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It was 11pm and Rory Gilmore was exhausted. She thought that she was ready for Luke and Lorelei’s second wedding--as a Gilmore, she loved a rerun--but she was wrong. She wasn’t prepared for the leaves falling as Lorelei I do, she hadn’t braced herself for the swell of warmth she felt when she saw Stars Hollow showing up to celebrate their family, and she was overwhelmed by the hug Luke gave her when she took him aside to tell him he’d be a grandpa.
So, there she was, after a night of eating, drinking (non-alcoholic beverages), and dancing with everyone from Miss Patty to Lane’s twins, she was spent. It was about midnight when she finally admitted defeat, flopping onto her seat at the head table where she could listen to Luke failing to convince Lorelei to call it a night.
“Nice wedding.”
Rory started. She hadn’t heard Jess sit down. As the maid of honor and best man, they’d be in each other’s orbit all day, but they’d been too busy to actually talk. It’d only been a few weeks since they’d seen each other, and so much had changed. She’d written a book. She’d gotten pregnant. He’d put on a suit. Essential things had happened.
“I hope Miss Patty doesn’t see you looking like that.”
“She can’t run as fast as she used to. I think I can still make it.”
“You haven’t seen her properly motivated.”
“I don’t know if I’ve heard anything more terrifying.”
She smiled, “hey.”
“Hey.”
The last decade had been good to him. It wasn’t even about how he looked—at least, not exclusively. Credit had to be given to how he’d matured into his looks, but it was more than that. The chip was off his shoulder, but he still felt motivated, grounded, intriguing.
“Nice wedding,” she said.
“I already said that. Want to get out of here?”
She stared at him. “Like, run away with me, we’ll go anywhere? I feel like I’ve heard that one before.”
He smirked, “No. Like the night is winding down and no one’s looking for us and the apartment above the diner has a bed. Like, we’re both single and it could be fun.”
“Oh. Oh!” For a moment, she could picture the whole night unspooling in front of her. She blushed and looked down at the table, where her eye caught on the coke. Coke. No rum. No whiskey. Just coke and coke. Right. She frowned, “I can’t.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“No, it’s not,” she floundered, checking for Babette and Patty. The coast was clear, so she decided to take a risk: “I’m pregnant."
He took a long hard sip of beer and Rory wasn’t breathing. She had no idea how Jess would react and she realized she really cared about how he’d react.
“That changes things.” He stared out at the thinning crowd. “Congratulations. How are you feeling about it?”
“Um, excited. Overwhelmed. A little scared. It’ll be good.”
“It’ll be good.” He exhaled a long low breath out. “A baby. Great. Can I help?”
Could he help?
She wasn’t a teenager wandering into an inn with a newborn in her arms. She had a community. There’d be a whole town of people to care for her and love her kid. She would be fine. And what could he do anyway? She didn’t need a pen pal. Everything she’d need would be in person and he was heading back to Philadelphia tomorrow.
So he’d, what, move back to Stars Hollow to help with laundry? Leave the publishing house to help her with errands? That was way too much.
She wouldn’t ask him to blow up his life just because hers exploded. He was never good with staying and if he felt trapped, that’d be even worse. He just asked to be polite.
“I’m good. With Lorelei and Luke, and Emily, and Lane, and Paris, and Sookie, and everybody else, well, we’ve got it.”
“Right. Um, if you need anything.” He deflated? That didn’t seem right.
“Hey Rory, can you help out over here?” Lane’s voice called from the dance floor. Rory and Jess glanced over.
“Is that a drunk Kirk in a-” Jess said.
“Break dance competition with Bootsy? Yep.”
“Sounds urgent.”
“We are progressing past the worm into a shoulder spin so yeah, it could get bad.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Jess.”
They both knew he’d be gone when she got back, but this was easier than saying goodbye.
“Anytime.”
If there was one rule of the internet, it was: Do not google your ex boyfriend. Also: Do not google your ex boyfriend after midnight. And most importantly: Do not google your ex boyfriend after midnight when you’re pregnant, living with your mom, and when his fiance is very very hot and very very French and your mom is on her honeymoon. Just a word to the wise.
But there it was, at the front page of the same gossip sites where Lorelei watched Britney’s haircut journey and spied on Jon Hamm’s grocery adventures: Logan Huntzberger, scion to the Huntzberger media empire surprises friends and family alike by eloping with fashion heiress Odette Beaumont in a small private ceremony.
Small and private, but they still got pictures of his tux and her immaculate sleeveless a-line ballgown. Her nose, button, her hair, glossy, her makeup, on point, and her fashion sense, undeniably Parisian. She was looking up at him lovingly and the way he was smiling down at her didn't say “dynastic obligation.”
Rory had picked the wrong day to lean into wallowing. Whether it was the hormones or the bloating or the general depression, it had felt like a really good day for a pity party an hour ago, but now she had regrets. Her face was puffy, her sweats were old, she was plopped on her mom’s couch because (even if Lorelei said she could stay as long as she wanted to) she was still technically homeless, and she was really wishing she could feel pretty right now, but that wasn’t happening.
She slammed her laptop closed and took out her phone. She didn’t know who she’d call. Lorelei was on her honeymoon. Lane went to bed early these days and Paris was on a sleep study that she was taking very seriously. She thought she might call Logan on pure instinct, so she was shocked when she found she had called Jess.
“Logan got married.”
“I’ll be right there.”
“From Phillie? That’s a 4 hour drive.”
“Boston. For work. I’ll be there in 90 minutes.”
85 minutes and one pint of Lorelei’s emergency triple caramel chunk later, there was a knock on the door. The rain was pounding down around him and his jacket was slick just from walking to the door. He looked spent from the drive and he was just about the best thing she’d ever seen.
He looked over at the tv. “ Sid and Nancy ?”
“It felt appropriate.”
“But Gary Oldman’s hair is better.”
And for the first time she laughed.
“You still love him,” he said it as a statement—not judging, just resigned.
She thought about it and shook her head. “We’re done. I made sure of that. I just didn’t-”
“Didn’t expect him to get pissy and elope?”
“Pretty stupid, right?”
“Nah.” He closed the door behind him. “Dean, Logan,” he counted the names out on his fingers. “You’ve got that effect on men, I guess.”
“You didn’t marry anybody when we broke up.”
“I’m too picky,” he yelled over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen. “Where do you keep the cocoa?”
“The cocoa? Um, cabinet by the stove.”
He gathered what he needed and put it on the stove, and heated up the stove. “Whipped cream and marshmallow, right?”
“Yeah,” Rory craned her head as he poured it into two mugs. “Why are you making cocoa?”
He turned off the stove and guided her back to the couch. “You can’t drink bourbon or coffee and you looked like you needed something.”
It felt silly. It was a kid’s drink and this was not a kid problem, but when he held his mug up, she clinked it against his and when she took a sip and felt the warmth of the cocoa fill her stomach, she did feel better.
“Logan’s the dad, right?”
She nodded. As Sid told Nancy he was quitting heroin, Rory waited for Jess to ask her about timelines, the overlap, the questions she didn’t like to answer, but all he said was “he’s an idiot.”
“My kid’s going to have half his DNA, so maybe don’t call him an idiot.”
“The other half’s good enough to make up for it.”
She stopped to think. His DNA. His kid. The right choice felt so clear when she talked to Christopher, but that also felt like a long time ago.
“The worst part is I haven’t told him. He’s married and I haven’t told him,” She put the cocoa on the coffee table. She didn’t want it comforting her anymore. “I should tell him.”
“You’re still processing.”
“I was thinking about never telling him. Even though it’s his kid. I’m a monster.”
“You’re not a monster but you are spiraling, but you don’t need to decide anything tonight.” The way he put his arm around her was so familiar, she didn’t remember that they didn’t do that anymore. He paused to think. “You’re making choices for what’s best for you and a kid now. That’s more important than shoulds.”
“He told me I could write my book in his family’s house in Maine. Maybe just stay there.”
“And you’d be his dirty little secret? That’s bullshit, even for him.”
She shrugged. “I turned him down.”
“Good.”
“She’s pretty right?”
“Who?”
“Odette. His wife. She looked pretty in the pictures.” She showed him the page on her laptop.
“That’s an abrupt change in topic, but sure. She’s pretty.”
“And he looked happy?”
“He’s smiling.”
“Do you think she knows?”
He closed the laptop, put it aside, then guided her head to his chest. She felt all the fight go out of her body. “That’s their problem.”
The movie was over and it looped back to the DVD menu, but neither of them moved to change it.
When they were young they never sat this. It was all making out and arguing about books and the excitement and exhaustion of not knowing what he’d do next. They were always making up for lost time or trying to shove as much in before she graduated, or what they’d be next—she was never sure which one it was—but this was different. It was quiet and steady. She could feel her head rise and fall with his breath.
She felt herself falling and woke up with a start. He was standing at the linen closet. “You fell asleep. I was getting a blanket and then I was heading out to Luke’s.”
Rory sat up, “Are you sure? The weather’s pretty bad out there.”
“Do you want me to go?”
She checked her phone. 3:30 am. His eyes were tired, but clear. She tried to read what he wanted, but the only thing she could hear was what she wanted. She wanted him to stay. Maybe it was the lack of sleep but it felt like they were talking about more than one night.
She shook her head.
“Good.”
He spread the blanket over both of them.
As the rain pounded down, she felt his breathing slow and heard the beginnings of a snore. She smiled as she drifted off to sleep.