civil. Though, Rory supposed that was slightly different. Logan was making up for how horribly he'd treated Jess the first time they'd met while desperately trying to get back in her good graces. And also… Jess had never slept with her. She couldn't say the same about Dean.

"I don't like that guy," Logan replied, choosing to disregard her sarcastic comment about his disproportionately possessive behavior. "I don't like that he's acting all friendly after he treated you like a piece of shit on his shoe."

Rory sighed. Perhaps she had been a little quick to judge what exactly was underneath Logan's sudden change in mood. She had no doubt that there was still a touch of jealousy there. But, maybe his distaste for Dean had less to do with jealousy than she'd thought. Maybe he really was still angry about the way that he'd left her at her grandparents' house. Maybe he really was more resentful of the fact that Dean hadn't treated her better than he was of the fact that Dean had been the man who'd taken her virginity.

"It was twelve years ago. We've moved past it. He apologized," said Rory with a shrug.

She thought briefly about arguing the point a little further, but then she realized there was no reason to. It was almost a gut reaction. She was so used to having to defend Dean to Jess or to other people in Stars Hollow, because even after they'd broken up (each time) it was a small town and they all still had to live with each other and be around each other. They had to find some way of getting along.

But Logan didn't have any reason to get along with Dean. Dean wasn't a part of her life anymore. They ran into each other every few years – or months as the case was now. They kept up with each other on social media. Though, in the end that didn't mean much. Rory was friends with a lot of people on social media. She was friends with Brad from Chilton on social media. It didn't mean she actually considered those people friends or a significant part of her life in any way.

Logan didn't have to get along with Dean. Logan was perfectly within his rights to carry on the rest of his life disliking Dean to his heart's content, and it didn't really matter at all. In the end it wasn't going to affect any single one of them. There was no sense in arguing about it.

"Besides… I wasn't all that upset about it, you know."

"Really?" Logan asked with a raised eyebrow. "Because if memory serves there were definitely some tears involved…"

"Yeah, but…" Rory paused for a moment. She reached her hand out between them and slipped her fingers through his. "I seem to remember some guy doing a really good job of cheering me up."

The grimace that had taken hold of Logan's face at the sight of Dean had finally melted away. He smiled down at her and squeezed her hand. Then, taking advantage of her slow pace, he placed a kiss to the top of her head as they walked.

"I mean… Finn was a joy that night. His Passion of the Christ really turned the mood around."

"Ha ha," Logan replied. "Just for that, I should call an Uber right now to take you the rest of the way home."

Rory rolled her eyes again. She was beginning to realize that living with the discomfort wasn't going to be the only trying obstacle of the final month of her pregnancy. Having to deal with Logan's hovering might turn out to be just as exhausting and irritating, but right this second she was feeling tired of putting on a fighting face over it. She replied instead with a dismissive but non-confrontational comment, hoping that it would put an end to the subject once and for all.

"Stars Hollow doesn't have Uber, it has Ooober which is just Kirk and a phone chain with his mom," said Rory. "But it's cute that you thought we did."

"What the hell is this thing?"

Logan held the mystery contraption aloft in his hand, staring at it in utter perplexity. The transparent device was something halfway between a fog horn and a defibrillator. He turned the small attachment in his hand as much as he could without crinkling up the hose that was attached to some kind of electrical device on the floor and examined it closely, trying to figure out if there was some kind of angle that might provide him some enlightenment.

Rory, somewhat distracted with the task of setting up Gail's fish tank, didn't even bother to look over at him at the question. Instead, she continued with her mission. She was setting up stones around the filtration system in the middle of the cubic acrylic tank, taking care to make it as aesthetically pleasing as possible. In true Gilmore fashion, Rory couldn't just settle for an average fish tank. She had to have the prettiest one. Though, Logan certainly didn't have a problem with that either.

"It's a breast pump," she answered, distracted but still able to see what he was messing around with out of the corner of her eye.

The entire living room was packed full of baby paraphernalia. He'd noticed it when he first came to the house this morning, obviously, but now he actually had time to poke around and look at the stacks of gifts that people had given them at the shower on Saturday.

He'd smiled at a few of the outfits – especially the little Yale dress that Rory had said came from her friend Olivia. That would be a hit with the Huntzberger clan for sure. He'd flipped through the pages of some cardboard books, smiling at the ones that he remembered his nanny – and occasionally even his mother – reading to him when he was little. Goodnight Moon. The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Corduroy.

It was cute… all this stuff. This vast amount of stuff. The boxes and bags and toys and clothes overtaking Lorelai's living room. It's was just that he was beginning to wonder exactly what Rory planned to do with all of it.

"This is a breast pump?" Logan asked.

He knew what a breast pump was, of course. He wasn't completely hopeless. But, he'd never realized how complicated they were. Perhaps it was because he wasn't a woman, and as such he'd never had to condition himself to the concept of his body being used for the sustenance of a child, but he couldn't help but think that the idea of placing one of these horns on his nipples and turning on an electric machine designed to suck liquid out of them was highly disturbing to him. He, personally, didn't think he would enjoy it one bit.

"Yes," Rory answered, looking at him like he was some kind of dunce. "What did you think a breast pump looked like?"

"I don't know," he replied. "Less… terrifying?"

"Well," said Rory as she went back to setting up the tank. "Turns out most things that come with giving birth are pretty terrifying. Not least of all the idea of being in charge of an entire human being."

That was an understatement. Even with all the reading Logan had been doing over the last several weeks and the advice he'd gotten from his sister, he was still entirely stunned at the idea that someone was ever going to let a person as incompetent as he leave a hospital with a living breathing baby. He had no idea what to do. No idea what to expect. He was daunted enough at the idea of keeping a goldfish alive.

"So…" he said, turning around so that his back was to the pile of baby things and his full attention was planted on Rory as she continued setting up the fish tank. "If you don't mind me asking… what exactly do you plan to do with all this… stuff? I mean… I'm sure your mom will want her living room back eventually, right?"

Logan's question came out of more than a mere concern for Lorelai Gilmore's living room. The truth was, the closer they got to the birth of the baby, the more uncomfortable Logan was with the idea of Rory being here. He understood her desire to be around her mom during the first few weeks. He understood that she wanted the help and the support. He understood that this had always been her plan.

But there was a part of him that was starting to get a bit resentful of the fact that the plan still hadn't changed. They hadn't even talked about the possibility of the plan changing. And if there wasn't even enough room in this house to fit all of the baby's things… there definitely wasn't room enough to fit the baby's fully grown father.

"We're going to store some of it in the apartment above Luke's," Rory explained. "And then I'll move it when I find a place."

"Okay…"

It wasn't the answer that Logan wanted to hear.

"I mean I have some time," Rory continued. "I'm going to have her in a bedside sleeper with me for the first few months anyway before I move her to a nursery. And I only have a couple more chapters of my first draft to write. Once that's done, I'm hoping to get an advance from Jess, and I'll have more time to work since the bulk of my writing will be done. I might start looking for freelance work again or maybe work at the Inn. Mom needs a lot of help with the Annex opening soon. So… between all of that I should probably be good for rent…finally."

Rory stood up, having finished putting all the aquatic accoutrements inside the tank. She smiled at it and lifted it so that it was eye level. Then, standing up from the couch, she started making her way to the kitchen to fill it with water.

"Right," said Logan as he followed her. He bit his lip, swallowing down the words that he so desperately wanted to say.

He was tired of this. He was tired of moving slow. He knew what they'd agreed to just a few weeks ago at the Gilmore house. But the longer this went on - the closer they got to the birth of their daughter, the more he was beginning to find the arrangement that they had agreed to… lacking. He wasn't okay with it any more, the idea of living in New York while she was here – while his baby daughter was here. Without him. He wasn't okay with the idea of being a weekend Dad anymore, even if it was just temporary.

He didn't feel the need to pretend like they were testing the waters of their relationship anymore. They weren't. Logan knew exactly what he wanted. And he was pretty sure Rory knew as well.

She was just too afraid to give words to it.

Maybe that was why he couldn't seem to find a place that he liked in New York – why he was able to find the tiniest faults in some of the nicest apartments up for sale in all of Manhattan. He didn't want them. They were all apartments for the old Logan – a fun loving bachelor who wasn't tied down with anything serious, a young a childless man who was more likely to be up at 2:00am in a nightclub than up feeding an infant.

He wasn't interested in purchasing an apartment to suit a lifestyle that didn't describe him any longer.

He was about to say something. After all, it was probably now or never. The baby was due in a month, and they were running out of time. If he didn't say something soon, he might miss the chance of being present for the first few months of his daughter's life – or at least present enough.

"Rory, I - "

"LUUUUCY, we're home!"

As always, the timing of Lorelai Gilmore was absolutely impeccable. Logan let out an audible sigh of annoyance, but it was masked by the commotion of Lorelai and Luke walking into the house through the front door, the jangle of Paul Anka's collar, and the tip tap of his nails against the floor as he bounded in behind them. Realizing he had company, the excitable dog ran toward the kitchen, stopping to paw at Logan's leg.

"Hey, buddy," Logan greeted, halfheartedly as he gave the shaggy dog a pat on the head.

"Hope you're hungry. We brought Chinese food," Lorelai continued as she followed Paul Anka. "Oh hey, Logan, I didn't expect you to be here still."

"Yeah," he answered. "I thought I'd stick around a bit. I hope that's okay."

"Of course!" said Lorelai. "We've got plenty of food – what are you doing?"

Whatever modicum of attention Lorelai was interested in giving him was quickly diverted to Rory as she took a pitcher and started gently pouring water into the cubic tank that she'd rested on the table. She walked over to her daughter, setting the brown carry out bag in her hands on the table and watched her intently.

"I'm filling up a fish tank," Rory explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. In the end it probably was, but he could understand why Lorelai might be confused as to why exactly she was filling up a fish tank.

"And you're doing that because…"

"Because we have a fish now," Rory answered. She gestured to the clear plastic bag that was still containing the newest member of the Gilmore family. Lorelai, smiling with astonishment, picked up the bag and started poking at it with glee. "Logan won her for me. Her name is Gail."

"Ah. The West Wing," Lorelai commented.

"Exactly!"

"Does anyone want to explain to me why there is a fish tank box in the living room?"

The sound of Luke's confused voice flowed into the room as he also made his way into the kitchen. As soon as he stepped inside and caught the sight of his wife holding up Gail's plastic bag, he sighed. His entire body sagged and he started shaking his head.

"Please don't tell me you went and bought a fish…"

"I've been with you for the last three hours!" Lorelai exclaimed. "When exactly do you think I managed to sneak off and buy a fish without you noticing?"

"I don't know. But if anyone could manage it, it would be you," Luke replied. " Hey, Logan."

"Hey, Luke."

Luke wasted no time with any further pleasantries. He walked straight to the fridge, passing his wife and step-daughter on the way.

"Gail's not my fish. She's Rory's fish," Lorelai explained as he moved past her. "She's our grandfish."

"Gail?" asked Luke. "You named the fish?"

"What do you mean 'you named the fish?'" asked Lorelai. "We named the toaster! Do you really think she's not going to name a living creature?"

Luke, clearly a man of practice when it came to the ways of Gilmore, didn't respond. Instead, he made eye contact with Logan across the room and pointed to the refrigerator.

"You want a beer?"

"Oh…uh…" he paused for a moment. "I dunno. I'm a few in already and I have to drive to Hartford."

Lorelai scoffed.

"Have a beer. Get drunk. Sleep here," she said with a wave of her hand. "You're working from home anyway, right?"

Logan thought about it for a moment. Lorelai had a point. He wasn't planning on heading to New York tomorrow. He had his laptop with him, and he was just as capable doing work from their kitchen table as he was from the bar on his father's kitchen island. He also had to admit that the idea of waking up to Rory in the morning was far more enticing than waking up alone in his parents' guest house.

"Are you sure?"

He posed the question to Lorelai, but his eyes skimmed over to Rory. She was looking up at him hopefully, giving him every indication that she wanted him to say yes. He had to admit that the look on his face was making him feel slightly better about the insecurities he'd been having just before her parents had barged into the house.

"Of course!"

"Well… alright then," Logan answered with a nod. "I guess I'll have another beer."

Luke tossed a bottle at him from across the kitchen. He caught it with ease and twisted off the cap before bringing it to his lip. The conversation continued a while as Rory finished setting up Gail's new home and Lorelai started pulling plates down from the cabinets and opening Chinese food boxes. She invited Logan to help himself as she started clearing off the table so they could all sit down.

"Oh, hey!" she said as Rory was setting Gail's now finished fish tank on the kitchen counter. "I ran into Dean today! He and his son came to have their fortunes read by the incredible doggy swami."

"Yeah, we ran into him too," said Rory, taking a seat and reaching across the table for the container of general tso.

"Literally," Logan added with a grumble.

"He looked good!" Lorelai continued. "And his son was so cute. He looked just like him. That hair! Oh my God, that hair was just as floppy as his used to be. I swear…"

"Hey, grump…"

Rory lifted one of the feet that she had propped up on the couch and stretched it a few inches to poke at Logan's thigh playfully. He was sitting on the other side of the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of them while Rory's were stretched across the cushion between them. His hands were resting behind his head, his elbows poking outward across the cushions behind him.

He'd been in a weird mood ever since her mom and Luke had gotten home. He spent the entire dinner polite but quiet, letting them steer the conversation and only chiming in here and there. Then, when they had retreated to the living room after Lorelai and Luke had decided to call it a night, he'd remained somewhat distant. Rory had expected some quality cuddling time on the couch. She'd even gotten her hopes up for the possibility of a back rub or a foot rub and maybe even some other… things.

She wasn't exactly feeling particularly sexy these days. In fact, it had been two and a half weeks since they'd last had sex. The last time they'd ever gone that long without being intimate with each other while they were together and in the same country was when Logan was still recovering from his accident in Costa Rica. Both situations obviously had to do with some physical discomfort, but the day had been so nice and after a good meal and a few hours off her feet, Rory was feeling just horny enough to make it worth it.

At this rate, however, she wasn't sure that her plans for the evening were going to end up going the way that she desired.

Logan was clearly upset about something – upset enough that he was sitting four feet away from her and had gotten through two episodes of The West Wing without making fun of a single instance of the righteous grandstanding that he always found a little bit too Pollyannaish. He didn't seem angry exactly. Just a bit…subdued. It was a far cry away from how he'd been behaving just a few hours ago.

Her feeling that he wasn't angry was confirmed when he grabbed at the foot that was poking him, and tugged it playfully into his lap. Rory tried to tug her foot away from his grasp, but the time he spent in the gym was proving to be an asset to him in this instance. Logan was able to easily keep hold of her. He peeled the fuzzy purple and blue polka dot sock she had covering her foot off and tossed it to the side. Then, in a particularly cruel and devious move, he started lightly brushing his fingertips along the arch of her foot.

Rory squealed and jerked at the feeling of his tickling. And, thankfully, she saw a smile begin to break out over his face. Yet, as happy as she was to see that he wasn't going to be stuck in a sour mood all night, she didn't want his happiness to come with the cost of her sanity.

"No! Logan! Stop it!" she pleaded, twitching as he continued his relentless attack. Soon, taking pity on her, Logan did stop, and the fingers that had once been tickling her started digging firmly into her flesh, prompting a deep and satisfied moan rather than a laugh. "Oh. But don't stop that."

Logan smiled briefly again as he reached over to grab her other foot and set it in his lap. He continued working his thumbs into the swollen base of her foot, but he still didn't say a word. Beyond that, his attention was still focused resolutely on the television rather than on her. He still hadn't said a word, and the unsettled feeling in Rory's stomach still hadn't gone away.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Hm?" Logan responded, seemingly surprised by the question. "Yeah. I'm fine."

Rory squinted and tilted her head as she looked at him. She wasn't buying it.

"Are you sure? Because you've been acting weird since dinner," Rory asked. Logan only shrugged in response. "You're not still upset about Dean are you?"

Apparently Rory had struck something, because at the mention of her ex Logan's shoulders tensed and his jaw tightened. She also noticed that the pressure he was putting on her foot was getting a little harder – not that she was complaining about that.

"Well… it's kind of annoying that we ran into your first boyfriend on the way home, and then we spent half of dinner talking about him and the most recent exploits of your second boyfriend."

"He's Luke's nephew," Rory defended. "They're very close. Luke is practically his Dad. We can't just not talk about him."

"I know that," Logan replied, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears for a moment. "But it's bad enough that I have to worry about the Jess subject constantly coming up. Now I apparently need to worry about running into the other one all the time…"

"He lives in Scranton," Rory said, dismissively. "You don't need to worry about 'running into him all the time.'"

Logan simply grunted in response. Rory continued to watch him from across the couch as the light of the television shone on his face. As the camera lights in the White House press briefing room started flashing on the screen, the light on Logan's face became brighter. His heavy set brow and downturned lips came into better focus, and Rory started to think that there was something going on his head that was far greater than simply being annoyed at running into her ex-boyfriend and listening to a small bit of nostalgic chit chat over dinner.

"Anyway, look at it this way…" said Rory, hoping to move the conversation along and attempt to wipe the scowl off his face. "You've officially met all of my ex-boyfriends now. So, you always know what to expect if and when we do have to deal with them."

"Not all of them," Logan responded under his breath as he kept his gaze glued on the television screen. The gesture didn't help to hide the words that had come out of his mouth. Rory had heard them perfectly well.

"What do you mean?" Rory asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Logan finally looked away from the television. He snapped his head over to her and looked at her with a confused and somewhat irritated expression.

"You really expect me to believe that there haven't been any other guys in the last ten years?" Logan asked.

"Yes," said Rory. "Because there haven't been."

"What about Paul?"

Rory's heart stopped for a moment. She couldn't believe that she had, yet again, forgotten about Paul. Even after he'd dumped her, after she'd used his name to lie to people about the paternity of her child, he was still an afterthought to her. Of course she felt bad about it. She felt terrible about the way that she had used him and strung him along. But, the reason why she never remembered him was because he simply never meant anything to her.

"How do you know about Paul?" she asked.

Logan's head finally turned to look at her. The irritated look in his eyes was gone, and it had been replaced by something closer to vulnerability. She never would have expected Logan to feel vulnerable over Paulof all people. Paul - the man that she only kept around so that she could lie to herself about how she wasn't still in love with Logan.

"Paul. Dinner. Don't forget," Logan said. He cleared his throat. "I didn't forget."

She remembered now. It was so long ago that she hadn't thought about it in months. But now she was remembering standing in Logan's apartment looking for her lucky dress when the notification had come through. She'd never meant for Logan to find out about Paul – or any other man that she'd dated while they were in 'Vegas.' She'd felt bad about it for a short moment when it had happened. But, Logan's reaction had seemed so nonchalant to her that she assumed he was perfectly fine with it. Apparently she was wrong.

"Paul… he wasn't… that wasn't anything," Rory explained. "Besides. We were in Vegas."

"I know," Logan replied, shortly.

"You had Odette."

"I know!" Logan said before taking a deep breath. "It's just…seeing his name felt like the final nail in my hopes that you would ever… want Vegas to end. I guess."

A dawning realization settled over Rory at those words. Not only had she underestimated the effect that seeing that notification had on Logan, but she'd also underestimated the impact that it had on their relationship going forward. It was her next visit to London after that day that she'd found out that Odette was moving in permanently. Was Logan suggesting that it might not have happened if he'd never found out about Paul? That the entire trajectory of their relationship over the last year and a half could have been completely different had he not picked up her phone that day – or had she not continued to string Paul along to begin with?

"Well you were wrong," said Rory. "I never had any real feelings for Paul. Not like I have for you."

"Then why'd you keep him around?" asked Logan. "Doesn't seem like something you'd normally do."

It wasn't something she would normally do. She was well aware of that. She beat herself up about it constantly. It was a constant player in the late night list of embarrassing and guilt ridden thoughts that would come to her mind unbidden as she was trying to get some sleep at night. The way she'd treated Paul… she was ashamed of herself.

"I don't know…" she answered with a light shrug. "He was… safe. Sort of like Dean that way I suppose. He never made me feel afraid or… bad about myself when I was with him. He was nice. He was what everyone kept saying I needed."

"But he wasn't what you wanted?"

Rory shook her head and started picking at her fingernails.

"I don't know what I wanted," she said. "Or maybe I did. I dunno. I wanted you, but I couldn't admit that to myself."

Rory took a deep breath. If she was honest with herself, there were a lot of reasons why she'd kept Paul around despite the fact that she didn't actually have any feelings for him. A lot of them had to do with Logan, but not all. A lot of it was also about her, about how lost she'd been feeling and how desperately she needed some stability – even if it was a façade.

"After we broke up, I…"

Rory's voice quivered for a moment. She took a deep breath, steading herself and attempting to keep the tears that always tended to arise when she thought about that time in her life at bay.

"I didn't really date anyone or even flirt with anyone for a really long time," she continued. "I was still so in love with you and I… I just threw myself into work. The campaign trail kept me really busy so it was an easy distraction, and I just became kind of like this… machine I guess. When I wasn't traveling, I was writing. And when I wasn't writing, I was sleeping. And I carried on that way for months.

"And then one night when we were stopped in Chicago, I had a little too much to drink at a campaign fundraiser, and I ended up going back to my hotel with this guy that had been flirting with me for weeks. He was cute and charming and smart and he was a really good writer. He was definitely my type. But… I just remember lying there and praying for it to be over. And he could tell I was upset. Because, when he was finished he looked at me and asked me if I was okay, and I just burst out into tears. And it was humiliating and… awful. And I still had to see him on the bus every day and try to avoid him and I was so embarrassed…

"After that it took me a while to even think about dating again. And when I finally got around to it, I just wasn't interested in anything serious. I was still working and traveling too much to make a relationship last, and I think I still wasn't entirely over you. So, I kept things mostly casual. There were a handful of guys that lasted a few weeks, and Tinder for when I just needed to scratch an itch, but nothing that really stuck.

"And when Paul came around… everyone in my life was talking about how I needed to find a nice guy. I was a nice girl, and I just needed to find a nice guy who understood me. I'd clearly had bad luck with you and Jess and what I really needed was to stop chasing the wrong kind of men and find a nice and stable guy who was sturdy and uncomplicated and who I could always count on to be there after I got back from whatever story I was chasing at the time. And that's what he was. Paul was nice.He was unthreatening. He was never… He was never going to hurt me."

Rory paused for a moment. Her earlier efforts to keep her tears at bay had been in vain. She could feel them welling up in her eyes past the point of return. Her lip was quivering, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. Logan was watching her with an absolutely enraptured expression.

"He wasn't going to be able to hurt me because I never really cared whether he went or stayed," she continued. "Because… the thing is… I don't think I like nice guys."

Logan let out a huff of air.

"Ouch," he said in a lightly teasing manner.

"No, I…" Rory sighed. "I don't mean it like that. I just mean that… all my life everyone always praised me for being such a good girl. I got perfect grades. I was quiet. I was kind. I never put up a fuss about anything. And I'm not saying that was a bad thing, I'm glad that people thought of me that way. I'm glad that people thought I was kind and mature for my age. But… when I met you - and even Jess to a lesser extent – I realized that there was more to being a good person than just being nice all the time.

"I was attracted to you because you were messy and complicated and you weren't afraid to make mistakes or rock the boat. You didn't care if people didn't like you. You knew exactly who you were and exactly what you wanted."

"I didn't know exactly who I was," Logan cut in. "Or what I wanted."

"Well you were good at faking it," Rory deflected. "My point is… being with you made me realize that I was allowed to be messy and complicated too. And I could make mistakes and rock the boat if I needed to. And I didn't need everyone to like me. And the thing is… as much as I fancy myself Wonder Woman… I think I need that. You know? I need someone who knows how to push me out of my shell, someone who can point out when defaulting to nice might not be the best course of action. Otherwise, I worry that I would get too…timid. Too complacent."

"I think you're selling yourself short," Logan said.

"Well that's kind of you to say. But I think you're wrong," Rory replied. "Anyway, this is all my long winded way of telling you that you never had to worry about Paul. I was never in love with Paul. I haven't been in love with anyone but you for twelve years."

It seemed that Logan didn't quite know how to respond to her declaration. His eyes went soft as he made eye contact with her for a moment along with the caresses of her feet. Words, however, were escaping him. Because instead of saying anything in return, he turned his attention back to the television and Rory watched his Adam's Apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

She knew what she would like him to say. In a perfect scenario, Logan would tell her that he hadn't loved anyone else in the last twelve years either. And then he would kiss her and they would stumble back into her bedroom and make love all night long, and she wouldn't even get uncomfortable or winded at all despite her eight-month pregnant belly and her constant back ache. But, then, they lived in a real world, and such fantasies rarely happened.

"I know you can't say the same," she said. "And that's okay. You don't need to tell me anything about… her…"

"You know everything there is to know about Odette," said Logan, looking back at her once again and trying to dismiss the concerns that were laced in her statement. It didn't work.

"I'm not talking about Odette," Rory said softly.

Logan's face fell. He looked at her with the same expression he had the first time she'd brought her up – the night when they'd have that massive fight in her bedroom at her grandmother's house, right before they'd gotten back together. He hadn't been expected her to know about her then, and by the looks of it he still hadn't expected her to bring her up now. But, the truth was that Rory thought of little else these days when she was trying to picture what Logan had been doing all those years that they were apart.

"I don't know what you want me to say," said Logan. Rory shrugged.

"You don't have to say anything," Rory answered. "You're allowed to have other girlfriends. I don't have to be the only woman you've ever loved. Just because I used to be doesn't mean that it's realistic or - "

"I did love Seema," Logan interrupted. He took a deep breath before continuing. "But not the way I love you."

"Logan…" Rory sighed with a shake of her head.

She didn't need him to do this. She didn't need him to lie to her and tell her that she was still the only woman that he had ever loved and that the other serious relationship he'd been in after they'd broken up meant nothing to him. It was a lie. She knew it was a lie. From what Rory had seen, they had obviously been together for a long time. There were so many pictures. And he looked happy in them.

"No, Rory. I mean it," he said. "When I met Seema I was still getting over you. I was like you. I hadn't dated anyone or even been with anyone in a really long time. And I'd thought about going back to my old ways briefly but… well I knew from experience that it wasn't going to help."

Rory winced momentarily at the reminder of their first breakup – of the pain that still existed there every time she thought of him with all those girls. It still hurt.

"It had been over a year. And Honor was worrying about me and she'd convinced me that I needed to see a therapist. And I guess… I kept being told that I needed to move on. You know? Honor kept saying it. My friends kept saying it. And I think part of me knew they were right. And then I ran into her – literally – at Stanford. I ended up getting her coffee all over her white shirt, and she almost murdered me."

"Understandably so," Rory interjected. Logan nodded his head and gave a light laugh.

"I guess…" he continued with a steading breath. "I guess she reminded me of you a little bit. At first. She was fast talking and driven and coffee obsessed. And she was smart. In a different way, but smart all the same.

"I honestly don't know what came over me when I decided to ask her out, and I really don't know what came over her. I'd taken her to the bookstore to replace her shirt and her coffee, and when she was about to walk away I just blurted the question out. It was not smooth at all – nothing like the old me. I guess I was out of practice. But, then, she didn't seem to mind because she said yes.

"Anyway, when we got to know each other I realized that she wasn't as similar to you as I thought. Seema was unlike anyone I'd ever known before. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't grown up with privilege – or with American parents. Or maybe it was that she wasn't…"

"White?"

Logan shrugged.

"Maybe," he answered. "I mean she definitely wasn't white. And as much as we wanted to tell ourselves that those kind of things don't matter anymore, we realized we were wrong. I had no idea how racist people could still be until I got into a biracial relationship. And it wasn't always words. Sometimes it was just…looks. We'd be out to dinner or in line at the grocery store, and people would just… glare at us. It was definitely worse when we were here, but it still happened at home too… even in California.

But it wasn't just other people. It was hard between us sometimes too. We came from two entirely different backgrounds, sometimes with different value sets. My family wasn't exactly thrilled about it. Or well… I should say my grandfather wasn't exactly thrilled about it. My parents were surprisingly okay with it. But that might have been because they were worried that if they said or did anything to upset me at that point that I might cut myself off from them entirely.

"And her parents… hated me. They'd been trying to match her up with a 'nice Indian boy' for months when I came along and ruined everything. I think I knocked a future anesthesiologist out of the running. But I was no stranger to my girlfriend's parents hating me. So I mostly managed okay."

"My mom didn't hate you," Rory said, softly. Logan's twitched eyebrow gave her the indication that he didn't believe her. "Well… not toward the end."

"She still never really liked me," said Logan. "And I'm still not convinced that's changed."

"Dinner was nice," Rory insisted.

After everything they'd been through over the last few weeks, she was really happy with how much the dynamic between her mom and Logan had changed in such a short time. Lorelai was really making an effort, and she didn't want Logan thinking that it wasn't genuine. She was still so desperate for them to smooth things over.

"Dinner was nice," Logan agreed. "I could have done without all the Dean talk, but it was nice all the same."

Rory smiled softly at the jest. At least he wasn't acting put off at the subject anymore. But, maybe that was just because they had managed to go somewhere far deeper and more important in the last few minutes. Whining about running into her ex-boyfriend just didn't seem like a very serious concern in comparison.

"What happened?" she asked, wanting to get the topic back on track. "Between you two?"

Rory had been desperate for some information about this woman from the moment she realized she existed. Now that she finally had Logan opening up about her, she didn't want him to stop. She wanted to know. She needed to know. Logan already knew everything about her ex-boyfriends. But for Rory, there was this big blank hole in his life that she didn't know a thing about.

"Um…" Logan took a deep breath. "We just… grew apart I guess. She had a plan. She wanted to be married before she was thirty and start having kids right away, and I…"

Logan's eyes moved away for a moment. His gaze landed somewhere indeterminate, and Rory got the feeling that he wasn't looking at anything in particular. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts, gathering his feelings.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It wasn't that I didn't want to get married or have kids. Because, I always knew part of me did. Otherwise, I never would have…"

"Right," Rory interrupted, letting him off the hook. There was no need for him to say it. That wasn't what they were talking about, anyway. They'd already had that conversation. They didn't need to have it again.

"I guess I was confused. I led her on because there was a part of me that did want to get married. But, I was too afraid to confront the part of me that knew I didn't want to marry her. I've only ever wanted to marry you.

"And so we just… carried on not talking about what we were feeling. And the longer I went without proposing the more distant she became. And then she graduated law school and got a job that kept her really busy, and things started picking up at my business. We got to the point where we hardly ever saw each other, and even when we did we weren't really… together. We stopped having sex. We stopped talking to each other… And then I…"

Logan's silence as he trailed off coupled with the look of shame that passed over his face told Rory everything that she needed to know. Disappointment settled in her gut, along with a little bit of fear. Part of knowing Logan as intimately as she did meant that she was well versed in every aspect of his personality – even the less the pleasant ones.

"You cheated on her," she declared.

"Yeah," Logan admitted.

"But you're still friends?"

Rory couldn't imagine still keeping in touch with someone if their relationship had ended that way. The idea of keeping in touch with such a significant ex after things had ended was hard enough on its own. When infidelity was thrown into the mix, she'd think things would be that much more difficult. But Seema was still Facebook friends with Logan. Rory knew that because that's how she'd found out about her. She'd even noticed her liking a couple pictures that Logan had recently posted of him with Honor's boys.

"We weren't for a long time," said Logan. "She only reached out to me about a year ago… when my uncle retired, and I took over as COO. She'd read about it in The Wall Street Journal, and she wanted to congratulate me."

"Oh."

"It's been nice though," he continued. "To see what she's been up to. I did love her. She was important to me. She taught me how to move on. She taught me that… falling in love with you wasn't just a fluke. You know? I was capable of… loving other people too, committing to other people too. I fucked it up in the end but… we were together for a long time. You know? Two and half years. I still care about her."

"Of course."

Rory understood. She still felt the same way about Jess and Dean. And even Paul. She wanted them all to be happy.

"She's married now. She has a baby," he added. "She was always good at getting what she wanted."

A silence settled between them, a slightly tense one. Logan's admission was still ringing in Rory's ears, tapping at the box inside her where she liked to lock away the biggest insecurities she always had about being in a relationship with Logan. Part of her felt like she was sitting in Honor's dressing room all over again. And her grandmother's words from a few weeks ago kept ringing in her ears.

"Once a cheater, always a cheater."

"Logan, I need you to realize that… this… you and me," she started, her voice shaking with nerves as she gestured between the two of them. "It's over if you ever…"

"I know," he said, emphatically.

"I know it was a long time ago," Rory continued. "But I already gave you your second chance on that front…"

"I know," he pleaded.

The look of conviction in her eyes comforted her. But, she worried that there would always be a part of her that was afraid of him hurting her again in that way. She wasn't naïve enough to think that it wasn't possible. She was well aware of the fact that if there was ever anything that would cause their relationship to fall apart in the years to come, it was likely to be infidelity. Logan had hurt her before. It was entirely possible that he would do it again. She was just willing to take the gamble. Because the benefit of being with him far outranked the risk.

"But we've talked about this, Rory," Logan continued. "I never meant… I really thought we were over…"

Rory shook her head again.

"But we haven't talked about it, Logan," she said. "We never talked about it. You talked about it. And I listened because I wasn't ready to talk about it. And then you got hurt and then you moved to London and we never had the time to actually talk about it."

Logan didn't say anything. In all honesty, there wasn't much else for him to say. She'd already heard everything from his side of the situation. He thought they were broken up. He was miserable and drinking and trying to convince himself that going back to his old lifestyle would be fine – that trying the relationship thing was a mistake. He'd been wrong. He realized how much he loved her…

She'd heard it a million times.

"I know you thought that we were broken up," she said. "And that's why I was able to forgive you for it eventually. But… I didn'tthink that we were broken up. We never had that conversation. You never even bothered to confirm that we weren't together anymore."

"That's not fair," Logan said with a vulnerable look in his eyes. "I tried to call you. I tried to talk to you. You wouldn't respond. You ghosted me."

"I needed time."

"Well you needed to tell me that," Logan responded. "You need to tell me how you feel. I can't read your mind. I couldn't then, and I obviously haven't gotten any better at it. I know I made a mistake then, Rory. But you can't go on acting like you were an entirely innocent party. I got home from a trip to Omaha feeling like shit because of a huge argument with my Dad. All I wanted was to spend the night with my girlfriend, and when I showed up you were getting ready to go on a date with some other guy. An ex. And then you started blaming me for -"

"I wasn't going on a date with Jess," said Rory, slightly annoyed at the accusation. "We were friends. We were getting dinner. A friendly dinner. And I never blamed you for anything that was going on with me. That was you putting words in my mouth."

"Well that's not what it felt like."

"Well that's what it was!" Rory defended. "Look I'm sorry if you were feeling insecure that night. Maybe I should have texted you and told you about going out with Jess. Okay? I'm sorry that I didn't think to do that – that it looked like I was hiding something. But I wasn't. And that doesn't excuse the way you treated him. Or what you did after that fight. It doesn't excuse any of it, Logan."

"I know," he admitted.

"You hurt me," Rory continued. "And what you don't get – what you never understood – is that it was never about whether or not we were technically together at the time or not. I told you I loved you. That's not an easy thing for me to do, okay? I thought that maybe you even loved me too… even if you weren't able to say the words. And then a few weeks later you were jumping in bed with another woman days after we'd had a fight. I just felt so… disposable. And stupid. And humiliated."

"I'm sorry," said Logan. In the dark of the living room, it was hard to see his eyes. But, it looked like they might be getting a bit glassy. "I did love you. I didn't know it at the time. But I did. And you were never disposable to me. I… that wasn't what that was. It was just… denial."

Rory bit her lip and nodded. In a futile attempt to distract herself, she ran her hand over the curve of her tummy, trying to see if she could get Ellie to respond to the movement. But, the baby seemed to be fast asleep at this point. Her restless movements from earlier in the day were replaced with a calm stillness, one that in most contexts Rory would be thrilled to be experiencing.

She wasn't sure how they had gotten here. Their light carefree day had somehow ended in one of the heaviest conversations they'd ever had about their relationship – both the history of it and the future of it. She supposed it needed to be had. This was a topic they had danced around since the night it happened. But it didn't make it any easier to get through.

"I suppose I don't really have a leg to stand on," said Rory. "I mean… it's not like I've been the most virtuous when it comes to fidelity either…"

"It's not the same," said Logan, trying to let her off the hook. "You've never - "

"I cheated on Paul," Rory interrupted. "Our relationship might have been… tenuous. But we were still in a relationship. At least he thought we were. And at this point I've broken up two relationships."

"Regardless," said Logan. "Rory, I promise you, I will never hurt you that way again. I meant what I said that night at Paris' apartment. Being with you is easy for me. Being faithful to you is easy. I may have failed at it before, but I'm not going to with you. I swear. There is no one I could ever want more than I want you."

"Even with my swollen feet and cankles?"

"Especially with your swollen feet and cankles."

Feeling confident that they had resolved the conversation at hand on a good note, Rory took the opportunity to close the gap between them on the couch. She moved her feet out of his lap and twisted around, replacing them with her head as she lay on her side. Logan's fingers instantly found their way into her hair, and between his gentle strokes and the dim lighting around them, she was able to let herself surrender to relaxation.

About one more episode in, she was starting to surrender to fatigue. With one more in a long line of yawns, she sat up and stretched her arms out.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," she said.

"Okay," Logan replied, not moving to get up or even tearing his eyes off the screen. While moments before she'd been certain that their conversation had ended well, and whatever had been bothering him before had been resolved, she was starting to worry that she'd been wrong. That maybe she'd been wrong about what the issue actually was in the first place.

"Are you coming?" she asked, timidly.

Logan turned to her and titled his head. He paused for a moment and shrugged his shoulders, keeping his eyes locked on hers. The expressive eyes that she usually loved so much were a little too much for her to bare at the moment. There was a certain sadness about them. A helplessness that she wasn't sure what to do with, or where it had come from.

He sighed and shook his head, and then with a clearing of his throat he finally answered her.

"There's no room for me in there, Rory."

TBC...

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

"Well, I've been afraid of changing, cause I've built my life around you. But time makes you bolder. Even children get older, and I'm getting' older, too."

Lorelai needed a haircut.

Funnily enough, the last time she had allowed her hair to grow this unruly and unmanageable was back when she was going through construction at The Dragonfly. Now, here she was again, undergoing construction at The Annex and once again cultivating a highly impressive and totally wild mane of hair on her head. She could probably give Bellatrix Lestrange a run for her money.

There just simply wasn't enough time.

She was absolutely exhausted most of the time these days. Renovating The Annex was proving to be just as much work and stress as renovating the The Dragonfly had been, and this time she had a fully operational business to run on top of it. It did mean that she wasn't suffering financially the way that she had been before, but it also meant that she found herself pulled in a million different directions all the time.

And she only had about four more weeks before she had a newborn baby to add to her load.

It wasn't that she was dreading the birth of her granddaughter. After she'd gotten over the initial shock of Rory's pregnancy announcement, it hadn't taken her very long at all to get excited at the idea of having a new baby in the family. She'd always wanted to have more kids, but time and age had gotten in the way. Short of having her own, a new grandbaby in the house was the next best thing.

She was looking forward to meeting her new granddaughter more than words could say, but that didn't mean that she'd forgotten about the reality of the situation. She hadn't forgotten what it was like having a newborn in the house. She hadn't forgotten the late night cries, the endless feedings, the mountain of diapers that could accumulate in just a few short hours.

She thought was short on sleep and high on stress now, but she was well aware that in a month's time she would find these weeks as breezy as a summer day in Antigua.

She didn't have a problem with the fact that Rory wanted to stay here for the first few months. She was perfectly fine with it. She remembered well how difficult the post-partum period was, and as much as she and her own mother had been at each other's throats at that time in her life, she wasn't delusional enough to think that she would have ever been able to get through it without her there. That time in her life was one of the hardest she'd ever been through. And it wasn't only because she was sixteen years old.

Having a new baby and learning to be a new mother was difficult no matter what your age. And while Rory was certainly older and more mature than she had been, she was still going to need help, and Lorelai was more than happy to give that to her.

Granted, the situation was a little different now than it had been when she and Rory had initially made the plan for her to move in here temporarily after the baby was born. At the time, it had made perfect sense. In fact, it was really the only thing that made sense. They knew that her mother was most likely going to have the house sold by this time. Plus, Rory was trying to be conservative with the money that she had. Staying here provided her the opportunity to continue saving her money while also gaining the support of her and Luke after the baby was born.

But now… well Lorelai would be lying if she wasn't curious what exactly Rory was thinking now. She was carrying on as if nothing had happened since they'd originally made their arrangement. But something very clearly had happened. The thirty-five year old blond man sleeping on her couch in a pair of her husband's pajamas was physical proof of it.

The unexpected arrival of Logan onto the scene had changed a lot of things. Lorelai was first to admit that she hadn't initially been very excited about those changes, but over the last few weeks Logan had proven to far out perform her previous expectations of him. Rory, however, still seemed to be carrying on as if nothing had changed, and Lorelai had a feeling that it had a lot more to do with fear than anything else.

Still, she wasn't sure what to do or say about the situation at this point. She'd already overstepped her boundaries when it came to the Logan situation, and she was just now starting to get back into Rory's good graces. She wasn't sure how her daughter would take to her involving herself once again after doing an entire 180. She also wasn't about to let Rory think that she didn't want her and the baby here. As long as Rory needed her help, she would never do anything to make her think she didn't want to provide it.

With one more brush of her unruly hair and a small adjustment at the neckline of her blouse, Lorelai turned her back on her reflection in the mirror and started making her way out of her bedroom and down the stairs. As she walked, she made a conscious effort to be as quiet as possible. She was carrying her shoes in her hand and walking slowly on her toes, trying to avoid the places on the wooden floor known for squeaking and creaking in an effort to not wake up their house guest. But, when Lorelai reached the landing in the middle of the steps, she realized that her efforts were in vain.

Logan was wide awake. He'd moved the coffee table over to the side of the room, and he was sitting on the floor next to an open cardboard box, a stack of metal rods, and a pile of Styrofoam. In his hand was a white booklet, and there was a look of stern focus on his face as he was reading.

"Hey," Lorelai said, startling him out of his concentration. He looked up at her with an expression that could only be described as shame. Though, why he was ashamed Lorelai had no idea. "Good morning."

"Morning," he replied, quietly, as his eyes flitted down to all the stuff spread out around him. "Sorry for the mess. I just wanted… or I thought I'd…"

As Logan gestured to the box next to him, Lorelai suddenly realized exactly what it was he was doing. On the side of the box was a picture of the bedside bassinet that Sookie had purchased off of Rory's registry. And by the looks of it, Logan was about halfway through getting the thing assembled. She felt a small pang in her heart at the sight of it, followed by a momentary rush of surprise.

Since when did she start feeling sorry for Logan Huntzberger?

"Oh, that's okay," she replied, taking a cue from him to keep her voice low. "I mean… that's what dads are supposed to do, right?"

Logan raised his hand and scratched the back of his head. He looked almost embarrassed at being caught, which is the last thing he should be feeling for putting together his own baby's bed.

"I guess," he answered. "Although… I mean I can pretty much guarantee my dad never did this…"

Lorelai laughed as she continued walking down the stairs. She appraised Logan's work as she went, taking a moment to revel in the surprise that he actually seemed to know what he was doing. Even if his father hadn't been the handiest of men, his son had apparently managed to pick some things up somewhere. Maybe that small period of time he'd spent in California with a small bank account has forced him to become acquainted with an Ikea manual

"Well, I'm sure that's another one of the many things our fathers seemed to have in common," she replied with a smile.

"Right," Logan said with a quick breathy laugh. Though, as soon as the moment of amusement was over, a look of sadness passed over his face. "I never got to uh… I never got to say how sorry I was… about Richard…"

"Oh!" Lorelai was taken off guard. It had been a long time since anyone had offered her condolences over her father's death. She'd almost forgotten how she was supposed to react. "Um… that's okay – I mean… thank you."

"He was a great man," he continued. "I always respected him."

"He was," Lorelai agreed. "He liked you too, you know. Well… I mean… except for the whole sex house thing."

Logan chuckled in response and an uncomfortable silence settled over them. It seemed that even though things between them were getting better, there was still an element of awkwardness when it came to being in a room alone together. It was always easier to get along with Logan when there were other people around – buffers. Though, she supposed that was to be expected considering they still didn't know each other all that well.

"So…" she started, hoping that by opening her mouth she might accidently stumble on something to say. "You're up early. I was expecting to have to make a sneaky exit this morning."

"Yeah, I…I don't really sleep in much these days," Logan replied. "I'm usually up by seven. Habit."

"Adulthood gets the best of us."

"Afraid so…"

"Is Rory still in bed?" Lorelai asked. She turned her head toward the direction of the kitchen and her daughter's room. Rory was usually up by this hour as well. Though, lately her third trimester fatigue had been affecting her sleep schedule.

"Yeah, I figured I'd let her sleep," said Logan, pointing to her room with a quick flick of his wrist. "She's been pretty tired lately."

"That she has…"

Another awkward silence fell over them. Logan was smiling at her through pursed lips and Lorelai was nodding her head. She hated feeling this way. Over the years, Lorelai's inability to keep her mouth shut had become her infamous quality. Her tendency to open her mouth when she absolutely shouldn't and her propensity for word vomit had gotten her in some serious trouble on more than one occasion. Yet, it always seemed to be that in the moments where she actually wanted to find something to say, her brain stopped being up to the task.

"Do you want some coffee?" she eventually asked. The tension she'd been carrying in her body melted away. Once again coffee had saved her. It had provided her not only with something else to say to the man in her living room, but also something to do.

"Um, sure," Logan replied. "Coffee sounds great."

Logan hopped off his feet and followed Lorelai into the kitchen. The two of them both moved as stilly and quietly as possible as to not wake up Rory from a much needed morning of rest.

As she busied herself with grabbing the coffee grounds out of the cabinet and pouring them into a filter, she noted Logan pacing around the kitchen out of the corner of her eye. His soft footsteps eventually led him over to the built in shelf on the wall bordering Rory's room. His eyes were scanning the titles of the various cookbooks that she'd bought over the years and inevitably never used. He stopped, however, when his eyes landed on a particular picture frame.

Lorelai's head snapped back and forth between him and coffee maker for a few seconds as she observed him. He was looking down at the photo in his hands, and though his boy was blocking Lorelai's view, she didn't need to see the photograph to know which one it was. That particular photo had been sitting on that shelf for ages.

The image in that frame had long ago been burned into her mind. It was a photo of a little girl with her brown hair done up in two thick and bouncy pigtails on the side of her head. She was wearing a burgundy floral print dress underneath an oversized light denim jacket. Her hands were holding on to two bright pink straps that were wrapped around her shoulders. And her face was broken out into a huge smile.

"That was Rory's first day of school," she explained, softly. "Well… preschool."

Logan turned around to acknowledge her. A bemused smile was on his face, and he only made acknowledging eye contact with her for a brief moment before his attention turned right back to the picture frame that he was still holding in his hand.

"She looks excited," he said as he placed the frame back on the shelf and turned around to face her fully. Lorelai nodded.

"She was," she replied as she walked over to the sink to fill the coffee pot with water. "Or… well… I should say she was excited about the new dress I made her and the Rainbow Brite lunchbox. But once she got to the school and realized that I wasn't going inside with her, she wasn't all that thrilled with the idea anymore."

"Really?" Logan asked. Lorelai hummed an affirmative acknowledgement. She poured the water into the coffee maker, slipped the pot onto the hotplate, and hit the button for the machine to begin brewing.

"Yeah," she expounded. "I think that was the first full blown tantrum she ever had. Before that she was always pretty even tempered. For a toddler that is."

"And here I was thinking Rory must have loved going to school from day one," said Logan.

He wasn't far off the mark. It hadn't taken very long for Rory's opinion on the matter of going to school to change completely. But, as was most often the case with Rory, it took her a little bit of time to get used to the idea. Rory was a creature of habit. Of routine. Of comfort. Though, Lorelai was fairly certain Logan knew all of that.

Turning around, Lorelai leaned up against the kitchen counter while she waited for the coffee to percolate. She gave Logan a good once over, noting that the look of sadness in his eyes was still present. She'd first noticed it last night, along with the fact that he had been strangely quiet during dinner. And, if her instincts were correct, she had the feeling she knew exactly why.

Lorelai had been surprised to see Logan awake so early this morning, but seeing him assembling the bedside sleeper hadn't been that surprising at all. Despite her initial apprehensions about Logan and how he would fit into her daughter and granddaughter's life, Lorelai had come to realize over the last few weeks that Logan was fully committed to being around. Perhaps even more committed than Rory was ready for him to be.

"She'd gotten over it by the end of the day," Lorelai replied. "But… you know Rory. She can be stubborn."

"Yeah," Logan chortled before looking down at his sock covered feet.

"And terrified of change."

Logan's downturned head tilted upward ever so slightly. The two of them made eye contact across the room, and Logan took a deep breath. He lifted a hand to his head and started running his fingers through his messy hair.

"Did she ever tell you about her first night at Yale?"

"Um… no," said Logan with a slight look of surprise and curiosity.

"Well… she'll probably kill me for telling you this, but it was a lot like her first day at pre-school," she said with a smile. "After we'd moved her into her dorm and her Yale mattress out of her dorm and then back into her dorm and then out of her dorm again.."

Lorelai paused at the sight of Logan's confused yet amused expression. She supposed the detail about the mattress didn't have anything to do with her point, but that had always been what she remembered most about that day.

"It was an eventful day," Lorelai explained with a wave of her hand. "But anyway… after we got back to Stars Hollow, it wasn't very long before I got a phone call from her absolutely melting down. She was yelling at me for being a terrible mother because I hadn't made her hate me enough. If she hated me then she'd be ready to be on her own. She was freaking out about being in a new place with all these new expectations on her and none of her old routines. It didn't matter how much she had been preparing for college all of her life. When it was actually happening, she didn't know what to do with herself. She hadn't been able to plan for the daily reality of life as a college student. There was too much unknown. And Rory hates the unknown."

"So, what'd you do?" asked Logan.

"I drove back to New Haven. I spent the night with her. We invited all the girls on her floor over and we had a party and researched where all the best pizza and Chinese food was, and I spent the night," Lorelai answered with a shrug. "And then I went home. I told her she would be fine. I reminded her that this is what she'd always wanted and she was smart and capable and she could do it on her own. She would be able to figure it out. She didn't need me there with her. She was ready to start a new chapter in her life."

Lorelai paused. For a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was the steady dripping of the coffee maker. She made eye contact with Logan again and held it, hoping that through her serious gaze, she might be able to convey the subtle message that was in her mind. Based on Logan's own serious face and the almost desperate look in his eyes, Lorelai was pretty sure he was aware.

"Sometimes with Rory…" she started. "Well, sometimes you just have to be patient. You have to give her a little time and be there for her while she wraps her head around something new. And, then, when she's ready… you just… give her a little push."

Logan sniffed. He ran a hand over his face and nodded his head up and down. When he looked back up at Lorelai, the subtle sadness that she had noticed in his eyes seemed to have grown exponentially. Or, perhaps, he had simply allowed himself to drop any attempt at hiding it.

"I seem to have a history of pushing her right off a cliff…"

A month ago, if anyone had told her that she would be finding herself standing in her kitchen with her heart breaking for Logan Huntzberger in a matter of weeks, she would have laughed them out of the room. Yet, now, as she watched the kid standing in front of her looking so lost and vulnerable, she almost had an urge to walk across the room and wrap him up in her arms.

She wasn't going to. But the urge was simmering in her all the same.

This wasn't the first time she found herself standing alone in a room with Logan talking to him about the future of his relationship with her only daughter. In fact, over all the years that they had been together, Lorelai could remember a few times when he'd come to her for advice or help or permission to move his relationship forward with Rory.

In the past, every time it had happened Lorelai had always spent the conversation trying to hide her squeamish discomfort. She'd always left the situation feeling uneasy by his presence and worrying about Rory for the rest of the day. In her mind, Logan had always moved too fast for Rory. He always took too many risks and tried to push her out of her comfort zone in ways that Lorelai knew she wouldn't welcome or appreciate.

This time was different, and not only because she was feeling genuine sympathy for him. This was the first time that Logan hadn't asked for this conversation. He hadn't come to her wanting to know how he should go about moving things forward. He wasn't trying to pull any strings or take any risks. He was taking his time. He was giving Rory space. He was letting her set the pace.

Time and age had been kind to Logan Huntzberger in more than just a physical sense. He'd matured in a way that Lorelai had honestly never expected to see.

"Well…" Lorelai acknowledged with a nod. "You can't skip over the waiting until she's ready part."

"Right," Logan whispered.

He bowed his head again in thought, and Lorelai took that as her cue to turn around and grab some mugs out of the kitchen cabinet. Silene fell over them again, but this time it wasn't all that awkward. Logan was clearly thinking over all that she had just said, and Lorelai was busying herself by fixing their drinks. Then, a few seconds into the silence, it was broken by the sound of Rory's bedroom door swinging open.

"I smell coffee."

The sound of Rory's groggy morning voice echoed between them. She stood in her doorway wearing a pair of blue and white striped pajama pants and an oversized hooded sweatshirt. A pair of fuzzy socks were covering her feet and her hair was mussed and tangled from sleep. The blissful smile on her face, however, more than made up for her otherwise disheveled appearance.

"Mornin' sunshine!" cheered Lorelai in a loud high pitched voice that she knew would drive her pre-caffeinated daughter crazy.

"Morning," she replied as she started walking over to Logan. "Hi."

"Hi," Logan responded with a smile.

Lorelai looked away as Rory threw her arms around her boyfriend's neck and placed a lingering kiss on his lips. As much as she always fancied herself an open minded and liberal mother, there was still something odd about witnessing public displays of affection between her daughter and her partners. Rory was thirty-three years old and eight months pregnant, but an unsettling feeling still always sunk in her gut at the sight of it. It wasn't that she was upset by it, it was just that she always felt as if she was an unwelcome voyeur. Deciding to distract herself from the lovefest going on in front of the bookshelf, Lorelai reached up to the cabinet and pulled down another coffee mug for Rory.

"How'd you sleep?" Logan asked as their lips parted. He kept Rory held close, his arms wrapped protectively around her middle.

"Pretty good," she replied.

"Did this one give you any trouble?" Logan's hand started running over the side of Rory's bump.

"Nope," she answered. "She was actually a perfect angel last night."

"Really?" Logan asked. "A perfect angel? Wow. Not even born yet and she's already racking up those pony points."

Rory groaned and broke out of Logan's embrace at that statement. She started walking over to Lorelai and the coffee maker, shaking her had all the while.

"For the last time, there are no pony points!" Rory insisted. "We are never – under any circumstances – buying our daughter a pony."

"Yeah, you're right," Logan conceded. He leaned against the bookshelf and crossed his arms over his chest. As he did, his lips started twisting into the familiar smirk that Lorelai was far more used to seeing on his face than the previous puppy dog expression. "Why waste money on a pony when she's just going to outgrow it? We should skip right to the thoroughbred."

"There will be no equestrian pets of any kind!"

"I'll start looking into dressage classes."

"Stop it, or you're not getting any coffee!"

At the mention of her favorite beverage, Rory left Logan behind and started walking toward the fresh pot. Lorelai held out a mug to her as she got closer. It was one of Lorelai's new favorites – a white mug with a Warhol-like portrait of Rue McClanahan's face underneath the words 'Eat dirt and die, trash!' Letting Rory use this mug was a sign of the vast nature of her unconditional and never-ending love. Yet, to her horror, her daughter didn't seem to appreciate the selfless gesture.

"No. I don't want this one," she said as she pushed Lorelai out of the way to get to the cabinet that held the vast array of mugs that she had accumulated over the years.

She reached upward, standing on her tip toes as she rooted around for something specific. Once her hand landed on the object of her desire, she pulled it out of the cabinet and Lorelai chuckled at the sight of the twenty-four ounce giant crimson mug with Luke's logo printed on the side.

"You do realize that just because three servings of coffee can fit into that one mug, it doesn't change the fact that it is, in fact, three servings of coffee."

Lorelai wasn't sure why Logan was acting so timid and put down just moments before. Because, clearly he was feeling very brave this morning. As soon as the commentary left his lips, Rory was glaring at him defiantly, deliberately making a show of pouring as much coffee as she could into her massive cup.

"The doctor said I could have one cup of coffee a day. Not one serving. This is a cup."

"I think she probably meant the standard eight ounce definition of cup," said Logan.

"Well, that was never specified."

It was probably for the best when Logan's following retort was interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing from inside of the pocket of Rory's sweatshirt. Caffeine feud forgotten, Rory's face contorted in confusion and she set the pot and the mug she was holding down on the counter next to her.

"Who is calling me at 7:30 in the morning?" she asked, more to the ether than either one of them. When she pulled the phone out of her pocket and saw the number on the screen, her confusion only grew.

"Who is it?" Logan asked at the sight of her face.

"I have no idea…" Rory answered. "It's a London number. The only person who calls me from London is… well… you."

"I don't think it's me," Logan replied, earning himself an unamused scowl from Rory.

She didn't say anything in response. Instead, she slid her finger along the bottom of her phone and brought it to her ear. The light and flirtatious tone in her voice was replaced on the turn of a dime with what Lorelai had long ago dubbed her 'business voice.'

"Hello?" she answered before taking a small pause. "Yes, this is Rory Gilmore… Yes, of course. Ms. Segal. it's nice to hear from you again. How can I help you?"

Apparently wanting some privacy, Rory took a few steps toward the backdoor as she carried on her conversation. She opened it and took a step outside, closing it behind her and leaving Lorelai and Logan alone in the kitchen once more.

"Ms. Segal…" Lorelai repeated in a questioning tone. It was a name she hadn't ever heard before, but apparently Rory recognized. "Do you know who that is?"

If either of them had any insight into the identity of the mystery London caller, it would probably be Logan. As much as it still pained Lorelai to think about the fact that anyone else could know more about Rory than she did, she had to acknowledge the fact that when it came to her daughter's dealings in the UK Logan was probably far more in the know than she was. She'd been staying with him through all of it, after all. Living with him for all intents and purposes. Even so, Logan only shrugged.

"No idea," he answered.

Lorelai continued along her morning routine while occasionally turning her head to peek out the window and see what Rory was up to outside. She poured a cup of coffee for Logan and herself, and told him to help himself to the fridge and the containers on the kitchen counter for cream and sugar.

All the while, her gaze never left the door. She could make out the moving of Rory's shadow through the curtain as she leaned against the oven and started sipping at her coffee. Logan was on the other side of the kitchen, silently going through his own messages on his phone while they both waited for Rory to step back into the house and enlighten them about what was going on.

Moments later, the door opened again. Rory walked back into the kitchen with her phone hanging loosely in in her hand. She had an absolutely dazed look on her face, and for a moment Lorelai actually grew concerned. Logan looked up from his phone as well, his brow furrowing with seemingly the same level of anxiety that Lorelai was feeling.

"What was that about?" Lorelai asked.

Rory didn't answer right away. Instead, she continued to stand there, blinking. After a couple of seconds, she reached her hand up to her head and pushed her fingers through her free flowing hair.

"Um…" she collected herself for a moment, her fingernails scratching at her scalp as she formulated. "I think… I think I just got an agent."

"What?!" Lorelai stood straight. She set her coffee down on the counter and looked at her daughter with wide eyes. Across the room, Logan did the same.

"What do you mean, you got an agent?" he asked.

"I mean… Well I mean I guess it's not official but…" Rory took a step forward, moving toward the kitchen table. She placed her placed her phone on the surface and her hand on the back of the chair. As she walked, Lorelai and Logan both followed her. They closed her in on opposite sides, both of them desperate to hear the rest of the details.

"But?" Lorelai asked, nudging Rory along. She seemed to be in somewhat of a state of shock.

"But…That was Maryanne Segal, Naomi Shropshire's literary agent," Rory continued. Lorelai watched as Logan's face fell for a moment. He tilted his head to the side and started shaking his head back and forth.

"Don't tell me she wants you to start working with Naomi Shropshire again…" he said. "Need I remind you about the drunken tirade through Harrods?"

"No. No. That's not what she wanted," said Rory. "They were looking for a ghostwriter. Some British comedian was wanting to get a book deal for a memoir, and she said she thought of me. That I would be a good fit."

"Okay…" said Logan, furrowing his brow. "But that would mean traveling to London, right?"

"Right. Well… I mean I told her I couldn't do it," Rory explained. "I told her that I appreciated the offer but with the baby, I wouldn't be able to travel. And I also told her that I was more focused on my own project at the moment. And then she started asking about it…"

"About your book?" Lorelai asked.

When Rory looked over at her, Lorelai noticed that she had an almost nervous look on her face. Her heart dropped for a moment. It was true that she had never been all that excited about the concept of this book. It was difficult for her to accept the idea of total strangers reading about her personal life – judging her. She still wasn't entirely thrilled with it. But, over time she had been growing used to the idea. She wasn't reacting as viscerally as she had at the beginning. She still felt slightly wary about it, but not to the extent where she would ever begrudge her daughter success or happiness.

"Yeah…" Rory answered, nervously. "She said she had a friend in New York – an old colleague that specialized in exactly this kind of work. She's going to set me up with a meeting."

"Oh my God!" Lorelai exclaimed.

"You're kidding?!" Logan asked right on top of her. A wide smile broke out on to his face, and he set his coffee down.

"No! I - " Rory stopped for a second. The words were once again stuck in her throat from shock. "I'm going to have an agent. Like - a real agent. Someone who can get me meetings with Penguin or HarperCollins or Simon & Schuster… I just… I can't… I can't believe this is happening."

The look of shock and confusion that had been present on Rory's face when she'd walked into the kitchen just moments ago was quickly being replaced by utter joy. Lorelai, based on maternal instinct and thirty-three years as Rory's closest confident, reflexively spread her arms open. She was ready and waiting for Rory to jump into her embrace in celebration.

"Rory! This is unbeliev – "

A massive lump wedged itself in Lorelai's throat as she watched Rory practically jump into Logan's arms. Logan was laughing in response to Rory's squeals of delight, and both of them were grinning so hard it seemed like their faces might actually break open.

" – able."

"I'm so happy for you, Ace!" Logan exclaimed. "I really want to pick you up and twirl you around right now, but I don't think it would be a good idea!"

"That's okay. My head feels plenty twirly on its own!" Rory replied.

Logan pulled her closer and their lips met again in another kiss, this one far more passionate and exuberant than the previous. This time, Lorelai actually wished she could go back to feeling like an unwelcome voyeur. The slight awkwardness that came with that feeling was nothing compared to the crushing realization that her days as the first person whose arms Rory leapt into at the sound of good news were over.

She was split in two. The half of her who had reached out to Logan just moments ago to offer encouragement and support regarding Rory's commitment to him was thrilled. This was another move in the right direction. It was physical evidence of the fact that Rory was once again getting used to the idea of him being her most important partner in life. The other half of her, however, the half of her who was the one being replaced as Rory's most important partner in life was heartbroken.

"We're going out tonight!" said Logan gleefully as their lips parted. "I'm calling the boys. And the girls. Hell, I'm calling everybody! We've got a future New York Times Best Seller on our hands!"

"I like the sound of that!" Rory cheered.

"So do I," Logan said with a smile.

Rory suddenly hopped out of his arms. She started bouncing around the kitchen, or at least bouncing as much as she could in her current state. She was excited. Her mind was clearly moving faster than her words, but it didn't take too long for them to catch up.

"I have so much to do!" she said. "I need to write! I need to finish my last two chapters. I have to research. I have no idea what to expect in this meeting. Oh my God. I need to call Jess. Do you think Jess will be upset that I might meet with different publishers?!"

"No," Lorelai breathed. "No, sweets. Jess will be thrilled for you."

"And if he's not then fuck 'im," Logan added, the smile on his face strange juxtaposed against the words that had come out of his mouth.

"I need to shower!" said Rory. "Professional writers with big shot agents don't just sit around in their pajamas all day!"

"You don't know that," Logan teased.

Rory wasn't even listening to him at this point. She was too wrapped up in her own mind. She started walking out of the kitchen and toward the shower with the spring in her step still fully loaded. Yet, when she stepped into the small hallway between the kitchen and the living room, she didn't make a right into the bathroom. She froze in place, peering into the living room for a moment while she stood there.

"Were you putting the bassinet together?" she asked with her back turned to them. Logan started scratching at the back of his neck and walked up behind her.

"Uh… yeah," he answered. "I just… thought I'd take care of it while I was here."

Slowly, Rory turned around. The fast paced enthusiasm that she had been radiating was traded quickly for a more serious and steady happiness. Lorelai actually wondered in the moment if she might start crying. Clearly she was touched, and seeing half way assembled bassinet on top of the news she'd just received was probably inspiring more happiness than her hormonal body could handle at the moment.

"Logan…" she said. "I… I love you so much."

For the third time that morning, Rory wrapped her arms around Logan's neck. This time, however, she didn't bring her lips to his in a kiss. She simply wrapped him up in a tight hug and rested her head against his shoulder. Her eyes closed, and she breathed in heavily.

"I'm so happy," she whispered. Lorelai heard Logan sigh and then watched as he placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"Me too, Ace," he replied.

The two of them stood there for a moment, holding on to each other as they took in the rollercoaster events of the morning. Lorelai stood back quiet as a mouse as she watched them.

She was happy.

And Lorelai was happy that her daughter was happy. At least… she would be. Eventually. After she had some time to process the idea of Rory leaving her behind. She hated that she felt this way. She hated that her daughter's happiness was tainted by her own selfish desire to hold on to Rory as tightly as she could and keep her all to herself.

It was strange. Just moments ago shehad stood in this room speaking to the father of her daughter's child, behaving as though she was ready for Rory to take that step.

She thought she was. Apparently there was a difference between thinking about Rory moving on, and seeing Rory move on. Her thoughts and feelings betrayed her when she was actually faced with the reality of the situation.

Because… as it turned out… Rory wasn't the only Gilmore girl who was completely terrified of change.

TBC…

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Six

Friday, June 1, 2017

"This is an on fire garbage can…

…Could be a nursery."

Everything was moving so fast.

Rory had thought that she was getting used to the breakneck pace her life had been taking over the last two months, but apparently she had been wrong. She had been naïve enough to think that life couldn't get any more complicated than it already was between finding out she was pregnant, Logan walking back into her life, and her grandmother selling the house. She should have known better. It was always when you thought that things couldn't get any crazier that they inevitably did.

It was only three days ago that Rory had gotten the call that would potentially change the course of her professional life forever. Just hours after the phone call from Maryanne Segal in London, she had received another call from New York - a call from the executive assistant of a woman by the name of Bethany McCulloch asking to set up a meeting with her at her earliest convenience.

Rory had been shocked that the call had come as quickly as it had and even more shocked at how quickly they were able to set up said meeting. When she had voiced this to the assistant on the phone, the woman had explained that Ms. McCulloch wasn't in the habit of sleeping on personal recommendations from respected colleagues.

It all just seemed too good to be true.

Maybe that was why Rory couldn't seem to get a handle on her nerves. She had been to meetings like this before, meetings with Naomi Shropshire and her agent Maryanne Segal, meetings with Conde Nast, meetings with the New Yorker. It wasn't exactly her first rodeo. Yet, for some reason her heart was pounding like a virgin bride on her wedding night. More than any time before, Rory had the distinct feeling that she could wake up tomorrow and this would all be gone, that she was bound to mess this up somehow.

Her irrational fear was probably the reason why she hadn't stopped looking at herself in the mirror for the last ten minutes. She was obsessively combing over herself, straightening out her hair, checking her teeth for lipstick, tugging at the black dress she was wearing to make sure that it was hugging her bump in the most flattering way possible.

"You look great."

Rory turned around to look at the supportive face of her boyfriend he observed her.

He looked great. Rory refrained from saying so in order to avoid a sappy and somewhat embarrassing 'You hang up. No, you hang up,' type conversation. But, her eyes were entirely functional all the same.

Logan was sitting in his desk behind his computer wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal grey suit with a white shirt. His silver tie clip matched the cufflinks on his sleeves, and his pocket square matched his navy tie. Behind him, a limited but impressive section of the New York City skyline was visible through the floor to ceiling windows in his corner office. The whole image looked like something out of a movie.

It was sexy.

He was sexy.

And Rory had more important things to be thinking about right now than sex.

Right?

"My dress is wrinkled from the drive…" she said with a sigh. Yet, deciding to take his word for it, she finally broke away from her reflection and sat down on the blue square arm sofa in the sitting area on the other side of his office.

"If you getting signed by this agent hinges on whether or not your dress is perfectly pressed, then I don't think she would be a very good fit for you to being with," Logan dismissed.

"I know. You're right," Rory replied with another sigh. "I'm just nervous."

"Don't be nervous," Logan said nonchalantly as his eyes broke away from hers and his fingers started tapping away at this keyboard. Rory rolled her eyes.

"Oh. Right. Of course," she said. "I just need to stop being nervous. Why didn't I think of that?"

Logan didn't respond right away. He was thoroughly focused on whatever it was that was on his computer screen at the moment. His fingers, though no longer typing, were perched on the home keys of his keyboard and his eyes were scanning back and forth as he read.

"I uh…" he eventually said. "I dunno, Ace."

His typing commenced. Rory narrowed her eyes at him. Even though the words that had come out of his mouth made sense in response to her comment, she still wasn't entirely sure that he had actually listened to a word of what she'd said.

Truthfully, she was more endeared than annoyed. Back in the day, if Logan was distracting himself on his computer while pretending to listen to her, it was usually because of a video game he was playing or something he was watching on YouTube. Seeing him distracted by work, sitting behind an executive desk in a massive Midtown Manhattan office was something else entirely. It was doing something to her, rousing feelings in her that didn't seem to be going away.

"I think I just need to distract myself," she continued, watching as Logan's attention remained steadfastly glued to his work.

"Mm hm," Logan replied.

If there was any doubt in Rory's mind that Logan was merely going through the motions of a conversation with her, it was entirely shot by this point. Now, she was certain of it. Logan was so engrossed in the conversation taking place on his computer screen that he was furrowing his brow and scowling as he spoke to her. And while Rory was pretty sure Logan didn't want her to feel nervous or stressed, she highly doubted that he was that upset by her predicament.

"I brought my laptop. I guess I could get a bit more writing done before I leave…"

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want, Ace."

As a cunning smile rose unbidden on Rory's face, she realized that this was a strange moment of role reversal for them. Logan was sitting in front of her, entirely immersed in work and responsibility while she was sitting back on a sofa and distracting him. Logan looked so serious and studious. And Rory… well… Rory was feeing particularly mischievous.

She stood up and walked over toward his desk, her finger tips brushing the back of the chairs in across from the couch as she went. When she reached the front of his desk, she started scanning the items spread across the surface. She picked up a spherical white marble paper weight and started tossing it between her hands. Logan still didn't seem to notice her movements.

"Though, writing when I'm this nervous probably isn't the best idea. Wrong headspace," she said.

Logan didn't even bother with a generic response this time. But, Rory wasn't deterred. In fact, his lack of response only egged her on further. She set the marble weight back down and placed her hand on the edge of his desk as he walked around the corner to the other side.

From over his shoulder, Rory could see an open PDF displaying a KPI analysis on his left monitor while his email and an instant message chain was open on the other. Blinking notifications were popping up on his task bar as he tried to field as many conversations as he could. None of them could be all that urgent. At least, she hoped they weren't. Because, he was about to become indisposed.

"What I really need," she slyly started as she crept up to the side of his chair. "…is to figure out some way to make myself feel more…"

Rory placed her hand on the arm rest of Logan's executive chair and pulled. As his chair swiveled away from his computer and toward her, his face blanched. The surprise combined with the quick motion probably made him feel as if he was about to fall right out of his seat, but thankfully, Rory was in perfect control. The moment he was facing her, she leaned forward. She brushed her lips against his ear and ran her hand slowly down his chest and stomach, stopping only when it rested agaist the bulge between his legs.

"…confident," she finished.

Rory felt him twitch underneath her hand and heard a subtle grunt rise from the back of his throat. She smirked. She loved that she had the power to do this to him.

When Rory and Logan had first become exclusive back at Yale, she was well aware of comments and gossip that prevailed within his social circle. None of Logan's friends – save his close ones – understood what exactly it was that he saw in her. They all thought she was too innocent for him. They saw her as a virginal goody-two shoes that wouldn't ever be able to keep someone like Logan satisfied. They assumed that he was most likely the one to take charge in the bedroom, that he pushed past her boundaries in ways that would be uncomfortable or scandalous to someone like her.

She used to amuse herself by imagining the looks on all of their faces if they ever found out that just as often the opposite was true.

"Rory…" Logan rumbled.

There was a hint of a warning tone in his voice and his head turned toward the closed door across the room. Rory took the hint. She followed his gaze for a moment, but it didn't deter her from her mission. She merely squeezed in response and he let out another guttural moan, this one louder and more desperate than the one that came before.

"My secretary is right outside that door…" he said.

"Does she make a habit of walking in here unannounced?" Rory asked before sucking Logan's earlobe into her mouth and gently nibbling on it with her teeth.

"Uhm… no…" Logan breathed.

"Then I guess all you need to do is keep quiet."

Rory lowered herself to her knees in front of Logan's chair and his eyes went wide. And, when her hands latched on to his belt buckle he almost jumped out of his seat. Rory had to hold back a laugh. With as much as Logan got around, it was strangely easy to scandalize him.

"Ace…" he said. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she asked as she unfastened his pants. "Am I really the first woman to offer you a blow job in your office?"

"Actually, yes," he replied, his hands gripping the arm rests of his chair.

Now that she was thinking about it, Rory supposed she probably shouldn't be too surprised by that. With as much as Logan liked to work, and as much as he really liked to play, he actually didn't often like to mix the two.

"Well I guess there's a first time for everything," said Rory with a devious grin.

Rory slipped her fingers under the waistbands of his pants and underwear and tugged. Logan, despite his apparent apprehensions, lifted his hips slightly and shifted closer to the edge of his chair to accommodate her. As soon as he was free, Rory wrapped her fingers around him and Logan jerked lightly in his seat.

"Ace," Logan hissed as her hand started moving up and down. "Are you sure you want to do this here? Now?"

Rory looked up at him through blinking eyes, flashing him the most innocently coquettish look she could muster.

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" she asked.

She didn't give him time to the answer the question – mostly because she already knew what the answer was going to be. Instead, she bent her head down and started running her tongue teasingly from base to tip. Logan practically growled in response.

"God," he grunted. "No."

"Alright, then. I won't," she replied. "But just so you know, if you get cum on my dress before my meeting this afternoon, this might be the last one of these I ever give you…"

"Noted."

With Logan's fears about being caught suddenly forgotten, Rory carried on as requested. She brushed a teasing kiss against the tip of his erection before lowering her head and taking him fully into her mouth. Logan let out a guttural moan in response, and his hand quickly found its way to her head. He ran his fingers through her hair, curling them around to the nape of her neck He pulled at her hair as his hand made a fist, and his other hand continued to grip the arm rest on his chair for dear life. Rory delighted in his response.

There were very few things in life that made her feel as instantly powerful and in control as she felt right now. This wasn't the only thing, of course. There were other small and sometimes strange instant confidence boosters that never failed to make her feel important. Hearing the sound of her footsteps as she walked across a marble floor in high heels. Flashing a press badge to gain access to a restricted area. Getting priority access at the airport. But, not a single one of those held a candle to this.

The moment that Rory realized that she had the capability to turn Logan Huntzberger into a clump of putty in her hands, it had been an instant game changer in their relationship. Up until that point, Rory had always been somewhat nervous and timid in bed with him. After all, when they had met she was still pretty inexperienced. While, if they were to compile a list of all of Logan's sexual encounters and publish it, it would probably oust Proust's Remembrance of Things Past as the longest book ever written.

But, the first time she had ever gone down on him, whatever fears and insecurities she held about being able to please him flew out of the window. Rory had watched him turn into a puddle of goo the moment she slid her lips around him, and in that moment she realized that she would never grow tired of doing this to him.

It was the ultimate power trip. She, the innocent Bambiesque princess of Stars Hollow, the resident Mary of Chilton, the pure and angelic granddaughter of Richard and Emily Gilmore was able to render the wealthy, powerful, playboy heir of the Huntzberger fortune absolutely helpless with just a bend of her knees and a flick of her tongue.

"Rory," Logan moaned.

Minutes passed with him at her total mercy. Moans and groans of pleasure poured from his throat while he tried to stifle them as best he could. And when Logan eventually threw his head back against his chair and closed his eyes, Rory knew that he was getting close. Deciding to move things along a little more quickly, she moved the hand that had been wrapped around the base of his shaft downward to gently fondle at his balls the way that typically drove him over the edge.

"Fuck. Ace….I'm gonna cum."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Rory started twirling her tongue along his head. Moments later, Rory braced herself as he reached his climax with a strangled moan. He started panting as he slid out of her mouth and came down, but he wasn't given much time at all to recover before the phone on his desk let out a single loud beep and the voice of his secretary sounded over the intercom.

"Mr. Huntzberger?"

"Shit!" he exclaimed.

Logan hastily shoved himself back into his underwear and pulled his pants back up around his waist. With a violet jerk, Logan swiveled his chair back toward his desktop and his hand shot out to pick up the phone that was flashing bright red as the secretary waited on the other line for him to pick up. Yet, the speed of his reaction combined with his flustered state of mind didn't make for a smooth response. Misjudging the force of his swinging arm, he knocked the phone off the receiver and had to clamor noisily to catch it before it tumbled over the edge of his desk.

"Shit! Fuck!" he cried as the rogue phone slipped from his grasp.

Rory had to bite back a laugh as she stood up and started smoothing out her dress and fixing her hair.

"Yes. Keisha. Hi. Sorry. What do you need?" Logan asked in a breathless frenzy once he finally managed to get the phone pressed against his ear.

"Ms. Gilmore's car is here," Rory heard over the line.

"Yes. Great. Thank you. Uh… She'll uh... She'll be right out."

Logan hung up the phone and wiped a hand down his face. He took a few moments to compose himself after the minor panic attack he just had. When he turned his chair back around to look at her, he had an absolutely astonished look on his face, as if he wasn't exactly sure what had just happened. Rory only smiled.

She placed her hands on his arm rests and leant forward once again, this time capturing his lips in a soft kiss.

"Thank you," she said as she pulled away. "That's exactly what I needed."

With that she turned on her heel and started walking toward door with a particularly confident spring in her step. Logan still hadn't said anything. He was merely watching her walk away with the same look of confoundment on his face.

"I'm grabbing lunch with Paris after my meeting," she said, nonchalantly. "You'll call me when you're done with your showing?"

Logan cleared his throat.

"Yeah," he said.

"Okay," Rory replied as she pushed open his door. "Love you."

"Yep," Logan said, still stuck in his trance. Yet, as Rory took a step forward and was about to walk out of the room, he suddenly seemed to break out of it.

"Wait!" he called.

Rory turned around and stepped back into his office. She let the door swing closed behind her, and as soon as it shut Logan burst up from his seat. He started walking over to her, tucking his rumpled shirt back into his pants as he went. Rory watched him expectedly, wondering what it is he was about to do.

As soon as he reached her, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her into him for a bruising kiss. Rory let out an involuntary moan at the contact. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rose on her toes to meet him with equal passion. Needing some air, Logan eventually broke away from the kiss. He pressed his forehead against hers and his other hand started caressing the side of her belly.

"I love you too," he said. "Knock 'em dead."

Logan was having a hard time concentrating. He'd been having a hard time concentrating all day after Rory's little demonstration in his office, and it hadn't gotten any better as the hours went on.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. And it wasn't only that he couldn't get the image of her resting on her knees in front of him on his office floor out of his mind. That was a part of it, but it wasn't all of it. The fact was that Rory was occupying his mind in a plethora of ways at the current moment.

To begin with, he was eager to know exactly how her meeting with Bethany McCulloch had gone. She'd texted him in her uber as soon as it was over with a quick assurance that the meeting had gone well, but she'd also told him that she would save the details for later. That wasn't exactly what Logan had wanted to hear, but considering he was running late for his meeting with his real estate agent and Rory was getting ready to meet up with Paris, he knew that they probably didn't have the time to properly get into what was bound to be a big conversation.

And secondly… well secondly he couldn't stop wondering what she would think about the apartment that he was walking through at this very moment. He had a feeling she wouldn't be very happy with it at all. Logan certainly wasn't.

"I realize a studio isn't exactly what you wanted…" his real estate agent hummed. "But, I've had to get a little… creative with your asks."

That was passive aggression if Logan had ever heard it. Possibly a big enough helping of it to impress even his mother. He knew what she was implying. He knew that she was getting frustrated with him. Logan was getting frustrated with himself. But, realizing that he was becoming a problem client didn't change one simple fact.

It wasn't what he wanted.

Looking around the open industrial space located in the heard of Chelsea, Logan was truly hit with just how much his wants and needs had changed in such a short period of time. Just months ago, he would have considered this place an absolute dream.

The place was tailor made for him. The walls were covered in exposed brick. The northern wall in the living area was taken up entirely with floor to ceiling black grid windows. The ceiling was lined with steel beams and track lighting. The kitchen was something out of his wildest imagination, with a full chef's range, a built in wine rack, and seemingly endless counterspace. It was striking. Masculine. An apartment that seemed to jump out of the pages of Architectural Digest.

It would never work for him.

Because, while this space was everything he had ever imagined having in his dream home as a twenty-five year old, now all he could see were all the ways it fell short.

The open loft sleeping area provided no privacy whatsoever, and the floating stairs leading up to it were a dire safety hazard for a baby learning to climb. The abundance of glass in the windows, railings, and even walls were crying out for smudgy sticky baby hand prints. And the lack of a tub in the bathroom provided an issue that Logan considered to be pretty much insurmountable.

Plus, if it wasn't clear that this apartment was not meant for children, it was plenty clear that this apartment was not meant for Rory. As much as Logan loved the look and feel of the place, he knew that Rory would never feel at home here. That had always been the problem with his places in New Haven and New York when they were first together. Even though Rory lived him them, they had always felt like his.

And how was he supposed to convince her to be with him in a place that would never feel like home to her?

"It's a beautiful apartment," Logan replied. "But it's just - "

Logan was interrupted by the sound of his agent's phone going off in her pocket. The young blonde woman pulled it out to check the display, and her eyes went wide at the sight of the number on the screen. She flashed an apologetic look at Logan.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But I need to take this. Do you mind if I just…"

She pointed at the exit to the balcony and started tentatively taking steps toward the door. Logan shrugged and put his hands in his pockets.

"Sure," he said. "No problem at all."

As soon as his agent left him alone inside, Logan started to wander around a little more freely. He walked through the kitchen, running his hands along the stainless steel range longingly. He turned the corner and stepped into the living area, stopping in front of the windows to take in the peaceful view of the Hudson before wandering over to the sitting area and taking a seat on the plus black leather sectional in front of the long fireplace.

This place really was a dream. He was almost sad to have to say no.

But he just couldn't help the fact that his dreams had changed.

A few minutes later, his real estate agent walked back inside, placing her phone back in her pocket as she moved. Logan turned to look at her, and the apologetic expression was still plastered on her face.

"I'm sorry about that, Logan," she said. "I don't normally like to take phone calls when I'm in the middle of a showing. But, that was another client of mine who just moved to Houston and recently put his place on the market. Right now he's paying two mortgages so he's looking to turn it over very quickly. He tends to get a bit testy if we don't respond to him right away."

"Oh," Logan said with a light laugh. He stood up from the couch and started walking over to her. "That's alright. I don't mind at all."

"It's a great place," she continued, unprompted. "Needs a little work, but I don't think he should have any problem selling it. Those old brownstones move pretty fast these days."

Suddenly, Logan felt a strange spark in his chest.

His agent was still prattling on, but he wasn't hearing a word that she was saying. He was too focused on a series of images that rose instantly in his minds as soon as the word 'brownstone' had fallen from her lips.

All he could see was a little girl with brown pigtails bouncing down the stairs of a stoop with a Halloween bucket in her hand, the autumn leaves of the trees lined on the street littering the sidewalk around her. He saw Rory on her hands and knees, planting flowers in the garden in the back. He saw he and Colin and Finn and Robert carrying baby furniture up three stories of stairs and eating pizza out of cardboard boxes on the floors while they still needed to fill the living area with furniture.

He saw himself cooking Thanksgiving dinner, hosting Christmas, and New Years. He saw them painting and renovating over the years as time passed and styles changed. He saw their family growing but staying in the same place. The perfect place. As quiet a place as one could find in New York City. Near schools and playgrounds and boutique stores and coffee shops.

"He's in Houston?" Logan asked, cutting off his agent in mid-sentence.

She looked at him confused and stopped talking. Apparently, during his little day dream, she had long ago abandoned the topic of the other property and was once again trying to sell Logan on the apartment they were currently standing in. She took a second to get her bearings, but as soon as she realized what he was talking about she was able to change course back to the subject of her other client.

"Um… yes," she answered with slightly narrowed eyes. "He's an oncologist. He got a job at MD Anderson, I believe. Anyway, I realize that you - "

"So he's not living here then?" Logan asked, interrupting her. "In New York? In the house?"

"I…" she paused, slowly wrapping her head around the fact that Logan's one-track mind had left from an entirely different station. "No. He's not here."

"So… I mean… Theoretically we could head over there now right?" he asked. "I mean, I assume you have the key?"

The blonde's mouth popped open. She gazed at him, blinking, as she tried to wrap her head around the sudden and abrupt change in his real estate strategy. Logan couldn't blame her for being confused. This was a turn in an entirely different direction.

"I do," she responded. "But… I feel like I should let you know that this place isn't exactly what you'd had in mind during our first meeting."

"That's okay," said Logan. "I want to see it."

"It's not a brownstone apartment. It's the whole house," she continued.

"I understand."

"It's four stories. And far more traditional than your tastes typically run…"

"You said it needed work right?" Logan asked.

"Well, yes," she replied.

"So, then I would be making renovations anyway. I'm sure I could find a way to make it more suitable to my tastes."

The thought actually excited him more than turned him off the concept. A house. An entire house that he would be ablet to shape in whatever way that he wanted. That he and Rory would be able to shape together. They could create a perfect blend of their tastes from scratch. Create a place that felt like home to both of them. That bore both of their signatures. Logan's previous worries about buying an apartment that would never feel at home in were suddenly irrelevant.

"It's in Brooklyn."

Logan flinched.

The tone of her voice was laced with dismissal and pessimism, as if she knew that under any other circumstances the word Brooklyn alone would turn Logan off of the idea instantly. And the truth was, she wasn't exactly wrong.

Brooklyn.

Logan was suddenly fighting every single piece of ingrained snobbery that he had been instilled in him from the moment that he came into the world and was placed into Shira Huntzberger's arms.

Huntzbergers didn't live in Brooklyn. Brooklyn wasn't New York. The only reason why a person would choose to live in Brooklyn was because they were either too broke to afford a place in Manhattan or an Hassidic Jew. Brooklyn was boring. There was nothing to do there. Nowhere to eat. It was too far from the city. It was rundown and ugly. Brooklyn was filled with drugs and gangsters and murder.

But, then, this wasn't the 1990s anymore.

Brooklyn wasn't the same place it had been when he was a kid, or when his parents were his age. It was practically an entirely different city now. In many ways it was becoming one of the most desired Burroughs in New York. Property values were skyrocketing. Families were moving in everywhere. The food, art, and bar scene were exploding. It was quieter than Manhattan. There was more space than Manhattan. There were good schools and good parks and everything that a little girl would need or want in a neighborhood.

And Rory liked Brooklyn.

Rory loved Brooklyn. She'd kept her apartment there longer than she ever feasibly should have because she simply didn't want to give it up.

As Logan contemplated what he was about to say, he took another look at the apartment around him. It was kind of symbolic. Saying no to this apartment would be saying no to everything that he'd ever thought he wanted in life. The perfect bachelor pad. The luxury apartment complex. The state of the art fixtures and the sharp contemporary design. But, then, as he had just thought minutes before, his wants were entirely different now.

He took a deep breath.

"I'm okay with Brooklyn."

TBC…..

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Friday, June 1, 2017 – Part II

"Brooklyn was a dream. All the things that happened there just couldn't happen. It was all dream stuff. Or was it all real and true and was it that she, Francie, was the dreamer?"

"You have a pediatrician set up, right?"

Rory let out a deep sigh.

Paris had been one of her closest friends for nearly twenty years now. The thought, as somewhat unsettling as the number of years were, was mostly a comfort to Rory. There were few people who knew her as well as Paris. There was her family, of course. And Lane. But, Paris' relationship with Rory was always a bit different. She knew about Rory's roots, about where she came from and the strange people who made up her life. But Paris also knew an entirely different Rory. She knew the Chilton Rory. The Yale Rory. The professional Rory.

And with all the intimate and personal knowledge that Paris had come to know about Rory over all that time, she would think that Paris would know her better.

"Of course I have a pediatrician set up, Paris," she answered as she lifted her fork up to her lips and took a bite of her apple spinach salad.

She grimaced as the leafy greens touched her taste buds. The sacrifices she made for this baby… All around her people were being served burgers and fries and pizza and all manner of deliciously unhealthy junk, and here she was eating rabbit food. At her most recent trip to the OB/GYN, Rory was informed that she needed to start altering her diet to prepare for labor. She needed to eat healthier. She needed more iron and magnesium.

What she really needed were some tacos.

"It's not some quack in that crack pot town of yours is it?" Paris asked. She set her silverware down on the plate in front of her as if she was preparing for some kind of confrontation.

"Paris…" Rory said with a sigh.

"Because even though that one lunatic seems to have found an internet service to provide him with all kinds of questionably attained certificates and licenses, I don't think he could find a way to start legally practicing medicine. Although it wouldn't surprise me if he tried."

"I have not asked Kirk to be my daughter's pediatrician," Rory assured with an annoyed tone.

"Well who is it then?" Paris asked. She picked up her fork and started tearing back into her own salad.

"Her name is Lillian Diedrichsen. She has a practice in Hartford."

"I haven't heard of her," said Paris through narrowed eyes. "Where'd she go to med school?"

"Columbia," Rory replied.

"Undergrad?"

"NYU."

"Residency?"

"Paris…" Rory sighed again. This time is was Rory who set down her silverware.

"Choosing your pediatrician is one of the most important decisions you're going to make. You can't schedule an appointment with the first random name you see on Google."

"I didn't schedule an appointment with the first random name I saw on Google," Rory repeated in exasperation. "She was recommended to me."

"By who?" Paris asked. "Your OB/GYN? I guess that's acceptable. I would trust her judgement."

Paris would trust her judgement because Paris was the one who had recommended her to Rory. On good days, Rory was grateful that Paris had finally landed on a medical career path. She was grateful for the wealth of information and contacts that Paris had in the medical community, particularly in the reproductive health community. On bad days, however, Paris liked to use her expertise as a way of seizing power and control.

But, Rory was perfectly capable of vetting her child's physicians all on her own.

"Actually, no," said Rory. "Logan's sister recommended her to me."

Paris shot her a strange and somewhat unreadable look at the statement. Her fork hung frozen in the air for a moment while she maintained firm eye contact with Rory. Surely Paris wasn't going to argue with a personal recommendation from Honor. She might have less than stellar opinions about the Huntzberger family as a whole, but she did know that one thing they could never be accused of was having low standards. Still, she didn't look happy about the source of the information. And then, in a very un-Paris like fashion she decided to slightly change the subject to avoid airing her thoughts.

"What about health insurance? Have you figured that out yet?" she asked. "Is your Dad going to cover the baby too?"

Her dad had been paying for her health insurance up to this point, and Rory was pretty certain that if she asked him he would be more than happy to cover the cost of the baby's insurance plan as well. It had been her original plan to begin with, after all. But, the plan had changed. There was no need for her father to pay for the baby's health insurance, and Rory was surprised that Paris hadn't put that together herself.

"No," she answered. "She's going on Logan's plan."

Paris was giving her the look again, and Rory was starting to feel a little bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny of it.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

Rory straightened up in her chair and observed Paris through narrowed eyes and a slightly tilted head. The hairs on the back of her neck started standing up at the sudden atmospheric pressure change. There was a storm brewing. Rory could always tell when Hurricane Paris was on the horizon. She's known her too long not to recognize the warning signs.

"Why wouldn't I want my daughter on her father's health care plan?"

Paris simply looked at her for a moment, frozen. Rory held firm eye contact with her the entire time, refusing to crack under Paris' clearly judgmental gaze. After a few seconds, Paris shrugged. She broke eye contact and looked back down at her plate, digging her fork into her food as she continued.

"That's good for now. I guess," said Paris. "But what happens when… you know…"

Rory simply sat there for a moment and watched Paris eat. Her heartrate was beginning to pick up, and she could feel her jaw starting to clench.

"No. I don't know, Paris," she said with a shrug. "What happens when what?"

Paris only shrugged as she continued to pile up leafy greens and apple cubed onto her fork.

Rory could feel the anger bubbling under her skin, and it was only made worse by the fact that Paris seemed entirely oblivious to it. She was merely eating her lunch as if they were talking about the weather.

"You know… What happens when Huntzberger decides he's tired of the whole 'Daddy' thing?" Paris asked. When Rory didn't reply to the outrageous question, Paris sent her a withering and dismissive look. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it…"

There was a ringing in Rory's ears. She started breathing heavily, and her heart was now fully pounding in her chest.

Paris' tone was so matter of fact. So blasé. She was asking the question as if it was a perfectly natural thing to ask of a mother-to-be. As if it wasn't an irrational or paranoid concern, but rather a perfectly likely possibility that required the same amount of thought and planning as picking out a pre-school in three years. Rory suddenly lost her appetite.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Paris," she said. Her voice was firm and clipped, and she was hoping that Paris would take the hint that her comments on Logan's commitment to her and the baby were unwarranted and unappreciated. But, unfortunately, Paris was never one to pick up on social cues very well.

"Please…" Paris replied with a tilt of her head and a raised eyebrow. "You forget that I know Warren Beaty Jr. better than anyone else in your life. I was on the paper with him for two years too, you know. I lived with him. I know exactly how short his attention span is."

The emotions coursing through Rory at Paris' words were far too complicated and far too varied to be narrowed down into any particular category.

To begin with, she felt ambushed. She'd come here today expecting a relatively uneventful lunch with one of her best friends. She expected to talk about her book and her meeting. She'd expected to talk about the kids and how they were doing in pre-school. She even expected to maybe hear how Doyle was doing. She hadn't expected this at all.

She was offended. She was offended that Paris would think so little of Logan. But, then again, Paris had always thought little of Logan so perhaps Rory should have been a bit more prepared. But, regardless, it didn't give Paris the right to fling accusations at him and question his ability to be a committed parent. She might have known him well enough ten years ago, but she didn't know Logan at all these days. They hadn't even been in a same room together since he'd left her apartment in 2007 and moved to California.

Then, and perhaps most concerning of all, there was the fear. The anxiety that had bubbled up in her the moment Paris had voiced the words out loud was overtaking almost every other emotion in her at the moment. Because, as offended and put off as Rory was, she couldn't deny the fact that she had thought about it.

There was a reason why Rory had gone six months without telling Logan about the baby – a reason why she hadn't actually planned to tell him at all. The deep seeded fear that Logan would somehow disappoint her and their child had been present since the moment that she'd learned she was pregnant. The fear that her relationship with her own father was bound to repeat itself with Logan and their daughter was a primary factor in her choice to keep this pregnancy under wraps. It was a factor in why she had been reluctant to jump right back into a relationship with him when he'd shown up here in April.

And, if she was being honest, a part of her knew that it was the reason why she was still so hesitant to move things along now that they were together.

"I mean, he's going to be here in New York while you and the baby are all the way in Stars Hollow. At first the two-and-a-half-hour commute seems doable, but then he misses one weekend, and he suddenly realizes how much easier and less stressful it is to just stay in town. So, he starts doing it more often. He says he's caught up with work or isn't feeling well. Next thing you know he's missing birthdays and holidays…and then he starts missing phone calls."

Paris was plucking at the strings of every single buried insecurity that Rory had about her relationship with Logan. These were the fears that had been under the surface of their relationship since Rory was twenty years old. This was the flaky Logan. The wandering Logan. The Logan that balked at responsibility to jump off clips without operational parachutes. Who had a rotating line of shiny new women waiting in want for him. Who slept with his sisters friends when he realized that relationships were hard.

"And then one day, Daddy sends him to some fundraiser and there's some blond twenty something with perky breasts sending him bedroom eyes while wearing a backless dress and he remembers what it was like when sex was convenient…"

Suddenly, Rory overtaken by a flash of memory. The image of Logan sitting on her mother's couch with her feet in his hands and his face lit by the flashing light of the television rose in her mind. She heard his voice telling her that he would never hurt her like that again. She saw the pain and guilt and vulnerability in his eyes. She heard him promise that he would never want another woman more than he wanted her. She saw the halfway assembled bassinet on her mother's living room floor.

Logan wasn't the same person that he was when Paris first met him. She had absolutely no right to sit here and claim to know him at all. Logan had grown up. Logan had learned how to handle commitment. Logan was a responsible person with a good job and a stable lifestyle. Logan had already packed up his entire life in the UK to be with her and their child. He'd already demonstrated his commitment to her ten-fold.

She had no reason to harbor these fears anymore.

Anxiety was abruptly replaced with indignation. Fear turned over to anger. The insecurities that had been plaguing her subconscious for months – years even – were vanishing in a puff of smoke. One day, maybe, she would be grateful to Paris for being the catalyst of this epiphany. But, today, she was too angry at her to think along those terms.

Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"You don't know what you're talking about," she repeated.

Paris finally looked up from her lunch. The moment she made eye contact with Rory, the casual nature with which she had been carrying herself made way to defensiveness. It was as if she was realizing for the first time that the words she was saying were making Rory upset. As if the thought that they might hadn't even occurred to her.

"Look, I'm just trying to warn you," said Paris, gruffly. "No one wants to think that these things will happen. And, yet, they do. All the time. You need to be prepared. You can't trust a man for anything. Okay? Especially a man like Logan."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rory asked. "A man like Logan?"

Paris flashed her a scornful and somewhat annoyed look, a silent response that Rory knew exactly what she meant. And, in truth, Rory did know exactly what Paris meant. A man like Logan was a man of privilege. A man raised in the upper-class society of Hartford Connecticut, the state with the highest per capita income in the country. A man who to private schools and Ivy league universities and spent his youth flouting the law and common decency because he had the money and power to get away with it.

On paper she knew exactly the kind of man that Logan looked like. In many ways, Logan didn't even both to shake off that image. He would always be somewhat of a snob. He would never dream of giving up his Yacht club membership. And Rory knew that he would never even entertain the idea of sending their daughter to a public school.

But just even though there were certain marks that wealth and privilege had left on Logan, that didn't mean that he bore the specific marks that Paris was implying. It wasn't impossible for a man from that background to grow into a good and decent person. Perhaps it was rare. And perhaps it was hard. But it wasn't impossible. Rory knew that it wasn't impossible because she'd been partly raised by one, and she missed him every single day.

"Rory…" said Paris with a leading and unamused tone.

"No!" she insisted. "You haven't even had a conversation with Logan in a decade. You don't get to sit here and tell me what kind of person he is or how committed he is to me and this baby. My relationship with Logan isn't any of your business, and I don't appreciate you butting in with your comments when you don't even know - "

"I don't need to know him! Okay?!" Paris suddenly exclaimed.

The anger and desperation in her voice actually took Rory off guard. She'd expected Paris to be defensive. She even expected Paris to refuse to back down. She knew Paris' modus operandi pretty well, after all. What she hadn't expected, however, was for Paris to get quite this emotional about it. There was only one explanation that Rory could think of to account for the intensity of her outburst, and she was beginning to wonder if there wasn't something else going on here.

"They're all the same!" Paris yelled. "Even the ones that are supposed to be the good ones. They tell you that they love you and that they're happy and that they'll never leave you. But the second things get hard, they will! You can't trust them. You can only trust yourself."

"Paris…" Rory sighed.

The tension slowly lifted from her body. She should have known. She should have seen this coming. Paris was a master of projection. She always had been. Usually when Paris was this confrontational, it had far more to do with herself than it did with the person on the receiving end of her thoughts.

"What are you going to do when he wakes up one morning and decides that he's tired of you? That being with you was a huge mistake, because it meant sacrificing all the things that he wanted for your happiness? What are you going to do when he decides that he's bored with the whole wife and kids bit, and he wants to move across the country to finally become the next Paddy Chayefsky?!"

Rory had thought that things were going well with Doyle. He'd been coming back to New York more often, spending more time with the kids. Paris had even told her that they had been getting along better these days. They'd actually spent some time alone together. They'd even had sex. She'd been worrying that maybe things were no longer moving in a positive direction when Paris had shown up in a bit of a sour mood at her shower. Now, it seemed like those worries were being confirmed.

"Oh come on, Paris," said Rory, her tone now devoid of any anger. It wasn't worth getting worked up over at this point. She knew that Paris' words had nothing to do with her or with Logan. "You just said yourself you know Logan really well. You know that getting him to sit down and write anything longer than a sentence is like pulling teeth. He's changed over the years, yes. But not that much. I don't think we need to worry about him penning the next great cinema masterpiece any time soon."

Paris wasn't amused. She scowled at Rory across the table.

"Don't think you're immune." she warned. "It could happen to you too, you know. Men leave all the time."

Rory was well aware that she wasn't immune to heartbreak. She'd had her heart broken too many times to count – many of those times by Logan. She was also aware that men left. Her grandfather, though against his will, had left and took with him a gaping hole in her heart just last year. Her dad left her constantly, either for Boston or California. Jess had left her for California. Logan had left her for California.

What was it with the men in her life leaving her for California?

Even Doyle had left Paris for California…

"And then one day they come back and don't even bother to tell you!"

"Doyle moved back to New York?!" Rory asked.

This was an update that Rory hadn't been expecting, and it was one that left her more than a little bit confused. With all the doom and gloom Paris was throwing her way about men leaving, the last thing she expected was to hear that her ex-husband was back from his brief stint in L.A.

"He got a staff writing job on Seth Meyers."

"Paris…" said Rory. "That's great! That's fantastic news!"

Doyle's Hollywood writing career hadn't gone nearly as well as he'd hoped. He'd gotten work out in LA, but it had been mostly on projects that were lacking in any substance or merit. A staff writing job on a show like Late Night was something out of Doyle's wildest dreams.

"Sure. Yeah. It's great," said Paris. "It's also great that I got to hear about it from some C cup yoga mom at the kids' preschool instead of from their father…"

"Oh."

"Yeah," Paris nodded with a sarcastic smile. "Men are great."

All Rory could do was sigh. She had a hard time believing that Doyle simply wasn't going to tell her that he'd gotten a job and was coming back to New York permanently, especially with how things had been developing between them. She highly doubted that he was trying to keep it a secret in an effort to avoid her. Nevertheless, that was exactly what Paris thought. And it seemed Rory was going to have to suffer through man-hating Paris for the foreseeable future, at least until Doyle got the nerve to explain himself.

At that moment, the phone that Rory had placed at the side of her plate started to vibrate with an incoming call. When she glanced down and saw Logan's name flash across the screen, she looked up and gave Paris an apologetic look - one that Paris didn't seem to be keen on accepting.

"Seriously?" she asked. "You're going to answer a phone call from your boyfriend right now?"

Rory sighed.

"Sorry…" she said. "It's just… he knows I'm here. I could just send a text. He wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important. It'll just be a second."

As Paris looked down at her plate, she jabbed violently at the mound of greens piled on top of it. The silverware scratched against her plate and she started grumbling under her breath. Rory pressed her finger against her other ear to tune out the sound of Paris' displeasure and the rest of the ambient noise around her as she lifted her phone to her cheek.

"Hey," she answered with a slight tinge of concern in her voice. "What's up?"

"Hey!" Logan greeted with a strange mix of enthusiasm and nervous energy. "Are you almost done with your lunch?"

Rory looked down at her half eaten salad and over at Paris who was angrily chewing on lettuce as she continued to glare at her for answering the phone.

"Um…" she said. "Probably in a few minutes, why?"

"I need you to meet me somewhere!"

Rory's concern was growing. There was something about Logan's voice that sounded almost frenetic over the phone, and without seeing his face she wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was excited about something or freaked out about something. Rory, personally, was feeling a bit freaked out.

"O...kay?" she replied. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Logan exclaimed. "I'm great. Everything's fine. I just really need you to meet me somewhere. I wouldn't ask you to cut your lunch short if it wasn't important. Tell Paris we'll take her out to dinner or something to make up for it."

"Okay, now I'm really concerned," said Rory. She was pretty sure that Logan offering to willingly spend time with Paris Gellar was the fifth horseman of the apocalypse. He only laughed in response.

"I'm okay, I promise. I'll text you the address. See you soon."

"Logan!"

He'd already hung up. Rory was left staring at the phone in her hand with a slightly open mouth wondering what exactly had just happened, and still worrying ever so slightly despite his reassurances that everything was okay. Even if he was okay, he was up to something. And Logan being up to something was rarely a good thing.

She was concerned enough that the prospect of facing Paris' wrath by putting a swift end to their lunch date wasn't all that worrying to her. She didn't waste any time before she raised her hand in the air and made eye contact with their waiter across the room.

"I have to go," she said, pulling her purse up from the floor and digging through it to find her wallet.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Paris with narrowed eyes. "After everything I just said, all my hard earned wisdom, you're seriously going to up leave your best friend to chase after some guy?!"

Rory sighed. She'd made a habit of ignoring Paris' 'hard earned wisdom' for almost fifteen years. She wasn't suddenly going to start taking the reactionary and emotional advice that Paris tended to dish out at moments like this seriously after all that time.

"He's not some guy, Paris," she replied. "He's the father of my child. And I'm not chasing after him."

"Doyle is the father of my children. That hasn't stopped him from royally screwing me over."

"Paris…" Rory said with a sigh. "I'm sorry things are rough with you and Doyle again. And I appreciate your… concern… about my wellbeing. But, just because things haven't worked out for you and Doyle, it doesn't mean things aren't going to work out between me and Logan. And just because Logan and I have hit some road bumps in the past, it doesn't mean that we're doomed for failure now. We've talked through our demons. We're working on them. I recommend you and Doyle do the same."

The rest of their lunch passed in relative quiet while they waited for their checks. Paris apologized in her own Paris like way, showing remorse without actually saying the words. And Rory tried to convince her to have a conversation with her ex-husband before she packed her things and sought out to develop her own Amazonian like society on some remote island somewhere.

They paid their bills, and Rory pulled out her phone to order a ride on the HPG corporate Uber account that Logan had programmed into her settings. When she opened her texts to copy the address that Logan had sent her, her confusion and worry only multiplied. It was the last thing she expected to see, and for the life of her she couldn't think of a rational explanation.

Why on Earth was Logan in Brooklyn?

"Hey!"

Logan practically jumped in the air in surprise when he heard the voice call out from behind him him. A wide smile spread across his face as he watched Rory walk in through the red front door. The light through the window panes at the top of the door shining in just the perfect angle to light her face along with the dust particles that were floating through the air.

She looked confused, and possibly even slightly concerned. That was probably his fault. He hadn't provided her many details when he'd told her out of nowhere to meet her at a strange address in Brooklyn rather than come back to his office for the rest of the afternoon. The last Rory knew he was looking at an apartment in Chelsea, so the fact that he'd somehow managed to make it to an entirely different borough was more than a little unexpected. As she looked around the empty, poorly lit, and somewhat run-down house, her confusion didn't wane.

"How was your lunch?" he asked, causing her to raise an eyebrow at him. She clearly wanted to know what she was doing there, and she wasn't all too happy with his deflection of the topic.

"It was…fine," she answered with a sigh and a shake of her head. "Paris had a meltdown."

Meltdown was Paris' default state, but he thought better of saying anything too offensive out loud. He needed to keep Rory in a good mood for the conversation they were about to have.

"Well," said Logan with a smile. "I'm glad to hear all is status quo in Gellarland."

Perhaps he looked a little too glad. The beaming smile that still persisted on his face even after the mention of Paris only contributed to Rory's suspicion. As she walked further into the house, she started turning her head to look around. Her lips curled in a slight grimace as she took in the stains in the walls and the cloud of dust hanging in the air.

His thoughts digressed for a moment as he wondered briefly if being around this much dust was bad for the baby, and maybe he should have checked on that before he had her come in here. But even if it was, he supposed if they didn't kick too much of it up she would probably be fine.

"Logan what's going on?" Rory asked, clearly not at all interested in talking about her lunch with Paris. She wanted to know why he had sent a car for her and dragged her all the way out to Brooklyn instead of having her meet him back at his office before heading out for dinner like they'd planned. "Where are we? Whose house is this?"

Rory ran her hand along the wooden banister attached to the entryway stairs. When the carved handrail wobbled significantly under the pressure, her hand sprung away and her eyes went wide at the notion that she just came very close to breaking someone else's staircase. She looked at him for a moment in panic, but all Logan could do was grin. If this conversation went well, she could go ahead and break anything she wanted.

"Ours."

Rory's face went white as a ghost. Her momentary fear over the bannister was completely forgotten. The look of shock and surprise on Rory's face lasted for what felt like less than a complete second. Any emotion that she had been feeling prior to hearing his answer was quickly and swiftly exchanged by murderous anger.

"Logan."

On a more thorough analysis, Logan quickly realized that he couldn't have chosen a worse way to start this conversation. His face went white as he realized how terribly he had conveyed his intention of bringing her here. He no longer had to wonder what she was thinking. He realized exactly what she must be thinking.

They'd had this argument maybe a thousand times, after all. He'd dug himself into this hole a thousand times before. And she was standing there most likely thinking that he still hadn't learned his lesson. That he still didn't understand her.

"If you bought this house for us without even consulting me, I swear to God…"

Rory trailed off. Apparently, she didn't even know how to finish the train of thought. She didn't know what her anger and outrage at another one of his poorly contrived grand gestures might compel her to do. Logan wasn't entirely sure what she would do either, but he knew that he definitely didn't want to find out.

"No!" he exclaimed, quickly and enthusiastically.

Panic was pouring out of his every single pore. With one simple possessive pronoun, he had managed to completely screw up this effort to maintain a calm and rational conversation about the house. He now found himself at a serious disadvantage. He knew that getting Rory to commit to this and abandon her plan to take things between them slowly was already going to be a hurdle, and now he would be trying to clear it with a self-inflicted bullet hole in his foot.

"No!" he repeated. "I haven't bought anything. I haven't signed anything. I swear. I wouldn't do that. I just…"

"You would absolutely do that," Rory countered as she crossed her arms over her chest. "In fact you did do that. You bought that house in California with what remained of your trust fund. Remember?"

Logan did remember. He remembered that house well. He'd lived in that house for five years. He'd bought that house for him and Rory to live in during the first years of what he'd thought would be their marriage. He'd ended up living there alone instead. Until an entirely different woman moved in.

Hearing Rory mention that house had taken him a bit off guard. For the first few months he'd lived there he'd thought almost exclusively about the fact that it was supposed to be his and Rory's house. Now, with so much time and memories passed since that time, he thought of it as his and Seema's house. He'd almost forgotten. But all of that was beside the point.

"Rory…Give me a little credit here. Okay?" he pleaded. "I think I've grown as a person a little bit since then. I'm not treading the neck high waters of my first relationship anymore. I know I can't buy a house without talking to you…"

She seemed to be calming down. She was still slightly fuming at him, but the steam coming out of her ears had significantly lessened in volume and opacity.

"But you want to buy this house?" she asked with a raised brow.

For a brief moment, Logan found himself missing the rage that Rory had been directing toward him. At least he knew what she was thinking and feeling just moments ago. Now, she was entirely unreadable to him. The confrontational mood that their little miscommunication had put her in hadn't eked entirely away. She was still on guard.

"Yes," he replied, summoning every bit of courage he could and shoving his somewhat phobic fear of rejection down as deeply as he could manage. Hearing Rory bring up the house in Palo Alto hadn't helped.

Silence settled over them for a moment. Rory took a few pacing steps around the small foyer space, and Logan had to fight the all-consuming fear that it was some kind of physical manifestation of her fight or flight complex compelling her to run. The only thing keeping that fear slightly at bay was the fact that she was moving far too slowly and deliberately for it to be motivated by alarm or anxiety.

"The railing is broken," she said as she walked back over to him. She placed her hand on the baluster and wiggled it again, intentionally this time.

"I know."

"The floors are all scratched up. There are gouges."

"Yeah, I saw that too."

"And it's kind of… dark. And…"

"It needs some work, Ace. I'm not denying that."

Rory took a deep breath. As she released it, Logan could see some of the anger within her dissipating as well. She looked skeptical, but she'd lost the attack stance that she'd raised the moment she assumed he'd made such a huge decision without her input. Still, she was on the defensive.

"Before you say no…" he pleaded again. "Will you just… humor me? A little? Can we at least look at the place? Can we talk about it?"

He tried not to sound frantic, but he knew that he was probably failing. Rory had a way of making him frantic at moments like this. Logan had realized a long time ago that when it came to Rory he was not , as David Ruffin might say, too proud to beg.

Rory pivoted her head around. She looked up at the ceiling, making note of the very 90s looking gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She peeked around the doorway to their left leading into the parlor room and down the hallway past the stairs.

There was still a somewhat unreadable expression on her face while she stood there and silently considered what he was asking of her. With every passing second, Logan was losing hope that things were going to go his way. He was cursing himself for doing this. The conversation that he'd recently had with Lorelai was replaying in his mind over and over again.

She hadn't been given enough time. She wasn't ready for a change this big. He'd pushed her off a cliff yet again. They should have talked about this before he brought her here. He should have confessed his concerns and insecurities about their current plan for living arrangements before blindsiding her with the prospect of a house and a twenty year mortgage two and half hours away from her family. They should have had the conversation before he found a place.

But, then, he had a feeling that if he hadn't found the place, he never would have found the courage to have the conversation in the first place.

He braced himself for the inevitable no. She would let him down gently, of course. She always let him down gently.

As Rory sighed, he could practically hear the rejection at the end of her breath before she even gave it voice. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor. Maintaining eye contact at this point would be far too difficult.

"It has an elevator, right?"

Logan's head snapped up. This time, it was he who bore a wide-eyed look of shock and surprise. Had he heard her wrong? Surely he must have heard her wrong.

"What?" he asked, needing to hear her say whatever it was that she'd said again before he could convince himself that she hadn't said no.

Rory shrugged and looked over her shoulder at the parlor room once again.

"I'm not living here if there's not an elevator. I'm pretty sure the lack of an elevator in one of these places single handedly caused Paris and Doyle's divorce."

"We can put an elevator in!" Logan replied, jumping at the chance to squash any fears she might have about the house. "We can do whatever we want. We can gut the entire place. I know a good civil engineer."

"I'm not letting Seth remodel my house," said Rory. "I don't need him using potatoes to test load bearings in my baby's nursery. I've been carrying her around for months. I'm pretty sure she weighs more than a potato."

"I wasn't talking about Seth," Logan said with a shrug. "But the potato test never steered him wrong before…"

"Logan."

"He went to MIT, and he owes me a favor."

"If you're talking about Josh, I think you need to redo your math on that favor count."

"Alright, so I'll owe him another favor," said Logan with a shrug. "But what good is having a brother-in-law if you can't exploit him for your own personal benefit?"

"Is your sister's happiness not a good enough reason for you?"

"Meh," Logan replied with a shrug.

Rory smiled in amusement for a moment, but she still looked trepidatious. She was biting her lip and her arms were still crossed over her chest. But with every passing second that she didn't say no or turn around and walk out the front door, Logan let himself become more and more hopeful. And, then, after about thirty seconds of painfully agonizing silence, she took a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders.

"I guess it doesn't hurt to look around."

Logan's real estate agent was pretty.

She was fit, leggy, and put together. She definitely lacked the quientensial fun mom energy that John Mulaney attributed to real estate agents. Her energy was much more thirty-something HGTV reality host than fifty-something soccer mom. Her long shiny blond hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail and she was dressed in a tight fitting houndstooth sheath dress with black leather belt wrapped around her waist and panels down the sides that created the illusion that she was skinnier than she already was.

Rory used to be skinny. She used able to wear dresses like that. She used to be able to pull off that look - that polished and professional but undeniably young and sexy look.

She also used to be able to walk up a flight of stairs without wishing that she had the forethought to write an advanced directive.

"The Master bathroom is huge," said Brittany with a chipper and entirely unwinded tone of voice. "Although it definitely needs an upgrade."

Rory nodded along with the woman's comments as to not be rude, but her mind was far more focused on maintaining a steady breath than it was on listening to her. As Brittany opened a door into the bedroom at the back of the house, Rory felt Logan slide his hand along her back.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, leaning into her ear. Rory took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'm fine," she said. "I'd be better if there was an elevator."

"Me too, Ace," he said, likely in some misguided attempt to make her feel better about herself. It wasn't working.

"Please," she said. "Don't patronize me. Three flights of stairs is like a brisk walk in the park for you." Logan kissed her cheek before he pulled away and followed his agent into the room. Rory was on his heels, slowly.

She took a deep breath as she stepped through the double doors to the master suite. There was no denying that it was a beautiful room, even with dark molding that she had never particularly liked and the creaky floors. The hand carved fireplace on the wall to the left was breathtaking, and the large windows on the back wall let in plenty of light.

"It's a pretty spacious suite," Brittany said. She flipped a lightswitch on the wall and stood back as she and Logan both looked around the room. "The bathroom is through the walk in closet just this way and to the left."

She took a few steps toward the fireplace and then gestured with a wave of her hand to her side. Rory took a few steps toward her and peeked over her left shoulder to the room that she was gesturing to. The closet looked nice. Big. It was the biggest closet she'd seen since the apartment they'd shared in New Haven. She missed that closest to this day.

"What do you think, Ace?"

Rory could detect a certain level of enthusiastic anxiety in his tone. He'd been this way since the moment she'd walked in the front door. She could tell how hopeful he was, how excited he was by the prospect of them buying this house. Yet, she could tell he was holding back. He was trying so hard not to show his hand. But, despite what he liked to think about himself, Logan had never had a particularly good poker face.

"It's nice," she answered, truthfully. "The whole house is nice."

Nice was kind of an understatement. The house was beautiful. Even with all the work it needed and the outdated kitchen and the lack of an elevator, she couldn't deny that living here would be a dream.

She's always been a little jealous of Paris' place, and when she lived in her apartment in Brooklyn she would often go out of her way to walk down the residential streets lined with these houses, wondering what it would be like to live inside one of them. She particularly liked to do it during fall, with the red, yellow, and orange leaves on the trees making the neighborhood look like a set from a Norah Ephron movie. It was about as romantic as New York got, short of Rockefeller Plaza at Christmas or a cliched carriage ride through Central Park.

"It's more than nice. It's perfect."

Rory shot him a skeptical look. The house was nice. It had good bones. But, it was far from perfect. Logan sighed in response.

"Alright, it'll be perfect once we get a little money in it."

That was much closer to the truth, and she supposed it was easier for someone like Logan to look at a house like this and see the potential far more clearly than he saw the work that needed to be done. There was a lot you could do with the kind of money he was no doubt willing to invest in the place. Still, Rory clearly saw the problems. And there was one more thing that had been gnawing at her - a fact that she thought would have turned Logan off of this place instantly.

"You know we're in Brooklyn right now, right?" asked Rory. "This house is in Brooklyn."

Logan chuckled.

"Oh. Is that what that giant bridge we crossed was all about?" he replied with a smile.

"Was that your first time ever being on it?"

She was teasing him, but there was a legitimate part of her that wondered if it might be completely true. Logan rolled his eyes, but still had a look of good natured amusement on his face.

"I'm perfectly aware that we're in Brooklyn," he said. "But… come here."

He walked over to her and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her away from the fireplace and toward the other side of the room where a pair of french doors was leading out to a terrace. The moment they stepped outside, Rory took a deep breath. The vision in front of her was astonishing.

She walked in somewhat of a daze toward the edge of the terrace, and she felt Logan's arms slip around her belly from behind as they stood there. He started swaying her gently back and forth and brushed his lips against her ear.

"But you can't get a view of Manhattan like that from inside Manhattan."

"Something about the forest and the trees, I guess…" said Rory.

"And Brooklyn Bridge Park is right down there," said Logan with a point of his finger. "And St. Ann's is just a few blocks away…"

Rory scoffed.

"What have you suddenly decided to become church folk?" she asked.

"It's a pre-school, Ace."

"Oh," she said, furrowing her brow. "Right."

She hadn't even thought about that. She was so focused on getting through this pregnancy and childbirth and the first few months of learning how to keep a tiny screaming infant alive that the idea of pre-school and kindergarten and college seemed like a distant daydream. Logan had thought of it though. Logan had thought about it so intently, that apparently he'd looked up the distance on his phone before she'd even arrived.

Logan wanted to buy this house for them. He wanted them to raise their daughter here, to be here at least long enough to get her through to Kindergarten.

It wasn't what they had talked about. Buying a house in New York right now was the opposite of what they had talked about. This wasn't taking things slow. This wasn't being cautious. This was another jump. It was exactly the kind of jump that Rory wanted to avoid, that she was too afraid to make after the peaks and heartbreaking valleys of their relationship over the last few years.

But, then, hadn't she just told herself at lunch that so many of her fears were unfounded?

"You realize if you make an offer on this house, you're going to have to tell people you live in Brooklyn."

Logan nodded. His enthusiasm was inching closer and closer to the surface.

"The thought had occurred to me."

"You're going to have to tell your mother that you bought a house in Brooklyn," Rory continued. "I mean… Look, I know there's not exactly any love lost between your mother and I. But I don't wish her death. I don't want her to die of shock. She did give birth to you. I owe her at least a little bit for that…"

"If I wanted to shock Shira to death, there are much juicier things I could tell her. I can think of a few things we did in her bed at the Vineyard that would send her into a catatonic state…"

"That's your parents' room?!" Rory asked, mortified.

Logan cocked an eyebrow at her.

"It's the master bedroom, Ace," he said. "Who do you think usually stays in there?"

"I thought it was a guest room!"

"A guest room with two walk in closets, a fireplace sitting area, a walk out terrace, and a bathroom with a jacuzzi tub?" he asked, his eyebrow still raised. "Mm… no. Sorry. I know we're rich, but that's a little much even for us…"

Rich. He was certainly rich.

It was strange how even after all these years together, she still seemed to forget.

But there was no denying it now. Standing on this terrace with the view in front of her was like a cold splash of water on her face. Purchasing a home in New York was expensive. A million dollar proposition in most cases. Yes, Brooklyn could be slightly cheaper, but she doubted that the difference was that vast with a view like this, in a neighborhood like this, with a master bedroom like this. Her nerves were rising up within her the more she thought about it.

"What is this place listed at?" she asked.

"Four point eight."

"Four point eight?!" she exclaimed, breaking out of Logan's embrace, her heart rate skyrocketing. "Million?! Four point eight million dollars?"

"It's New York real estate. That's a steal."

"You and I have very different definitions of the word steal," she replied.

She started pacing around the terrace, shielding her eyes away from the stunning view in an effort to keep her prefrontal cortex from being seduced out of functioning. Logan shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her freak out with pursed lips.

"Four point eight million dollars," she repeated. "And that's before you put whatever money you need to put into this place for renovations…"

"Move in ready houses on this street are selling for up to nine million, Rory," he explained. "This place needs work, but not another four million dollars worth of work. It's a solid investment. This guy is looking to off load this place quick. This is like winning the lottery."

Rory was quiet. She knew he was right. The words coming out of his mouth made perfect and reasonable sense. The question wasn't about whether or not it was a smart investment, the question was whether or not Rory was comfortable with being a person who made this kind of investment.

"Rory…"

He was pleading. The tone in his voice was borderline desperate, and every trace of amusement that he'd had moments previous was gone. It was enough to stop her pacing, but not enough to stop her wringing her hands and picking at her fingernails.

"I know this a lot for you, okay? That spending this much money is a lot," he said. "But this is my money Rory. This isn't my Dad's money or HPG's money. This is the money that I'm sitting on from the sale of my company. I want to buy this house. I want to buy this house for us. This isn't some whim, okay? I want to make roots here. I want to make a home here. I want to live here with you for a long time. I want us to raise our family here."

Rory's chin started quivering. She could feel herself getting emotional. There had been so many times over the last few weeks that she'd needed to pinch herself to make sure that she was dreaming about Logan being back in her life. She would revel in the fact that he was here, that he was real. She'd thought that being with him in the flesh was the ultimate fantasy come true. But standing here listening to him tell her that he wanted them to raise a family here in this house, on the very floor currently underneath her feet… it was an experience that left her previous revelries in shame.

"I know it's fast," he said. "I know this is all coming out of nowhere. It came out of nowhere for me too, okay? I know we talked about taking our time and going slow, but I don't want to do that anymore. I'm tired of taking things slow. I've known that I want to spend the rest of my life with you since I was twenty-five years old, I'm tired of pretending that isn't true."

"Logan…" Rory sighed. She reached up to brush away a tear that was threatening fall.

"Rory," he mirrored. He walked over to her and brushed away the tear falling from her other eye with the pad of his thumb.

"We aren't going to be able to move in here tomorrow. We won't even be able to move in here before the baby is born," he said. "We don't have to completely abandon the plan. We can stay in Stars Hollow while they're working on the house. We can ask Luke if we can stay in the apartment above the diner. Your mom can still help with the baby. But I just… I don't want to be a weekend Dad. Not for a few months. Not for a few weeks. Not even for a single day. I want to be there for all of it. Every second."

"You want to be there when she's screaming bloody murder at three in the morning, and you have a meeting at eight?"

"Yes."

The look on Logan's face was so resolute and unwavering that Rory was almost taken off guard. She was surprised by his intensity. And, yet, she couldn't really understand why. Logan had moved across an entire ocean to show his commitment to her and their baby. He'd been there for everything since, every doctor's appointment, every family dinner Rory asked him to attend, every favor she needed. He'd been living with his parents for over two months, and no doubt suffering through untold torture for the duration.

For the longest time, Rory had insisted that her fear of moving things forward too quickly with Logan was because of how startled by commitment he was. He was the one who spooked. He was the one who was unreliable. He was the one who was afraid of being tied down.

But it was her.

And she had the audacity to think that Paris was the master of projection.

Her fears of Logan being spooked were all based on one conversation twelve years ago, a conversation that had taken place before they'd even started dating, before they even really knew each other. Hadn't she realized by now that Logan was an unreliable narrator when it came to the story of his life and mind? Logan was plagued with ironically low self-esteem - a well honed and beautifully carved piece of art installed in the recesses of his mind by his father.

The only way to know what Logan was truly capable of was to ignore his words and focus on his actions.

She was the one who was scared. She was the one who didn't like commitment. Sure, she was a boyfriend girl. But real commitment. True commitment. Lifetime commitment that required sacrifices and compromises and never ending vulnerability… that was terrifying.

The only thing that was more terrifying was the prospect of spending the next ten years of her life regretting, once again, saying no to Logan Huntzberger when her heart wanted to say yes.

"It's a good pre-school? St. Ann's?"

Logan's face lit up.

"One of the best in New York!" he assured. "In the country even. "

And probably one of the most expensive too. But, if there was one thing Rory was perfectly comfortable spending ridiculous amounts of money on, it was her child's education.

"I mean technically it's pre-k through high school. But, it's one of those places that… well… I mean past a certain point it's just a little… crunchy."

Rory laughed. You can take the boy out of West Hartford, but you can't take the West Hartford out of the boy. She was kind of glad to hear it, actually. He'd already decided he wanted to move to Brooklyn, if he started saying he wanted to send their kid to some kind of hippie gradeless high school, she might worry that he'd been body snatched. It didn't matter how good the school was.

"I guess we have some time before we need to think about high schools…"

"Rory... "

Logan swayed a little bit on his feet. He placed his hands on her arms and looked her firmly in the eyes. The look on his face was so hopeful that it almost made her burst. Did she really have the power to make him this happy? That seemed impossible.

"Are you saying that...that you..." he released a breath of air. "Are you saying you want to do this?"

Rory took a deep breath. She looked over her right shoulder at the Manhattan skyline across the East River and back through the doors to the master bedroom. But, it was when her eyes landed on the man on front of her once again that she realized how sure she was of her decision.

"I guess we should put an offer in fast if this is such a steal."

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Saturday, June 2, 2017

"Everybody shout it now. There's no one who can doubt it now. So, let's tell the world about it now. Happy days are here again."

Rory woke with a deep and satisfying breath of air. She inhaled the scent of fresh crisp cotton under her nose and smiled into the plush pillow underneath her head. She hadn't yet opened her eyes, but she could feel the sunlight peeking through the white curtains on the window next to the bed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd woken up feeling this peaceful.

Comfort was a rare treasure these days. She spent the vast majority of her time completely and thoroughly uncomfortable. So, waking up feeling so rested and relaxed felt like a dream. But, then, if she couldn't feel comfortable here of all places, then she would probably have to resign herself to the fact that it was impossible to achieve.

When she felt a squirming sensation underneath the skin of her belly, she resigned herself to welcoming the morning. At this point, she realized that any hope of drifting back off into dreamland had been officially snuffed out. Though, it was probably for the best. They had a two and a half hour drive ahead of them, and they needed to be back in Stars Hollow by five at the very latest. And they would probably need to make a stop back at Logan's parents' house first.

"Mhmpf...Logan," she groaned as she acclimated to a state of wakefulness.

She placed a hand on her belly and rubbed it in circles to calm some of the movement. Then, she rolled onto her side slightly. When she reached out her other hand across the bed, she found the sheets next to her cold and empty, prompting her to open her eyes.

Logan's absence was confirmed as soon as the world around her came into focus. All she could see was the rumpled white sheets and comforter that he'd left behind when he climbed out of bed and the upholstered headboard behind her out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze landed on the clock across from her on the bedside table, and she realized it was already 10:30 in the morning.

No wonder Logan was already awake.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept in this late. Though, she also couldn't remember the last time she'd stayed up so late. Logan ended up needing to stay at the office later than usual last night after his meeting with the real estate agent had understandably taken far longer than he'd planned. Then, dinner in Manhattan and turned into a small stroll down Fifth Avenue, which turned into dessert at The Pierre, which turned into sex at The Pierre. And, now, as her stomach rumbled, she was hoping that sex at the plaza turned into brunch at The Pierre.

"Thank you. You too. Thanks."

Logan's voice was drifting across the room. She heard the sound of the door closing and the lock chain sliding into place, and a couple seconds later, Logan appeared walking out of the small hallway leading to the entryway of the room wearing a plush white robe and carrying two dry cleaning bags in his hands.

"You sent our clothes for dry cleaning?" she asked with a smile. "You just think of everything, don't you?"

"I can't walk through the lobby at The Pierre in rumpled pants. What would my mother say? It would look like we stayed here for some kind of impromptu night of debauchery."

"And we definitely wouldn't want people thinking that…" Rory replied.

She smiled as she watched him drape their clothes over one of the arm chairs in the sitting area. He turned his attention back to her and started walking back over to the bed. He climbed next to her, leaning over to place a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Good morning," he said with a smile as he pulled away.

"Good morning," Rory replied with an equally blissful expression.

Logan ran his fingers through her hair for a moment, stopping only when he gathered the stray strands falling over her face and tucked them steadily behind her ear.

"What time do we need to be at your dad's thing tonight?" he asked.

"My dad's thing?" asked Rory with a raised brow. "You mean his engagement party?"

"I guess that's what I mean, yeah."

Rory sighed and sat up, pulling the blanket around her as she moved. She was officially in planning mode now. Their small night of spontaneity and freedom was officially over. Now, it was back to the real world full of ticking clocks and family obligations.

"It starts at seven," she said. "And it'll take me at least an hour to get ready. So we probably need to be in Stars Hollow by five. And I assume you're going to want to change too."

"I could just wear the suit I have now."

"It's only going to get rumpled all over again in the car."

"True…" said Logan. "So, I guess taking in a Yankee's game is probably not a good idea?"

"Mm… no, sorry."

Logan sighed.

"Hm. Well. I guess it's good that they're in Toronto today. Some other time I guess."

"Yeah, and with somebody else," she said. "I could go for an omelet, though."

"Sounds like a plan," said Logan. "But we should probably shower first."

He grunted and stood up off the bed once again. Rory's eyes followed him as she walked toward the bathroom, only stopping when they landed on the Surface Pro tablet that he'd left on the foot of the bed. She bent forward, reaching for it.

"Can I use your tablet?" she asked after she'd already unlocked the screen. "I want to send my mom the pictures you took of the house."

Logan mumbled his consent just before turning on the faucet on the bathroom sink and picking up the toothbrush that the hotel had provided for them.

After opening the photo app, the pictures that they had taken the day before loaded immediately, and Rory started flipping through them with a smile. The lighting wasn't great, and it didn't really do the place justice. But, Rory supposed most pictures of the interiors of houses didn't really do them justice without a professional photography team.

Her thumb slid across the glass continuously as she flipped through every single one of them, taking note of all the things they had captured. She was just about to make a comment about how she hadn't realized that he'd taken so many pictures when she slid her thumb one more time and an abrupt change of content popped up on her screen.

She was no longer looking at the pictures they had taken of the house, but rather of a very familiar - but admittedly forgotten - picture of Logan running down an incredibly steep hill after a wheel of cheese. One more swipe of her fingers revealed a photo of Colin and his great European love, Katrinka.

"Where did these pictures come from?" Rory asked. Logan looked at her, confused.

"My phone…" he answered before lifting his toothbrush to his mouth and turning off the running water.

"No. Not the pictures of the house. The pictures of your trip to Europe from ages ago."

"Yfundmuhohduhgtalcohmrah."

"I can't understand a word you're saying."

Logan leaned forward, spit his toothpaste into the sink, and rinsed out his mouth.

"I found my old digital camera," he repeated. "I had some boxes that I was keeping in the pool house. I got bored the other night and uploaded the memory card."

"Oh," said Rory. "That's nice."

She was a little jealous. A lot of the photos she had taken before the days of social media and the cloud were lost to the annals of time. They were all packed in too many different boxes to keep track of, and between multiple moves and spring cleanings, a lot of them had just inexplicably vanished. She still had quite a few good ones, but she wished she had more.

Rory softly chuckled as she came across the picture of Finn sticking carrots up Colin's nose, but her laughter quickly stopped when she slid her finger across the screen once again and was presented with a photograph of the two of them.

Judging by the glimpse of someone wearing a white and black striped shirt in the background behind them, it had to have been taken at the felon surprise party Logan had thrown for her right when she had moved in with her grandparents.

They were just kids.

Looking at the picture in front of her, it seemed almost impossible that she could have ever been that young - that Logan could have ever been that young. But, the evidence was right there in front of her. They looked happy too.

Rory remembered being more than a little bit tipsy that night, which most likely would explain why she was holding on to Logan's arm so tightly and leaning into him slightly with a wide smile on her face despite the turmoil that she'd been going through at the time. She was dressed in a cropped white jacket and a pair of slightly faded blue jeans, and Logan was wearing a red graphic t-shirt underneath a blazer with frayed lapels.

"What are you wearing in this picture?" she asked, turning the tablet around so that he could see. Logan, being pretty far away, leaned through the bathroom doorway and squinted his eyes to look at it.

"I don't know…" he said with a dismissive shrug. "2005 was a rough fashion year for all of us."

"I dunno. I look pretty cute."

"You always look cute, Ace."

"Charmer."

"Do you want to shower first or should I?"

"You can go ahead," Rory said, still distracted by the pictures she was flipping through.

Logan nodded before disappearing from view. The sound of running water followed shortly after, but Rory barely even heard it turn on. She was too focused on the memories in front of her. She rifled through a bit more of the old pictures, recognizing some of the people and places and not recognizing others. But, when she came upon a particular photo she let out a laugh of recognition.

It was a particularly poorly executed selfie, taken in the days before the flip camera where everything was a crapshoot and no one had truly mastered the art of the perfect angle. Still, Logan had managed to get both of them in the picture. If Rory remembered correctly, that was quite an achievement because they had both gotten a little carried away with the room service champagne.

They were sitting in a bed identical to this one, surrounded by pillows and blankets. Their backs were pressed against the upholstered headboard. Logan's arm was thrown around her and her hand was resting on top of the white robe with the hotel's logo embroidered in gold on the left chest that he was wearing - that they were both wearing.

This was from the first night they had ever come here. It was the night that Logan had whisked her away in a helicopter after the Belleville kids' Baptism and Logan's ominous conversation with Mitchum. It was the same day she'd had a conversation with Lane and told her that Logan wasn't really anything all that serious. He was just fun and spontaneous and unpredictable.

Now, she was sitting in the same building just weeks away from giving birth to his child. They'd just put an offer in on a house together. Logan wasn't running from his obligation to the family business, he more often had to be pried away from it.

It was crazy how things changed.

An idea suddenly came over her. With a few taps on the tablet screen, Rory sent the image to her phone. She climbed out of bed and grabbed the robe that she had tossed onto the floor the night previous and threw it on, tying the belt just above her belly. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and turned on the camera app, flipping the screen around to frame herself in the photo. She placed her hand underneath her belly to highlight the size of her bump, made sure to get the logo on the robe visible, and snapped a picture.

This was a nervous proposition. She'd been avoiding this for a while, despite the fact that Logan was clearly getting impatient with her over it. But the truth was that she was afraid of the whispers. Afraid of the talk. She didn't want to invite it into her life. She wanted things to stay quiet. To stay private. She wanted to be able to keep their relationship theirs.

But if they were going to be buying a house together, then it was probably time the world knew.

Rory opened up her Facebook app. With a few edits and maneuvers, she posted the two photographs to her timeline side by side. Above them, she wrote a caption that she hoped would get the point across in a somewhat cheeky way.

How it started. How it's going. - with  Logan Huntzberger  at  The Pierre, A Taj Hotel, New York

"We're home! Cease any indecent activity. Put on your bras and your pants!"

As soon as Rory burst through the front door of her mother's house, they were met with the sound of barks and a jangling collar as Paul Anka barreled into the foyer. Logan was instantly on guard, ready to send the wild beast flying if he even showed the slightest indication of getting ready to jump up at Rory and hurl his weight into her stomach.

He wasn't quite sure exactly where the animalistic instinct came from. Paul Anka was a good dog. Logan liked Paul Anka. Logan liked dogs in general. He'd always wanted a dog, but after years of begging his mother he finally resigned himself to the fact that a puppy was the one gift he'd ask for that his parents would never provide for him.

Thankfully, when Paul Anka met them in the foyer of Lorelai's house, all four of his paws stayed planted firmly on the ground. He was wagging his tail furiously and Rory reached down to place a satisfying scratch at the back of his ear.

Logan followed her as she hung a left into the living room, expecting to find either Lorelai or Luke sitting on the couch ready to greet them. However, as Rory stopped in surprise at the sight of the person standing next to the fireplace, Logan almost slammed into her from behind.

"Is it too much to ask for a simple hello in this house?"

"Grandma."

Emily Gilmore was unamused. The look on her face was entirely displeased. Her chin was held high and her brow was scrutinizing. All in all it was a look that Logan was relatively unfamiliar with when it came to Emily.

Up until recently, the only time that Logan had ever seen Emily Gilmore in a bad mood was on Rory's twenty-first birthday. In his lifetime of experience before that night, he'd always considered Emily a friendly and joyous presence. She was always so vivacious and well humored when she would make an appearance at one of his parents' parities. She always seemed so happy to see him.. She always went out of her way to make him feel welcome. She complimented him all the time. She remembered things about him - things that his mother told her about him that was. She was always thrilled to see him with Rory. He always thought Emily was nice.

Now, however, after having been on the receiving end of Emily Gilmore's displeasure a few times himself and witnessing the dynamic between her and Lorelai more than once, he realized that Emily was an entirely different person behind closed doors - just like so many of his mother's friends in Hartford. That's not to say he was surprised. He'd always expected that to be the case. And, in a strange and somewhat dysfunctional way, he supposed that seeing the unpolished parts of Emily's personality on a regular basis was a testament to the fact that he was becoming family.

"I wasn't expecting to see you," Rory continued, taking a step closer to the older woman. Emily's hard expression softened a bit as they exchanged a brief hug. "Are you here for Dad's party?"

"Of course I'm here for your dad's party," said Emily. "You don't think I flew in from Nantucket just to drop by for a chat, do you?"

"No…" Rory replied. Logan could tell by her tone that she was holding in a sigh. "Of course not. I just didn't know you were invited."

"Why wouldn't I be invited?" she asked. "He's the father of my granddaughter. I've known him since he was a boy. I've always liked your father. I've always thought of him as family."

"You're right, Grandma. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry,"

"Emily," Logan said, deciding to butt in to come to his girlfriend's aid. "You look lovely, as always."

He took a step closer to her and pressed a kiss on her cheek. When he pulled away, Emily was looking up at him with a wide smile that he hadn't seen on her face in quite some time. This was the Emily that he was far more familiar with, the one that he never failed to charm when he set his mind to it.

"Hello, Logan," she greeted in return as she looked him up and down, taking in the fresh bright navy suit and tieless light blue shirt combo he'd changed into when they stopped by the pool house on their way back up from the city. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. It's so nice to see a young man who knows how to dress these days."

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan could see Rory rolling her eyes at him. For the most part, Rory had always been amused by his ability to enchant her grandmother with the simplest of gestures. But, at moments like this when Emily was unhappy with something Rory said or did in her presence, she typically found it annoying. Logan, however, wasn't annoyed. He was thrilled to see that he was officially crawling his way out of Emily's doghouse.

"I'm feeling a bit parched from the drive, and I'm going to go grab some water. Can I get you something to drink?"

Emily smiled again.

"You know, I would just love some iced tea."

"One iced tea coming up," said Logan. "Ace?"

"I'm fine," said Rory.

Logan turned on his heel and started walking toward the kitchen, catching a glimpse of Lorelai appearing on the top of the stairs as he went. She was dressed in a pair of loose fitted sweatpants and tight tank top and was holding two dresses on hangers in either hand.

"So thoughtful... " he heard Emily sigh behind him.

"He's taken, Mom," Lorelai quipped. Logan heard her continue to bound down the stairs as he entered the kitchen and took two glasses down from the cabinet.

The moment Logan opened up the fridge, he noticed a shaggy face suddenly appear at knee level out of the corner of his eye. Paul Anka looked up at him with an adorably stupid face. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth and he lifted a hairy paw to Logan's leg.

"What?" he asked, prompting Paul Anka to tilt his head to the side and start wagging his tail.

Logan ignored him and carried on fixing drinks. He pulled out a jug of Arizona iced tea, cringing slightly at the idea of serving it to Emily Gilmore of all people. But, then, he supposed she would probably never even realize as long as she didn't see the label. As he poured, Paul Anka seized his attention once more, letting out a soft and low 'boof' as he pawed once again at Logan's leg.

"What?" Logan asked again.

Paul Anka's head turned to the counter on the side of the fridge, and Logan followed the dog's gaze as it landed on a zipped bag of treats to the side of the fridge. He let out a soft chuckle as he realized what the dog wanted from him, and while he might have normally been compelled to decline the request considering the fact that he wasn't aware of the normal circumstances in which Paul Anka normally earned such treats, right now he was feeling generous.

"Fine," he said to the dog before picking up the bag and digging inside for a morsel. "But this is only because I feel bad for almost attacking you earlier."

Logan dropped the small treat into Paul Anka's mouth and started walking back into the living room with the two drinks in hand. Paul Anka was following closely on his heels.

"Okay, quick. Which dress is better?" Lorelai asked, holding aloft a royal blue Calvin Klein sheath dress with bell sleeves in one hand and a sequined Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress with a plunging neckline in the other.

"Lorelai…" Emily answered with a sigh. "This is the third set of dresses you've brought down this afternoon. You clearly haven't listened to my opinion so far. So, why don't you just pick one?"

"Because I don't know what you're supposed to wear to your ex-husband's engagement party!" Lorelai argued as if her inability to choose anything in her closet made perfect sense. "For instance… Do you go knock him dead sexy look what you're missing? Or I'm a classy happily remarried lady and I don't even care enough to make you want to look?"

As Logan walked further into the room and his footsteps became louder, Lorelai turned around and made eye contact with him. A strange look of inspiration came on her face, and he actually felt himself grow slightly nervous when her lips curled up in a smile. They still didn't know each other all that well, but one thing that Logan was certain of was a look like that on Lorelai Gilmore's face was rarely a good thing. He handed Emily her glass of tea and braced himself.

"Logan. Good," said Lorelai, holding the dresses slightly higher. "You're a man with an ex-fiancee. Which dress would make you the most crazy to see her in?"

"Lorelai!"

"Uuh…." Logan quickly looked over at Rory before he said anything. She simply shook her head and shrugged. "The sequin one?"

"Ha! The slutty one! That's what I thought!"

"Oh dear Lord," Emily muttered under her breath.

She turned around and started walking toward the chair on the other side of the fireplace. She sat down, the look of annoyance and embarrassment clear on her face. Lorelai was unbothered. She simply turned back around and started bounding back up the stairs to finish getting ready. After a couple moments, the scowl on Emily's face melted away into a smile.

"So, Rory…" she said, leaning forward a bit in her chair. "Tell me how your meeting went yesterday."

Rory smiled in turn. She walked over to the couch and sat down, taking extra care to stuff a throw pillow behind her back for a bit of extra support. She'd been complaining about her back pretty much the entire two and a half hours on the way home, and the seat warmers were only going so far to provide her some relief. He would have to remind her to bring a pillow with her for the drive into Hartford tonight.

"It went really well," Rory replied as she settled herself. "She wants me to start writing up a proposal so she can send it to some of her contacts. And I should have plenty of time to get that done before the baby comes."

"Wonderful," said Emily with another bright smile. "I'm so happy that this is happening for you. You're far too good a writer to settle for some tiny little publisher that no one has ever heard of."

Logan could feel Rory bristle as he sat down on the couch next to her. As small as Jess' publishing company was, Rory was still very defensive of the place. She was proud of his success, proud of the way that he'd helped it flourish and grow over the years and turned it into quite a lucrative business. She'd been proud of him for a long time. Logan was painfully aware of that fact. Though, he was getting better at not bristling himself every time Rory opened up her mouth to defend the guy.

"Truncheon is actually one of the most successful independent publishers in the Northeast…"

"Oh I'm sure it's fine," said Emily, literally waving the defense away with a swipe of her hand. "But you're a Gilmore. You deserve more than fine."

"Whatever you say, Grandma…" Rory replied with a sigh.

Rory knew better than to let Emily's ingrained elitism get to her for too long, but he was also keenly aware of what it felt like to have success undercutted by well intentioned snobbery. Emily might not be dismissing Rory's own personal success with her words, but she was dismissing her friend's, and for Rory that was almost just as painful to hear.

That was one of the things he loved so much about her. Her fierce devotion to her friends. It was one of the things that had first intrigued him about her, the way that she was so ready and willing to throw down with a total stranger to stand up for Marty.

He started to reach out to place a comforting hand on her thigh, but he was rebuffed when Paul Anka launched his shaggy body up on the couch and settled in between them. He looked at Logan once again with that delightfully stupid expression, as if he was waiting for something.

"Oh no," said Rory with a slight laugh. "You gave him a treat didn't you?"

"Was I not supposed to?" Logan asked, shooting her a concerned look over the dog's head. The hand that was meant for Rory's thigh found its way to Paul Anka's head for a quick scratch. But, as soon as he took his hand away, Paul Anka started pawing once more at his leg expectantly.

"Oh, no. It's fine," Rory assured. "You just might want to think about how you're going to tell Colin that he's no longer going to be the best man at your wedding. Cause you have a new best friend now."

"Oh that's okay…" Logan said with a slight laugh of his own. He patted Paul Anka on the side, giving him the attention that he so desperately wanted from him. "I always wanted a dog, but my Mom's allergic to them so…"

"Shira's not allergic to dogs."

Logan's head snapped up. He looked across the table at Emily who wore a baffled expression and a furrowed brow.

"What?" he asked.

"Your mother is not allergic to dogs," Emily repeated. "We used to serve together on the organizational committee for the West Hartford Dog Show. The proceeds went to The Humane Society. She never would have been able to attend that event with a dog allergy. You couldn't get within a ten foot radius of the building without getting hair on every inch of you. It was awful. I practically had to burn a beautiful Chanel suit one year because I couldn't do anything to get the smell out. I resigned after that…"

"She's not…" Logan trailed off, his mind taking a few moments to catch up to the information that Emily was providing him. "She's not allergic to dogs?!"

"Aw, honey," Rory teased next to him in a patronizing and overly sympathetic tone. She stuck her lower lip out in a pout and started rubbing her hand up and down his bicep.

"She just wanted me to stop asking for a dog," he murmured. "I can't believe she just lied to me like that…"

"Really?" Rory asked with one eyebrow raised. "Because I definitely can."

"Okay!"

Lorelai suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs once again, stealing away Paul Anka's attention entirely. She held another dress over the railing, a short red option with what looked like half sleeves and a sweetheart neckline.

"I found an even sluttier one! What do you think?"

"Lorelai," Emily scolded. "What do you think your husband will have to say about you wearing a dress like that to your ex's engagement party?"

"I don't think he'll complain cause he's the one who's going to take it off of me later, if you know what I mean," Lorelai replied with a wink. "Oh… although in that case maybe I should wear that lacey one that he likes…"

"Okay. That's it," Emily sprung up from her chair and started walking to the staircase. A look of nervousness and alarm fell over Lorelai's face as she watched her mother start to make her way up the staircase closer to her. "I'm coming up there and choosing something for you to wear."

"No!" said Lorelai in a panic. Emily, however, ignored her protests and passed behind her into the hallway upstairs. "No! Mom! I can pick something out myself. I swear."

Logan chuckled as he watched Lorelai herself disappear and heard Emily's continued rumblings about her daughter's behavior ringing from the master bedroom. Rory sighed next to him, and he turned to look at her with the smile plastered on his face.

"Sorry," she said as she placed a hand on her belly. "I wasn't expecting front row seats to The Gilmore Family Floor Show this afternoon."

"Sorry?" Logan asked. He wasn't entirely sure why she felt the need to apologize. "Why are you sorry?"

"I'm just usually better at shielding you from the brunt of the crazy around here," she answered. "But now my grandma is flirting with you and my mom is asking you if her dresses are slutty enough and the dog is jumping all over you…"

"I happen to enjoy the crazy."

Rory didn't say anything in response. She did, however, send him a look that implied she wasn't quite believing the words that had come out of mouth. Nevertheless, he meant them.

"I do! It feels nice. It feels...normal. No one's putting on a show for me. I just…" Logan took a deep breath. "I feel like I'm part of the family, I guess."

The skeptical look on Rory's face morphed into a smile. She leaned forward over Paul Anka and pressed a peck against his lips.

"You're sweet," she said before struggling to push herself up off the couch. Logan quickly stood up and offered her a helping hand.

"I'm going to go pick out something to wear myself," she said as she finally made it to her feet. "Is that red dress I wore to dinner at your parents' slutty enough?"

Logan smirked and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her closer and placed a kiss on her neck.

"Not nearly…" he answered. Rory laughed and he felt the vibration of her vocal chords against his lips.

"Well that's too bad," she said. "Cause the pickings are slim when it comes to dresses that fit me these days."

Rory pressed her hands on his chest and gently extricated herself from his hold. Logan watched her walk - or more accurately adorably waddle - down the hallway toward her bedroom off the kitchen. He sat back down on the couch and resumed scratching his nails through Paul Anka's shaggy fur.

"Are you going to be okay out here all by yourself?" he heard Rory ask right before she closed the door to her room.

"I've got Paul Anka."

Logan sat back on the couch. He slipped off his shoes and propped his feet on the coffee table, something that his parents would absolutely scream about if they could see him at the moment. But, everything was so different in this house. The other night when he'd spent the evening here, Lorelai had all but called him a sociopath when he'd gone so long without putting his feet on the coffee table. So, he took that as taciturn permission that it was okay.

He took the phone out of his pocket in an effort to start passing some time away. He checked his emails and, thankfully, found his inbox mostly empty. But, when he swiped his finger to see the next page of his display, he was surprised to find a red notification with a strangely large number attached to his Facebook icon.

He hadn't checked it in a while, at least since last night. He'd been trying (and mostly failing) to limit the time he wasted on social media, choosing instead to focus his time and energy on his actual life - his job, his friends, his relationship. He wasn't always the best at it, but he'd been getting better. It used to be that he mindlessly checked it constantly, and now it had almost been twenty-four hours.

Deciding he had nothing better to do at the current moment, Logan opened the app and tapped on the little bell at the bottom of his screen. And when he saw what was there, his surprise and confusion only grew.

Robert Rosenberg, Honor Abrahams, and 176 others reacted to a post you are tagged in: "How it starte…

One hundred and seventy six people?

One hundred and seventy eight people, really.

Logan had a lot of friends on Facebook. He'd always been good at collecting acquaintances, and his social media accounts were no exception. However, there were really only a handful of people who he legitimately interacted with online. They were the same handful of people that he legitimately interacted with in real life. Most of the things he posted on Facebook or found himself tagged in got some attention from that core group of people, but not much more.

In Logan's experience, the only kind of posts that got this kind of attention from people were engagement announcements, wedding photos, and…

Pregnancy announcements.

His heart started to flutter a bit with anticipation. It was a conversation they'd had a few times. Logan never particularly cared about making a public announcement of the fact that they were back together and having a baby, but Rory had been a little reticent. Apparently, the conversation she'd had with Emily the morning she found them in bed together had implanted something in her mind that made her slightly concerned about bringing attention to themselves.

He was pretty sure there were rumors. There were always rumors. He was used to them. He didn't care. Rory, however, wasn't used to them. And the idea of being the subject of whispers and conversation among droves of people that she'd never even met was understandably anxiety inducing for someone like Rory who always liked to keep to herself. Still, they were both aware that they were going to have to say something eventually.

Logan had just assumed that Rory was waiting for tonight for the cat to come out of the bag. Showing up to her Dad's engagement party on his arm would certainly get the Hartford rumor mill turning without her needing to actively do anything.

That's why it was all the more surprising when he tapped on the notification and was met with the sight of the post she had made back at the hotel. The photo of her prominent pregnant belly juxtaposed next to a photo of them together from so many years ago left nothing to the imagination.

Sometimes he thought Rory should have gone into marketing. She wasn't only a gifted prose writer. She also had an inherent talent for copywriting. She was so good at finding simple and subtle ways to quickly get a point across. With one single post, she was able to tell the entire world that they were back together and she was pregnant with his child without even saying the words. It wasn't cheesy. It wasn't saccharine. It was just… Rory.

The notifications were still coming in while he stared at the post. At the bottom left hand corner of the screen, he could see the wide range of reactions people were having, the most popular being the surprise emoji. The comments were just as astonished. 'What?!' and 'Omg you're pregnant?!' seemed to be a pretty common theme. Interrobangs in general seemed to be a pretty common theme. Some of the mutual friends they had from the paper like Joanie and Bill were tagging him in comments as well, congratulating both of them.

People were without a doubt picking up on what Rory was saying.

Still, as a matter of personal preference, Logan had always been more of a direct communicator. With a few swipes of his thumb, Logan traveled to his own Facebook profile page. He tapped on the life event option, selected New Relationship, tagged Rory's name, and hit share.

Hopefully that would answer any lingering questions that people might have.

TBC...

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Saturday, June 2, 2017 - Part II

"Oh that's not my Dad. That's my nephew."

"You know, I don't really think that he could be your nephew."

"No, no, no, it's true. Annabelle is my aunt. Isn't that right, Aunt Annabelle?

"Oh wait, wait, wait. Let me guess. Are you his uncle?"

"No."

"His grandfather? … His great-grandfather."

"I'm his brother!"

"Matthew is my father's son. Annabelle is my grandfather's daughter. We are… an American Family."

"Are we not waiting for Luke?"

Emily's question hung awkwardly in the air for a moment. Rory, having been ready about twenty minutes ago, was standing back in the doorway to the foyer and watching her mother run frantically around the living room as she tried to find her phone while also slipping her shoes on her feet. Logan was standing at her side, his hands in his pockets while he leaned against the moulding.

There had already been three false alarms. Each time Lorelai had previously announced that she was ready to go, there had inevitably been something in the house that she'd forgotten, and with every proclamation that now was the time when she was actually ready, she and Logan had both inched closer and closer to the front door in vain.

Rory had apologized to him about it, of course. She'd been apologizing for a lot today. The typical chaos that occurred in this house always seemed totally normal to her until there was someone around who wasn't used to being exposed to it. Now, every little quirk her mother displayed and mishap that occurred seemed like a giant finger pointing at the amount of crazy that truly existed behind these walls. Lorelai's inability to actually get herself out the door was just the cherry on top of the neverending insanity that had been occurring since the moment they walked through the door.

Logan, however, kept brushing her apologies off. He insisted that he wasn't offended or freaked out by the daily goings on at The Crap Shack. And the last time she apologized - the second time her mother pulled them all back into the living room after realizing she'd left something - Logan had assured her that it was something that he was entirely used to.

"I do have a sister…" he'd whispered to her. "And I have lived with you before…"

Rory wasn't quite sure how to take that comment. She didn't think she was nearly as bad when it came to this kind of behavior as her mother was. She was far more organized and always on time. Still, if she was honest with herself, there probably were a few little quirks of her mother that had rubbed off on her over the years.

Now, it seemed that they were going to be held up even longer due to the conversation hanging over their head. She'd really been hoping that her grandmother simply wouldn't bring it up.

"No," Lorelai answered with a dismissive laugh as she looked underneath a magazine on the coffee table for her phone. "We're not waiting for Luke. Luke's not coming."

Her grandmother, for some inexplicable reason, seemed utterly shocked by this information. In Rory's mind, it didn't take much thought to come to the conclusion that her step-father would not be joining them this evening. But, then, Emily Gilmore operated in an entirely different social reality than they did… than most people did in the year 2017.

"What do you mean Luke's not coming?" she asked.

Rory sighed. She walked back into the living room and plopped down on the couch, resigning herself to the fact that they probably weren't going to make it out the door any time soon.

"It's Christopher's engagement party, Mom," Lorelai explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yes," Emily replied. "And you said that he was invited."

"He was," Lorelai answered. "But it was just a courtesy invitation. They couldn't invite me without inviting Luke."

"It doesn't matter if it's a courtesy invitation or not!" Emily insisted. "He was invited. His wife is attending. He should be attending."

Rory started rubbing at her forehead. Ten years had passed. Ten years since her parents' ill-fated marriage had ended and her mother had gotten back together with Luke, and yet it was still causing family drama. Her parents still got along really well. It took them a while to get there, but with time their friendship had started to repair itself back to what it was like at the better points of Rory's adolescence. Her dad and Luke, however, still had quite a significant amount of bad blood between them.

Events had to be planned around the precarious relationship between her father and her step-father. Anytime they might have to be in the same room, referees were almost certainly necessary, especially if there was alcohol involved. It was enough to make Rory dread nights like this one. She's been so relieved that Luke wasn't coming tonight. And she really didn't know what she was going to do when it came time for her engagement party.

Sometimes it was enough to make her want to elope. In times past, when Rory would think about the possibility of getting married, she always imagined her grandfather walking her down the aisle. It was what she wanted more than anything. And she knew it was something that neither her father nor her step-father would ever begrudge her for. But that option wasn't available to her anymore, and no matter what she chose, she knew that she would inevitably break the heart of the other party. She didn't know what she was going to do if the day came.

When the day came.

"Mom…" Lorelai groaned. "Luke doesn't want to go. And, trust me, Christopher doesn't want him there. It's better for everyone if he just - "

"We all have to do things we're uncomfortable with for the sake of social decency, Lorelai," said Emily. "You'd think that your husband would understand that. I'm sure Logan understands that."

Rory's ears perked up like Paul Anka's at the sound of the word 'walk.' Her head snapped over to Logan who was now standing at attention in the doorway, his shoulders tense and a look of bewilderment on his face. Rory was just about to jump in to object to his name being thrown around in this argument, but apparently Logan had no issue coming to his own defense.

"Hey, whoa…" he said. "Don't drag me into this…"

"Yeah, Mom. Don't drag Logan into this. This has nothing to do with him," Lorelai agreed. "Besides, I know that he has good breeding - unlike Luke. But, I think you might be shocked to learn about all the ways in which Logan has bucked social decency in his lifetime."

"How did I get dragged into this?!" Logan asked into the ether. Rory's mother and grandmother, however, didn't seem to be paying much attention to him at all.

"I'm perfectly aware of Logan's reputation, Lorelai."

"Oh yeah?" Lorelai asked. "Were you perfectly aware of his reputation when you were assembling the dowry for Rory's Cape Cod wedding when she was twenty years old?!"

"Okay! Enough!" Rory interjected.

"He stole your sewing box."

"Stop!" Rory yelled again, standing up from the couch. "I don't know what Logan or the stupid things he may or may not have done in college have to do with this conversation, but I'm putting an end to it now. Luke is not coming to Dad's party, Grandma. Everyone but you seems to be perfectly content with that decision, so I suggest you get over it for your own sake. Now, we're going to the car because we're running late as it is, and I'm tired of listening to this. We'll see you whenever you decide that you're finally ready to go."

Rory didn't wait for a response. She stormed off out of the living room and headed straight to the front door, not even bothering to look behind her before opening it and stepping outside. Logan was quick to follow her, and unlocked the doors to his car as soon as they were out of the house. When Rory slipped into the front passenger seat, she waited a moment for Logan to catch up to her. Once he did, she turned to look at him as he started the car.

"Still fine with all the crazy?" she asked, thinking that Logan had finally gotten his fill.

"Rory…" he said instead, shaking his head. "Do I need to remind you of the shit my family has put you through?"

"No…" she answered. "But - "

"No buts. I'm a big boy. I can handle it," he said. "Besides… I kind of hope it happens more often so I can see you blow up like that again."

Rory smirked.

"Oh yeah?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," he replied, leaning over the center console. "Sexy."

He pressed a kiss against her lips and only pulled away when the sound of two opening doors from behind them broke them apart. Rory's turned around and watched her mother and her grandmother slide into the backseat of Logan's car, both of them wearing looks of shame. Though, her mom's was far more prevalent than her grandmother's.

When nothing but silence settled over them for a few seconds, Emily cleared her throat.

"Lorelai…" she said, expectantly. Lorelai sighed in response.

"Logan, I'm sorry for accusing you of stealing my mother's antique sewing box…" she started, clearly unhappy with the words that were coming out of her mouth. "Clearly a young man of your background would never do such a thing. And it was wrong of me to suggest otherwise based on no evidence other than the fact that I watched you do it, heard you talk about doing it, and forced you to give it back to me at the dinner table before pretending I found it behind the lilies."

The tension in the car suddenly melted away - at least for everyone other than Emily. The look of shock and discomfort on her face only grew. Rory, however, was fighting as her lips threatened to curl into a smile. And, Logan wasn't even bothering to hide his amusement at all. He let out a chuckle as he put the car in reverse and started to back out of the driveway.

"I forgive you," said Logan with a smirk. "As long as you promise never to tell Mrs. Eleanor Schubick that I still have her silver lighter."

"

If one more stranger walks up to me and puts their hands on my belly, I am pulling the fire alarm."

About an hour had passed since they had arrived at The Club, and it was becoming clearer by the second that Rory was already reaching her mingling limit. The complaints she'd had earlier in the morning regarding how long she'd been sitting in the car had been swiftly replaced with complaints about how long she'd been on her feet since arriving at her father's party. Logan listened empathetically, of course. But, after she'd bitten his head off the first time he suggested she sit down if she was uncomfortable, he learned quickly that she wasn't looking for advice. At this point, it seemed that she was uncomfortable no matter what she did, and over the next few weeks it was probably only going to get worse.

"I seriously don't understand," she continued. "I mean… can you please explain to me why human beings think it's okay to walk up to a person they have never met before in their life and just start touching them without any warning or prompting?! It's insane. And it's women too! It's always women. Older women. You'd think they would know better. Although, maybe it's some weird sort of revenge thing. Since they had to live through it, they need to make sure everyone else has to go through it too. Like the whole 'we can't cancel student loan debt because I had to pay my student loans' bullshit but with harassing pregnant women."

"I think people just get excited about babies…" said Logan.

As soon as the seething look spread over Rory's face, Logan realized that he'd once again said exactly the wrong thing.

"Are you seriously defending these people?" she asked. Logan sighed.

"I'm not defending. Just... explaining," he said, defending himself at the very least.

Rory grumbled. She was in a bad mood. Logan didn't think that there was anything that was really going to change that fact. Salmon puffs hadn't helped. Sitting hadn't helped. Cheating with an extra cup of coffee hadn't helped. Nothing short of leaving this party was going to help. She'd been on edge since the moment they walked into the door.

Rory was already unhappy before they'd even arrived due to the fact that they were running late. The sighs and groans and the way that she'd snapped at her mother and grandmother having the argument over Luke was evidence enough of that fact. But, even if that hadn't happened, he knew Rory well enough to know that she would still have been upset. Rory was punctual. She liked to be on time. Being late made her feel unorganized, unprepared, and out of control.

Then there was the fact that she was always a little on edge whenever her father was in the equation. It had been that way for as long as Logan knew her. When Logan was just getting to know Rory in the days before they'd been dating, she had never even mentioned her father. Her lack of reference to him combined with the vague whispers he'd heard over time regarding the salacious history of the Gilmores' prodigal daughter had made him wonder if he was even in the picture at all.

It wasn't until the vow renewal that he realized that Rory's dad was around - if minimally. And it wasn't until she'd 'returned' Frank to him after her emergency trip to Stars Hollow when he'd heard the full story. Her angry rant and mortified apology for the events of that evening had clued him into just how strained Rory's relationship with her father was.

She'd told him that he seemed to have a talent for messing up her mother's life. That when he came around chaos usually always followed. That she was so angry at him for ruining her mother's happiness again after the 'last time' that she almost never wanted to talk to him again. Over time, things had changed. She'd lightened up to Chris eventually. But, she'd never been fully comfortable when he was around.

The day she'd brought him to the apartment, things seemed normal enough. Apparently, there had been some kind of truce called between them during the couple months when they were broken up. But, even though they were getting along relatively well, there was still an underlying awkwardness that followed them to dinner that evening.

At first, Logan thought it had more to do with Chrisopher and himself than anything else. The serious drawback to having a studio apartment was that it was entirely open. So, when your girlfriend's father (who had already caught you trying to take her clothes off in a Country Club dressing room) popped by for a surprise visit to look around everything was on display. The kitchen, the living room, the single queen sized bed. It was like wearing a giant neon sign that said 'Hey, nice to officially meet you. I'm the guy fucking your daughter.'

He hadn't exactly been prepared. But, what he hadn't been prepared for more than anything else was how quickly the mood between him and Chris had changed. By the end of the night, things between the two of them were going great. Rory, however, had remained somewhat quiet. No doubt, it was the fear and anxiety that always came when things with Christopher were going well. There was always something in the back of her mind telling her that it couldn't last.

Apparently, ten years hadn't changed that.

She seemed to be acting the same way now - caught between wanting to feel happy about her father's engagement and also feeling on guard about something. Because, Rory, despite her complicated history with the man, still loved her dad. He would even go as far as to say that most of the time she even liked him. It seemed counterintuitive, but that wasn't the case for a lot of people. In fact, most people he knew didn't like their parents at all. He definitely didn't like his parents. He still loved them in his own way… like he would probably cry at their funerals when the day came or whatever. But that didn't mean he wanted to start hosting family game nights and start scheduling 'quality time' with them. The idea made him sick.

Rory actually enjoyed spending time with her dad… as long as things were status quo.

Right now, things definitely weren't status quo. Her dad was bringing another person into his world, a person who Rory already felt uneasy around due to their admittedly strange age difference. There were people all around this room that Rory had either never met or rarely met, but seemed to know her father extremely well. Some of them were even family.

He could only imagine how strange it must be to look at your own father's family and see nothing but a sea of strangers. Admittedly, he wasn't very close at all with his mother's side of the family, but he still knew who they were.

"How bad would it be if I had a glass of wine?" Rory asked, gesturing to the bar just a few yards away. He knew she wasn't really serious. She was just communicating in a slightly untoward way that she was feeling a bit overwhelmed at the moment. Still, he didn't think humoring it was a very good idea.

"Um… pretty bad, I think," he answered.

"I mean she's pretty much done cooking at this point, right? I can't really screw her up anymore?" she continued. "If we took her out now, it would be fine. She's finished. We're just keeping her in there to get a nice golden crust?"

Logan chuckled.

"I don't think that's how it works, Ace."

"Does she really need all her toes?"

"I would love her no matter how many toes she had, but I think ten is the most preferable. Sorry."

Rory sighed. Logan suddenly felt a surge of empathy toward her. Rory wasn't the biggest drinker in the world, but he was. He couldn't imagine having to go nine months without the benefit of a stiff drink at the end of the day, especially when it came to attending events that inspired a fair amount of anxiety. Nine months of being denied the ability to take the edge off. She couldn't even have too much coffee. It was no wonder she'd been eating so much more ice cream than usual.

"Look, your Dad is right over there," Logan said.

He nodded his head over to their left where just a few feet away, Christopher was standing with Lana pressed against his right side. Her arm was linked through his and they were laughing along with the conversation occurring between the small group that had assembled around them. Emily was there. And Logan recognized, much to his pain and anguish, that the teenaged blonde girl standing to Christopher's left had to be Gigi. The last time he'd seen her she was a toddler.

He didn't, however, recognize the other older woman standing with them. She was a petite woman. Her hair was tied in a tight french twist, highlighting her sharp features and her face looked as though it had been long ago frozen in a state of perpetual disappointment. But, Logan wasn't afraid of a look like that. He'd spent a lifetime surrounded by looks like that.

"Why don't we go over there, say our final hellos and goodbyes, and get out of here? We've put in enough of an appearance, don't you think? I'm sure no one will fault the very pregnant lady for ducking out early to get some rest."

"No!"

The response was clipped, sharp, and strangely nervous. Rory's eyes were glued on the group in question, and she had an almost panicked look on her face.

"He's in the middle of something. I don't want to bother him," she said, tearing her gaze away.

Something was up. There was no reason for Rory to feel like she couldn't walk over to her dad just because he was already having a conversation with someone. It was unlike her as well. Rory had always been quiet and reserved, but she wasn't exactly shy. She wasn't afraid to talk to people.

"He's talking to your grandma and your sister…" said Logan. "I think it'll be okay."

"We can wait. I don't - "

"Ror!"

At this point, waiting definitely wasn't an option. Christopher seemed to have noticed them standing so close, and was now beckoning the two of them over to the group. Yet, despite receiving a verbal invitation from her father to join him, the panicked look on Rory's face seemed to be growing.

She took a deep breath and slapped a smile on her face before turning around and walking over to them. Logan followed her, pressing a hand in the small of her back in a quiet show of support. Even though he couldn't understand why, it was entirely clear that she was extremely uncomfortable at the moment.

"There you are!" Christopher continued. He leaned forward to press a kiss on her cheek. "I've been looking for you. Hey, Logan."

Christopher extended a hand to him, and Logan accepted it without hesitation.

"Chris," he replied, right before shifting his attention to the woman on his arm. He smiled at her.

"Logan, you remember Gigi?" Chris asked, sliding a hand across his youngest daughter's back. The girl's eyes glanced back and forth between her father and Logan, confusion spread across her face. Clearly, she had no idea who he was other than the somewhat mysterious father of her sister's baby.

"Of course. But she probably doesn't remember me," Logan replied. "I think the last time I saw you, you were three and very engrossed in mutilating some Barbies."

Christopher laughed.

"That sounds about right," he said. "And this is my mother, Francine Hayden."

As Logan's eyes slid over to the newly identified mystery woman, he couldn't help but catch a glance of Rory to his left. Her back had gone straight. Her shoulders and jaw clenched. She was making eye contact with Emily in some kind of silent conversation.

There was obviously some tension here. Not that he should be surprised. In all the years that he and Rory had been together, she'd never even mentioned her paternal grandparents. Granted the subject hadn't really come up, but perhaps the fact that it hadn't come up in all that time should have been some kind of warning sign.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hayden."

Logan extended his hand to the woman. The look of disappointment that he'd noted before never left her face, and her hand was cold and limp in his as she halfheartedly reached out to shake it. But, Logan retained a charismatic smile. He'd been through one too many cotilions to let a single woman weaken his resolve.

"Likewise," the woman responded before taking a sip of her drink.

"You know Logan's mother, Francine. Shira Huntzberger? We were all on the pediatric hospital committee together - agesago."

Logan forced himself to maintain his unbothered smile and to sigh as the words tumbled from Emily's mouth. What might sound like a perfectly harmless attempt to relay a family connection to most people, was anything but. Having held the last name Huntzberger for his entire life, Logan was very deft at recognizing when it was being dropped. And right now it was being dropped.

For whatever reason, Emily wanted Christopher's mother to know that he was a Huntzberger. And, judging from the hint of smarminess in her tone, he had the distinct feeling that she was rubbing it in.

"Of course," Francine replied. "How is Shira doing?"

"She's doing very well," Logan answered.

"Getting ready for the baby, no doubt," Emily continued.

"Um… yeah. Sure," Logan responded. He supposed his mother was 'getting ready' for the baby, in so much as she'd bought the entire infant girls' clothing section at Saks and was amassing an entire workshop's worth of toys. "Either that or she's planning to single handedly reopen FAO Schwarz."

The group humored him with a laugh, but Logan couldn't help but notice that Francine's face was still stoic and harsh. Her attention was focused on Rory, and Rory was trying her hardest to pay attention to anything else.

"And… Rory…." the woman said, sounding almost unsure if she should say her own granddaughter's name out loud. "Are you… getting ready for your new arrival? The last your father told me, you weren't entirely sure what your living arrangement was going to be."

Judgement was dripping from the woman's tone, and suddenly Logan was finding it far more difficult to maintain the pleasant smile on his face. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Christopher's mother held no affection for her eldest granddaughter, and Logan was quickly determining that he held no affection for her.

"We actually just put an offer in on a house," he replied, coming to Rory's aid without a moment's hesitation. In any other context, she might get annoyed with him for fighting her battles for her. But, currently, Rory seemed so frozen in the presence of the woman that she didn't seem to mind a single bit.

"You did?!" Christopher asked. "That's great news! Where is it?"

"Brooklyn Heights," Rory answered. "It needs some renovations, but it's nice."

"Yes, very nice," Francine agreed. "Seems that Logan here arrived in the picture just in time."

At this point, all chances of Logan keeping a pleasant face were lost. The smile slipped from his lips, and he prepared to let her know in no uncertain terms what exactly he thought of that comment. But, perhaps fortunately, Christopher jumped in before he got the chance.

"Mom," he growled, fixing her with a dissatisfied glare. Lana's grip on his arm tightened, either in an effort to keep Christopher from jumping at her or to keep herself from saying something that would ruin what was probably already a strained relationship with her future mother-in-law.

"What?" Francine asked. "I'm merely pointing out how fortunate it is that Rory managed to find a man of Logan's background. She must be grateful that he has the means to provide for his family. What with her… struggles as of late."

"I think you'll find, Francine," Emiy began, her tone biting. "That Rory never needed to worry about providing for her child. Her family has always been perfectly capable of seeing to that."

"Thank you, Grandma. I appreciate that, but it's not necessary," said Rory.

Suddenly, for the first time since they'd walked up to her family, Rory' dropped her nervous disposition. The tension that she'd been holding in her shoulders was morphing into a strong show of posture. Her back straightened, and she squared her jaw.

"I am very grateful to have Logan in my life, Mrs. Hayden," she continued. "Because I love him very much, and I know he is going to be a wonderful father to our child. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom."

Rory moved faster than he'd seen her move in quite some time. She turned and started making her way through the banquet hall toward the vestibule. He looked back at the group one more time, silently conveying his apologies for leaving in such a hurry as he took off after Rory. Yet, between the crowd around him and the headstart Rory had gotten off to, he'd barely made it halfway through the room before he saw Rory disappear through the vestibule doors.

He stopped, knowing that at this point it was useless to chase her. She'd be in the ladies' room before he'd be able to catch up with her, and she probably just needed to give herself a few minutes to get her head straight.

He sighed in defeat as he planted his feet on the ground beneath him. Then, for the first time, he noticed Lorelai standing not ten feet away from him. Her head was turned in the direction of the restroom as well, no doubt having seen Rory run off in a hurry. She looked at him, and took a few steps closer. The concern and bubbling anger clearly present before she even knew what had caused Rory to run past her in such a state.

"What happened?"

As soon as the bathroom door closed behind Rory, the sound of her breaths became abundantly noticeable to her. Her heart was beating quickly and she could feel a slight tremor in her hands.

She was having a panic attack.

It wasn't her first rodeo. She'd become well accustomed to the feeling of her chest tightening and her breaths getting shallow while she attempted to collect her thoughts. They always presented the same exact way, ever since the very first time she'd experienced one at the thought of facing Mithcum at that DAR fundraiser.

This was, however, the first time she was having a full blown panic attack while she was pregnant, and she wasn't sure what to do. She knew that it couldn't be good for the baby. She knew that she needed to calm down in order to keep the baby from harm. Yet, the knowledge that if she didn't calm down some harm might befall her baby only sent her into an even worse spiral of anxiety. It was like an uncontrollable snowball rolling down a hill.

She took a couple of steps into the lounge, making it as far as a hall table pressed up against the yellow and cream striped paper covering the walls. She placed her hands on the table and bent her head down, trying to steady herself by counting to four with every inhale and exhale.

"Are you alright, dear?" a voice asked to her left. She felt a gentle hand on her back and turned her head to the side. An unfamiliar woman was standing next to her, dressed in a ruched black dress. She had short curly grey hair and a pair of cluster pearl earrings in ears. But, what Rory noticed most of all was the genuine concern in her eyes.

"I'm okay," she said, nodding.

"Are you sure?" the woman asked. "Would you like me to get someone? Your husband? Have you been having pains all night? How far apart are they?"

"I'm not in labor," Rory assured with a shake of her head.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I've had four children. It can sneak up on you, you know…"

"Yes, I'm sure," Rory insisted. "I'm just… I'm just having a panic attack."

"Okay," said the woman. She moved the hand that was pressing against Rory's back to her arm and started to gently pull her in the direction of the seating area. "Let's get you off your feet."

Rory obliged the stranger, giving no resistance as she led her over to the plush couch. She had to admit, she was suddenly extremely grateful to be in a Country Club bathroom. In all the times she had stepped foot in one over the years, she always found them to be indulgent and overly extravagant. She didn't see the need for an entire elaborately decorated lounge attached to the stall area. She could hardly imagine ladies sitting down for tea in the middle of a restroom. But, right now she had to admit that she was thoroughly grateful for it.

As soon as she sat, the woman who had come to her aid stuffed a pillow behind her back. The four bouts of pregnancy she'd been through had clearly provided her some insight into how to best make her comfortable.

"Deep breaths," she coached, rubbing gentle circles into Rory's back. They sat there for a few moments as Rory's breath and heart rate calmed.

"Rory?" a new voice suddenly asked as the door swung gently open. A head of auburn hair peaked inside, and a look of relief befell her face as soon as she saw that she was being attended to. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"It's a public restroom…" Rory answered, a bit breathlessly. Lana gave her a solemn smile and stepped all the way inside. Her eyes landed on the woman sitting next to her on the couch, and her smile grew.

"Thank you, Aunt Carol," she said. "I appreciate you looking after Rory like this."

"Rory?" the woman, Carol, asked. "Oh, you're Christopher's girl! I've heard such wonderful things about you. You should hear him go on. He's mighty proud of you."

She probably expected that the comment would improve her mood. After all, for most people, hearing that your parents complement you all the time behind your back is usually a boost for the ego. Right now, however, it had the opposite effect. Rory's lip started quivering, and her eyes started to unleash a torrent of tears.

"He is," Lana agreed, looking at her aunt. "Do you mind?"

"Of course," she said, standing up and straightening her dress. "It was nice to meet you, Rory."

"Thank you," Rory replied. She looked up to make eye contact one last time with the woman and smiled before she walked out the door.

Suddenly, she found herself alone in the restroom with Lana, something that under normal circumstances, might leave her feeling awkward and uneasy. But, right now she didn't seem to mind it at all. Rory's discomfort with Lana was nothing compared to Francine.

"She's terrible, isn't she?" Lane asked.

Rory was taken by surprise. She furrowed her brow and started shaking her head.

"What? No. She was nice..."

Lana laughed and shook her head. She walked over to the couch and sat down next to her, replacing Carol's previous position

"No, not Carol," she started explaining. "Carol is lovely."

Right. Rory should have assumed that she wasn't talking about Carol, but her mind wasn't exactly the most clear at the moment.

"I meant your grandmother."

Rory's heart stopped a minute at those words. Lana certainly wasn't talking about Emily, and she didn't know how she felt about anyone else being addressed in such a way.

"I don't really like to call her that…" she said, wiping at her eyes with her fingertips.

"Right," said Lana. "Of course not."

"I don't know why I let her get to me like this…" Rory said.

She wished that she could get her emotions in line. There was no reason why Francine Hayden's opinion of her should still affect her in such a manner. She had only seen the woman a handful of times in her thirty-three years on this plant, and each time had been tense, uncomfortable, and borderline confrontational. Yet, despite all the growing up she'd done over the years, her father's mother still had a way of making her feel like a sixteen year old girl desperate to be loved and accepted and instead finding herself entirely rebuffed.

"She has a talent for getting under people's skin," said Lana.

Rory considered Lana for a moment. She hadn't ever stopped to think about the dynamic between her and Francine. She never stopped to think much about Francine at all if she could help it. But, clearly, there wasn't exactly a unbreakable bond formed between the two of them in the time she'd been with her dad. She was filled with a sudden burst of empathy at the striking realization that she and Lana had something in common.

"The first time Chris brought me to meet her, she basically called me an aging slut to my face. She made some comment about how 'blessed' I was to have the confidence to wear such a 'form-fitting' dress at my age."

Rory let out a short laugh, not out of amusement but rather out of a strange mixture of shock, disbelief, and recognition.

"The first time I met Logan's mother, she told me I wasn't bred for their family, and then later on she basically accused me of being a gold digging whore who tricked Logan into getting her pregnant so… I know how you feel." Rory sniffed and wiped her eyes again. "But, apparently, she isn't the only one who thinks that. So…"

Lana was quiet for a moment. She reached out a hand and tenderly placed it on Rory's forearm.

"It's not okay that she said that to you," she said, seriously. "That either one of them said that to you. But the fact that your own grand - well… the fact that your father's mother said that to you is inexcusable. Besides, she forfeited the right to comment on your life a long time ago."

"I just... " Rory trailed off. "It feels so stupid but I… I still want her to like me. I don't know why, but I do. I want her to know that I didn't..."

Ruin her father's life.

So much of her hang up around her father's parents was rooted in the fact that they thought she ruined her father's life. She tried so hard. She tried so hard to prove them wrong. She worked so hard to be the best at everything she did, and in the end none of it ever really made a difference.

Francine still looked at her like she was a living reminder of all of the ways that her son had failed to live up to their unreasonable standards.

"It's not stupid," Lana comforted. "But it's also not necessary. You were a baby, Rory. You don't have anything to prove to her. The fact that she blames you for anything that happened with your parents is her issue. It has nothing to do with you."

Rory wiped at her eyes again and nodded. She was making such a spectacle of herself, breaking down in a public restroom in front of a total stranger and crying her eyes out to her father's fiance.

It wasn't right. Rory had been so cold to Lana since the moment her father had introduced them. She didn't deserve this kind of kindness from her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm embarrassing myself, and I'm pulling you away from your own engagement party."

"Don't be silly," Lana replied. "You were pulling me away from my mother-in-law. I jumped at the chance to come check on you. I know I'm not exactly your favorite person, but your mom was pretty busy giving Francine a mouthful."

Rory looked over at Lana in anguish. She'd always been worried that her discomfort around Lana was obvious, but they'd never voiced it out loud. She would have been perfectly happy never giving voice to the awkward feelings that always existed between them, but, then, Rory was a master at avoiding difficult topics. Lana, however, seemed to have no qualms with jumping right in.

"Lana…" she started. "I… I don't dislike you. I…"

"Oh, Rory…" Lana replied with a sigh. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just making a joke. A bad one, perhaps But - "

"No. I…" Rory interrupted before she'd taken the time to even get her thoughts together. "It's just that I don't have the best experience when it comes to this whole… step-mother thing."

"I know," Lana replied.

"And I'm… I mean we're…"

Rory gestured back and forth between them. She was having difficulties finding a way to say the words without sounding rude or insensitive. She'd just been sent to the bathroom crying over the subtle implications in Francine's comments to her. The last thing she wanted to do was say something that would accidentally manage to make Lana feel as judged and belittled as she felt right now.

"I mean, it's weird… isn't it?"

To Rory's great surprise, Lana actually gave a small burst of knowing laughter. Their age difference had been such a pink elephant between them since the moment they had met, and Rory was so worried about saying anything about it for fear of upsetting her or her dad. Yet, it seemed like Lana was having the same thoughts.

"It's weird," she agreed. "I know it's weird. I knew about Gigi before your dad and I started dating, and getting used to the idea of dating a man with a fourteen year old was an adjustment enough. But, when we started getting to know each other and he told me about you… well… I have to admit it threw me for a bit of a loop. I mean… you're old enough to be my sister."

"Yeah," Rory breathed. "I thought the same thing."

She'd never realized how good it would feel to finally set the elephant free. Getting the words out into the open was a relief that she hadn't realized she so desperately needed. And knowing that Lana had been feeling the same unease all this time was strangely… comforting.

There had been a lot of realizations about the relationship between her and her father's future wife this evening. Apparently, they understood each other far more than Rory had ever imagined.

"And… it's okay if you don't think of me as a step-mother," said Lana. "I'd settle for a friend though."

Rory smiled at her.

"I think I can manage that," Rory replied.

Lana smiled back and squeezed her arm affectionately.

"I'm glad," she said. Then, she stood up slowly, straightening her dress as she moved. "Now, if it's okay with you, I think I'm going to go tell your boyfriend that you're okay. He was quite concerned, that guy."

"He's sweet," said Rory with another smile. Lana nodded.

"You know… he really is," she said. "Honor's little demon brother... Who ever would have imagined? Will you be okay in here by yourself for a second?"

"Yeah," Rory answered, nodding her head. "I'll be fine. But…"

Lana waited patiently as Rory paused for a moment.

"This sounds pathetic, but could you send my Mom in?"

"Of course," Lana replied without a trace of judgement. "That is if I can pull her away from Francine. When I left, she was yelling at her about how she's 'still not sorry about what she said about George W. Bush'? And she had just started in on Donald Trump."

"Oh God…" Rory placed her head in her hands and sighed. Though, perhaps she should be grateful. Maybe an anti-Trump tirade from her mother was exactly what she needed to overshadow the little emotional breakdown that she'd displayed.

"It was pretty funny, actually," said Lana. "Maybe that boyfriend of yours should consider giving her a column in The Dying New York Standard."

"That's more Mitchum's territory, but I'll mention it to him," said Rory.

"Okay," Lana said with a light laugh. "I'll send her right in."

As soon as Lana closed the door behind her, Rory took a deep breath. Her panic was gone, and her heart rate had returned to normal, though she still felt a bit of lingering shakiness.

Realizing that she probably looked a mess, she stood up off the couch and walked over to the bathroom area. She noted the basket of toiletries laid out on the marble counter and plucked a make-up remover towel from the open container to clean up the smudged mascara from her eyes in an effort to pull herself together. She popped a complimentary mint in her mouth and started rubbing in a lovely peony scented lotion into her hands.

There really was something to be said about Country Club bathrooms.

TBC...

Chapter Text

Chapter 30

Friday, June 23, 2017

"Good luck. And DON'T fuck it up."

"What a charming display of Americana." The bell above the door of Luke's chimed loudly as the first of a group of young men burst in to the empty space. "This is exactly the kind of place I am delighted to see as a guest in your fine country."

"You've lived here for fifteen years, Finn."

Robert's tone was clipped as he walked into the door behind him, his arms full of a heavy cardboard box whereas the Australian's arms were entirely empty. Finn turned around and looked at his friend with an expression of shock.

"Good God, has it been that long?" he asked before hopping over to the bar and taking a seat on one of the stools. "Where has all the time gone?"

"Wherever it is that your brain cells go when you get black out drunk," Colin answered. He was following closely on Robert's tail, his hands full of some bags of his own, though his load was significantly lighter.

"You wound me, Colin," Finn replied. "Everyone here knows I have the best drunken memory of the lot of us. How else would I remember the name of that gorgeous red-head I met at that restaurant last weekend. The lovely Lisa…. Or was it Liza?"

"Rachel, Finn. Her name is Rachel."

"Damn," Finn whispered. "So close…"

"Not even remotely," Colin argued. He placed the bags he was carrying on the floor. "And you can feel free to go ahead and forget her entirely."

"You're acting mighty protective of this perfect stranger."

"She's not a perfect stranger. She's my paralegal. I introduced you to her."

"Mm… no… Doesn't sound right. Sorry," Finn murmured.

"Does somebody want to tell me where I can put this box down?!" Robert griped, his voice swiftly cutting through the bickering of the two old friends and carrying through the dinner to the stair case where Rory was moving as quickly as she could to greet the boys that had given up their Friday to help her.

Luke had closed down the diner for the morning to give Rory and Logan some time to move their things into the apartment above the diner. Pottery Barn had had already come and gone with the baby furniture, and Logan and Luke had graciously dug the new mattress she'd been sleeping on at her grandparents' out of storage.

When they had approached Luke about the possibility of them staying here while the house underwent renovations, he hadn't hesitated for a moment before letting them know he'd be more than happy to offer up the space. For the most part it was sitting here empty. The only person who used it was Jess, and considering it wasn't actually his apartment, he could cope with staying at her mom's or at the Inn when he came into town for a few months.

It really was the option that made the most sense. Logan was itching to get out of his parents' pool house since the moment he'd stepped in it all the way back when he thought he was coming to America for nothing more than a quick Easter visit, but he also didn't want to go through the hassle of working out a temporary lease for an apartment that he didn't plan on staying in for any significant amount of time.

Moving into the apartment above the diner worked perfectly for them. It gave them their own space to be together during the first few weeks of their journey into parenthood, but it was also close enough to her support system that she felt comfortable. The only downside was that the place was old. It was dated, and it was pretty small. But, there was a strange romanticism about it.

Being here reminded Rory of the brief period of time that she and Logan had lived together in Paris' crappy New Haven apartment during her last semester at Yale. It was cramped. It wasn't all that aesthetically pleasing - to say the least. There was a lingering smell, though this time it had more to do with bacon grease and less to do with the drifting skunky aroma of bad marijuana. And, most of all, they were once again living with each other on the precipice of a massive change in both of their lives. This time, however, they'd be navigating that change together rather than breaking apart.

Plus, at least it was cleaner. So so much cleaner.

"You can just set it on a table, Robert," Rory answered as she appeared in the doorway behind the counter.

The sigh in her voice as she responded was perfectly audible – not that it had anything to do with Robert, or any of the boys for that matter. The sigh in her voice was ever-present now as opening her lips and using her vocal chords to speak out loud took one more ounce of energy that she no longer had.

"Jesus, Gilmore…" said Colin, staring at her in horror as she walked around the counter into the dining area with one hand pressed firmly into her back and the other one cradling her belly. "You look like you're about to explode."

Rory glared at him. Charm had never been one of Colin's strong suits. She was usually able to take it in stride, but lately she wasn't able to take much of anything in stride. She was about to open her mouth and tell him exactly what she thought he looked like when Finn jumped in to attempt and placate her.

"Don't listen to him, my darling," he said, hopping up off of the stool he had seated himself in. He walked over to her and placed his hands on her stomach. Rory suppressed a growl. Finn, at least, wasn't a stranger. However, she still wasn't much of a fan of people touching her without permission these days. "You look absolutely radiant, flush with our child."

"Don't touch me, Finn," said Rory, brushing right past him and heading to an empty chair at one of the tables by the door. As she bent to sit, she winced. A sharp pain traveled through her lower back, and she pressed her hand into her back to try and provide some relief.

"You okay there, luv?" Finn asked while he watched her, dropping his playful tone and adopting a more serious one – as serious as Finn could get at the very least.

"Yeah," Rory answered with a nod. "I'm fine. I just… my back has been bothering me all day. I don't think the couch upstairs really agrees with me."

Most furniture didn't agree with her these days, but Luke's old springy couch had really done a number on her. She'd been sitting on it earlier this afternoon, sorting through baby things to determine where they should be placed while Luke and Logan hauled the mattress up the stairs and onto the bed frame. Comparatively it wasn't all that much work, but her body definitely thought it was.

All day she'd been practicing her mantra. Five more days. That was all. Five more days until her due date and she could start to get her body back. Five more days until she could stop living her life as a walking bed and breakfast. She'd still have to manage the breakfast part, but even so it seemed a lot more manageable.

Of course, it was entirely possible that she might end up going past her due date, but that was something that Rory wasn't even willing to think about at the moment.

"Where's Logan?" she asked, suddenly noticing the strange absence of her boyfriend. She turned a bit in her chair, as much as the ache in her back would allow, and started peeking out of the windows.

"Cementing his place on the naughty list for this coming Christmas," Robert answered before taking a seat himself. Rory blinked at him.

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

"Last we left our dear friend Logan, he was standing on the sidewalk and entering into an altercation with a fine gentleman bearing a striking resemblance to the Père Noël," Finn expounded.

To most, the additional information might only worsen the level of confusion and bewilderment. However, considering their current location and Rory's knowledge of who normally prowled the sidewalks of Stars Hollow, she had a feeling she knew exactly what was going on.

"Oh jeez…" she said with a sigh.

She craned her neck a little further to the right and was finally able to make out a flash of blond hair on the sidewalk. His back was turned to the diner, so she couldn't see his face and he was blocking the person that he was speaking to. Still, Rory didn't need to see the man know exactly who it was.

"I'll be right back," she said, standing up – slowly.

She turned her back for a moment and took a few steps toward the door. As she pulled it open and the chime rung again, she turned one more time to face the boys. Finn was walking behind the counter, picking up pastry lids and poking at ketchup dispensers. Robert was wandering around the room, seemingly perplexed by the window looking into the Soda Shoppe.

"Don't touch anything while I'm gone," she warned. "Colin, you're in charge."

"You got it," Colin replied, not even bothering to look up from whatever had distracted him on his phone.

"No fair!" Finn argued. "Why does Colin get to be in charge!?"

"Because Colin's never tried to take his pants off in an empty movie theater," Rory answered. "You can't be trusted when there aren't other people around."

"I'm hurt," said Finn. "You're making me worry that you don't think I'll be a good father to our beautiful daughter."

"Just don't break anything," Rory continued, ignoring him. "I'll be back in a second."

As soon as Rory stepped out of the diner and onto the sidewalk, she could hear the arguing voices coming from her left. Logan, bless his heart, was doing an impressively good job of keeping his tone calm and polite, but she could tell by the slight edge in his voice that he was approaching the limits of his patience. With a deep breath and a string of silent curses in her mind, Rory inserted herself into the conversation.

"What's going on, Taylor?" she asked, not even attempting to hide the sheer annoyance she was feeling at have to stand on the sidewalk and deal with him while nine-months pregnant and suffering from shooting back pains.

"I'm so glad you asked," said Taylor. He threw his arm out toward the street, gesturing to a large vehicle stopped in the middle of the lane with its engine running and music playing from its built in speakers. "What is it that you see here, Rory?"

"It's your ice cream truck, Taylor," Rory answered, matter-of-factly.

"Yes. That's right," the man continued, puffing out the chest that was covered in the red and white striped seersucker suit that he always wore on summer days when he took the truck out. "As you well know, I have been selling ice cream from this truck every June through August since I first opened this Soda Shoppe back in 2003."

"That sounds familiar, yes," Rory replied with a nod.

"I thought it might," Taylor responded. "It might also sound familiar that I long ago made an arrangement with your step-father to park my truck in this spot every year during that period of time?"

Rory turned her head to the area that Taylor was gesturing too, noticing immediately that the spot in question was taken up by a black Escalade with its trunk door popped open and it's back filled to the brim with boxes. Rory sighed again and turned back to Taylor.

"Yes, I remember hearing something about that…" she answered with another sigh. She remembered how Taylor had practically blackmailed her mother into arranging it for him.

"Good," Taylor said with a self-satisfied nod. "So, as I was just explaining to your… ah… gentleman friend, I will need him to relocate his vehicle immediately. As it is, I'm currently double parked in the middle of the street. "

"And, as I was just explaining to Mr. Doose…" Logan chimed in, his jaw tight and his tone clipped. "I don't see any markings or signage indicating that this is a reserved parking space."

"Well, I'm not sure how things work in the big city, but here in Stars Hollow - "

"In the big city, reserved spaces are usually… you know… reserved."

"Young man," said Taylor. "For the third time, I need you to move your car this instant."

"For the third time…" Logan parroted. "No."

"Okay," Rory said, holding her hands up in front of her and pushing them downward slightly in a silent plea for them to settle down. "Taylor, if you can please just let us quickly get all of these boxes out of the car and onto the sidewalk, we will find another parking space for the car."

"Young lady, I'm afraid I can't allow you to simply pile up all these boxes onto a public sidewalk and - "

"Taylor!" Rory snapped.

The older man regarded her outburst with a look of pure shock and alarm. His hand went to his heart in a rather on the nose gesture of astonishment and his mouth popped open like a fish.

"I am nine months pregnant. My back hurts. My feet hurt. I've been up since six o'clock this morning. I am about one more second from becoming so full of rage that I might morph into The Hulk, take the heaviest box in this car and throw it right through your Soda Shoppe window. So let me tell you how this is going to work. We are going to unload these boxes and leave them here on the sidewalk while we start taking them upstairs. And you are going to climb in your ice cream truck and do another circle around the square while we get that done. Otherwise, I am going to call Officer Weston and tell him that you are double parked in the street waiting for a parking space that you have no legal claim to, and if you try to argue that point we'll cede this conversation to our good friend Colin who is waiting for us inside Luke's as we speak and happens to be a graduate of Harvard Law. It's your choice."

Taylor let out an affronted huff of air followed by a string of statements communicating his astonishment that Rory would speak to him in such a manner. Clearly, he didn't remember the last little tiff they had gotten into over the operation of his Soda Shoppe when he'd gone on a passive aggressive rampage about the fact that she didn't want to be his ice cream princess, or whatever it was that he'd called it.

Eventually though, Taylor realized that she had the upper hand in this particular argument. He climbed into his truck, grumbling the entire time, and in a manner of moments he peeled off down the street. The music coming from the speakers grew in volume and he slapped a smile on his face as he leaned the window and started beckoning customers.

"So… I guess your little love affair with Taylor ended in record time?" Rory said, turning to Logan and crossing her arms over the top of her belly.

Logan only sighed in response. He ran a hand over his face and started rubbing the tension out of his brow. Rory, suddenly far more amused than annoyed, chuckled and squeezed his bicep.

"Aw, babe…" she started again. "Look at it this way… Hating Taylor is like… your baptism into becoming a real honest to goodness citizen of Stars Hollow."

That didn't seem to comfort Logan at all.

It was no question that the next few months were going to be very interesting. But, Rory had to admit she was a little excited about it. Over the course of their relationship, Rory had found herself feeling out of place to many times. Be it at his overly stuffy family events or the opulent restaurants he liked to take her to occasionally, or the fundraisers and parties full of rich business people that he brought her to once in a blue moon. She had to admit that she was looking forward to seeing Logan flop around like a fish out of water in her world for a brief period of time.

The expression on his face, however, was completely and thoroughly unamused.

"How long do we have to live here again?"

Rory picked up her phone once again to look at the time. Only ten minutes had passed since the last time she'd looked at the clock, but she was starting to get a little concerned. Logan and the boys had left about two and half hours ago to go pick up the last of his things from his parents' house and grab his own car. Theoretically, he should be back by now.

It was an hour and a half round trip from Stars Hollow to Hartford and back. Rory was very well versed in that bit of information. There were countless hours of her youth spent traveling back and forth between school and her grandparents' house that she would never get back. Though, the bus ride did provide some quality reading time that she otherwise might not get to enjoy.

The point was that Rory knew exactly how long it took to get from Stars Hollow to Hartford and back, and it wasn't two and a half hours. She'd given him a couple minutes of leeway, figuring he and the boys might take a moment to say their goodbyes before going on their separate ways and assuming that he might run into a little bit of rush hour traffic. But even the reasonable cushion of time she'd figured on was starting to tick past it's limit in her mind.

With a concerned sigh, Rory slid her thumb across the screen on her phone to open it rather than setting it back on the coffee table next to the pile of clothes she was sorting through. She opened her message app and was about to start drafting a text to Logan asking where he was, when she suddenly heard an ominous 'thump' coming from the stairway down to the diner.

Intrigued and slightly troubled, Rory set the phone back down on the table and furrowed her brow. When she heard the thump again, she summoned what little energy she had and pulled herself up from the couch. She grimaced as she felt another painful twinge in her back. She might end up having to do something about the couch. She wasn't sure exactly what, but she'd been sitting there all day as the boys brought in things and she directed them where to place them, and the pain only seemed to have progressively gotten worse and worse as the time went on.

Forging through her discomfort, Rory walked toward the door leading into the hallway, and as she approached, she could hear voices coming from the bottom of the stairs.

"I got it!" she heard Logan say in a strained voice.

"You sure?" Luke asked immediately after.

"Yep. I'm good."

Yet another thump followed his assurance, and Rory was forced to imagine what 'it' was gotten until he finally appeared in her vision about halfway up the stairs.

His neck was craned behind himself, looking down at the steps as he climbed them slowly backwards. In front of him, his hands were clasped around the metal handle of an old dolly that was helping him to lift a large rectangular box up the stairs.

"Hey, Ace!" he greeted cheerfully as his eyes landed on her standing in the hall above him.

"Hey," Rory replied, her tone not quite as cheerful. "I would ask where you've been, but that seems pretty obvious now."

The thumps continued to sound around them as Logan carefully pulled the dolly up each and every one of the steps. The higher he climbed, the more visible the box he was carrying became. It was a carboard box with a large blue triangle printed on the bottom half. The word 'Samsung' spread across the front in blue block letters, and judging by the size of it she had a pretty good guess as to what was inside.

She wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or grateful.

The more frugal part of her brain found it difficult to appreciate him spending this kind of money when they were days away from having an infant to take care of and were on the precipice of beginning a multimillion dollar home renovation. But, the rational part of her brain knew that even with those realities in mind, Logan could still easily afford this little toy.

"I stopped at Best Buy on my way home."

"Yeah I can see that," said Rory as she watched him reach the landing at the top of the steps and carefully set the box in a standing position so that he could take a small breather. "You know there's a perfectly operational television in the apartment. I've been watching it the whole time you were gone."

"That thing?" Logan asked, his face contorting in pure judgement and dissatisfaction. "That thing is tiny. And it's like over a decade old."

Logan walked around to the front of the dolly and gently started to walk the box off of the little metal lip at the bottom. He tilted the box downward, letting it land horizontally on the floor so that he could start pushing it toward the door. As he moved, Rory walked back inside, getting out of his way while he brought the box into the apartment.

"Do you really think we need that?" she asked as he stopped just in front of the kitchen table. "We're only going to be here for a few months."

Logan walked into the kitchen and started rummaging through drawers. When he finally landed on the utility drawer, he pulled out a pair of scissors and started walking back over to the box.

"Yeah exactly," he replied as he moved. "A couple months is a long time. Game of Thrones starts up in a couple weeks. Do you really expect me to watch it on that dinky thing?"

Rory looked over at the small little flat screen that Logan was gesturing to. She had to admit, it wasn't the best. Still, it was as small apartment. And a giant television in the middle of the cramped seating area might end up looking and feeling a bit strange.

"I suppose not…" she answered, reluctantly. She'd really rather him not watch Game of Thrones in here at all. But, it seemed one leftover rule from their London relationship still applied. She would sit through Game of Thrones without complaint if he would sit through QI. Though, hers just wasn't the same anymore without Stephen Fry.

Logan started to busy himself with slicing through the tape around the box, and Rory took that as her cue to get back to her task. A lot of the furniture that Luke used to have up here had been moved to her mom's or sold in the years since he'd last lived here. But, thankfully, there were still a few basics – the couch, the bed, the table, and a couple of dressers. Rory had slowly been filling the dressers with their clothing all day, taking a plethora of breaks and even a nap while the boys did all the grunt work.

"Did you see the boys off safely?" Rory asked as she walked back over the couch to resume sorting through the clean laundry her mom had dropped off a while ago.

"Safely might be pushing it," Logan replied. "I think they were heading off to hop some bars."

"It was nice of them to come and help us on a Friday," Rory said. As fun loving and immature as the group of them still acted at times, Rory was quite aware that they were no longer the wild and free young men she'd known in college. When the four of them got together tomfoolery was still pretty certain, but their everyday average lives were far more grown up than that for the most part.

"Well, it's not that hard for Colin and Robert to get a day off work," Logan replied. "And Finn doesn't really have a real job anyway. So…"

Rory smiled. It was true that Colin and Robert had a little more freedom than the average man when it came to their work life. Colin was already a partner at his family firm and Robert was an investment banker. Both of them were non-exempt employees and neither one of them had a strict schedule for work. As long as they got their work done, it wasn't as if they had a boss standing over their shoulders asking questions about where they were and what they were doing. Finn, on the other hand…

"How exactly does Finn… you know… earn a living?" she asked. "I mean, I know he has his trust fund. But he can't just be living of that. Can he?"

Logan laughed and took a deep breath.

"Finn is an Instagram influencer," he replied with a somewhat teasing smile.

Rory had to stop what she was doing. The shirt she had been folding dropped back onto the table as she lowered her arms and simply looked at Logan's amused expression. Surprise wasn't the right word for what she was feeling at hearing that piece of information. It was more… surprise at how unbelievably stereotypical and fitting that career was for a person like Finn. It was simply too obvious to be real.

"You're kidding," said Rory. Logan shook his head and laughed as he set the scissors he'd been using on the table and started to pop open the television box.

"Nope," he responded.

"I follow him on Instagram. How did I not know this?" said Rory.

"He has a private and a public account."

"So what… I mean… How exactly does that even work?" asked Rory. She's always heard of people who were able to somehow make money on social media, but she'd never really given it much thought.

"He's like an adventure traveler. He hikes up things, rides down things, and jumps off things, and he takes pictures," Logan explained. "And he gets sponsorships from sporting companies like Yeti and Northface and Merrell to include their products in his posts. I think right now he's getting ready to go spelunking in Iceland."

"Spelunking?" Rory asked, wondering how on Earth the idea of doing such a thing could ever sound compelling to a person.

"Well, I think he might hit a couple of those hot springs too," Logan offered.

That sounded a bit more her speed, but she still had a hard time wrapping her head around the idea. But, then, she'd never really understood why Logan and his friends were always so keen to spend their college days traveling to dangerous places, doing dangerous things, and sleeping on the dirt. Perhaps it was a way to reclaim their masculinity every once in a while since they spent the vast majority of their life being pampered and living in luxury.

"Well, it's good to know Finn's years at Yale weren't an entire waste…" she said. Logan chuckled in response.

"Yeah, once he learned to put his mind to things other than those frivolous classes, he really found his stride."

"Was his mind ever on his classes to begin with?" Rory asked, resuming her folding duties.

"Fair point."

"It still boggles my mind how Finn ever got into Yale to begin with," Rory continued. "I mean… I know he's not stupid but… has he ever been able to focus on anything for longer than ten minutes? The older I get the more I begin to suspect that the thing he said about sleeping with the recruiter might have been true."

"Finn has said far more outrageous things about his past that have turned out to be true, so I wouldn't put it past him," Logan said. "Hey, can you help me for a second? I just need you to hold this while I pull it out."

Rory looked back over at Logan and noticed that he was currently in the midst of a struggle to get the television out of the box it was still encased in.

"Dirty," she replied with a satisfied smirk.

"Aw, Ace," Logan groaned. "Not your best."

"I know. I'm off my game these days," she said as she stood up once again from the couch. This time, the ache in her back as she stood was so strong that she actually let out an involuntary wince of pain and she could swear she felt it throbbing. Logan stopped fussing with the box immediately.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Rory's voice was contorted in a nasty grimace, but she tried as hard as she could to send him a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine," she said. "I just need to remember to put some pillows behind my back while I'm sitting on that thing I guess."

Logan didn't look at all placated by that explanation. He looked worried, and he didn't seem to believe for one second that she was 'fine.' But Rory did. She had to. She wasn't ready for the alternative.

She was pretty sure she was fine. It was just that her back was hurting. Her back had been hurting for a while now. It wasn't anything new, and the last thing she wanted to do was send Logan into a spiral when chances were this was going to be a perfectly normal evening.

Still, before she walked over to Logan to assist him in getting his new toy out of its box she picked up her phone once again, making special notice of the exact time. It probably wouldn't hurt to start counting.

"Alright here we go," Logan said cheerfully as he walked over to the couch and handed Rory a plate.

He'd managed to get their new television set up pretty quickly, and when he walked back downstairs to grab the sound bar and the Roku that he'd purchased to round out their new entertainment system, he'd put in an order with Luke for a couple of burgers and fries.

It had been a long day. He was more than a little bit exhausted, and the last thing that he wanted to do was cook. But, he supposed the good thing about living above a diner was that a plate of warm delicious food was only a single story away at pretty much all times. Luke had even refused to let him pay for it, an unnecessary gesture but a nice one all the same.

"Our first meal in our new home," he continued. Rory smiled up at him and grabbed the plate out of his hands, wasting no time before she grabbed a French fry and popped it into her mouth.

"Thank you," she replied. "But, you know you didn't have to put it on a plate. We could have just eaten it out of the box."

"Come on, Ace," he said, holding his plate level as he sat down next to her and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "I'm already eating a cheeseburger and fries in my pajamas on a musty old couch. I've got to maintain my dignity somehow."

"You're about to be elbow deep in poop and spit up for the foreseeable future. You have no dignity left, Huntzberger. Just surrender. Become one with the carbs and the stretchy pants."

"Speaking of…" said Logan. "Does Stars Hollow have a gym?"

"Hah," Rory replied, dipping another fry into some ketchup on her plate. "You're funny."

Logan sighed.

This was going to be an adjustment. He always knew it was going to be an adjustment, even when he'd first thought of the idea of them staying here temporarily. Logan had never lived in a small town in his entire life. Hartford wasn't exactly the biggest city in America, but it was still a major metropolitan city with all the amenities that could typically be found in such areas. New Haven was pretty similar in size. And Palo Alto, though technically a suburb, still felt like a major metro area. Then there was New York and London, and they definitely couldn't classify as small.

He was entirely unused to the idea of small town life. He supposed the only experience he really had to compare it to was Martha's Vineyard. Their house there was pretty secluded and the island was pretty limited in what it had to offer other than restaurants, gift shops, and yacht clubs. Still, there was a big difference between spending a couple of weeks at the beach house and spending a couple of months in an apartment with a new baby.

Yet, even with all that in mind, Logan still didn't regret the decision to be here. He'd stay in this apartment for the rest of his life if it meant that he didn't have to miss a second of his little girl's life.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked as he settled himself into the cushions and picked up the remote.