Rory Gilmore was drowning in manuscripts. They were on her desk, the chairs, the floor, her bookshelves. Being a book editor at Random House wasn't a glamorous job but it did have its rewards. She still got a thrill whenever she discovered new writing talent or when she tweaked a manuscript just right that it seemed to magically come together. The writers she worked with were an interesting group and all were pretty easy-going except for a certain political/current affairs writer named Paris Gellar who had been her best friend, classmate, and main rival at Chilton.
It was a sunny Tuesday morning; Rory was sitting at her desk editing a Madonna tell-all when the phone rang.
"Hello, Rory Gilmore speaking," she said as she cradled the telephone receiver between her ear and shoulder while reaching for her cup of coffee.
"Well," Lane Kim, her childhood friend, said without preamble.
"Well what?"
"You know well what. Did Tristan send you flowers again today?" Tristan was Tristan DuGrey, Rory's ex-husband and the president and CEO of DuGrey Incorporated. For the past two weeks he'd been sending roses to her office every day. When Rory had tried to dissuade him from doing this, he'd begun sending two bouquets a day.
"No, but this morning a guy from Tiffany's delivered this beautiful diamond tennis bracelet."
"No way."
"Way."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I don't want to hurt Tristan's feelings but I don't love him anymore."
"Are you sure?" Lane asked. "Because you haven't been on a single date since the divorce."
"I don't have time to date. I'm a single working mother with two kids."
"That doesn't mean you have to become a nun."
"I'm not lucky in love, besides some people are just meant to be alone."
"You honestly don't believe that, do you? I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't point out that you seem to be emotionally stuck – you won't move forward but you obviously can't go back."
"Look, I'm really sorry for burdening you with my problems. I can't talk to my mom about this because she's so happy with Max and I don't want to bring her down. I can't talk to Paris because she and Tristan travel in the same social circles and I don't want her carrying around our emotional baggage."
"Hey, it's okay. I don't mind listening to your problems. I'm worried about you, that's all. You're my best friend, I just want you to be happy."
Happiness, Rory Gilmore thought after hanging up the phone, was a fickle and fleeting thing. She'd been happy when she and Tristan had reunited at Yale. She'd been happy when they'd gotten married. She'd been ecstatic when Alex and Hannah were born. Their lives had started out blissfully simple enough. After graduation they'd moved to New York setting up house in a tiny apartment in the Village. Tristan had been working for Goldman Sachs and she'd been hired as an editorial assistant at Random House. Four years later Alex was born and their respective careers had started taking off. Then out of the blue Tristan's father called. He wanted Tristan to take over DuGrey Incorporated. Once Tristan became president, he started spending more and more time at the office. Rory knew it wasn't another woman; if it had been, maybe she could have said or done something about it. Instead, their problems stemmed from Tristan's need to prove to his father that he wasn't some deadbeat rich kid squandering daddy's hard earned money. After years of putting up with this, Rory finally realized that she couldn't compete with Tristan's demons. Thus, she packed up the kids and left, later filing for divorce citing irreconcilable differences.
Now Tristan wanted to get back together. Well, she couldn't. She couldn't go through that pain and loneliness again and she wouldn't put her children through that hell again either.