I was going to write for Messing with Forever this afternoon, but ended up re-reading a good part of New York Night. God, I forget how awful some parts were and how amazing other parts were! Good times. Anyway, it inspired me to write for this and update! Yay!

Flashbacks are italics.

Disclaimer: I am not ASP! And, I mention a lot of places/restaurants/stores by their names. This is done to make the story seem a little more realistic, but I obviously don't own any of these places!


Growing up, travel had always been on Rory's radar. She wanted to visit the places she'd read about in her novels, she wanted to see – with her own eyes – all the world's important landmarks, the world's heritage as identified by UNESCO, she wanted to breath the same air and see the same buildings old-worldly historical figures did, she wanted to see the buildings in which world leaders signed influential treaties.

Recently, travel had been limited somewhat. Over the summer, Logan had rented a house for a few weeks at Martha's Vineyard and Colin and Stephanie had invited them to their cabin in Aspen for a week during the winter holidays. He'd surprised her with a few romantic weekends to St. Thomas and he'd booked the jet a handful of times for a quick trip up to Hartford, but her destinations weren't new anymore.

In that sense, Rory was excited about travelling to Seattle for the start of her two-week tour of the West Coast. She'd seen most of the US during her time on the trail, however, it had never taken her to the home of Starbucks, Boeing, Microsoft and of course, McDreamy. What she was less excited about was that she was flying Delta's Business Class, since apparently this 757 to Seattle didn't have a First Class.

Inwardly, Rory groaned at how selfish she'd become; once she was the girl who had no problems backpacking her way through Europe's dirty, sixteen-to-a-room hostels and now she was miffed that she was sharing a cabin with fifteen other lucky Business Class travelers.

Yes, the 55 inch pitch and the 150 degree recline was nice, pleasant even, compared to the poor saps in coach, but the Jet was roomier and she knew the flight attendants that worked on board the Huntzberger Jet and they always had fresh coffee and a chocolate éclair or something waiting for her when she arrived.

"You aren't nervous about flying, are you?" Bee asked, yanking Rory from her self-absorbed thoughts.

Rory shook her head. "No, not at all. Why?"

"Because you're so fidgety, girl," Bee laughed. "I might have to slip you a Xanax to settle down!"

"I'm just trying to get comfortable in my seat," Rory said, waving a finger over her chair. Bridget chuckled again as she observed all of Rory's belongings. Her laptop balancing on her armrest, her bottle of Evian in the cup holder, the Marie Claire in her seat-pocket and the newspaper that peaked out of her new leather Prada tote.

"For a girl who still teeters around on her two-year old Nine West pumps, you've sure become high-maintenance, Gilmore," she remarked, before taking and passing a glass of complimentary champagne to Rory.

"I am not," Rory defended, but the truth reared it's ugly head as she sipped the champagne. As the bubbly fizz hit her tongue, she resisted every urge she had to spit it straight back into the cheap plastic flute it came from.

She swallowed, eventually and winced. "This is awful!" Rory exclaimed through a whisper.

"Not the Dom you're used to?" Bee teased good-naturedly, before downing another sip of the substandard bubbly. Rory rolled her eyes at her friend and tried another sip, but deemed the champagne undrinkable. For her, at least.

Maybe Bee was right, maybe Rory was spoiled. No, she dismissed that thought. Rory had a loving upbringing, yes, but at the same time it was one that lacked a silver-spoon. And Rory still believed in all that her mother had instilled in her, didn't she?


"What's the time?" Rory asked as she made a mad dash into the kitchen.

"Slow down, Usain Bolt," Logan replied casually as he handed her a pop-tart. "It's 6:45, you've got 20 minutes to get to your morning meeting."

Rory downed the last sip of her coffee and gave the mug to Logan for a refill as she bit off a piece of pop-tart. "It's a good thing I like my pop-tarts raw," she remarked before appreciatively taking the mug of fresh coffee from her husband.

"It's a good thing Lottie is a late sleeper; she'd pick up your bad manners in no time!"

Rory laughed as she shrugged off Logan's comment. "She's a Gilmore, double-fisting coffee and pop-tarts is part of her genetic make-up."

"It could turn out to be scotch Ace," Logan teasingly reminded her, causing Rory to fake gag. "Firewater and pop-tarts are a terrible combination. Any daughter of mine knows that."

A wide smirk captured Logan's face and he leaned in close, as if he was going to kiss her, but instead his hands went to her blouse and he started to unbutton them. "If you say so, Ace."

"Logan," Rory protested to this bit of morning affection, "what are you doing? I've got to be downtown in fifteen minutes…"

"I know that," he whispered in her ear, and proceeded to undo the last button of her blouse. Rory was about to swat his hands away – she really didn't have time for this! – but in an uncharacteristic move, he started to re-do the buttons.

Rory watched in bewilderment as his nimble fingers ran the tiny cream-colored buttons through the designated holes in her light blue shirt. She looked up and her confused eyes looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

Logan held back a laugh – he loved that a few of his touches could still make her head spin as if their love was still young. "Well, you were misaligned," he informed her innocently. "I needed to fix it."

Rory's eyes quickly shot down and she saw that her buttons were perfectly matched. She honestly couldn't remember if she had emerged from the bedroom this morning with a miss-buttoned blouse but she found it incredibly sexy that Logan stopped her from leaving the house looking like a complete mess.

"My hero." A coy smile tugged at her lips. "Thank-you," she said as she gently grabbed hold of Logan's t-shirt and pulled him closer for a kiss.

They stayed like this for a handful of minutes, each kiss causing Rory's back to arch more, each touch causing Logan to want more. Ruefully, he broke off the kiss knowing that enduring Rory and Mitchum's wrath for starting a meeting late, wasn't worth the pleasure morning-sex would bring.

"You, missy, have got to get going…" he whispered in her ear, before he pulled away completely. "Thank-you for this, though," he continued with a smirk as he gently ran a finger over his bottom lip.

Rory didn't say anything; Logan always had that uncanny ability to render her speechless, but the slight pinkness that rose from under her collar spoke volumes to Logan. She made no effort to pack her briefcase and head for the door so Logan carried on with his dream-like husband ways.

"So, you've got any plans for tonight?"

Rory cocked her head to the side, as this little inquiry spiked her curiosity. "No?"

"I was thinking a late dinner at Daniels?" he suggested casually, as if he was mentioning that he wanted a take-out pizza for dinner, instead of a meal at one of the most prestigious restaurants in the city.

"Daniels?" Rory repeated excitedly. It was one of her favorite places, one she and Logan reserved for special occasions. She couldn't think of an occasion that justified tonight's excursion, but her head was already spinning with food choices. "Can we get the cheese plate for dessert? Or, oh no, the chocolate mousses. I love the little chocolate mousses!"

"Whatever you want," Logan grinned at his happy wife. "I'll get Finn to babysit," he continued as Rory popped a bottle of Evian and her cell phone in her purse, "and don't worry, I tell him to go light on the presents – we've only got one kid and one playroom, he's already Lottie's favorite uncle, no need to buy her affection."

Rory laughed. "You are a mind-reader!"

"I know my wife," Logan shot back playfully.

"I'm glad you do," she said, before pressing a quick kiss on his lips. "I've got to run, babe. Call you later!"

And with that, she hurried for the door. Instead of closing it behind her, she let it fall in the latch with a bang, which proved to be an excellent alarm clock for Lottie as her crying filled the apartment not a second later.


The way their eyes met from across the room was similar to they way they had met at the Top 50 Online Magazines Soiree. Even her dress was a similar grey color. The only difference was that they were standing in their living room, not in some banquet hall of a fancy hotel and Logan, being the perfect husband, had picked out the dress (Chanel), the shoes (navy-colored Christian Louboutins), a matching blue satin clutch (Chanel) and beautiful pearl-drop earring (Tiffany's). The energy they shared was exactly the same though.

"You look stunning, my dear Ace," Logan complemented his wife with a beaming smile.

"You don't look too bad yourself, mister," she noted, eyeing him in his navy blue suit. "Thank-you for the dress – it's gorgeous."

He took her hand and twirled her around the living room , before pulling her close for a hug. "You deserve it. Besides, I got tired of picking out toddler-sized dresses for little Miss Nessie."

"Hey, mate! The little one can hear you, you know!" Finn cut through the romantic moment. "Us princesses need princess dresses!"

Rory didn't know how Logan kept the stern look on his face as Finn and Lottie appeared donning princess tiaras, long strands of pearls, satin gloves and lipstick. Lottie was also wearing clear plastic heels and a light blue princess dress, cutting the image of a true Cinderella.

"Oh, don't you two look adorable! Let me get the camera!" Rory laughed as Logan scoffed. "What did I say about presents, Finn?"

"Oh, come on mate, she's only got one uncle!"

"What about Colin?" Rory asked before taking a few shots of her Cinderella daughter and her Fairy Godmother.

"She's only got one fun uncle, love," Finn rephrased his statement which caused Logan to crack a smile. Only Finn would take time out of his busy schedule of dating girls-that-would-break-his-heart and scoping out new clubs to babysit his two-year old daughter and go so far as to play dress up.

"Alright," Logan relented, "but those tiaras better not be from Tiffany's!"

"I bought the lot FAO Schwarz," Finn shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Got a date with the sales girl there, too. She thought I was buying it for my daughter…"

"How'd she get that idea?" Rory asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, because I told her that it was for my daughter, whom I can never see since my horrible ex-wife keeps her from me…" Finn rolled his eyes, "the tragic background story makes women melt for me…"

"Finn! You've got to stop lying to these women!" Rory exclaimed, slightly amused that Finn would go through all the trouble to conjure up some ridiculous plot, though Logan was less amused.

"Finn! You've got to stop using our daughter as bait for dates, man!"

But before Finn had a chance to defend himself, Lottie tugged on his sleeve, vying for his attention.

"What is it, love-light?"

"Tea party, Uncle Finny!" the young one squealed with delight.

"Duty calls," Finn told Rory and Logan as he scooped up the young girl. "Enjoy, you two."

Rory and Logan thanked Finn and said goodbye to their daughter, but she was far too consumed by the magical world of princesses and fairytales.


Rory had been racking her brain a good part of the day to figure out the reason for Logan's spur of the moment romantic dinner, but she couldn't figure it out. Somewhere, way in the back of her mind she suspected Mitchum might have something to do with it, but nothing pointed solely to his direction.

"So, what's the occasion?" Rory asked, finally giving in, as she and Logan stepped out into the sweet summery permeated air of the New York night.

"Why do we have to have an occasion?" Logan shot back coyly. His hand found its way to hers as they started walking down the street.

"Daniels isn't exactly take-out and a girl doesn't get new Louboutins every day, unless she's Victoria Beckham…"

"I love you," Logan explained quite simply, "can't that be an occasion in itself? A guy should be able to spoil his wife every once in a while – no strings attached."

Rory shot him a bright smile and realized that she couldn't argue with logic like that. "I suppose he should."

"I'm glad we see eye to eye on this, Ace," he mocked her lightly as he pressed a kiss atop her head.

The pair continued their leisurely stroll to the restaurant discussing everything and nothing as they walked. It surprised them how quickly the reached the venue.

"Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Huntzberger, so wonderful to see you again," the maitre 'd greeted them warmly. He took their coats, lead them to the table and provided them with a complementary glass of cabernet.

"This is really nice," Rory commented on her high-end surroundings as she swirled the wine around in her glass.

"Yes, it is," Logan nodded in return before opening the hard cover of his menu. They stole glances at each other as they stole glances at their menus, but Logan had a tiny bit of fessing up to do.

"So, I guess there is a reason for tonight."

Rory looked up from her menu. "There is?" She immediately worried that her vague feeling about Mitchum was true. Obviously, for the last two years, Mitchum had adhered to the contract she and Logan had designed concerning Logan's employment, but in today's meeting something changed. Mitchum alluded to some things that could be potential red flags, flags that would certainly justify a Monday night dinner with an eight hundred dollar tab, plus the designer addition to her wardrobe. "Did you talk to Mitchum?"

Logan briefly struggled to swallow his wine. "My dad?"

Apparently, there had been no communication between Huntzberger father and son, Rory observed

and she decided to keep Mitchum comments about a company reorganization to herself.

"Yeah, you know him. Tall guy. Balding. Beady little eyes…carries a scythe sometimes."

"Don't joke," Logan told Rory, "what did he say – do I need to talk to him?"

"No, no," Rory absentmindedly brushed a few stray hairs out of her face, "he was just a little on edge in the meeting. No worries."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's just, you know, if anyone could take this away – it'd be Mitchum, and this tour, this book… it's all been so amazing and unreal. I figured a fancy restaurant and a nice little dress would be the perfect way to tell me it's all a dream…"

Logan smiled and he reached over the table to take Rory's hand in his. "It's not, babe. You've done this – you made this happened and that's what the reason for this dinner is. A celebration of your achievements, if you will."

"I will," Rory quipped coyly.

"We've been so busy lately, what with the Stars Hallow Reenactment, Lot's birthday and the tour that I've never gotten a chance to properly congratulate you on your success."

Rory couldn't remember from her high-school biology lessons if it was psychically possible for a heart to swell, but if it was, that's what she was feeling right now.

"And, I just want you to know that I'm so proud of you and so happy for you. I know you worry about me and Lottie coping without you, but we've got it covered and I'll happily play Dad and work less for you – for us…"

"Logan…" Rory tried to interject, but he didn't let her. "No, I'm not done yet, Ace." He smiled softly. "I just, I think you might've gotten the wrong idea about the baby."

Rory nodded slowly. They'd talked about this, briefly, but she understood where he was coming from.

"I just wanted to say that there is no pressure to conceive right now, I just want us to keep our options open for the future."

She nodded again, acknowledging the point he was making, once again. "No pressure" was good, because her lady friend had yet to make it's highly anticipated visit. Now, she was almost twenty days late and that was unacceptable in her book, but what was she to do? Still, she wasn't entirely convinced that she should share this bit of information with her husband and worry him.

"It's okay, Logan," Rory reassured her husband, I overreacted. I was stressed about the tour… and everything."

He squeezed her hand gently. "That's why I figured you deserved a nice night out before you left for Seattle."

"Seattle," Rory confirmed with a eager smile.

"Excited?"

"Home of Starbucks, are you kidding me?" Rory laughed, before taking a sip of her red wine.

Conversation slipped back into casual, friendly, loving, comfortable banter as the pair dined on everything from artichoke soup and pumpkin risotto to pan-seared tuna and angus beef burgers and the beloved trio of chocolate mousse and highly-anticipated the cheese plate.

Towards the end of the meal, Logan revealed that he had one last celebratory surprise for Rory. He summoned the maitre 'd and the good man brought out a large white box.

"Open it," Logan told a surprised Rory.

"Ooh, Logan –it's beautiful," Rory gushed as she lifted the lid of the box. Inside, was the most stunning piece of equipment designed for lugging around everyday crap she'd ever witnessed: a black leather Prada tote.

"I figured you'd need a bag that underscored that you're a successful career woman," Logan quipped.


Mercifully, all of Rory's fellow business class passengers were engrossed by their mini-tvs and its video on demand system so they didn't notice her sudden, startling revelation.

Everything had changed from her days as a fresh-faced, spork-wielding kid! Who was she trying to fool that it hadn't?

Now she had a walk-in closet overflowing with designer clothes, shoes, and handbags. Her antique mahogany jewelry box was flooded with diamonds and gemstones from all the best jewelers in New York. A night out consisted of skipping the months-long waiting list at one of the finest restaurants in the city and dropping nearly a grand on a meal without blinking an eye. Not to mention their daughter had a playroom filled with goodies from FAO Schwarz and, she herself, had a pair of Harry Winston diamonds sparkling in her just-two year old ears.

No wonder, then, that Rory was spitting out business class champagne and complaining about her lack of space.

It wasn't as if she hadn't expected some change – after all, she had been a mother and a wife for over two years now. She'd been on the campaign trail. College and high-school were fond, but distant, memories. She was grown-up, she had a job. Rationally, she knew she wasn't the college kid she once was. And yet, Rory couldn't help but wonder, why it seemed as if that whole part of her had disappeared. When had that girl left and made place for a society snob? And where did that put her Lorelai learned skills? Surely, Luke would never take her mother to Daniels, preferring coffee and burgers over pretentiously prepared foods.

It annoyed her that it took flying freaking business class to realize she'd become an Emily Gilmore clone and she needed to talk to someone – preferably her mother – about this. She could use the airplane phone, but she knew that this wasn't a conversation to have at 30,000 ft.

She glanced sideways and saw the Bridget, too, was watching some video on demand. Apparently, it was pretty funny going by the grin plastered on her face, though Rory wasn't in the mood to watch tv.

Instead, she reached for her paper from her giant Prada tote. For a bag that had brought her so much joy the other night – a perfect night, with her perfect husband, a snapshot of her perfect life, - she wanted nothing more than to roll down the little airplane window and drop the bag, letting it fall to smithereens somewhere above the Midwest.


I know this may seem a bit short and random, but trust me, it's all with purpose, because we've got a lot going. And by a lot, I mean a lot.

Anyway, hope you liked this in all it's constructed randomness and I really do hope you review. I know a lot (and I mean a lot – like 152 people!) read this and I just really, really, really like reviews!