Chapter 3

"Did you ever love her, really?"

Luke rolled over with a groan, unable to dodge neither the rather inappropriate question nor the finger persistently poking him in the back. The finger belonged to his off again, on again first love, Rachel. Rachel, who (rather nobly, in her mind) stepped aside years earlier so Luke could make his feelings known to Lorelai Gilmore. Rachel, who once again wooed the lonely diner owner back to her bed (OK, it was his bed, actually) but with a different agenda in mind.

Rachel made her way back to Stars Hollow after she saw the "Muse" exhibit in London. Harper Holden Conlan had been her inspiration, her reason for pursuing photography as her career, her dream. She even went so far as to camp out for six days outside of his Austin ranch in hope of meeting her hero. Instead, she was quietly ushered away by a bored looking housekeeper wielding an old hunting rifle and a bright red bouffant up do. Rachel begged the woman to let her meet her idol, almost arrogantly proclaiming that the housekeeper was standing in the way of an encounter of epic proportions.

At that, the woman laughed heartily, cocked her gun and told the star struck admirer that Mr. Conlan would have to survive the massive disappointment of missing such a "like minded artiste."

Needless to say, she didn't get to meet him.

So, years later, a very stunned Rachel crept through the London opening of Conlan's master work, struck by the sheer genius of her personal icon and by the fact he in turn was inspired to pick up a camera after decades by…..Lorelai Gilmore?

"Come on, Luke," Rachel needled, fueled by her growing frustration with the somewhat lackluster sex and by the fact that her ex and the brilliant Conlan were enchanted by the same lissome brunette.

Luke shifted so he could face the woman reclining on what would be in his mind "her" side of his bed and said,

"No."

"This coming from a man who keeps a very, worn book of exhibit photographs in his closet. I know, I know. April used it for her research but why didn't she take it home? Wasn't it rather difficult to peruse the book from New Mexico?"

Rachel's voice took on an icy tone as she continued baiting Luke. Luke, for his part eased out of the bed and pulled on a nearby pair of jeans. He leaned against the bureau at the end of the bed and patiently waited for her to finish her diatribe.

"Tell me, Luke. What did you think of the mermaid series? Unbelievably sensual, were they not? I had read that they were inspired by the fact that Lorelai had pulled one of Conlan's grandsons from a riptide, saving his life. She refused to give the EMTs her name but the little boy was so obsessed by the "mermaid" that saved his life that Conlan himself tracked her down. Of course, a story like that could sell a lot of tickets so who knows?"

Luke's stomach churned as he listened to the bitter woman who was holding court in his bed. His loneliness cost him a few indignities, such as the constant gossip and the denigration of his emotional and mental facilities. However, he dumbly thought that seeking comfort from his first love would be somewhat healing, at the very least, nostalgic. It turned out to be nether one.

Rachel's rant took on an even uglier tone.

"I also had heard that she was on the beach that evening because she was planning to take her own life. She had letters written, the dog given to a new home, the whole nine yards. I've got to hand it to Lorelai. I mean, honestly! How many people go from being an interrupted suicide to being the savior of the art world? How co….."

Luke angrily grabbed the surprised woman by the arm and hurled her towards the bathroom, her back slamming against the door. He then scooped up her clothes from the floor and threw them at her feet. As he approached her Rachel cowered against the door, fearing a physical blow. Instead, Luke stood in front of her, his face red with rage. He handed her his cell phone and looked at her for what he hoped would be the last time.

"Don't you have a plane to catch?"