a/n: picking up right where I left off. You guys made it clear that you DO NOT like cliffhangers so maybe I'll refrain in the future...maybe ;)

A quick note to a guest reviewer known as "Me" (only because I have no way of messaging you): I laughed SO HARD at your review, only because you and I have similar feelings about pregnancy plot devices. I promise you that no one will come forward with a pregnancy scarein the fic (or probably anything else I write). That type of drama is not really my style and I hate it when one of my favorite stories takes a sudden baby mama twist. Thanks for your review, friend.

She felt Jess' hand, which was still unnervingly dusting the skin just above her hemline, become markedly tense. "We're closed."

"Yeah, I guess you are." Her head rotated with such acceleration that she was positive she'd feel the aftereffects of whiplash in the morning. There was no mistaking that voice, the lost promises of love and a car and a leather bracelet and her first time. Dean.

And just a handful of years ago this situation would have her hurriedly disconnecting from Jess in a painful swell of humiliation and clumsiness. Maybe it was the heat of his hand on her leg or the dizzying rush of that searing kiss, but Rory couldn't bring herself to pull away or make a rummaging excuse. Unfortunately, Jess seemed to feel otherwise. He rigidly retreated from their intertwined hold and her body instantly mourned the loss of contact. Her eyes sprang between her two ex-boyfriends, one towering and seething while the other vainly attempted to mask his growing apprehension. This was less than ideal.

"Dean, hi, it's been a—"

"Cut the crap, Rory." His fists balled up at his sides. "I'm not really in the mood for small talk right now."

Jess snickered. A vein in Dean's forehead bulged obtrusively.

"Tell me you aren't making such a huge mistake, not after the way he—"

"Stop." She understood it then, could recite it in her sleep. It wasn't any amount of heat or dizziness that unapologetically bonded her to that stool. It was different, Jess was different. Some protective instinct clawed through her, a restless longing for this chance to be the last one they would ever have to take.

"You don't know anything about this because if you did, you would know that I'm the one who treated him badly the last several times we saw each other … you would know that he's changed, that he's successful, and that he has act together better than I do. So please don't start something that will make me feel like I'm still in high school, because I had a weird affinity for ugly turtlenecks back then and I'd rather not go there again."

Rory felt Jess curiously inspecting her, his eyes roving over her with suspended questions and a hint of fixed approval. He straightened imperceptibly and, with his gaze still fully on her, found his voice. "Like I said, we're closed. Id' say come back tomorrow, but we're closed then too."

She watched Dean mutely slouch backward, his eyes narrowed with disgust. With a hand on the doorknob and another jamming into his pocket, he chided feebly—"You could do so much better, Rory."

The door slammed, the blinds rattling in harmony with her irregular breathing. She felt his fingertips hesitantly trace a pattern on her upturned palm. "I don't really miss the turtleneck look either."

"Jess…"

"I mean it was endearing at the time, especially with that whole private school thing you had going on."

She sighed loudly, the fleeting wisp of oxygen ruffling her bangs. "Jess, I…"

"But I prefer the current wardrobe. And it is a big improvement from when you went through the DAR stage…that look was a little too PTA for my tastes."

Funny how he literally couldn't stop talking when he was mocking her; at even the slightest insinuation of a serious conversation, it was all grunts and monosyllabic comebacks. Her lips opened to say something along those lines, but he was quick to press a stilling index finger to her mouth.

"What the frick was that, Rory? That garbage about me being better off than you? As much as I'm flattered to hear it, that was one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard you say. And it's up against some tough competition, like trying to justify Macy Gray's presence in your music library and repeatedly blaspheming Hemmingway. Care to share?"

She pointed accusingly at his continued restraint on her ability to speak. Jess withdrew the offending finger and quirked an awaiting brow. Rory lifted a noncommittal shoulder. "You know I went through a rough patch not so long ago."

Jess frowned. "I'm not sure what we're referring to here…Connor? Because I think I mentioned a fresh breakup on my end too."

Rory pinched the bridge of her nose. The jet lag, her churning stomach, his probing inquiries at her stupid slip…she didn't want to do this. "It's not that."

"Then tell me what it is," he cupped her face, dictating a connection with the copper depths of his eyes. "C'mon Rory, I've been waiting for you to cut that Boy Scout down to size since I first met you. Please don't ruin it for me now."

"I can't believe you're still calling him that."

He pinned her with a glare. "Don't deflect. Out with it, Gilmore."

"I'm tired."

Jess tightened his hold on her, his thumb swiping away the solitary tear that strayed from her black lashes. "Not a good enough excuse."

She chuckled bleakly. "Good, because it's not one."

His eyes darkened. "Meaning?"

"What if…if I'm not cut out for my job?" She worried her bottom lip between pristine rows of white teeth. "I know I always said I wanted to do this but…maybe he was right, maybe I don't have it."

"Okay, you need to fill me in here. Who are you talking about? I'll go kick his—"

"No Jess, it isn't about that." Rory disentangled herself from his grip and slithered down off the stool. "I mean…you said it yourself, and I'd be proving you and everyone else right and…"

He grabbed her wrists, effectively subduing her rapid pacing strides. "Connect the dots for me, Rory. I've never been good with guessing games. What did I say that had to do with your job?"

She couldn't suppress the fragile diffidence welling in her turbulent expression. "It was a long time ago…the night that I was supposed to be tutoring you…and we went on that impulsive little field trip that didn't end so well."

Jess nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing severely. "I happen to remember this one. I promised you that you would do it, didn't I?"

"Only after you said it would be too rough for me!"

"And I'm being held to that?!" Rory couldn't offer suitable response so he plunged ahead. "You caught me off guard, okay, I didn't expect you to say anything that…dangerous. But you have to know that I've never doubted your ability to do anything. Come on, I'm the high school dropout, right? You? Always destined for greatness."

She cringed. Judging by his wounded look, it wasn't the reaction he had bargained for. "What if I don't want greatness?"

"What if I don't accept that answer?"

"Jess, I just…can't." She was stunned when he suddenly tugged her into his arms, swaddling her against the capable planes of his warm chest. She hadn't even known she was cold until she felt the comforting contrast of his closeness.

His reassuring cadence rumbled from above her head. "Is this because I never got around to driving straight at you while screaming in a foreign language?"

A sincere laugh spilled out of her. "No, I don't think that's the problem. It wouldn't have hurt though."

Jess felt relieved at the brilliant sound of her mirth. He laid several short kisses along the shiny crown of her head, his confusion at her meltdown nearly overshadowed by the welcomed feeling of her small frame wrapped up in his arms. But then a flash of their chance encounter a few months ago resurfaced; she had been upset when they talked that day in New York, her demeanor sporadically wilting without explanation. It had piqued his interest then and, evidently, the issue had yet to be resolved. Shamelessly employing the one tactic he knew to be prosperous, Jess dipped his mouth to her temple. "Anyone who told you that you don't have it—whatever that even means—is wrong. Me included."

Rory started to refute his statement, but he cut her off as his lips sought the shell of her ear. "And you know, Rory, I recall that the last time I showed my face in this Ward Cleaver town…" he paused as he bit down gently. "You informed me that I gave you the push you needed to go back to Yale. Is that right?"

Her shaky exhale and miniscule nod satisfied his question. He knew he had her when he found that familiar sensitive spot just below her earlobe. Rory's fingers raked across his back as she melted further into his chest. "So I think I've paid my dues here, cleaned up my act, proven my mettle; pick a clichéd phrase, I've done it. You can trust me with whatever this is. Maybe a sounding board is all you need to figure it out."

Jess drew back and tilted her chin with the pads of his calloused fingers, searching her watery blue eyes for a sign of his coaxing words taking root. Rory looked up at him through thick lashes with a blend of sadness and fascination. "I like new Jess."

His pulse flipped at her husky intonation. "And I think it's obvious that he likes you too. So..?"

"Right, new Jess wants answers." She fretfully tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not…I don't…"

"C'mon, Rory." He massaged her shoulder.

Her whole face puckered. "What happens when you get exactly what you've always wanted but then you realize that it isn't what you thought it would be and giving up feels like failing but sticking with it feels like dying?"

Jess blinked at the swift urgency in her distraught speech. "That's really how you feel?"

"Yes." A tiny sniffle accompanied her passive reply.

"And you honestly think that switching gears and starting over would mean you failed?"

She sniffed again. "Yes. It would mean I couldn't handle it, that I wasn't good enough."

"That's freaking absurd and you are too smart to believe that." He turned her by her slim shoulders and led her back to the counter. "Sit down."

Rory did as she was told, her glossy cerulean eyes trailing his every movement. Jess bent to kiss her cheek, then backtracked to the opposite end of the bar. He might not have the benefit of knowing every aspect of this Rory, this woman who wore lipstick and was surprisingly short on self-confidence, but he'd bet his book collection that she was still the biggest sweet tooth in all of New England. Returning promptly with a prized donut, chocolate iced and drowning in colorful sprinkles, Jess smiled triumphantly as Rory's entire face brightened.

"You're my hero. Seriously, I'm getting you a cape first thing tomorrow." She ferociously bit into the treat with her usual zealousness, earning a smirk from her audience of one.

"I'm sure your mother would appreciate the best man flying into her ceremony."

Rory grinned, a smear of chocolate coating the corner of her lips. "That would be show stopper for sure. And as much as she would adore the unique whimsical element it would add to the big day, I think that would qualify as upstaging the bride and no one upstages Lorelai Gilmore."

"I wouldn't dare." His thumb magnetically extended, dabbing at the smudge of icing. "You're wearing some frosting…huh. Don't think I got it all."

"No?" Her eyes sparkled invitingly.

"Hold still." Jess leaned in, his mouth closing in on hers. "Mmm, almost got it."

She fisted a swatch of his button-down shirt as his tongue swiped at the spot. "Jess…"

The desire in her foggy tone spoke stridently as to what she wanted. He shifted and claimed her fully in a proper kiss. A swirling taste of chocolate and maybe—just maybe —love dragged him further into the embrace. This engulfing emotion had captured him when he was numb to all else, compelled him to do ludicrous things; he had been infatuated enough to empty his wallet on a shabby basket, deliver a counterfeit care package, return to the wretched hellhole after a brief stint in the freedom of his city, only to sullenly sit for hours at a dumb dance marathon. Then he had her. But the crushing impact of their decaying relationship had stung him so deeply that it sent him fleeing across the country with a battered heart, only to reappear and put himself through the ringer all over again. His ego took a nose-dive with an unbearable declaration of love and a rash plea to run away. But its best accomplishment, its most powerful endorsement, came later—he scraped his way out of that spiraling self-pity and channeled it all into something useful. The initial attraction, the relationship, the collapse, the searching, the disappointment…it all came together in this unforeseen way that propelled him forward. Years passed and yet here they were, exchanging kisses in the same diner that had already seen an incoherent litany of their ups and downs.

And it struck him that he knew he had his act together, but he was no further ahead if she didn't feel the same way. That engulfing emotion could only take him so high if Rory was headed for another devastating crash.

Jess reluctantly hauled his lips away from hers. She protested, her dissatisfied whimper almost evaporating his steadfastness. "You aren't off the hook yet."

She glowered at him. "When did you become such a chatterbox?"

He shrugged impishly. "It comes and goes."

"Hmm. So you bribed me with a donut and a kiss, meaning I'm supposed to cooperate now?"

"Yep? Is it working?" He idly smoothed her bangs back.

"Yes, it is," she retorted with a snicker. "You could revolutionize the counseling industry with these methods of yours."

"I'll take that under advisement. So I must ask, Miss Gilmore, what would you do if you had to choose all over again?"

"Join the circus." She grinned impetuously at his observable annoyance.

"Rory."

"Sorry, way too easy. Umm…maybe editing? I mean I love writing, but I was surprised by how much I liked working as the editor at the Yale Daily News. I guess it's more administrative then what I ever thought I'd be doing though."

He wove his fingers through hers. "Did that bother you at the time? The administrative side of things?"

"No, I liked being a part of the big picture, fitting the pieces together and organizing it all into one cohesive product. I developed a system that really worked too." She paused, shaking her head with a laugh. "That sounds horribly nerdy, doesn't it?"

Jess cocked a disparaging brow. "Yes."

"Jess!"

"I'm kidding, gosh." He pulled her in for a chaste kiss. "It makes perfect sense. You've always been obsessive compulsively alphabetizing random crap and harassing those of us who did not have similar dysfunctions."

"Oh, don't get me started on what a slob you are. How you ever find a single CD is—"

He kissed her again, then murmured against her supple lips—"That was not an invitation to criticize."

"My apologies. Let me make it up to you." Her hands floated lazily across his muscled torso as her mouth merged with his. He couldn't hold back his muffled groan at the thumping sensation of Rory's nails outlining his abdominals. Slanting his head for a more advantageous angle, Jess felt her ragged breath peppering across his skin. He distantly heard the squeak of the barstool as she snuck closer but it did little to prepare him for the unaccustomed feel of her legs locking into place around him. That was certainly new.

He broke the kiss, panting and woozy. "Rory…"

She didn't move. Her lips skimmed the stark lines of his jaw. "This is right, Jess. Try and tell me differently."

His hands shuffled on their own accord, slipping to her thighs. "Unless you've become an exhibitionist in recent years, I think it's in our best interest to relocate."

She giggled as he easily hoisted her into his arms, brushing them both past the curtain and into the stairwell.