Chapter 4

The cigarette hadn't helped at all. I wasn't really expecting it to, they never helped when it came to Rory, but yet I stayed out by the dumpsters behind Luke's until the pack was gone and cigarette butts surrounded my feet.

Casual sex wasn't a new thing for me, but actually knowing things about the person I had done it with was. And the fact we would remain friends and see each other regularly. All of this was foreign.

I felt guilty, like I had cheated on Rory, even though it has been years since we've been together. But every girl since her felt wrong. Thus, none lasted long. A quick fuck here and there when the memories got to be too much and I couldn't stand one more night alone, forgetting to forget.

They were usually blonds, like Shane. Sometimes a redhead. Never a brunette. None had blue eyes or porcelain skin.

Try as I did, she was never out of my system. All my wet dreams were about her. All the books I read and movies I saw, I would imagine what she would have thought of this character or that plot. Nothing was sacred, nothing was without her attached.

I don't think that will ever change. The memories will always be a fresh cut in my soul, and Emma was sure to be everything Rory dreamed.

I wandered. Past the bridge, the gazebo, Dwight's house, until I was at her front door. It's not true what they say, about wandering and ending up where you least expected to be. I knew where I was going. I knew that I needed to go.

I took the key out of the turtle and let myself in like it wasn't dragging a rusty knife through my soul.

The foyer was where I gave her The Shags CD. The living room was where we made out on quiet afternoons her mother was kept busy working. The kitchen was where we discussed books with Paris and ate enough food for twelve people. Her bedroom where her window was my usual escape route after my night time visits.

Clothes littered the floor and books occupied every bare surface. Her collection was huge, much bigger than mine. You can't bring everything important with you when you move every few weeks.

I fell onto her bed, exhausted. How had I made it this long? Three weeks? It was an eternity in my eyes. Even though I couldn't see her, I knew there was always the chance, always the possibility of her coming back to me. Always the chance of randomly bumping into each other in Stars Hollow when visits happened to coincide.

Resting my head on her pillow, I briefly wondered why it was wet before I realized I was crying.

I fell asleep surrounded by her scent.

This was it. This was all that was left that I knew how to do. I loathed the redundancy of it. Why did I have to continue to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, for so many years to come?

I have been used to the fact that life is never fair. I understood that from an early age that the people you needed would never be there and the only one you could trust was yourself.

And then she changed that, a simple reference to Oliver Twist and I threw my entire philosophy out the window, only to be proved to yet again that life just doesn't work like that. She was gone, forever and this was exactly why I never wanted to fall for her.

I knew from the start how this would end. She would be gone and I would be left, alone and heartbroken. I tried, I fucking tried not to let her have this effect on me—but dammit! I ended up not as strong as I thought.

I desperately wanted to give up; the urge to do so was so incredibly strong. But Rory threw me another curve ball and left me her daughter. I had failed her in everything else, how could I fail her in this? And Emma was everything her mother was. I knew this would bite me in the ass, staying around, watching her grow and become her mother's daughter. Bur yet I knew I would stay if it killed me—which I'm not so sure it won't. I knew it would hurt me like nothing else had, and yet I would stand and welcome it if it meant being just the tiniest bit closer to her.

I was a glutton for pain when it came to Rory Gilmore. I almost hated myself for it. Almost.

*~*~*~*~*~*~ 6 MONTHS LATER*~*~*~*~*~*~

Extensive renovations had been made to the Gilmore's Crap Shack, and it hardly deserved the title anymore.

Rory's room was to become Emma's nursery. A short hallway, laundry room and a bedroom now connected the extended kitchen and the garage. The new bedroom became mine. Lorelai's room was expanded to make room for Luke and a guest room had been added to the upper level.

With all this done, we could no longer ignore the fact that we needed to clean and box up Rory's room to make room for Emma.

Lorelai and I decided to tackle the task one Saturday together while Babbette and Morey took care of Emma, who had begun crawling recently, and Luke was at the diner.

The clothes were sorted, "keep," goodwill," and "Lorelai's closet." Books were moved either into the guest room or my room. Papers, notes and pictures were either boxed or taken by Lorelai or myself. Her stuffed animals alone filled two large cardboard boxes.

Lorelai set to work on the desk, the only thing in perfect order, while I turned to the closet. I started on the clothes, assuming that was all that was there but instead, wedged into the furthest corner, I found two shoe boxes duck taped shut and a large moving box.

The first shoe box was labeled "Dean." The second was labeled "Logan." With a sinking feeling I reached for the last, and largest box. Her Jess box.

I swore, catching Lorelai's attention.

She saw what was at my feet, "Crap. I forgot about those. Looks like you've found yours." She said, lurching to her feet and crossing the room.

"When…when did she make this?"

"It started right after you left. But she's been adding to it for years," she said, crossing her legs to sit beside me at the floor of the closet.

This one was not clumsily sealed with too much duck taped; instead the well worn cardboard flaps were tucked in neatly.

"You can open it" Lorelai suggested. "I think she'd want you to."

I opened it apprehensively; cautious of what was to come. It was mainly filled with books: Oliver Twist and Howl among them, with a dozen CDs thrown into the mix: The Distillers and The Clash. There were the earplugs from the concert, her Chilton uniform, candid and posed pictures of us from when afternoon when we had fun with an old camera found in Luke's apartment. There was what must had been her prom dress, a slinky red strapless gown and I wished for the thousandth time I had not gone to California, if only to see her wear it.

I began searching through the books, curious to see which ones she had buried away within the box when she said it.

"I'm sorry"

I dropped the books in my hand.

"Huh?"

"I'm sorry I hated you."

"Uh…wait, what?" I asked bewildered.

"I knew she loved you, I knew you loved her, but I didn't want her to be hurt. I…I was hoping she would find someone…safer. But real love isn't safe I guess," she rambled. I stared.

"What I mean is, I'm sorry," She continued. "It wasn't fair to you. I based my whole opinion on that night we met and I was too stubborn to ever think differently. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. I could have done a lot differently. Try and help change your opinion even. I never gave you a reason to trust or even like me. And I believed Rory about me as much as you did. she always gave me too much credit."

"Maybe back then. But definitely not now."

We paused, the air surrounding us suddenly heavy with all this truth pour out of us.

"So…did we just have one of those cheesy bonding moments?" I asked, smirking.

Lorelai grinned, "You bet mister."

"Heated egg rolls taste so much better," I said appreciatively.

"Yeah, I thought you might welcome a little use of the microwave this time," Lorelai laughed.

We finished sorting and packing most of Rory's room and we were now taking a well deserved lunch break.

"So when did Rory tie the knot with the sleaze ball?" I questioned.

"He popped the question during her graduation party. She turned down an offer to follow Obama's campaign and they were married that spring."

"My invite musta been lost in the mail," I said sarcastically, only slightly bitter.

"What? But you were invited!" Lorelai said shocked.

I munched through my Kung Poa Chicken. Lorelai's fist hit the table.

"Dammit Shira! 'Oh you're doing everything, let me take care of invitations,'" Lorelai mocked in a high, whimpering tone. "Bitch," she muttered.

"And Shira is…?"

"Logan's mother."

"Ah," I said simply.

"She cried. She was really hoping you would come," Lorelai said quietly. "Would you have, if you had known?"

"Yea."

Lorelai nodded and we resumed eating in silence, a heavy weight pressing down.