There was the night after I found out I was pregnant with Rory. I didn't sleep at all.
There were many tough nights after Rory was born, and I'm not talking about getting up to nurse a crying baby.
There was the night after Chris told me that Sherrie was pregnant. That one was mostly tough because of Rory.
There was the night that Luke and I kissed, tough because that was the night that my Rory became the other woman. Not the best way for a young woman to lose her virginity.
I had so many tough nights during my rift with Rory. But through them all, he was always there. Holding me. Luke. My rock. Making those nights somehow not as tough.
But the toughest night of all was the warm spring night that he was not there for me. The night he would not elope with me. The night that Chris was there for me in the most unfortunate way.
And now I am divorced.
You'd think my nights would be tough now. Lord knows, that's probably what my wolf-girl giver of a mother is thinking. But just as I always suspected, it's not tough sleeping without Chris in my bed.
Oh, not that the night that Chris and I split up for good wasn't difficult. I ended up driving around half the night, and ended up at Rory's. And ran out of gas.
Just like my patience did, that warm spring night.
But being without Chris is not tough at all.
Being without Luke is, though. Even after almost a whole year. Because no one has hurt me as much as Luke did that night.
So now, my nights are a different kind of tough.
Tonight, for example. I'm lost in a maze of hay.
Say that three times and pretend you're not at a Stars Hollow festival!
A busload of Inn guests have learned all about that tonight.
And yes, I really am lost in a maze. Where the hell is Michel? He's supposed to be helping me. That's what my life now has come down to: depending on Michel, whereas once, I could always depend on...a certain diner owner.
For weeks, I have been hoping to see him, to see if he'll notice that IT is no longer on my left hand. I know he's somehow at the festival, as Babette kindly took the time to let me know. She's a sly one; not exactly subtle with the hints, there. I guess she prefers it when I'm with someone like Luke, who lets me pull link sausages out of him on Halloween, rather than with the guy handing out prepackaged Russell Stover Halloween gift bags.
I round the corner of hay bales, having long-ago lost track of Michel.
"Yoo-hoo!" I call, as I slowly peer through the darkness, which has just enveloped the town square.
I hear the dry rustling sound of straw. Rats. I hope it's not rats I hear...
"...Taylor?" I inquire with hope, just under my breath, as I finish rounding the corner.
I run smack-dab into him.
He's sitting on the ground, his back against a bale.
"Nope. Not Taylor," he responds in a bemused tone.
It's amazing how awkward this still feels, almost a year after the break-up. Have I mentioned how long ago the break-up was?
Oh, the town still looks the same, the house looks the same from the outside, and the diner looks the same. But he looks different, and not just because of the black cap.
He had to have donned that black cap on purpose. He has to know how much it hurts me to see that he no longer wears the blue...
"Lorelai?" he exclaims in surprise, scrambling to his feet. "You OK there?"
I quickly pull myself together. "Yeah...just kind of lost here..."
He chuckles, while brushing stray needles of hay from his jeans. "Yeah, I know. I lost track of Kirk about oh...half an hour ago, and...well..."
Luke gestures awkwardly with his hands, and I try to suppress the smile that wants to curve my lips.
"Yeah, me too, I'm lost...so lost..." I say instead, and involuntarily shiver.
"Lorelai, are you OK?" He seems to need to ask me that again.
I know that tone of concern. The tone I have heard hundreds if not thousands of times before. The one he used for Rory and me, and probably now, for April.
I shiver again, and before I know it, he's slipped off his jacket, his dad's jacket, I recall, and draped it over my shoulders. He guides me, turning me, and whispers conspiratorially, "I know how to get outta here. Come, I've got some coffee..."
Surprised, I quizzically gesture his way.
"Gotta keep up appearances," he chuckles. "Every once in a while, it pays to let Taylor think he's a success."
I haven't been to the diner in almost a year, I think.
My body seems to recognize this, because my legs seem to lose all power to hold me upright as I collapse onto the stool--my old stool. I pick idly at the random pieces of straw still stuck to my jeans, as I watch Luke go through those familiar motions.
After all this time, he's still the guy who brings me coffee. Maybe he was right: we'll be OK if we're just Lorelai Gilmore and her coffee purveyor.
The skin on my forearms rises with goosebumps as he hands me the cup. The first time since that night...the hospital doesn't really count, I think...
I divert my thoughts. "So April...she's good?" I ask, trying to convince him that I really am interested.
"Yeah," a smile spreads broadly over his face, "she hates New Mexico, but it's good that she's with her grandmother. She's only got the one..."
And my kid has two, and one of them can't be bothered with her, I think, subconsciously rubbing my arms.
"You cold?" he asks. "I can go get you a sweater..."
"Nah, I'm OK. Your jacket is warm," I respond, "and this will help." I hoist the cup to my lips, and indulge.
"You sure?"
He reaches out to touch his hand to my arm, but before he can complete the movement, he remembers and abruptly pulls his hand back.
I shiver, in spite of the warm caffeinated goodness now coursing through my body.
The awkwardness returns between us, until he jumps back in.
"So, your letter, I gotta tell you, it really did the trick," he says as he wipes an imaginary coffee drip from the counter.
"It's OK, Luke. You already thanked me that morning..." I remind him. That morning that Chris did not wake up next to me.
He looks at me, intently. "No, really, Lorelai. That letter, it put an end to things. Really ended things."
Panic runs through me. Does he know why Chris left?
He continues. "Anna...she was keeping April from me and now, that's over." He stops to squint at me, in the semi-darkness. "Geez, Lorelai, you've got straw sticking in your hair, and..."
I give him a look.
"Here," he tosses some keys onto the counter, "go upstairs and take care of it. You'll feel better."
"I..." I stumble over my words, awkwardly, "I don't really have to..."
"You know where everything is," he blandly states. "I'll come up to walk you home when I'm done down here."
Forcing my butt off the stool that has long missed its imprint, I awkwardly make my way towards the stairs to the apartment.
It looks different. I wonder if he's been seeing someone. Or maybe Liz got him to redecorate?
Must be Liz, I think, noticing a tub of baby wipes on the shelf. The one he built for me. I wonder if April uses it now.
The sight of my straw-strewn hair in the mirror is pretty funny, I've got to admit.
After de-thatching myself, I'm still chilly. I rub my hands rapidly up and down my arms. It's that awkward time of year, not yet summer, but winter hasn't quite disappeared, especially late in the evening, after dark.
I settle down in his chair, and flick on the TV.
A while later, I glance up to see that he has come in and is looking at me.
When he notices that I notice, his eyes become unfocused and don't meet mine. "What happened?" he finally asks, tapping his left hand.
"Doesn't matter."
"Oh."
Cue another awkward silence, finally interrupted when I quip, "I guess we're even now."
His brow furrows.
"Nicole, Chris..." I explain.
His calm demeanor disappears in a flash. "Damn it, Lorelai, don't you take anything seriously?"
I've made a big mistake.
"I do," I defensively retort, "We...I...made a mistake."
He chuckles; a low, humorless grunt emitting from him. "Too late for that, doncha think?"
It dawns on me that he's not talking about Christopher and me.
"Luke, I'm so sorry..." comes flooding out of my mouth. I can't stop it. "I didn't mean to, it's just that you wouldn't go with me and Anna said..."
"No. Stop, Lorelai. Stop!"
And I do.
"Do you have any idea what it was like? You slept with him. Married him. You were so...cold." His hand lifts and he doffs his cap and runs his hand through his hair, staring off at some unknown object against the wall. "You were so...so...cold...so...sock-man..."
I don't want to hear this. I don't want to point out the obvious to him, that if I was cold and indifferent following our break-up, it was his emotional coldness and indifference during the whole April situation that started this break-up ordeal.
Instead, I plead with him. "Don't do this."
He sighs, replacing his cap. "What do you want me to say, Lorelai?"
"Please...Luke...let me explain."
"If it makes you feel better...suit yourself..."
"I'm sorry...I should have talked with you about the April thing, but I was so hurt, and when you wouldn't marry me..."
And then it happens. I can feel his eyes on me. In the dim light of his apartment, I can tell that Luke's demeanor and focus have changed. The look on his face goes from anger to indifference to softness...as I continue to babble on about the mystery of possibilities unrealized and finally getting Christopher out of my system and how the reality wasn't as good as the fantasy...
He is kneeling beside me, one hand on my knee, the other on the chair.
"Forgive me," he murmurs repeatedly, his head bowed.
It's a statement, not a request.
I am afraid to say anything in return. Truth is, I forgave him a long time ago. He was just trying to be a dad on his own. And after all, I have to forgive him, because having him in one's life is an amazing gift, right?
I look at him, wanting to say something.
And amazingly, remembering what I said in the letter, I find my voice. "I did."
He stops and says simply, "Lorelai," as he rubs his fingers across my knee.
"I should be getting home," I tell him as I shrug off his jacket and begin to stand.
His hand falls from my knee, and he plants it at my waist and helps me up.
He whispers, "I know it was my fault."
More silence.
"I told you...to go be with him...and you did..."
"Oh Luke..." I reply, our silent standoff resuming.
But this can't go on. I look at him, and hear the words, "I need you...I need you in my life, Luke" come from my mouth.
My confession startles both of us.
"I...I don't know," he replies, as I remain standing, rooted to my spot. "I don't know what I can give you," he continues as his hand firmly supports me.
Actions speak louder than words. Actions speak louder than words. Actions speak louder than words. I remember all the times he told me this.
I need to act. I need to act before the moment's gone.
Yet, I find that I can't move.
Do something, my say-something voice says.
I stare into his eyes as my hand takes his hand and places it on my chest, right where my thin top's zipper pull is.
I try to smile as I help him pull the zipper down, then step back to pull off my top.
You're not in Paris anymore, Lorelai.
No romantic fantasy of bistro and Eiffel Tower--just the reality of an apartment above a diner in Stars Hollow.
"Lorelai?"
I think I really did catch him by surprise. But I'm not surprised at all. I suddenly can see it: Chris was right. I have feelings.
I still love Luke. And God help me, I think he still cares for me, if the look on his face as he takes in the sight of me in my bra and jeans is any indication.
"Luke..." I respond.
He steps back and takes both my hands in his.
His hands are so strong, and memories flood back as he holds mine with such care. Slowly, he brings first one and then the other to his mouth, pressing a kiss in the center of each palm before pressing it against the stubble I have waited almost a year to feel once more.
I hesitate, but the stubble, it weaves its magic, so I plunge forward. "I never stopped..."
He silences me with a long, deep kiss.
There were many nights that I tried hard to remember what he tasted like.
Now, I no longer have to remember.
Promise, I think. He tastes of promise.
Somehow, my jeans slip down my legs, and as I step out of them, I silently congratulate myself for slipping off my boots and socks earlier before watching TV. Luke takes a step back and I hear the sharp intake of his breath as he stares at me, standing there wearing nothing but two bits of very sensible everyday cotton.
Luke likes everyday cotton, I remember, and smile.
"You should get dressed and go home," Luke says, but not very convincingly, as he wraps one arm around my hips and dips down to press kisses from my throat to just above my belly button.
"Uh huh," I answer, neither meaning yes nor no. My hands seem to have found their way to his hair and I gently turn his head so that his check is resting against me. I feel the wonderful rasp of his evening stubble, and the warmth of his breath, and my god, I'm standing here wearing nothing but my underwear...
Luke exhales and stands, and guides me over to the bed.
Anyone else and I might have jokingly quipped about who last slept there with him.
But not with Luke, I think, as he pushes me down, flat against the comforter. My hands on his shoulders pull him down onto me, and we roll over. We maneuver ourselves so that I straddle him as he sits, propped up against the pillows.
In the space of a second, Luke unhooks the clasps of my sensible bra and quickly removes it. I guess it's like riding I bicycle. Once a guy's figured it out...
Why are my hands at the throat of his flannel, I wonder, as his hands move lazily up and down my arms.
My arms? I'm sitting here topless, and he's wasting time with my arms.
"Luke," I say, thinking that if I revert to my chatty-during-sex self, he'll be more at ease, "I want you to know that I..."
"Shut up, Lorelai," he growls, as my hands finish unbuttoning his flannel.
But before I can pull it off him, he pulls me to him and grasps my head in his hands as he crushes my chest against his. In response, I thrust my hips against him and feel a thrill when I notice the heaviness of his erection pressing against the thin cotton of my panties. That thrill is quickly surpassed by his answering thrust, as his mouth moves to one breast while his hands grasp my shoulders.
So, that's the answer to the puzzle. The way out of the maze, I think. Together again.
Luke wasn't kidding when he said he was in, all in. I just forgot that that sentiment would also apply to things like getting to know a long-lost daughter.
I'm a different kind of lost now, I think. A kind of lost I want to be. I seek out his eyes, thinking that if his expression mirrors mine, then we must both be very very lost on purpose. I lean forward and place kisses atop his head. Luke stops and looks at me, and I discover that I was right about his eyes. I cover his mouth with mine and initiate another kiss. His lips still feel so magical.
My hands are bored and get busy. Luke laughs into my mouth even as I kiss him, as I fight with the sleeves of his flannel. Together, we quickly pull it off, along with the grey t-shirt underneath, breaking the kiss as shirts make their way over his head.
When a couple has been together for a while, they tend to get into a pattern. Step A is followed by Step B is followed by Step C...As Luke wraps his hands around me and pulls me back down to him, my mouth against his, my hands playing against his chest, I wonder if he remembers how we used to be, and if we're going to follow the steps so familiar to us.
But Luke stops, and starts nibbling his way across my jaw and down my neck. His hand gathers my hair at the nape of my neck as he gently exposes my throat to his lips. I think I'm learning a new set of steps here.
"God, Lorelai," he breathlessly moans, "Missed you, missed you..."
Something else is different here, I think. He's doing the talking and I am the one reduced to breathy moans and Monica-Seles-like grunts as Luke's mouth ravages me, strong yet careful.
I again thrust my hips against him, and take the hand that is not at the back of my head, and guide it as it slips into my panties. Without missing a beat, it's as if a year has not passed as his familiar fingers slide into me, and then back out.
"God, Lorelai," he repeats.
I am no longer coherent.
His hand moves in short strokes. In and out. In and out. And through it all, I only hear his breathless "God, Lorelai."
When it's over, I feel sated. I find myself on my back with Luke next to me.
Luke is stripping off his jeans and boxers, and that sight should be more than enough to revive me. I should take off my panties, I think, but his fingers have taken me to a state so languid, that I can't move.
Luke has always been good at getting things ready.
And I'm no exception. He nods his head in the direction of my hips, and I lift them up from the bed as he hooks his thumbs into them and slips them impatiently down my legs.
"Lorelai," Luke murmurs.
"C'mere," I respond.
Oh god. I remember the time that he said it in this apartment. We'd had a fight...about Christopher.
That time, his tone was full of regret. This time, my tone is full of confidence.
"C'mere." I repeat my invitation. I fully expect him to plunge deep into me without a second thought.
But Luke remains frozen. I wonder if he is having second thoughts. God knows that I would if I was him.
"Luke, c'mere," I repeat.
He climbs onto the bed and lies down next to me, an arm across my belly.
"Are you OK, Luke?" I ask, as I go on to reassure him that we really don't have to do...anything...right now.
"Tell me it's really over with him, Lorelai. Tell me. Tell me that he's really gone."
"Oh, Luke. Divorced and gone."
I open my arms to him, and suddenly, he pushes inside me, filling me so well.
"Gone. Gone. Gone," he chants, and I can't say anything. He needs to say it, to know it.
He begins slamming into me, up and down, in and out. I have no choice but to hold on tightly to him, letting him feel what he needs to feel. The only sound is that of two bodies no longer lost, finding each other again and again.
I know that we are no longer lost, because for the first time in a year, there is no thought but that of how good we are together, how right this feels as we cling to each other. As my legs wrap around him, I know that I won't ever let go of him again. I won't ever let us be lost again.
It's morning when I awake in an empty bed, but immediately feel comforted by the smell of his coffee.
I call out to him. "Hey, Luke."
He returns, bearing my coffee. His eyes move over me and take in the way I am clutching the sheets to my chest. He smiles then, responding with a "Hey back atcha" as he places the steaming mug next to me and begins pulling the sheets out of my hands.
"What're you doing?" I ask.
"I don't like it when you...you don't have to cover up...unless you're cold..."
I get it, and drop the sheets as I reach for my coffee.
Only the sound of my caffeine-deprived slurping disturbs the morning.
He reaches for his cell.
"Got an important call to make?" I quiz him with a bemused smile on my face.
"Yah. I...I need to take care of something," he tells me. There is an odd note in his voice that I can't quite place.
I offer him privacy. "I um...need to go use the bath..."
"I, uh, I need to call the airlines. Next week is my turn to fly out to see April."
My first reaction is annoyance, quickly replaced with a sense of pride in the man, the father, he's become. But then I remember the odd note in his voice just moments before.
"Is everything okay?"
Luke sits down on the bed next to me, cell in one hand, and takes one of mine in the other. "Uh, yeah," he says, then quickly adds, "Uh Lorelai, I need to ask you if...something..."
I smile encouragingly and give his hand a squeeze.
His hesitation continues. "I just want to apologize again, Lorelai. For the way I handled the whole April thing. I was scared. So scared..."
Again, I smile and squeeze his hand.
"You've always been there for me, Lorelai. Especially now, for me and April. And I thank you. For helping us when we needed you, even when you had every reason not to..."
I find my voice, and tenderly respond, "Luke, stop."
But he continues, with of all things, a rant directed at...himself! "I just want you to know that I screwed up and that I'm not going to do that again. I let Anna dictate everything with April and that kept me from telling you. I need you to know that I've changed. People can change, you know. They don't just stay the same. And I don't expect anything from you concerning April. So I don't expect you to spend any time with us and I don't expect you to come out to New Mexico with me, unless you want to, and of course you have Rory and the Inn, and I just want you to know that you can spend time with her, with us, and..."
"Yes."
He's caught off-guard by my unequivocal response.
I repeat myself. "Yes, Luke. I'd love to spend some time with you and April."
He works to push out the next words. "Can you...will you come with me next week? It's my first time out there..."
"Yes."
I'm still squeezing his hand.
"I'm in this for the long haul, Luke. And I don't have to work next weekend...and it probably is a good idea for a woman to come out and make sure that wherever you're going to be spending time with April is, well, not so dark..." I pointedly look around his apartment. "She redecorated, didn't she?" I add.
He smiles at me, eyes crinkling at the corner, yet wide. "Tar-zhay," he chuckles.
I've had a lot of tough nights. But the man who's just brought me coffee and just given me a night of loving and just invited me in to share his life with his daughter is about to change that. And all it took was just the reality of an apartment above a diner in Stars Hollow.