Oh, thank God, he's not here. I'm not ready to face Luke yet, let alone have to explain my whereabouts. I pull all the way into my driveway, right in front of the garage, and shut off the engine. As I'm leaning over to grab my empty bottles of water and my purse, Paul Anka comes barreling from behind the house and into my car door, barking crazily. Panic sets in as I'm left to assume that I didn't close my front door last night when leaving the house. My heart twists at the thought of my poor dog roaming the streets alone because his over-emotional Mommy spent the night somewhere else.

I climb out of the Jeep and stoop down to check and make sure he's all right. He looks okay and very happy to see me, so I can't help but smile at him. "How did you get out here? Did Babette let you out?" It's early in the morning but quite possible that Babette heard Paul Anka barking and decided to come over and let him out. I search the yard for any sign of her before standing up and adjusting my dress. That's when I see him. Luke, standing on the side of the house, staring at me as if he sees a ghost.

Suddenly, I know exactly why Paul Anka is outside. Luke has been here the whole time. I cringe inwardly at how bad this all looks. It looks exactly like it should. You were with another man last night who wasn't your fiancé, the voice reminds me. I tell myself again that Luke is not my fiancé. Logically, it doesn't matter, and I feel as terrible as he looks, staring back at me, waiting for me to say something. I clutch the empty water bottles to my chest, as if they will somehow protect me, and slowly make my way to the porch.

Luke rounds the bush at the corner of the house and trails behind me. I can feel the tension between us rise with every second that passes in silence. By the time I reach the top step, Luke finally speaks.

"Where were you, Lorelai?" he asks softly, and I can already hear the fear in his voice.

I turn around slowly to face him. The look on his face pains me, but I have to stick to the plan. Plan? You don't have a plan. Whatever plan you had went right out the window along with last night's tequila. "It doesn't matter," I answer, my voice sounding so small and unrecognizable.

"It doesn't matter? I've been here all night going crazy not knowing if you were okay, and you have the nerve to stand there and tell me that it doesn't matter?"

His voice is starting to rise, and I look around nervously; the last thing I need is Hello! magazine getting a whiff of this. I take a deep breath. "We're over, Luke, so no, it doesn't matter."

"What?" he breathes. The shock is evident on his face, and I want nothing more than to crawl into a dark hole and never come out. "We are not—"

I turn quickly before he can finish speaking and head into the house, but not before the tears I've been holding back all morning start streaming down my cheeks. I try to shut the door, but he expertly slips in behind me. "Leave, Luke. I can't deal with this right now." I head for the stairs, dizzy from the tiny bit of exertion, and I start to climb them slowly.

"Which part about what happened last night is supposed to have me believing that we're through?"

I exhale sharply. "Gee, Luke, maybe the fact that I told you it was now or never?"

"Why did it have to be now or never? Do you honestly believe that you would have been okay getting married without Rory there? I sure as hell don't."

Shit. In my last ditch effort to make something happen, I guess I didn't really think of all the logistics. Of course I wouldn't want to get married without my daughter there, but that's not the point right now. "I admit I was a little bit irrational last night, but this was a long time coming."

Luke shakes his head in disagreement. "That's not true, and you know it. You said last night that you were skulking around for months, but you hid it pretty damn good because I had no idea."

The room starts to spin and I close my eyes tightly. "It doesn't matter anymore, so please go. Please."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me where you were all night. I want to talk about this." Luke stands rooted at the base of the stairs as I look down on him from the landing. He's not going down without a fight, I can tell.

I wipe one side of my wet face with the back of my hand and sniffle. My hands start to shake, and I look down to see that I'm still holding the empty water bottles. An hour ago, the only worry I had was keeping down the water and cheese crackers I had consumed on the drive home. Now, staring at this disheveled man in front of me, this man I still love so wholeheartedly, I worry that what I have to say will completely break him.

"I had a drink with a friend." A whole bottle, you liar.

I watch the confusion wash over his face. "What friend?"

"Jose Cuervo?" Judging by his clenched jaw, that was not the right response. I look down at the floor, unable to look him in the eyes as I say, "Christopher."

It's quiet, too quiet, and I have to fight the urge to look up and gauge his reaction. I'm suddenly aware that Luke is barefoot and wearing his sweats and a t-shirt. I don't know why this matters, but these are the things I'm thinking about when he finally asks why.

I shrug with one shoulder, chewing gently on the inside of my cheek. "I had no one else. It was too embarrassing to go to Sookie's house again, and Rory was throwing a farewell party for Logan. I had saw Chris earlier at dinner, so he was the next person on my mind."

My mind is starting to feel like a rabbit hole. With each reason I give him, a new door opens with things I would have to explain. As if reading my thoughts, Luke asks, "When I came here yesterday morning and talked to Patty, you hadn't been home all night?" Staying silent, I shake my head and he continues, "And dinner? What was that about?"

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. "My mom invited him so that she could try and set him up with someone she knew, a therapist. It didn't really go according to her plan." All of a sudden I'm wondering if I'm referring to my mother or to the therapist. I know Carolyn didn't exactly tell me to do what I did, but she was giving me advice.

I force myself to finally look at Luke just as he drags his hand down his face in frustration. "I'm trying to connect the dots here, Lorelai. Something happened to you between dinner and you ambushing me at the diner."

Bristling slightly, I narrow my eyes at him. "I didn't ambush you. I was upset, and I've been upset for months."

"Again, you never told me. I know there have been a lot distractions lately, and I know I've been having a lot of alone time with April, but I thought it was fine. I thought you of all people understood why I needed to do that."

I can't help but laugh bitterly at his assumption. "You assumed I would understand, Luke. We never had a conversation about it, ever. Yes, I went along with it because I wanted to keep the peace, but it was a ridiculous situation! We were supposed to be getting married, and everyone else in town, including my daughter, had spent time with April, but not me. Please, please explain to me how you thought all of that was fine."

I'm seething now and can no longer stand still. I brush past him and head towards the kitchen to throw away the trash I'm still clinging on to. Luke follows, of course, and stands next to the water cooler watching me. As if on autopilot, I start to fix a pot of coffee while waiting for him to respond.

Finally, he walks over to the kitchen table and pulls out a chair, sitting down heavily with a sigh. I keep my back to him as I focus my attention on the dark elixir flowing into the glass carafe. He starts to talk, his voice calm but low.

"Last summer, when you and Rory weren't speaking, was hard for me to deal with at times. You would put on this show for everyone around you and pretend you were fine. To be honest, I couldn't tell half the time when it was real and when it was fake. You were hurting, I knew that, but I gave you all the time you needed to deal with it. Even with all the pain you were going through, we still managed to stay together and become a lot stronger. I thought we were stronger. Then Rory came back, and April popped up. Suddenly our roles reversed. You were happy again, and I was living inside my head." He pauses briefly. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I finally saw myself as a good fiancé, so I thought we were strong enough for me to focus on becoming a good father. That's why I thought you understood."

My bottom lip starts to quiver as I realize how incredibly selfish I have been. Luke is right. He gave me all the time I needed in dealing with Rory before I could even think of setting a wedding date. It wasn't even Luke who pushed for the date to be set in the first place, it was Sookie.

The damage is done, time to fess up. Pushing the voice's words aside, I reach up into the cabinet for a mug and fill it to the brim. The aroma hits my senses, and for the first time since waking up, I can feel myself relax a little bit. "Luke," I say, my voice raw with emotion.

"Please don't ask me to leave, Lorelai. I want to do whatever it takes to fix this. You were angry last night, I get that, but you can't just decide that we're over. I-I love you more than anything, and I know I don't say it enough—"

A sob catches in my throat as I force out the words. "I slept with Christopher last night."

Once again, silence takes over the house. I stand there, silently crying, and wait for Luke to pick up a chair and toss it against the wall or for him to flip the table over and scream in anger as if he was the Incredible Hulk. Nothing happens, and I start to question if I actually said the words out loud. Finally, I decide that chair-breaking, table-flipping, and screaming would be better than utter silence, so I turn around to face him. "It was a mistake, Luke, and you have to believe that I didn't go there for that reason."

Luke nods slowly, and I can't tell if it's in agreement or him processing my confession. All I can see is his profile, so I am unable to read his eyes. His jaw is clenched, and I have to refrain from reaching out and smoothing the worry lines on his forehead. I was never one who enjoyed being given the silent treatment. There's this need in me to fill the void, and like word vomit, I can't help what comes out. "I don't even remember what happened. There was tequila, lots of tequila, and I just wanted to make the pain go away. I have never felt this awful about anything in my entire life."

He leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, and hangs his head. I can feel his anger building as I watch his back start to rise and fall with rapid breaths. Part of me, the twisted part, wants to get a rise out of him, to see him get angry over all of this. The other part of me is terrified that if he does, there's no way we can come back from it. I stand there, quietly, waiting for him to respond.