"You know, none of this is any of your business," Luke tells Lorelai as he roots through his toolbox, and she's struck by it, because it's just so true. He has a marriage, and a townhouse in Litchfield, a whole life that was none of her business. And she hated it.

"It's absolutely my business." She says resolutely, as if saying it will make it as true as she wants it to be.

"How?" Luke asks, and Lorelai flounders, but only for a second.

"Because! I spent a week of my life adjusting to the idea that you had moved only to find out that you haven't moved." She said. Technically true, although she had far from "adjusted" to it.

"How much adjusting did you have to do? Nothing's changed! I still see you every day, I still cook your food, I still serve your coffee. What do you care?" Luke eggs her on. It's a trap, and he knows it. A dare, almost. A dare to cross that line. A dare to give him a reason to believe he was more than the man who cooked her food and served her coffee. And of course he was. Lorelai knew that.

"I care," Lorelai says, and as soon as she does, she regrets it. Not because it it's not true, because of course it's true. But it's not her place. Not anymore. He's married. Married. It's not her place to care.

"Why?" Luke asked, his voice simultaneously begging her to give a genuine reason and serving as a sharp reminder of what she had just told herself: it was not her job to care.

"Because I don't want you to move," she answers, honestly, but knowing she isn't telling the whole truth.

He sees right through her. They've known each other for eight years. Of course he sees through her. "Why? Why do you care? What are you trying to say?"

"This isn't you, Luke! Mr. lives-above-his-diner, gruff-man Danes suddenly leaves the town he's lived in his whole life for a townhouse in Litchfield? That's not you at all."

"What are you trying to say?" Luke asks again.

"Is this how it is now? You get everyone addicted to your coffee and off you go?"

"Lorelai, I don't know why you're mad at me." Luke pleaded, his eyes begging her for answers. Lorelai took in a sharp breath, struck by his misunderstanding.

"I wish I was mad," Lorelai laughed bitterly. They looked at each other for a moment before she crossed the room and her lips collided into his, kissing him for a moment, pulling away just before he could react. "I'm just too late," she whispered, her voice choked with the sob she was failing to hold back.

He looked at her for a moment, still coming down from the shock of having the woman of his dreams, quite literally the woman he had dreamed of for the past eight years, here, standing against him, the taste of the coffee he'd brewed for her still on her lips. And now his. His moment of self-collection ran just a second too long, however, and when he'd finally regained enough consciousness to react, she was slipping away, out through the large church doors.

"Lorelai, wait-" Luke called after her, but the gentle thud of the chapel doors prematurely punctuated his plea, and she was gone.

Luke stared at the door for a moment, trying to catch up with how quickly the night had changed. She'd asked him to help her break the bells, and he thought they were over it. They were done fighting. They were friends, despite what she had suggested when she found out he'd moved without telling her. Or, fake-moved. Because she was right. His new home, much like his marriage, was a sham. That was why he hadn't wanted to tell her. Because telling her would mean that it was real, and as she could tell, it clearly wasn't.

He half-sat, half-collapsed into a pew. She had kissed him. She had kissed him and run off. She thought she was too late. Had he been feeling everything he'd felt for the past eight years? And he had to get married for her to realize it. For them to realize it? She wasn't too late. Not for him. But was he too late for her now? Would she not want him anymore, now that she understood his propensity to screw things up? No, he wasn't too late. He couldn't be. He tossed his screwdriver into his toolbox and made a hasty exit. He had bigger bells to break.

Luke wound up at Lorelai's house before he could think any better of it. He rang the doorbell and started pacing the porch before the door swung open.

"You shouldn't be here," Lorelai said.

"Lorelai-" Luke started.

"You should be home with your wife." She said, spitting out the last word as if it were a slur.

"Am I too late?"

"What?" Lorelai asked, shocked.

"You kissed me… and I just have to know if I'm too late. Because if I'm not-"

"You aren't." Lorelai admitted softly.

"When?" Luke asked.

"What? Lorelai asked again.

"When did you know that you had feelings for me? Because if you're just mad because I married Nicole, I can't do that Lorelai. I can't just be your rebound from Fish Guy or whatever. I need you, Lorelai, all of you. I know you. You flirt and you banter and you don't let people in but it's too late for us to do that. We know each other too well. If you have feelings for me I need to know if they're real before I make anymore stupid decisions. So was it when I married her? When I told you about the cruise? When I started dating her?-"

"Rory's sixteenth birthday."

"What?"

"Or, I guess the day after."

"I don't-"

"You blew up balloons and made a coffee cake for my daughter and her friend."

"Yeah, well, you only turn sixteen once."

"Nobody else in this town blew up any balloons."

"I guess not."

"You didn't have to do that Luke. But you did, and even if I had told you not to you would have. Because that's what you do. You're always there, taking care of us and making sure that we're okay, and doing your best to keep us happy."

"I just like to see you happy." Luke admitted sheepishly.

"Luke, you're not too late. But I am. Go home to your wife, she's probably up and worried sick."

"You're not too late, Lorelai. You're not. I can fix this." he said desperately.

"Luke, I can't ask you to do that. Don't throw away your life for me."

"I threw my life into the Atlantic when I married Nicole on that cruise ship. This isn't me throwing anything away, this is me trying to piece it back together."

"Luke."

"Tomorrow morning, I'll sign the divorce papers."

"Luke."

"Just tell me that I'm making the right choice. That I'm not going to be alone forever. That I'm doing it for good reason."

"Sign the papers," Lorelai said after a beat, and suddenly Luke was kissing her again. He was emotional and passionate while still being incredibly gentle, and Lorelai regretted that she had to pull away.

"Please don't make me leave," Luke said, knowing what was coming next.

"You can stay, but I'm not going to be the other woman, even if it's just for one night. Okay? Once you're divorced, officially, legally divorced, we can go there. But not tonight. That's not the kind of man you are and that's not the kind of woman I am."

"Going to take you out to dinner first," Luke murmured.

"That's the kind of woman I want to be." She agreed as she led him up the stairs.

"You are," he corrected as she led him into her bedroom.

"I uh, have a pair of your sweats. You let me borrow them when I slept at your place."

"Great, thanks."

"You can go ahead into the bathroom," Lorelai said, needing not to point it out as he had already repaired practically every square inch of her home, master bath included. She changed quickly while he was in the bathroom, putting her legs under the sheets before he re-emerged. "You'll have to sneak out tomorrow morning."

"Huh?" Luke asked, confused at the sudden change in topics.

"Babette will see you. Did you drive here?"

"Walked. Ran." He said as he climbed into bed next to her.

"Good, good. You'll probably have to sneak out for a while… The gossip mill."

"Not worried about what they say." He replied as he shut off the light.

"They'll say I'm a homewrecker."

"Nothing to wreck," Luke reminded her as he slung an arm over her waist.

"Luke-"

"Shh." Luke consoled her. "We can talk about this later. Let's go to sleep. Long night, big morning ahead of us."