Title: One Word

Disclaimer: none belong to moi.

Couples: implied Jess/Rory

Author's note: I don't know if there will be another chapter. what do you guys think?

If I hadn't said yes I wouldn't be here.

I'd be sitting on a park bench in Washington Square Park having a debate with you over Rand vs. Hemingway, again.

But I'm not.

I'm here.

Staring at my reflection in a golden framed mirror at another useless function being the perfect trophy wife as my husband flirts and mingles. I wouldn't be seeing the differences since when you knew me and how I look now.

My hair was just hair when I knew you. Now, it's burnt and fried to perfection. My face was never made up when you saw me. You saw me at my best. It now has layers of make up and I don't allow anyone to see me without it.

I look hideous.

I ran my fingers up and down my layered face and wince. I want to rip my face off and find a new one. I looked around the bathroom and sighed.

The bathroom was bigger then Luke's apartment.

Luke.

A simple name.

A simple face.

A person who I hold so dear and is now my step-dad. But I shouldn't know that. I wasn't at the wedding. I haven't talked to Lorelai for 6 years.

6 long years.

It feels like eternity.

It feels like hell.

I regret Yale now.

I regret my life when my husband came into it.

At the time I thought he was 'the one' how nieve one can be at 19. I wish I went to Harvard. I wouldn't have met Logan at Harvard. Maybe I would have seen you again, at one of your book signings.

I hear your doing good. I'm happy for you. I hear you have a girlfriend. On the outside I'm happy. On the inside I want to hire someone to kill her.

I miss you.

If I had said yes to you I wouldn't be sitting in a half a million dollar bathtub staring at the blood red ceiling. I wouldn't be curled up ruining my Dolce and Gabbana little black dress. My 300 dollar stiletto heels wouldn't be scratching the bathtub tiles. I would be curled up next to you in a band t-shirt of yours and your boxers. You'd be reading to me instead of me listening to hated distant classical music.

I would love you.

Not suppose to love him.

I glance at the door and wonder vaguely if he cares I'm gone.

You would.

You'd come and find me immediately once I had left. You'd wonder where I was and not stop looking till you found me. You'd make a sarcastic comment and I'd laugh because everything would be fine. Then I'd tell you I love you.

But, it doesn't work like that.

He'll ask me at the end of the night where I was and that would be the end. I wouldn't even have to answer him. He doesn't care about an answer.

Maybe if I had said yes we'd have a child. I would want a boy, like you. We could name him Holden or Atticus. Something that means something to both of us.

A book reference.

A reference no one else but you would get.

He'd have your dark brown thick hair. Not his blonde hair. He'd have blue eyes and a sexy smirk, the one you have not the wannabe rich one he has. He'd get in trouble then pout to get out of it. I would love him, our son.

I glanced at my matching purse and sighed. It was time. I reached for my purse and opened it swishing the contents around looking for the little bag.

I found it.

Pulled it out.

Opened it.

Smiled sadly at its contents.

Whit powder.

Lethal white powder.

I took enough of it out and started putting it in lines with the help of a razor I kept in my bag at all times. Slowly finishing the lines I leaned down and snorted it up in a fast motion. All 3 lines within record pace.

If I hadn't said yes to him I wouldn't be here snorting crack on my wedding anniversary.

I would be with you somewhere in Philly laughing and today would have no meaning.

6 years of pure trophy wife hell with him and 6 years of pure heaven with you if I had only said 'no'.

(A/n: So? another chapter or no? can't decide.)