"See you tomorrow, Mom," Rory said, laughing. We hung up, and I went up the stairs to my room. I slipped into my pajamas and crawled under the covers. I could still smell Luke on the pillowcase. I curled up with it, and fell asleep still tasting his kiss on my lips.

Rory was waiting me for outside the entrance of Hartford Memorial's neurology wing. At my approach, she tipped her coffee back for a last big gulp, then tossed the paper cup in a nearby trash can.

"Here we are," I said grimly.

"Here we are," she agreed. We both stood outside the doors in silence. By unspoken agreement, we started forward. The automatic doors whooshed open and our shoes clicked against the linoleum as we walked down the hallway. I stopped inside an archway, where I scribbled my name down on the sign-in sheet by the receptionist, and then followed Rory to some chairs. She flipped through a magazine while I stared at my hands clasped in my lap. I felt like time had stopped, and my heart was pounding wildly. All the worst case scenarios were running through my head. Brain cancer, Alzheimer's, some unknown tropical forest brain eating disease - anything I could think of.

"Lorelai Gilmore?" My head snapped up, and I saw a short woman in nurse's scrubs with her hair pulled back in a messy bun looking around the room expectantly. I shouldered my purse and Rory and I walked toward her. She whisked us behind the heavy door and motioned for us to sit down in the exam room. She proceeded to take vitals and ask questions, which I answered the best I could despite feeling overwhelmed and fuzzy with anxiety. Rory chipped in whenever she could. I reached over and grabbed her hand tightly, and she gave me a small smile. The nurse looked down at her clipboard and nodded briskly. "Okay, I think Dr. Finley is going to want us to do some routine tests, just to get a bigger picture. I'll have a tech come by to get you shortly." She swept out of the door, closing it firmly behind her.

"How are you doing?" Rory asked softly.

I sighed. "I hate this, but we need to know if something is really wrong."

"Yeah," she whispered. I squeezed the hand I was still holding, and she squeezed back.

After so many tests and questions that I lost count, we were finally ushered into the office of Dr. Andrew Finley. He seemed friendly enough, a wide smile on his face and wearing a pressed but unpretentious suit. Rory and I sat in the plush leather chairs across from him, and waited.

"So, I just got to look over all of your tests, and you should feel very relieved." There was an audible whoosh of breath from both me and Rory, and we looked at each other with relieved smiles. "But," he continued, and our faces fell, "I still can't account for the strange memory loss that you are experiencing. My advice would be to see a psychologist. Perhaps your life has just been very stressful lately?"

I considered that. "It's definitely possible," I mused. "I just started a new business, a new relationship, and my parents are separated. Plus my pride and joy," I grinned over at Rory, "started college."

"That was over a year ago," she reminded me.

"The stress may have compounded over time," Dr. Finley said agreeably. He scribbled down a phone number on a post-it note from his desk. "My colleague, Dr. Bates, may be helpful in your situation. She frequently deals with family counseling and drug related issues, but that isn't so different from stress-related memory loss." I must have given him a perplexed look, because he added, "A lot of patients struggling with drug use also have spotty memories." He stood up, handing me the note. Carolyn Bates 447-3339, was scribbled on it. Rory and I stood, too, shaking his hand.

As we walked back down the hallways, I clutched the note in my hand. "What do you think is worse?" Rory said suddenly, startling me out of my thoughts.

"Huh?"

"What's worse," she repeated, "being crazy, or being sick? Because I'm having a hard time deciding."

"Oh, sweetie," I sighed. I glanced over at her, and saw her staring at the floor as we neared the door. I tried to lighten the mood. "Well, you always knew I was a few bricks short. Now we just have confirmation." She shot me a look that let me know she was clearly not amused. "It's probably just stress, baby. I'll talk to this Dr. Bates and I'm sure she has some kind of hypnosis powers to make me all better." I linked my arm with hers as the door whooshed again, ushering us out into the cold Hartford air. "What do you say we grab a cup of coffee before you go back to Yale?"

We stepped into the closest coffee shop, a little doughnut place a few blocks from the hospital. Rory found us a table and I got our drinks. When we sat down, I looked over at her. "Are you okay?" I asked gently.

She looked up in surprise. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" she asked, puzzled.

I laughed. "I'm just relieved that I'm not dying from African brain eating disease." She snorted a little bit, holding her cup in her hands, staring at the shop's logo emblazoned on it. "Really, I'm okay," I assured her.

"Are you going to tell Luke, now?"

I sighed. "I'll take any other topic for $1000, Alex."

"Mom!"

"What? He's going to be devastated. Pining, remember? Ava Gardner."

"Ava Gardner?"

"Yeah, when he showed the horoscope to me on Wednesday, he said something about me being his Ava Gardner. Now, that was kind of a strange reference to come from Luke, so I'm assuming I said it to him."

"Who pined after her?"

"Ol' Blue Eyes." I shook my head as I took another sip of my coffee. Not as good as Luke's, I thought absently. "The point is, he kept all those feelings to himself because he was afraid of risking it. I can't just say 'whoops, forget everything, I don't remember it!' I can't stand the idea of hurting him."

"Would you break up with him?"

"What?" I was confused. "Why would I do that? Luke is great. He's sweet and caring and actually pretty fun. And he has many other talents that I won't burden your delicate sensibilities with."

"I appreciate that," she said wryly. "But I don't understand the big deal. Nothing changes, except you aren't hiding this huge secret from him." We stared at each other for a minute. I could see her point, but I didn't know how on earth I would ever tell him. A thought came to me.

"I was joking earlier," I said, staring at my cup, "but maybe this psychologist actually does do hypnosis." Rory jerked back in her chair. "Hear me out!" I said quickly, preventing her from speaking. "So maybe we can recover some of those memories or something." When I looked at her, she was shaking her head in disbelief.

"Why don't we just go find that tarot woman or something, it would probably have the same effectiveness."

"Hey, Miss Cleo, the brief research I did on the web showed that some people who suffer from memory loss actually do benefit from hypnosis. So there!" I stuck my tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to do my own research," she said, opening the lid to her cup and swirling the contents. "I've got some time tonight, I'll stop by the library and see what they have."

"Okay, babe," I said, standing up. We both grabbed our bags and coats.

"You need to tell Luke something," she said, as we tossed our cups in the garbage can.

"Fine, I'll let him know I'm stressed out and overloaded." She shot me a frustrated look. "It's the best I can do right now," I said defensively. "We'll see what Dr. Bates has to say."

The bell signaled my return to the diner after I arrived back in Stars Hollow. Luke was busy with the table by the window, so I sat down on a stool and waited patiently.

"Hey, you're back," he said, his hand on my shoulder. I smiled at him as he made his way back around the counter. He stuck the order ticket in the kitchen and turned toward me again.

"Hey," I said nervously. "Can we talk?"

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately.

"No, no. I just have a - a thing I need to tell you. You know, something you should know."

"Did you have lunch with Christopher again?" he asked, a sour look crossing his face. Christopher? I hadn't even thought about him since he went back to Sherry. Guess I had yet another thing I needed to bring up with Rory.

"No, Chris isn't involved. Just me."

"Well, okay then." He wiped his hands on a towel. "Should we, uh - upstairs?" I nodded, and after Luke shouted to Caesar that he would be right back, we went upstairs.

"You should sit down," I said, wringing my hands once we entered the apartment.

"Lorelai," he said sternly. "Are you dying or something? You're scaring the hell out of me!"

"Just sit, it's fine. I just need to tell you, you know, because we're together." He sat down, but I could tell he was getting upset with me. I just needed to get it out as quickly as possible.

"I've been having this weird problem with my memory lately, so I went to see a neurologist - but I'm fine!" I said in a rush.

"What?" Luke asked, clearly not having anticipated those words coming out of my mouth.

"Yeah, I'm just having this weird thing where I can't always remember things."

Realization dawned on him. "Like the other morning when you didn't remember if you had the day off or not."

"Yes, exactly! Little things like that. I didn't want to worry you, so I made an appointment and I saw the doctor today. They ran some tests and said I'm totally fine. He thinks it's stress."

"Stress?" His tone was unbelieving.

"Yeah, he thinks it's just mental overload or something. Which is good, because I was starting to worry I had a brain tumor or something."

"Lorelai," he said gently, getting up and putting his arms around me. "I wish you had told me. I hate knowing that you were worried and upset and I couldn't be there for you."

"I know," I said, my voice muffled into his flannel shirt as I clung to him. "This thing between us is just so new, and..."

"Is there anything you don't remember - about us?" he asked, sounding slightly strained.

"I remember us," I lied. I was glad he couldn't see my face. He hugged me tighter. "I was given a referral to a psychologist. So I'll try that out and see how it goes."

"Do you need me to come with you?" he asked softly. I shook my head.

"Nah, I think it'll be slightly less embarrassing if I go by myself." He squeezed me tightly again, then let go. We stepped apart, and he nodded his head toward the apartment door.

"Let me make you some food," he said.

"I'll be down in a minute, I want to call Rory," I said. He nodded, then went downstairs, shutting the door softly after him.

I dropped onto the couch, flipping open my phone. Rory answered on the first ring.

"What's wrong?" she asked frantically.

"Well, nothing health wise," I said, "but I think I need some background into what Chris has been up to and why Luke immediately assumed my news had something to do with him."

"Oh my god," she breathed. "You scared me mom!"

"Sorry," I apologized. "I just need to know. He said something about a lunch?"

"Okay, hang on," I heard movement on the other line. While I waited, I curled up into the side of the couch, drawing my knees up to my chin. "Sorry about that, just had to get into my room. I don't need Paris' input on this."

"No problem. Now, Christopher."

"Ugh," she groaned. "Just listen all the way through before you get mad at me all over again."

"Rory," I said warningly. "What did you do?"

"I was trying to help!" she exclaimed. "Now just listen." I waited silently. "Dad called you a few months ago because Sherry left him and Gigi to go to Paris for some job opportunity." My eyes bugged out in shock, but true to my word, I stayed quiet. "He needed help because he didn't really know how to handle a baby. And this was right after I had talked to you and I realized how happy you and Luke were and I didn't want him to get in the way and mess things up."

"Rory," I murmured, this time softly.

"Anyway, he did what I said. He stayed away. But you thought he was avoiding you or mad at you or something, so you invited him and Gigi to have lunch at the Dragonfly. And you invited me too, but you planned it as a surprise, so Dad and I didn't know we would see each other. We had a huge fight about it. You told me that Luke was fine with the lunch, but if he's bringing it up again, then he apparently wasn't."

I picked at a loose thread on my sweater. "There's a good chance that I didn't tell him until after," I said morosely. "Sounds like something stupid that I would do."

"Like not telling him about your two year blackout?"

"That's different, Rory," I insisted. "This could be temporary, and if that's the case, why hurt him more than I have to? I told him that I was experiencing memory issues and the doctor thinks it's just stress. I'm going to wait until I talk to the psychologist before I decide how to proceed." We both sighed in unison. "I'm glad that I have you, kid," I said warmly. "That despite how much has changed, our relationship hasn't. I still have you."

"Yeah," she said quietly. "You do."

The following afternoon, I was back in Hartford, walking into a sleek two-story professional building not far from the neighborhood that my parents lived in. Dr. Bates was in suite 207, so I climbed the stairs and went through the large oak door emblazoned with Carolyn Bates Family and Individual Counseling Services on the heavy glass. The waiting area was small, with a coffee machine in the corner and a giant grandfather clock against the opposing wall. Pouring myself some coffee, I had barely sat down in a chair to wait when a woman peeked around a door.

"Ms. Gilmore?" she asked, stepping out fully. She was slender and dark blonde, with shoulder-length ringlets and a friendly smile.

"That's me," I replied cheerfully, clutching my bag.

"Follow me," she said, opening the door wider and leading me down a short hallway into her office. There was a large plush couch and several armchairs. The room was decorated in a variety of blues and greens, and I heard a whooshing sound like ocean waves coming from a small stereo. She motioned for me to sit on the couch, so I did, my posture tense and still holding my bag and cup apprehensively.

Carolyn Bates grabbed a yellow legal pad and sat opposite me in one of the armchairs. She settled some glasses on her face, and leaned back, taking me in. "So, Dr. Finley was kind enough to fill me in on some of your situation, but I'd rather hear the story from you. Can you take me through it, from the first time you noticed the memory loss?"

"Well, Dr. Bates," I started.

"Carolyn, please," she said, smiling.

"Carolyn," I amended. "Last Wednesday, I woke up and didn't know where I was. After a few minutes, I realized that I was in my good friend Luke's apartment, wearing his clothes. I assumed that I must have gotten drunk the night before and maybe we had, uh, you know, but I didn't see any evidence that we'd been drinking." Carolyn made a few notes on her paper, and looked up with an encouraging smile. "So, I called my daughter first thing. I mean, Luke has been an important person in both of our lives, so I needed her input. But when I talked to her, I realized she wasn't at school - that is, her high school - but at Yale. And she mentioned something about me dating Luke for the past 4 months. I started panicking."

"So, what did you do next?" she asked, making another note.

"Well, I tried to sneak out the door of the diner - Luke's apartment is above the diner he owns - but he stopped me. He was acting so differently, so much like we were together, that even though I didn't really believe Rory, I was starting to think she was right."

"Okay, so he was acting like you were in a relationship, instead of just being friends?"

"Yes, definitely. He was being really flirty and sweet. I mean, we always were kind of flirty before, but this was really obvious. So I asked for a newspaper, and then I saw the date and realized it was 2 years later than I thought it was."

"So, last Wednesday, this was -" she consulted the calendar on the wall, "the 5th. And you thought it was...?"

"The 5th, except in 2003."

Carolyn scribbled another note. "Interesting, so exactly 2 years to the day." She looked at me, her lips pursed thoughtfully. "Tell me about the stress in your life." I began to describe all of the things that I had been told had happened in the past two years. The fire at the Independence Inn and opening the Dragonfly, Rory going off to Yale instead of Harvard, and the separation of my parents.

"And of course, my new relationship with Luke," I finished.

"Is that stressful for you?" she asked. I contemplated it, taking a drink of my coffee.

"Yes and no," I replied truthfully. "It's stressful because we have an incredible friendship. And bringing sex into it complicates things."

"And you are afraid of losing that friendship?"

"Oh yes," I said, nodding emphatically. "I mean, he has been a constant presence in our lives for 6 - no, 8! - years. He is practically the male figure in my daughter's life. I mean, my god, he's been around a lot more than her father has."

"What makes you think you are going to lose him?"

I bit my lip, trying to think over my answer carefully. "I'm kind of a trainwreck when it comes to relationships," I began hesitantly. "I was engaged for a few months to one of my daughter's teachers, but that crashed and burned. I didn't have a lot of long term relationships because I was afraid of bringing instability to her life. And the one time I decided to let someone in, it completely blew up."

"Why do you think that relationship didn't work out?"

I dropped my face into my palms. "Ugh, the whole thing was a mess from the start. We kept getting into these ridiculous fights. I mean, he ended up proposing because he was threatened by -" I cut myself off, remembering. Luke. Max had been threatened by Luke's presence in my life. I looked up, suddenly feeling oddly at peace. "There was something there," I whispered. Carolyn looked at me with a questioning expression. I shook myself out of my reverie. "Max proposed because he was threatened by Luke. Like I said, Luke has been in our lives for awhile. And obviously, he was jealous of Max, I just didn't know. It all makes sense now," I said. Carolyn smiled. She was about to say something when I beat her to the punch. "Can you hypnotize me?" I blurted.

"Uh," she started, dropping her pen on the floor. She bent to pick it up, and frowned slightly as she straightened. "What are you hoping to gain with hypnotism?" she asked.

"I want to know if those memories are trapped in my head and if you can get them out," I explained.

Carolyn sighed heavily. "Hypnotism doesn't really work like it does in the movies," she said carefully. "There is a chance that you may be able to recall events, but there's no guarantee that you'll remember it outside of the hypnotic state or if they are even real. It's really difficult to extract real suppressed memories from a patient." She paused thoughtfully. "But if stress is the cause of your memory loss, then maybe hypnosis will help you get into a relaxed state."

"I'm game!" I said excitedly. "I've always wanted to be hypnotized! Although, I was hoping it would be as part of a night of Vegas-style fun, but I'll take what I can get."

Carolyn got me settled and ready, leaning against the couch with my feet up. She began to speak in low, comforting tones, and before long I felt like I was floating. It seemed like no time at all had passed, when I heard her ask me clearly, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," I yawned. "Relaxed. Are we starting soon?"

She laughed softly. "It's over." I sat up straighter. I looked at her, hoping for a sign that we had been successful, but she only had a sad smile. My shoulders slumped again. "Sorry," she said gently.

"Nothing?" I asked.

"I walked you through your memories of the last week, and once we got to Wednesday morning, you jumped back to 2003." I threw myself back onto the couch, dejectedly. I wanted to remember so badly it hurt.

"Listen," she continued, "I'm going to give you some tapes for self-guided relaxation. I'm hoping that once we can get a handle on your stress level, maybe your memories will start to resurface. There something preventing you from being able to access them right now, but I hope that we can chip away at the stress and figure this out." I nodded, collecting my things and standing up. She shook my hand firmly.

"Are you related to Emily Gilmore, by any chance?" she asked, leading me back toward the waiting room. I stopped short.

"Yes," I said, turning to face her. "That's my mother." She laughed, nodding. "How do you know Emily?"

"Our mothers were roommates in college," she said, a twinkling expression in her eyes.

"My condolences," I muttered under my breath, leaving through the heavy door.

My phone started ringing almost immediately after I made it back to the Jeep. I checked it, and seeing Rory on the call display, flipped it open. "Loin fruit!" I greeted her.

"Hey, Mom, how did the appointment go?"

"Bust," I groused. "She tried to hypnotize me, but my unconscious does not want those memories to come forward."

"What the game plan now, then?"

"She gave me some relaxation tapes, like I'm some kind of hippie flower child." I sighed. "It's worth a try, though, right?"

"Right," she said, also sounding dejected. "I just got back from the library. Yale has a pretty great psychology faculty, so they had lots of great stuff."

"Oh yeah?" I stuck the key in the ignition of the Jeep but didn't turn it yet. I flipped through the stack of CDs that Carolyn Bates had given me, reading the titles. Creating Calm Within. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, I still have some reading to do, but I did find this great list of movies that you should check out. It's about people who have suffered from amnesia or other memory loss."

"Like Memento?" I asked.

"That one is on there, but there are some classics, too."

"Hit me," I said, shuffling around in my console for a pen and paper. She listed off the movies and I wrote them down, intending to swing by the video store on my way home. Some movies would be the perfect way to cap off the day.

I was entranced by one of the movies when I heard the front door open. "Hey," I called out. I smelled the food before Luke came into my line of vision. "You are the perfect man," I cooed, as he placed the bags in front of me on the coffee table.

"Still better than Grammar?" he said, easing down on the couch beside me.

"Undoubtedly," I confirmed.

"What are you watching?" he asked, pulling his own food out of one of the bags. I looked over. A salad. I looked at him, quirking my eyebrow. "What?" he asked.

I nodded toward his food. "Rabbit food," I said, then turned my attention back to the TV. "Rory sent me a list of movies with other amnesiacs so I thought it would be fun to check some of them out. This one has Ingrid Bergman and Gregory Peck. It's really good."

He set his food down on his lap. "Do you have amnesia?" he asked worriedly. I glanced over at him, that familiar guilty feeling settling in my stomach.

"I-I don't know," I stammered. "The doctor didn't give me an official diagnosis. He just said there was nothing medically wrong with me."

"Well, how much have you forgotten?" he pressed. "Can you give me a percentage?"

"Not really," I said, trying to remain calm. "It sort of comes and goes, I mean, I don't really know what I've forgotten until I can't remember it." Luke looked carefully into my eyes. I tried to smile reassuringly. "Don't worry about it, babe. I'm taking it as it comes, it doesn't change anything." He nodded, turning back to the food.

"So, tell me about the movie," he said, picking up his fork and spearing some of his salad.

"This is great," I began excitedly. "So Gregory Peck is this doctor at an asylum but he's not what he seems.."

After the movie, Luke stretched back on the couch. "Ingrid Bergman, she was in Casablanca, right?"

"Yep," I said, taking a long pull from my beer. "You've seen it?"

He stared at me a moment, in disbelief. "Of course I have, it's a classic," he said finally.

I nodded in agreement. "Are you spending the night?" I asked.

"I have early deliveries tomorrow, remember?" He paused. "Maybe you don't." He looked sad.

"No, Wednesdays, early deliveries," I said quickly. "Of course. I mean, I usually spend the night on Tuesdays."

"Right," he said. He began to pick up our empty food containers, cleaning up. I stood up to help, collecting the trash and following him into the kitchen. We cleaned up silently, then we put on our coats and I locked the door. He opened the truck door and I climbed in. As he began driving toward town, he cleared his throat. "I was thinking we should go back to Silvano's sometime," he said hesitantly. "You know, since that was where we had our first date."

"Sure," I agreed. "I like Silvano's." He looked over at me and smiled, although I noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes.

I scooted over toward him on the bench seat and nudged him with my shoulder. "You okay?" I asked softly.

"Fine," he answered gruffly. "Just a little worried about you, that's all."

"Well, try not to," I said lightly. "I'm going to be just fine." I reached over and squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, pulling into his parking spot behind the diner.

We walked inside, and I sat on a stool. The diner was pretty empty, a man and woman chatting over coffee by the window, and the ever present Kirk on a stool farther down the counter. Luke ducked into the kitchen to talk to Caesar for a minute. When he came out, he leaned on the counter across from where I was seated. "There's some leftover cherry pie in the back, you want it?"

"Yes, please!" I answered enthusiastically. He disappeared again.

While waiting for my dessert, I looked to my right and did a double take. There was a giant window in between the diner and Taylor's ice cream store. "Has that -" I pointed to it, nudging Kirk with my elbow. He followed my gaze.

"Has what?" he asked.

"How long has that been there?" I asked. He gave me a confused look.

"Taylor finished construction on the Ice Cream Shoppe while you and Rory were in Europe," he said, still looking confused.

"We went to Europe..." I said, trailing off. I looked up and saw Luke staring at me, holding my plate. He set it down with a clatter.

"Upstairs," he barked. He took off toward the stairs, not waiting for me to follow him. If only he was thinking amorous thoughts, I thought ruefully.

When I got upstairs, he was glaring at me, his face livid. "I can explain!" I said, walking toward him.

"Sit down," he commanded. I sat at the kitchen table, buzzing with nervousness. "I've been testing you," he said, gritting his teeth. I could see him working his jaw, like he was struggling to maintain control. "I've been throwing fake memories at you, stuff that never happened, and you went along with all of it, just like the things that actually happened. Now, I need to know." He stopped talking, his hands tightened into fists by his side.

"My last memory of you and me before last Wednesday," I said quietly, swallowing past the lump in my throat, "was New Year's Eve, 2002."

"Damn it, Lorelai!" he shouted. He gestured wildly. "You've been lying! You don't remember!" I slumped into the chair, tears stinging my eyes. I shook my head. "Unbelievable," he muttered, starting to pace around the apartment. "Were you planning to tell me the truth at any point?"

"I didn't want to hurt you," I whispered. He stopped in his pacing, hands on his hips, glaring at me. That familiar stirring of panic came back. "Don't break up with me," I cried, jumping up and standing in front of him.

"What?" he asked, looking surprised.

"Don't leave me," I whimpered. "I couldn't handle it." I grabbed his hands. "I- I'm falling for you," I said, a tear escaping and trickling down my cheek.

"What?" he asked again, his voice softer.

"I'm falling in love with you," I repeated, my voice wobbling. We stared at each other for a moment, then he dropped his chin to his chest. I waited, still holding his hands, hoping that he wouldn't call it off. "It's like you said," I babbled, "the other night. It doesn't matter how we got here, but we did. Right?" I waited, the silence tense and heavy.

"I need some time," he said, not looking up.

"Time," I breathed. "Are you-?"

"No, not breaking up. I just need some time to think."

"H-how much time?"

"I don't know, maybe a couple of days. A week. I don't know."

I sniffled, then dropped his hands. He stood there, still looking at the floor, his hands hanging limply at his sides after I let him go. "Okay," I whispered. I took some steps toward the door. "I'm gonna go," I said, then slowly went through the door, down the stairs, and numbly walked out of the diner, not responding to Kirk as he called my name questioningly.

I was glad that it was dark, and the Stars Hollow streets seemed to be empty. I didn't know what would have happened if anyone had pulled me aside to chat in the state that I was in. When I got back home, I cried myself to sleep, wrapped in one of the tee shirts he had left behind.

The next morning, I called the Dragonfly and told Sookie I wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be in. She sounded worried, but I made up an excuse about a headache and told her not to worry. I laid in the bed, staring at the ceiling. What the hell was I going to do? I was terrified. I didn't want to push Luke but I hated the idea of waiting. Maybe he would realize that I was way too screwed up to bother pursuing a relationship with. He got a taste of the true Lorelai, and now he was going to realize that the fantasy was way better than the reality. I decided I couldn't just stay in my house and hide all day. I would make myself nuts.

I threw on some clothes and hopped in the Jeep, driving aimlessly down the highway. After an hour, I realized that I really did feel a headache coming, probably from the lack of caffeine. I turned down the next exit, and pulled into a small diner. I felt an ache that I wasn't at Luke's, but tried to set those thoughts aside. I ordered a coffee and muffin to go, then started walking down the street. The town reminded me a little bit of Stars Hollow, with quaint streets and people walking around purposefully. I found myself in a small shopping district, and peeked inside the windows, trying to keep myself distracted.

I turned a corner and started in surprise. Madam Zrak, read the faded storefront sign. "You have got to be kidding me," I muttered. I squared my shoulders, and pushed the door open. What did I have to lose?

The lady's head snapped up when I entered, and she sneered at me. "This isn't right," she hissed at me. "This isn't your time!"

"I need to know what the hell is going on with me!" I cried, tossing my bag onto the floor. She pointed to the chair opposite hers. There was a table between us, covered in a grimy white cloth. She began to shuffle the tarot cards that I didn't even realize she was holding. As I sat down, she placed three of the cards down on the table.

"The Lovers," she said, her voice rough and threatening. I swallowed, staring at the picture that was face up on the table. The next card flipped down. "Ten of Swords." Another card. "King of Pentacles." Her piercing stare lifted and I met her gaze. We stared at each other.

"What does that mean?" I whispered.

She pointed to the Lovers. "You need to make a difficult choice." Her hand moved to the Ten of Swords. "There is disaster imminent, but if you can make the right choice, you can bring something beautiful from its ashes." Then she held up the final card, the King of Pentacles. "This represents maturity, and the people in your life you can depend on. Take wise counsel from them." She swept the cards back up from the table. "Whatever decision you make will change the path of your life. Make it wisely."

I sat back, startled. I felt a shiver go up my spine. "But why can't I remember anything?" I asked plaintively.

The woman got up, and moved to the back of the room. She paused right outside the curtain separating the main room from whatever was in back. "Make the right choice," she said brusquely, and then disappeared. I sat in that chair for several minutes, my mind whirring and trying to make sense of what she had said. Eventually, I got up and walked back to my Jeep, heading for home.

I was watching 50 First Dates, the final movie on the list from Rory, when I heard knocking at the door. "Who could that be?" I asked aloud to the empty room, walking over the the front door. I opened it to see Luke standing there.

"Can I come in?" he asked gruffly. I stepped aside, and he followed me into the house. After I closed the door, we stood in the entryway, staring at each other. "Here's the thing," he started, hands in his back pockets, looking at me with an unreadable expression. "I'm angry that you kept this from me." Tears stung my eyes instantly, and when he realized it, he reached for me. He held my hands, and a look of tenderness came over his face. "Don't cry, Lorelai," he said gently. "I'm in love with you, too."

"You are?" I gulped, trying to blink back the tears.

"I don't know how not to be," he said, pulling me to him. I flung my arms around his neck and held on, the sobs that I'd been holding in bursting out of me like a dam had broken. "Shh," he whispered, cradling me. "You just just can't keep this stuff from me," he continued, "like that damn lunch with Christopher. You probably don't even remember it, but you only told me after and you can't do that. I need to know; I have a right to know."

"Rory told me," I said, hiccuping, tears still rolling down my cheeks and being absorbed by his soft flannel. "I'm so sorry, I'm sure I didn't even think it would be a big deal." He leaned back to look at me, wiping away tears using his thumb. He kissed me softly on the lips. I snuffled in a very unladylike fashion, and chuckled knowing I must look like a mess.

"Did you really fall in love with me over the course of a week?" he asked, looking me in the eye.

"Maybe I've been in love with you for years," I answered, shrugging, my arms still wrapped around his neck. "I just never let myself go there until I woke up in your bed."

"Lorelai," he murmured, bending down to kiss me again. I responded eagerly, brushing my lips against his, relishing the feeling of being back in his arms after being afraid it would never happen again.

"Make love to me," I whispered, stepping backwards and pulling him with me. We stumbled up the stairs, not pausing in our kisses to let go of each other. Once we were inside my bedroom, we began to peel each other's clothing off, dropping it in a haphazard path as we staggered toward the bed, pants falling to ankles and arms getting stuck in shirts.

Falling onto the bed, my arms went around his neck and I basked in the feel of his chest against mine, our legs tangled together, and his hands weaving through my hair and stroking my face tenderly. He pulled back, and we gazed at each other for a few moments. I looked up at him, feeling the weight of his body on mine, and I reached up to cup his cheek. "I choose you," I breathed. "No more secrets. No matter how much I want to avoid the hard conversations."

"No more secrets," he agreed huskily, capturing my lips with his. "I'm yours," he said quietly. "I love you, Lorelai."

"I love you, too," I said, running my tongue against his bottom lip. He sucked it in gently, and I sighed, feeling like I would burst from happiness. We made love slowly, with even more tenderness than we had the last time. When I climaxed, all I could do was mindlessly repeat "I love you, I love you," until my heartbeat returned to normal.

Luke pulled me to him, turning my body so that he was spooned behind me, dusting my shoulders and neck with soft kisses. He caressed my body, whispering that he loved me, too. It was the definition of perfect.

"New Year's Eve, 2002," he murmured into my hair.

"Yeah?" I said, my eyes closed and basking in the feel of his warm body flush against mine.

"You looked so beautiful that night. I wanted to kiss you at midnight."

I turned my head to face him. "You should have," I whispered.