Disclaimer: If they were mine, she wouldn't be kissing anyone but Luke.
Author's Note: Lula Bo and CineFille are the awesomest. Truly.
He knows she's home, and not just because it's July 1st and that's when she said she'd return. He can tell because of the furtive glances he's been getting in the diner and the more-than-typical amount of whispering.
From the furrowed brows and questioning expressions, he thinks that they're wondering what's going on with him and Lorelai. He knows that he is wondering what's going on. It seems safe to assume that they're broken up. She did go to Christopher; that's certainly worthy of ending a relationship. And she gave back the ring.
It all sounds so cut and dried, and it would be easy to say that they're done because she did something unforgivable. But he knows it's not that simple, and after talking with April on the fishing trip he's pretty sure that he doesn't want it to be that simple.
It's driving him crazy to run it around over and over in his head. It's literally muddling his mind to the point that he's forgetting things and botching orders, and by the time she's been back three days, even easy-going Caesar is sighing under his breath and flashing frustrated glances his way. After the majority of the dinner crowd has been served and everything is under control, Luke mumbles to Caesar that he's going out for a while, throws together some slices of pie and coffee, and slips out the back.
The Lorelai who answers her door is muted, colorless. There's weariness in the set of her shoulders and a hollow look in her eyes. His first reaction upon seeing her is compassion, but in a sudden, unexpected rush of anger, he hates that it's the first thing he feels. Looking at her standing in front of him brings back all of the contradicting emotions: the resentment, fear and hate he thought had diminished, and the concern, hope, and love he's been reluctant to fully acknowledge.
He notices her make an almost imperceptible grimace of pain before she covers it with a mask of neutrality. Neither of them has spoken and he doesn't realize how long they've been standing like that until she says simply, "Luke."
There's no curiosity, no expectation, just acknowledgement, and he's so unnerved by her familiar, yet unfamiliar presence in front of him that he just thrusts the cup he's holding toward her. "Coffee."
She nods and accepts the cup, wrapping both hands around it and holding it close to her chest. He stands, watching the steam curl out of the lid before feeling the weight of the bag in his other hand. "And pie," he says, offering her the bag.
She takes it, glancing back and forth between her hands before looking up at him, her nose quirked up and her face crinkled in confusion. "Why?"
"You've been back three days."
The creases in her brow deepen, and he continues, by way of explanation, "And you haven't been to the diner."
"But you don't have to do this," she insists quietly. "You don't owe me anything."
"I'm not…it's not." He hesitates, suddenly irritated that she's rejecting even this. "It's just a cup of coffee," he says gruffly, at least in part because he doesn't want to explain. He doesn't have an explanation for why he's here and he's annoyed that she's pushing him on it. "What? I'm still not allowed to talk to you? Who says you get to make the rules?" he asks bitterly, looking up and this time seeing not the broken woman who answered the door, but the one who hurt him so cruelly. "I shouldn't even want to talk to you."
Lorelai's mouth falls open slightly, as if in surprise, and he can hear hurt and confusion in her voice. "So why did you come?" She lifts up her hands, still holding the coffee and pie. "To give me dessert and then tell me how horrible I am? I don't understand what you want."
He takes in a breath, working his jaw as he tries to come up with an appropriate retort, something that will convey his full frustration. But she's looking at him with such frank uncertainty, that he can only sigh as his shoulders fall in defeat. "I want to go back. I want you not to have slept with Christopher. I want to stop feeling like I should hate you."
She closes her eyes and he can hear the pain and regret in her voice. "But I did and you do and I can't change that. No matter how much I want to."
He shakes his head in frustration. "Why do you think that?"
"What?"
He swallows hard, forcing the words out, "That I hate you."
"Don't you?" she asks, as if she hasn't understood him. "How could you not? I slept with him. I slept with Christopher."
"Stop saying that," he insists. "It's not just about that. There's other stuff that happened. It's not just about that."
"Isn't it?" She looks up at him, her eyes clear blue and sad. "I couldn't – if I'd sat down and planned it out – I couldn't have come up with something that would hurt you more."
A sudden pressure squeezes Luke's chest and he has to push back against it to allow air into his lungs. He takes a step back to regain control of his breathing before he responds, and when he does, his voice is rough. "Is that why you-"
"No," she says, jerking her head back and forth emphatically.
There's one more question that he needs to ask, though the fear of it makes his mouth go dry and the words come out thickly. "Do you want to be with him?"
Her voice is softer this time, "No, Luke. No."
"Then why?" he asks without thinking. He can see her take a deep breath and start to answer, but he interrupts before she can respond. "You know what? I don't want to know. I don't want to talk about him anymore."
"I don't either." She sighs heavily, squeezing her eyes closed. When she opens them, her expression is pained. "Luke?"
"Yeah?"
"This isn't about me wanting him instead of you."
"Really? Isn't that what it usually means when you sleep with someone else?" He'd intended the words as an attack, but even as he says them, he knows they're not true, and the truth of that takes the sting out of his voice.
Lorelai gives him a helpless look. "I know it must seem like that…"
"I don't," he says suddenly.
"What?"
"I don't hate you. I think I did." He lets out a long huff of breath. "I know I did, but even when I hated you I loved you." He closes his eyes, reaching a hand up to rub his temples, in an attempt to stave off the blinding confusion. "God, Lorelai. I don't…I mean, you're just standing there and I can't let go of you, but I can't forget either, and," he throws his arms down in agitation, "I don't know whether to push you against the wall and kiss you, or walk out the door and never talk to you again."
He watches her duck her head and clinch her hands tightly at her side, as if she's bracing herself, though against what he's not sure. Her shoulders rise as she takes a breath and when she speaks he can see the effort it's taking her to hold her voice steady. "Are those really the only two choices?" Her posture reveals a hardness he's not seen before in her – a new level of strength that doesn't seem to be a façade.
He stares down at his feet for a moment, then shrugs. "No, but I tried to give you coffee…"
She lifts her head and gives a forced chuckle. "And I shot down the messengers." Lifting the coffee and pie, she stage-whispers, "Sorry, guys." He can't help but let out a glimmer of a smile, but she seems to think better of the moment of levity and says seriously, "I'm sorry. Luke."
"No, I'm sorry. For snapping…"
"It's okay," she says, giving a dismissive wave with the hand that's holding the bag. "I do appreciate this – the coffee, pie." She pauses, as if considering her words, then adds, "I've missed it."
The words warm him and he says sincerely, "There's always coffee for you at the diner."
The invitation hangs there for a moment, while Lorelai bites on the side of her lip like she does sometimes when she's unsure. Finally, she gives a little nod.
"Well, I'm…uh," he points backwards with his thumb, "I'm gonna go. I'll see you."
She nods again. "Okay," she says slowly and a touch reluctantly as he turns and walks down the porch stairs.
Crossing the yard, he jams his hands in his pockets and ducks his chin toward his chest as he tries to figure out what to make of the encounter. He hadn't been prepared for the rush of feeling brought on by simply seeing her, by hearing the pain and sadness in her words. Having her confront the issues, and put names to his feelings makes it harder to deny the anger and frustration. He'd thought that the dark and bitter emotions he'd been feeling had begun to fade, but having them make their presence known so forcefully has shaken him, making him wonder if he's kidding himself when he tries to see a way back to Lorelai.
It takes four days for her to come to the diner. Four days of waiting and wondering. Four days that try his patience. By the time she does walk in and settle herself hesitantly at one of the tables, he'd managed to convince himself that she'd given up on even the coffee. He's carrying a tray of clean dishes when she walks in. That, combined with the shock of actually seeing her here, in the diner, makes him unable to do anything other than nod. He wonders how intentional it is that she's chosen a particularly quiet mid-morning time and a table away from the counter.
They don't exchange many words – just a few polite pleasantries. He asks about Rory and when she responds with an inquiry about April he mentions the trip to the cabin and April's upcoming trip to visit her grandparents. Except for the call on Father's Day, it's the first time Lorelai has mentioned April since Luke had made the trip to Vermont. He's not sure why they haven't talked about her – if it's because one or both of them is specifically avoiding the topic, or if it's just habit, now, not to talk about April.
After a short time, they've run out of small talk. He doesn't know what to say or how to say it, and he's already refilled her coffee, so he plates a cherry danish, wordlessly setting it on her table and sliding it toward her. He's back at the counter when he hears her say, "It's not Danish day." He just shrugs in response, and she looks away shyly.
Neither of them says anything else and after a quick trip to the storeroom to get some supplies, he returns to find her seat empty and a few dollar bills on the table, more than enough to cover the cost of the danish and coffee. He holds the bills for a moment before slipping them into the register, trying to remember the last time he'd let her pay for anything at the diner.
Over the next several days, Lorelai comes in a few times, always sitting at a table, always slipping out while he's busy, and always leaving money on the table. It's almost routine and he feels like her being here should feel more momentous. Even the townspeople seem to be holding back a response, as if collectively worried about jinxing something, though he's not sure they've established anything enough to jinx it.
Luke finds himself wanting to sit down and join her, to talk to her about more than Paul Anka or the inn. To really confide in her about what he's feeling, to tell her how afraid he is of suing Anna and how frustrating it is to wait for paperwork to be filed and DNA tests to be run.
But they're not there yet, and he's not sure when, or if, they will be. So he resigns himself to more waiting and more meaningless talk, until one night when she stops by while April is still visiting, and he sees an opportunity to move forward.
It's after the dinner rush has slowed, but not late enough to be reminiscent of the late nights when the diner was closed to everyone else, but he'd left the coffee on just for her.
As she steps inside, her eyes flicker around the diner before they settle on April. He can see her freeze, and start to turn back around.
"Lorelai," he calls.
"Lorelai?" April asks, turning toward the door, where Lorelai stands looking stunned and uncertain. He gestures with his head, inviting her to sit at the counter, and she gives both of them a weak smile as she heads over toward them.
Luke is smiling at the two of them in nervous anticipation when April throws him a questioning glance, and he realizes suddenly that he'd gotten so wrapped up in the idea of Lorelai being here that he'd forgotten that he and April haven't talked about Lorelai since the fishing trip. That he'd carelessly allowed April to walk around knowing what Lorelai did to hurt him without talking further about what it means. It feels unfair to both of them to throw them together without discussing with April how she feels about seeing Lorelai again. He's still stunned, wondering how to negotiate this when April starts talking, her voice friendly and animated.
"Hey," she says. "It's good to see you. Luke said you were back from your trip, but I haven't seen you since…" She tilts her head to the side, looking thoughtful, "Since my party, actually, which my friends have been talking about ever since, by the way." Looking quickly at her watch, she says, "I'm glad you stopped by when you did. My mom is going to be here in a few minutes to pick me up."
"It's really good to see you again too, April," Lorelai says with genuine warmth, though she still looks uneasy. "Luke's been filling me in a little bit about what you've been doing and it sounds like you're keeping busy, and keeping your dad busy too."
"Yeah, I've got a bunch of stuff going on." Her smile widens. "Hey, did he tell you about the fishing trip?" Luke watches Lorelai nod encouragingly and listens to his daughter continue. "Next time, I really want to catch one big enough to cook. I think I found a pattern with the dissolved oxygen and time of day, and if I plot it out I might be able to figure out where the biggest fish are, but we weren't able to stay long enough this time to test it out."
Luke can't help but beam proudly at April's excitement, and when Lorelai asks, "Next time, huh? So you have another trip planned out?" and glances over at him, he flashes her a private smile.
She smiles back, but her expression is tentative, and there's something undefinable in her eyes. He barely has a chance to register it before April responds to her question. "Maybe at the end of the summer. Hopefully by then we'll be official, right Luke?"
April glances up at him and he nods. "Maybe."
"Official?" Lorelai asks.
April explains matter-of-factly, gesturing with her hands. "We just had new court-ordered DNA tests, so that Luke can legally be my father. We're still waiting on the results, but it's really a formality. I mean, the judge might be particular about who does the test, but the DNA doesn't care that I don't have a graduate degree."
Lorelai gives a little chuckle, but before she has a chance to say anything, April jumps up. "Oh, my mom is here," she says, tossing books in her backpack and zipping it up. "Bye Luke. Bye Lorelai. I'm glad you're back," she calls over her shoulder on her way out of the diner.
The door falls shut after April and Lorelai watches for a moment before turning back toward Luke, "So, DNA tests? Does that mean…?"
"I'm just trying to establish paternity and set up some visitation rights." Luke sweeps the rag he's holding across the counter and attempts to keep his voice casual and confident. As much as he's wanted someone to talk to about the lawsuit, he's still reluctant to admit how much the process worries him.
"That sounds good, " Lorelai responds neutrally.
"Yeah. It's probably about time. Hey so," he says, looking up at her with a hesitant smile, "It was good you came by now. April was really happy to see you."
"It was good to see her too."
Dropping his eyes, Luke spreads his fingers wide across the counter. "Maybe you can," he starts, stopping to take a breath before continuing quietly, "come back the next time she's here."
She stares back at him, looking drained. "Luke…" she says plaintively, her head falling forward into her hands as she shakes it slowly back and forth. "I can't. I can't do this. I mean, how can you do this?"
He jerks his head up, shocked and confused. "What? How can I do what?"
"You can't make it okay now. Not after everything."
"What are you talking about?" he asks, unable to hide his complete bewilderment.
"It's okay for me to hang out with April now? Now that we're broken up? It wasn't before but now it is? Do you even know how much…I just," she shakes her head again, and gets up to leave. "I can't do this."
She's halfway to the door before Luke can spit out, "Lorelai wait!" and follow her. He takes a few more steps and says again, "Please? Wait!"
His request stills her, though she won't turn to face him. "What do you want from me?" she asks, her voice low and steady.
"Can we at least talk about this?" he pleads impatiently.
"What's there to talk about?
"A lot, obviously. I'm just trying to make things better." He watches her gaze glide over the few remaining patrons, some tourists who seem to be politely averting their eyes, and he repeats softly, "Can we talk? Upstairs maybe?"
She lifts one shoulder in an ambivalent shrug and lets him lead the way upstairs.
He silently gestures her inside the apartment. Stopping a few steps inside, she glances around as if just realizing how long it's been since she's been up here. She hugs her arms around her middle, and even from behind her, he can see the rigidity in the knuckles where her fingers grip her elbows.
For a moment, he just stands watching the slight shifts of her body as she takes in breath.
She turns to face him, her shoulders hunched over her crossed arms in a gesture that is at once defensive and combative. "You can't just dangle it out there now, Luke, can't just expect me to act like there's nothing wrong. I don't even know…does she know? Does she know we broke up?"
"She knows we were having problems, that we weren't talking. She knows that you went to consult in Vermont." His voice softens. "She's been asking about you. Ever since the party-"
"No," she says, her arms swinging down as her stiffness gives way to agitation. "I am not doing this. We can't go back there. Months. Luke. Months you went, first without telling me about her at all and then not introducing her to me. I was your fiancée. We were getting married, and you wouldn't even introduce us. Can you even begin to imagine what that felt like?"
Biting and accusatory, her words set him on the defensive, and his response is low and even. "I might have if you'd told me."
"Told you? Seriously?" She stares back at him, incredulous. "I spent months waiting for anything that felt like the slightest invitation, but all I got were rules about when I could come to the diner, little pats on the back for being the good little fiancée who's not too nosy – who understands that you need time. I told you I was worried that we weren't going to get married. We talked about that, and then nothing changed."
"I didn't know," he insists sullenly. "You should have told me."
"And you've always responded so well to criticism," she snaps sarcastically. "You've never given me any reason to think that you'd get angry if I got in your business." She lets out a great frustrated sigh. "Dammit Luke, you can hate me as much as you want about Christopher. That…I deserve that. But for trying to give you space? For doing what I thought you wanted. You can't get mad at me for that."
"Look," he argues, "you made a whole drunken speech in public, to the town, and you hid it from me. You told everyone else what you were feeling except me. I had to lean on Kirk to find out what you were talking about. You lied to me. You let other people lie to me."
She snorts, her expression full of contempt. "You're upset that I lied about singing a song? You hid your daughter from me for two months. You know what, Luke? You're right. I lied and you know why? I thought I was doing the good and patient thing. Patty told me you'd come around. That everyone knew that if I just waited a little longer, I'd eventually get you to the alter. Well, you know what? Everyone was full of shit."
The sharpness of her words stings, but it's the intensity of her anger that makes him realize how long it's been since he's truly felt it. It's almost a relief to finally hear it, everything she's been holding in. He tries to remember the last time they'd fought, really fought, to the point that she didn't back down. And what he realizes is that it hasn't happened since they've been together. The two of them are legendary for their ability to fight, and hold grudges, before slowly and painfully reconciling. They've done it over and over throughout the years; so much so it's almost second nature. And yet, he can't remember a time since they began dating that they've fought like that, when Lorelai hasn't let her anger fade before the quarrel got too heated. It's a frightening thought, and all he can do is wonder what it means that she's not backing down now, that she's still flinging words at him, without concern about what they hit.
"I mean, what the hell did any of them know? You weren't hiding April from any of them, just me. Everyone, everyone else got to meet her: Lane, Patty, Babette, Jess, Rory. God Luke, even Rory."
"Lorelai," he starts, reaching for her arm, in an attempt at comfort.
She just shakes him off, continuing unabated, "When we went shopping and I said I wanted to meet April and I offered to help with her gift, you…I thought maybe you'd just been clueless, that you didn't realize how much you'd been leaving me out of things. But then you said that, called me a cartoon character, and said she'd like me better, as if I'd actually try to take her away from you. And then I knew that it had all been intentional, that you were deliberately keeping me away from her. That just…Luke…I can't really tell you how much that hurt. I just can't. And it scared me, because if you still, after all those months, didn't want me near her, I couldn't really imagine when you would."
She's starting to lose the fire that's fueling her anger. He can hear the sadness, the ache of pain creeping into her words, the tremor of hurt in her voice.
"And then you called me to help with the party, and it was so out of the blue. After what you'd said, I should have been furious. How dare you tell me I'm too 'whatever' to meet your daughter, and then call me and demand that I come help you. How dare you!"
She'd fairly spit out the last words at him, but now her voice is simply bitter. "But by that time, I'd take any little bone you'd throw me, so I did the best I could to help you throw April a fabulous party, to show that I could help you with this and that I wanted to help you. And it was good, and it was finally feeling like you actually wanted me there and that maybe things would change. So maybe waiting and being patient had been the right thing to do. But then Anna was angry, because of me. And the way that you told me…" Her voice starts to break, though she seems to be straining to hold it together. "It made me feel like you thought I was a problem too, like you were mad at me for complicating everything. So I went to Anna to try to explain and she said engaged wasn't enough. She didn't want me around April until we were married. And then I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to make it better."
Luke protests, "You didn't even talk to me. You didn't give me a chance to work it out, Lorelai. You just avoided me." He lifts an arm in frustration, his voice rising as he repeats, "Avoided me!"
She closes her eyes, wrinkling her nose and tightening her lips, as if even just the thought of what they'd been through causes her physical pain. "I was just so scared that the next time I saw you would be when you decided that you couldn't risk losing your daughter over me."
The sadness in her voice is so intense he can hardly get out words. "How can you think that?" he breathes.
"I don't know if you understand how hard it was to believe in our relationship by then. We were falling apart and it didn't even seem like you noticed." She's no longer maintaining the pretense of composure, though she's brushing away the tears with the back of her hand before they can slip down her cheeks.
Looking at her, wrecked and heartbroken, all he can say is, "I'm such an idiot."
She shakes her head in disbelief. "Did you really not know? Did you really think that everything was fine?"
"I didn't know how bad it was." Though he's being honest, it feels completely insufficient in response to what she's told him, especially given how true it sounds when he hears the words.
"I just felt trapped – like there was nothing I could do. She's your kid, Luke. There was nothing for me to say. I can't come between you and your kid. All I knew was that you were slipping away."
Her voice is breaking and he can tell how much she's fighting the sobs, can see that she's far more hurt than angry. He reaches for her elbow and tugs her closer, feeling the moment when her resolve falters and she lets herself be pulled into his embrace, resting her head against his chest. With his lips close to her ear, he whispers, "I'm sorry I ever made you think I didn't want you in my life. I don't know what more to say. "I'm just…I'm so sorry." He runs one hand down her back and uses the other to push the hair from her face, his fingers brushing along her cheek as he reaches to tuck a strand behind her ear. The comforting gestures are instinctual, he realizes, as is the gentle kiss he places on her forehead.
She looks up at that, her eyes wide with doubt. When he brushes the back of his fingers across her face again and her lip trembles, he doesn't even try to fight the urge to kiss her fear and sadness away.
When his lips meet hers, she lets out a little whimper as she gives into it. Kissing her feels like coming home and his immediate reaction is that if they can still feel this, they can figure the rest out. The thought gives him permission to hope, to want. To want to feel the skin of her neck under his lips, the curves of her body against his chest, and curls of her hair tangled in his fingers. He wraps his arms tightly around her and trails kisses along her jaw, hearing her moan in response. Without warning, she pulls away, sidestepping toward the door, "No, no, no, I can't do this."
"Why?"
She turns to face him. "We can't just kiss everything away. It doesn't change anything."
"Don't you even want to try? Do you really want to give up?" He can't understand how she could have shared the same kiss he did and still want to throw it all away.
"No, I don't want to, but you still look at me like you can't believe I did such a horrible thing to you and like you can't figure out why you don't hate me. As much as I want to go back, to have you back, I can't go through all that again – wondering when you're going to realize that you don't want to be with me anymore."
"That's not-" He falters, wanting to tell her that she's being ridiculous, that of course he wants to be with her. But she's not saying anything different from what he's been telling himself, and telling her, all along. She's resigned herself to that, to not having him back, and his response is a protest against that resignation. "That's not how I feel."
She turns to rest her hand on the doorknob, turning it and pulling the door ajar, without making any move to leave. "It may not be how you want to feel, but it's there, Luke, and maybe that means that this is too big to fix."
"I don't want that to be true." It's the first time he's said that out loud with such certainty, admitted that he wants to fix things. "I want to try."
"I just don't know how to get over this."
"Are you willing to consider the possibility that we can?"
"I don't know, Luke. I don't know." She rests her forehead briefly on the edge of the door before stepping out and pulling it closed behind her.
As he hears the door click closed, he tries to take solace in the fact that she didn't say no.
To be continued