Chapter Two- The Reflection of the Perfect Bride

Lorelai had to be shaken awake the next morning at eleven fifteen by an incredulous Emily who couldn't help but spit biting comments about the state of her bedroom or her lack of enthusiasm about her own wedding day. She was shoved into a chair in front of her vanity while the stylist hired by her mother came in and pulled and tugged and smoothed her riotous curls into an elegant chignon while the make up artist got work applying a layer of make up that was meant to look as though she was 'natural' and had just woken up looking like something off the front of a bridal magazine. She caught Rory's gaze in the mirror about halfway through the tedious and slightly painful progress and when her daughter offered her an encouraging smile Lorelai found she couldn't return the favor. Had someone asked she would have told them that her hair had been pulled too tight but as it was Emily shooed Rory out to get ready herself and the Gilmore matriarch didn't have time for such frivolities when there was a wedding to prepare for.

The time came for her to get suited up in the monster of a dress that Emily had chosen for her because she had been apathetic toward the whole dress issue. All Lorelai could think as the two hired hands carried all the yards of lace and silk toward her was that her debutant ball gown had come back to eat her alive. She stood in front of the full length mirror attached to the inside of her closet and held the front of the strapless bodice up as the woman who had done her hair used a tiny hook to pull the itty bitty buttons up the back of her dress through the equally tiny loops. Lorelai hardly recognized the woman standing before her, polished and drowning in a sea of pearl white fabric. The woman in the reflection was the perfect bride but all she could see was the sadness hidden in the depths of her eyes.

Apparently Emily saw it too.

"That'll do Deborah, Amanda. Go down and help my granddaughter with her hair and make up, now. Something appropriate for a sixteen year old."

Lorelai looked over her shoulder through the reflection in her mirror and caught her mother's piercing gaze as the two women ushered her daughter downstairs to gussy her up as well.

"What's wrong, Lorelai?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're lying to me. You never were a very good liar."

All she could do was shrug helplessly. How could she convey to her mother that the dress wasn't perfect and the day wasn't perfect and the man… the man wasn't perfect either? How could she stand there in all her pre-marital glory and say that she was making the biggest mistake of her entire life when her parents had gone to such great lengths to make it the wedding they'd always pictured for their little girl?

"Does he treat you right, Lorelai?"

"Yes."

"Does he make you happy?"

She hesitated. Max was a good man. He was smart, stable, and he liked Rory. He was eager to please and gave her whatever she wanted. He didn't always understand the nuttiness that was her pop culture references but he always smiled and nodded. He did whatever he could think of to fit into their lives, homes, and hearts and he'd succeeded as far as her daughter was concerned. But Lorelai couldn't help but recall the tension in her belly the first time she'd let him into her house and the voice in the back of her mind that told her that he didn't belong there. Or the discomfort that had kept her awake when he'd spent the night in her bed and forced her out of her own room and down into her daughter's. She considered the fact that there was passion between them but no chemistry; she didn't feel sparks when he kissed her.

And it didn't go without thought that she'd never once had an annoying voice in the back of her mind tell her that Luke didn't belong when she'd let him into her house for both practical and personal purposes. He'd always adored Rory and it was obvious that she could ask him to get her moon and he would do everything in his power to make it happen. He wasn't always up to speed on her references but he played along and held his own against her. He made his objections to her eating habits known without actually trying to change who she was. He'd never had to work at fitting into her life, her home, and yes… even her heart. He'd always fit and Lorelai couldn't help but wonder if his lips would have sparked like flint against hers.

"I… I don't know."

"Then you have a lot of thinking to do and not very much time to do it in."