A/N: Finally, finally, FINALLY! I just want to say thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story over the long wait. Hopefully the length of this chapter will help make up for it a little, and I will TRY not to make you wait so long for the next chapter! Thanks again for reading. Your comments always brighten my day and inspire me to keep going. On the day I actually get this story finished, you are all invited to e-celebrate with me!

"Mmm. That was good."

Lorelai turned her head and rested her cheek on Christopher's mattress. She smiled dreamily, enjoying Christopher's warm weight pressing down on her back, trapping her against the bed. You are never going to get bored of this man, are you? a hazy voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Christopher brushed away her hair from her neck, then tickled her skin with his stubble as he pressed kisses to the nape and along her shoulder blade. "Very good," he said.

Lorelai stretched an arm out to the side, and Christopher covered it with his own, his fingers lacing between hers.

Lorelai sighed contentedly. "Things are going so great at work right now."

Christopher paused. "Is this what you normally think about after great sex?"

Lorelai giggled. "One good thing begets another."

"Your mind is a Rube Goldberg dream." Christopher pressed another kiss to Lorelai's shoulder, then rolled onto his back next to her.

"The Ashley Benton perfume campaign has been doing amazingly well. Her agent just faxed us some more sales reports. They're through the roof. Ashley Benton may be a flaky floozy, but that girl can move units."

Christopher twirled his finger around a lock of Lorelai's hair. "Don't forget that she also has the greatest creative director in Manhattan marshaling her campaign."

Lorelai couldn't help but smile at the compliment. "Her people are so happy with us that they've asked us to do a campaign for her winter fashion line."

"She has a fashion line?" Christopher sounded less than convinced.

Lorelai propped herself up on her elbow. "She thinks she's the new Lauren Conrad."

"I suppose the novel's next."

"Did you even have to ask?"

"High aspirations, that girl."

"Oh, she's shooting for the stars. Fame at any price is a life slogan for her, which is why her clothing line is moving from upscale boutiques to a store where the unwashed masses can afford a piece of her."

"To the land of rolled-back prices?"

"That's the one. Her people think that we can once again work our magic on this trollop."

"I have no doubt you'll kick ass and take names."

"We'd better. Mitchum is going even more Gordon Gekko than usual, and no one wants to be the one to let him down."

Christopher smiled at her and traced a fingertip along her cheek. "You're going to be great."

"Thanks," Lorelai said gratefully. "Although," she added, realizing something, "it does mean that I'm going to be busy for the foreseeable future."

"Ah," Christopher said, sounding disappointed. "Not too busy, though, right?"

Lorelai shook her head. "No, not too busy, but…not as free as I've been."

"Well, we'll just have to make the time we do have count." Christopher's lips curved impishly.

"If it's anything like what we just did, call me a counting fiend."

Lorelai leaned forward, and her lips met Christopher's in a soft kiss. It didn't take long for the kiss to turn passionate, but just as Lorelai was about to move things to the next level, Christopher's cell phone began to blare a brisk, electronic tune.

"Ugh," Christopher grumbled, breaking the kiss. "Sorry," he apologized, reaching over Lorelai to the nightstand.

Lorelai held back a groan as Christopher answered the call. She couldn't help but feel a little resentful; Christopher almost never took calls when they were together, so what made this one so important? And who would be calling him this late at night? Plus, she selfishly noted, it had been nearly a week since they'd last been together, which her body kept reminding her was unspeakably cruel.

"Okay…okay…Did you try--? No? Okay…yeah, I'm on my way." Christopher sounded resigned as he ended the call.

"What was that?" Lorelai asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

Christopher ran his fingers through his hair. "There's been a slight meltdown at work."

"At this time at night?"

"The nighttime beta crew. They were trying to crash the software, but they ended up melting down something in the hardware instead and now the whole system is speaking Klingon."

"And you're the guy who speaks Klingon?"

"Tonight I am. Mike's on vacation this week, so guess who's the lucky one."

"Oh." Lorelai tried to hide the disappointment in her voice, but she could tell by the expression on Christopher's face that she'd done a horrible job of it. She sat up and cast a quick glance around the room. "Well, I guess I should get going if you're going."

"I'm sorry, Lor," Christopher said apologetically.

Lorelai shook her head. "No, I completely understand. It's life. These things happen."

"You know, you don't have to leave if you don't want to. You could stay…be here when I get back?"

Lorelai narrowed her eyes in amusement even as her heart rate took off. "You mean, wait for you to get back, have more sex, and then leave even later?"

"Well…except for the leaving. You could just stay." There was a hopefulness in Christopher's voice. "I mean, it's something I've sort of been thinking about lately. Sometimes it just doesn't make sense for you to come over and then…leave so fast."

Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the way he was giving her that look again, but Lorelai's heart began to skitter like a small bird's. See, she thought, this was why they had rules. Because Christopher somehow had a way of making every suggestion sound infinitely wise and rational, stripping her of the decisiveness she'd wielded against every other man in her life. Luke had been content to let Lorelai lead the way when they had been dating, but Christopher was different. He wasn't pushy, but when he wanted something, he wasn't afraid to let Lorelai know. And now, with the way he was looking at her, and the memory of his fiery lips and hands still fresh in her mind, the temptation to agree was strong.

"Come on," Christopher cajoled gently. "I've barely seen you this past week, and five-minute phone conversations aren't the same."

"Chris," she whispered, trying to buy time.

"Lor."

"I don't want to inconvenience you."

"You're very inconvenient, but I look at it as personal growth on my part."

"I…I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just… Tomorrow. Tomorrow I really need to work on that big pitch for Ashley Benton's fashion line, and even though it's basically a done deal, I still have to sell it. It's really important, and I can't just, you know…." She trailed off, not wanting to have to say the rest.

"Oh." Christopher's face said everything. "Okay."

"I mean, you understand how it is."

"I do, absolutely. It's just that…"

"Just that what?"

Christopher sighed. "Nothing. Never mind. I get it, I understand. You're busy. You've got work."

Lorelai frowned. "Chris, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"That's not a 'nothing' face."

"Lor, it's nothing. I told you, I get it."

Christopher smiled and leaned forward and kissed her. When he pulled away, his gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if searching for something in her expression.

"Okay," he said, playful finality in his voice, "I believe we have more pressing issues at stake."

He slipped out of bed and began to get dressed, and Lorelai watched him for a moment, wondering at the change in his mood, before slipping out of bed herself.

************

"Ashley Benton. Fresh, fun, exciting, and affordable. It's a combination that can't be beat, and it's what young women are looking for in fashion."

Lorelai waited a dramatic beat to let the final lines of her pitch sink in. Behind her, projected onto the screen in the conference room, was a mock-up of a sweetly saucy Ashley Benton modeling a back-to-school look that was just edgy enough to be hip to girls, but not seductive enough to scare away the mothers -- and their checkbooks.

Ten faces stared back at her. Three belonged to Ashley Benton herself and her agent, Tad; one belonged to Mitchum Huntzberger; and the other seven belonged to the members of her group most responsible for the ad campaign. Ashley's face was beaming, and when her agent began to applaud, quickly followed by her manager, Lorelai knew she had hit a home run. Her feeling of satisfaction grew even greater when she saw the triumphant expression on Mitchum's face. It wasn't easy to impress the man, but she'd managed to do it that day.

"Well," Tad said, his gaze fixed on the mock artwork, "I think we have our answer."

"And that is--?" Mitchum prompted.

"Yes!" Ashley exclaimed, her voice as bubbly as it sounded on television. "It is, like, so brilliant I can, like, barely stand it. It's, like, so perfect. It's, like, everything I, like, so totally wanted for my, like, line."

Lorelai pressed her lips together in a thin smile, which was her usual reaction to Ashley's syntax. "I was hoping you'd say that," she said.

"Well, I think there's only one thing left to do," Tad said, eyeing Mitchum.

"Draw up those papers," Mitchum supplied, a grin on his face. Lorelai knew well that nothing made him happier than closing deals.

"This one," Tad said, waving a finger at Lorelai, "she's gold. Don't ever let go of her, or we might have to take our business elsewhere."

Lorelai felt her cheeks flush at the compliment as Mitchum regarded her.

"Believe me, I have no intention of letting her go," he said.

They all stood and shook hands, and Ashley and her people filed out of the room, followed by Lorelai's team.

Lorelai watched them go, a smile still on her face.

"That was excellent work," Mitchum said, still standing on the other side of the table.

Lorelai turned to face him. "Thank you," she said. "It was a team effort."

Mitchum came around the table. "But you're the Phil Jackson. You bring it together."

"I do my best."

"You know, Ashley Benton is going to be named one of Forbes magazine's top celebrity earners for this year."

"Wow…I don't know whether to cheer or sob."

"She's not at the top, of course, but she's building quite the little empire for herself."

"It's the American way."

"What this means is that she gets our name further out there, and we get top dollar from her. And your name is getting out there, too." Mitchum eyed her, waiting for the implications to sink in. "In other words, we want to make sure you're happy here."

Lorelai's mouth formed an O shape. "I see."

"I'll have to run it by old man Stiles, of course, but how does Partner sound to you?"

Lorelai's mouth went from an O shape to dropping open. "It sounds great," she said after finding her tongue. No one had made partner at the firm for over a decade. Most employees joked that making partner was one of those ancient myths, like stories about Zeus, or boy bands not having a member who was secretly in the closet.

"Contingent upon the signing of the contract, of course," Mitchum added. "Not that it should be an issue. They looked as sold on your pitch as anyone I've ever seen over the years."

"Right," Lorelai said, nodding her head. The word partner kept running through her mind, making it hard to focus on anything else.

"I don't get to say this very often, but you're an asset to our company. Good work today," Mitchum said, extending his hand to Lorelai.

They shook, and Lorelai drifted out of the conference room, barely aware of the ground beneath her feet.

************

"Omigod, omigod, omigod!" Rory shrieked, bursting into Lorelai's office like a rocket.

"I know!" Lorelai exclaimed, rushing toward Rory and enveloping her in a fierce hug.

"This is so amazing," Rory said when they finally let go of their embrace. "It's been at least ten years since anyone made partner!"

"I know!" Lorelai felt pretty sure that if she smiled any more, her cheeks would freeze in place.

"It's not a rumor!"

"It really isn't a rumor!"

"I can't believe it's not a rumor!"

"Neither can I!"

Lorelai and Rory shrieked and embraced again.

"So how are you going to celebrate?" Rory asked eagerly.

"I have no idea! It's still sinking in!"

"I'm thinking somewhere with a free-flowing bar."

"We could crash a wedding."

"Ooh, we could be wedding crashers."

"Do they list weddings in the Times?"

"Which one of us is Isla Fisher?"

Lorelai and Rory looked at each other and burst into giggles.

"I still can't believe this," Rory said, shaking her head.

"Me, either," Lorelai agreed. "I never thought it would happen, at least not this soon. Usually someone has to die for everyone else to move up in line."

"Yeah, once you make partner, you usually don't get fired."

"And we have an unusually healthy employee roster."

"People at Huntzberger and Stiles lead exceptionally robust lives compared to the rest of corporate Manhattan. It was a statistic in one of the company newsletters. On average we live five years longer."

"Look at old man Stiles. He still has a full head of hair."

"It's a very admirable hair helmet."

"So," Lorelai said, returning to their original topic, "what's your schedule like tonight? Are you free to be fabulous?"

Rory bit her lip. "Actually, I'm not. Logan and I are down to the wire on the side project, and we're trying to get our portfolio locked tonight."

"Wow, time flies."

"Well, it's been good for me."

Lorelai immediately knew what Rory's tone was referring to. Lorelai had been shocked to find out that Rory and Dean had broken up. Rory had thrown herself even more into her work after the break-up, and Lorelai secretly wondered when Rory would finally deal with the aftermath. She had been strangely calm about the whole thing, assuring her that it was a mature, mutual decision.

"Well, how about Saturday night, then? If we're feeling too lazy to stir up mayhem about town, we can go to the corner store, buy some cheap boxed wine, and knock ourselves out with DVDs of the Super Friends."

Rory grinned. "Deal." She glanced out the window. "Wow, looks like a storm is rolling in," she said, indicating the dark clouds looming in the distance.

"Goody," Lorelai said, clasping her hands in anticipation. "I love it when the thunder makes the building shake."

"Speaking of making the building shake," Rory said, throwing Lorelai a glance, "I can think of one person who would probably clear his schedule to celebrate with you."

"Who? --" Lorelai began, and then she realized who Rory meant. "Oh, right. Yeah, well, I think he's busy tonight."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "What did I just say about him clearing his schedule?"

"I know…it's just…" Lorelai tried to think of a way to explain her feelings. Ever since the night Christopher had asked her to stay, she had felt a strange distance between them. He hadn't brought up the subject again, but it still lingered in the air, forcing a self-consciousness on her part that had never been there before. Part of her was relieved he hadn't said anything, but another, more frustrating part of her constantly wondered why (and wondered if he would bring it up again in the future).

"I'm not sure we have that type of relationship," she finally managed to say.

Rory gave Lorelai a look. "Right, it's not that type of relationship. It's only the type of relationship where he comes over with take-out half the time because you say you haven't eaten yet, and then he refuses to let you pay for it, and he takes you for motorcycle rides around the city, and when you go over to his place on the weekends, you're there for half the day."

"Rory, I know what it looks like --"

"I do know what it looks like."

"I know what it looks like, but you have to trust me on this. It's not. Chris and I, our relationship is different."

"Does he know it's different? Because I'm not sure he does."

"Rory, Chris and I are just two adults enjoying the time we spend together. That's it. That's all it is."

"Okay, if you say so."

"Chris knew when we started this what it was. And that's what it still is. He knows this."

"All right, all right." The tone in Rory's voice was that of someone waving the white flag. "Gilmore, I am so proud of you, and you are the most amazing woman I know. I do want to celebrate with you, and if I didn't have this deadline, I would say we should both take the rest of the day off and go have some fun. As it is, I'm going to try to get this project done as fast as I can, and when I get home tonight, we can pop some champagne. How does that sound?"

Rory's big blue eyes were conciliatory, and Lorelai couldn't ever stay annoyed at Rory for long. "It sounds good," she said, offering Rory a smile.

"Good," Rory said, stepping forward to give Lorelai a hug. "I will be rushing home as soon as I can."

Lorelai glanced out the window. "If you can beat the storm," she said, noting how dark the clouds were. "I think we're in for a downpour."

"Champagne in a downpour? I don't think you can beat that."

Lorelai smiled. "No, I don't think you can. Unless you're dancing on the rooftop with some golf clubs in your hands. Then it's a party."

************

At six o'clock, most of the Huntzberger and Stiles employees had either headed home or were on their way out the door.

Rory, on the other hand, was transferring the last batch of files from her computer's hard drive to her portable memory stick. Glancing around to make sure she had all of the printouts she needed, she picked up her binder which contained all of the work she and Logan had been preparing for the past few weeks and headed to the small conference room down the hall.

On her way, she passed Logan's office. The door was open, and she could hear Logan's voice: "I'm still working, but what do you say we change that reservation to ten?...Of course I do. You say that like you think I don't care. I do care….No, do not accuse me of lying. Do not….You know I'm in this as much as you are, but I have a job that needs my attention, too….Fine, I'll call you at nine. Does that work for you?...Good. I'll talk to you later….Bye."

Rory heard the click of Logan's phone being hung up, and she quickly scurried on to the small conference room, hoping that he wouldn't come out of his office too quickly and possibly discover that she had been eavesdropping.

She breathed a small sigh of relief when she made it into the conference room without a hitch. Pulling out a chair, she sat down and began to sort her papers into different piles.

The weeks that had passed since Dean had broken up with Rory had been a blur -- but a good type of blur. It had hurt that Dean had been the one to do the breaking up. As much as Rory knew that she didn't love him, and had never had more than a pleasant affection for him, it still smarted to be dumped. She could couch it in as diplomatic, neutral terms as she wanted when she spoke about it to Lorelai, but the truth was that her ego had taken a pounding. In all of her fantasies about letting Dean down gently, she had always been the compassionate one, filled with sage wisdom and soothing words. To be blindsided on the receiving end had been akin to strolling along the sidewalk and being mauled by a semi out of nowhere. So Rory had been grateful for the extra work with Logan to keep her busy.

The only downside to working with Logan was that he was even more mesmerizing up close. He was more motivated about this little side project than she'd ever seen him on any genuine H&S ad campaign, and the effect was transformative. He was filled with purpose, and Rory had never seen anyone with the kind of tireless focus that Logan brought to the project. He showed up after hours fully prepared and filled with ideas every day, brilliant ideas that could only come from someone who was born to be a creative executive. He formed connections between words and pictures that Rory never would have thought of, and it was almost embarrassing how much she simply nodded in agreement when he pitched ideas.

Not that she hadn't successfully pitched several of her own. Her own energy seemed to feed off Logan's, and Rory had never felt more invigorated creatively. The words just seemed to flow from her fingertips. Although the hours sometimes went long, to Rory they often seemed like mere minutes.

She looked around at her neatly arranged piles, with color-coded tabs protruding from the sides -- the unmistakable hallmark of her work. She was going to be sorry when it all came to an end…and she was especially going to be sorry about not getting to spend any extra time with Logan.

By now she'd given up lying to herself about her attraction to him. Against all common sense, she'd gone and developed the most embarrassing crush she'd had since fifth grade, when Mike Przybylski (whose last name she had devoted many hours to perfecting) had picked her to be on his kickball team in gym class. She had always prided herself on not being attracted to the "obvious" guys, but here she'd done just that. But how could she have resisted? Logan was incredibly intelligent, exceptionally creative, astoundingly confident, a good listener, warm, inviting, and confoundingly mysterious. He was everyone's friend and could make you feel like a million bucks, but even after long hours spent together, Rory still suspected she didn't really know Logan…and she suspected that neither did anyone else.

Sometimes when they were working, she became so engrossed in the work that she forgot about her crush. Those were the best moments, because the rest of the time she was constantly fighting a battle not to stare at him, not to imagine how she would react if he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist…and not to be jealous of the girl he was currently seeing.

She couldn't quite recall how many girlfriends Logan had had in the past several months, but it seemed to Rory that he had a different one every week. Sasha, Taylor, Emily, Natalie…all had been gorgeous, and all had been gone before Rory could find out their last names. Currently he was dating someone named Isabel, whose grandfather had made a fortune in the microwave dinner industry. Judging by the phone conversation Rory had overheard, it didn't sound like things were going that peachy between Logan and Isabel. Then again, they had just crossed the two-week mark.

Like all the others, Isabel was willowy and gorgeous, but as a brunette, she had finally brought Logan's impressive string of blonde conquests to an end. Rory had met her briefly when she had showed up one night, demanding that Logan take her out as he'd promised. Curiously, Logan had very firmly shushed her, told her he was working, shown her the door, and rolled his eyes at Rory after Isabel had left.

"I sure know how to pick 'em, huh?" he'd said, rejoining Rory at their table.

"I guess," Rory had said, not wanting to get too involved.

She'd never forgotten the way he'd looked at her then, like he was looking at something amazing. "You're not like that, though," he'd said before immediately proceeding into a discussion about graphic artists who could do a final design for the ads.

She'd fallen asleep dreaming about that look that night, and the next night, and the next.

Her thoughts were broken up by Logan himself striding into the room, looking distracted. "Sorry I'm late. Had to take care of some personal stuff," he said, glancing around like he had no idea where he was. "Damn, those are some clouds," he added, stopping to look out the window. The sky looked nearly black with the oncoming storm.

"I organized all of our stuff," Rory said, standing. "This is a list of possible photographers, samples of their work, and their contact information, this pile has the short list of mockups that we liked and we just have to go through it and pick the final ones, and this here is some of the alternate copy that we were discussing. So I guess if we can get this all sorted, we might actually have a short night tonight."

"Right," Logan said. "What was the first pile again?"

"The possible photographers."

"Right, right. Sorry, I'm just…" Logan shook his head. "Rory, why do I get involved with women again?"

Rory blinked. "Uh…do you really need to have it explained?"

"Right." Logan offered a small grin. "It's a bad habit. Don't do it. You'll give yourself a lot of headaches."

"Well, I don't have any plans to get involved with any women any time soon, but I'll keep the advice in mind."

Logan chuckled. "Nice," he said, recognizing that she'd gotten him.

Rory smiled and handed Logan the portfolio of one possible photographer. "What do we think of this one?" she asked.

Logan took the folder and flipped through its contents. "What do you think?"

"I think he's okay. He's stylish and very hot right now, but I'm not so sure he's the right one for this campaign."

"Because?"

"Well…" Rory squirmed a little bit. "He tends to make the women look a little…"

Logan paused on a photo. "A little Jenna Jameson."

"Yeah."

Logan tossed the folder aside. "Yeah, we're not advertising for a call service here."

Rory handed him the next folder, and they began to run down the list of pros and cons.

"You don't think it would be rude if I canceled on Isabel tonight, do you?" Logan asked after they had narrowed down their list to three.

"What?" Rory asked, surprised at the turn of conversation.

"I'm supposed to take her out tonight, but I don't know if I can take the drama right now."

"You do seem very Chuck-and-Blair at times."

Logan pulled out his phone and stared at it. "I probably shouldn't," he said finally, putting it back in his pocket. "I've already canceled twice this week."

He stood and moved his chair over to Rory's side of the table, seating himself quite close to her. "It'll be more efficient this way," he said.

Rory nodded and slid another folder over to him. She could smell traces of his cologne, and it wasn't helping her concentration.

"So, I haven't heard you talk about Dean lately," Logan said, his eyes on the papers inside the folder. "You two still good?"

Rory dropped the folder she was holding, the papers scattering all over the floor. She hurriedly ducked under the table to retrieve the papers, only to find Logan beneath the table helping her. Their hands brushed as they reached for the same paper, and Rory quickly withdrew her hand as electric shocks raced up her arm.

"Sorry about that," she said, smoothing her hair after they both emerged from under the table. She checked the papers quickly, then handed them to Logan. "The two texts we were discussing last time," she told him.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"My question about you and Dean. Are you two still good?"

Rory took a breath as her heart began to race. "I'm good, but I don't know how Dean is doing. We broke up."

She couldn't read the expression in Logan's eyes. "You broke up."

"We broke up. It wasn't a big, bitter thing. It just…happened. We weren't right for each other, I guess."

"Well, if it's not right, it's not right. Better to know now than later."

"Is that why you break up with all of your girlfriends so fast?"

Logan laughed guiltily. "I am not a commitment guy," he said.

A loud clap of thunder from outside boomed, and Rory smiled.

"Yeah, the universe knows it," Logan said, chuckling lightly. "I try, but I guess I'm not trying hard enough. Or maybe it's genetic, I don't know. Passed down from father to son. Not that you heard that from me."

"Have you ever dated anyone, you know, long-term?" Rory asked, letting her curiosity get the better of her.

Rain began to spatter against the windows, creating a soothing noise in the background.

"One girl, four months, in college. She was history after I caught her making out with my arch-nemesis in the library. Right between the biographies of Mao and Stalin. It was a memorable day."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She wasn't the one, and now she's married with triplets named Huey, Dewey, and Louie."

"No."

"Honest to God truth. Huey Lewis, Dewey Decimal, and one of the King Louises. Those are their namesakes."

"And this girl went to Yale?"

"Ivy league educations aren't worth what they once were." Logan closed the folder he was looking at and put it in the discard pile. "Hey, do you want to order a pizza? I'm starving."

Rory felt her own stomach rumble, and nodded. The rain against the windows began to pound harder. "I feel sorry for the delivery boy."

"Nah, I'm a great tipper. I'll make it worth his while. Sausage, pepperoni, mushroom?"

"As long as it's pizza, I'll eat it."

"Yeah, I seem to remember you saying something about how you and Lorelai are human garbage disposals. Ooh, Thai chicken. It's the peanuts. The peanuts really make the thing. It's something about how they blend with the green onions. Let's do that."

He pulled out his phone to place the order, and Rory moved over to the couch at the side of the room. Her view of the city was obscured by the wide rivulets of rain streaking the panes, giving a distorted glow of street lights and lights from other office buildings. Night skies always made her feel small, putting whatever was going on in her life into perspective. There were bigger things going on in the world.

The couch cushion depressed to her side, and Rory looked over to see Logan sitting down next to her.

"Guy says twenty minutes," he said.

"Great, let's hold him to that."

Logan stared at his hands in his lap. "Well, we're almost done with this thing. How does it feel?"

His nearness was distracting. He wasn't physically large or sinewy the way Dean was, but somehow his mere presence set off firecrackers in Rory's brain in a way Dean never had.

"It feels good," she said, trying to concentrate on ignoring the skipping of her heart. "I actually can't believe we're near the end. There were some nights I wasn't sure we were going to make it."

"You didn't think we were going to make it? Why do you think I wanted to work with you instead of, say, Herbie?"

Rory gave a small smile. Herbie was another copywriter, ambitious and officious, but astonishingly oblivious to, well, everything. How he managed to get his work done was anybody's guess, but so far he had been able to elude the notorious H&S chopping block.

"I don't know, Herbie has his good points," Rory said.

"Name one."

"Um, he comes to work on time?"

"Name a second one."

"Hey, don't go changing the rules on me."

Logan laughed, and Rory joined him.

"Fair enough," Logan said, and his arm touched hers as he stretched his arms in front of him as another crack of thunder boomed.

Suddenly, the room went dark.

Rory gasped in surprise. She cast a quick glance toward the window, and half of the city, it seemed, had turned black.

"Don't worry," came Logan's voice in the darkness, "the reserve generators should be coming on any second."

True to his word, a few seconds later, a sliver of light from the hallway glowed faintly under the doorway.

"Maybe we should go out there," Rory said tentatively.

"And do what? The elevators won't be working."

"So what do we do now?"

"Sit here. Talk. Twiddle our thumbs in awkward silence. Take your pick."

Rory smiled but said nothing.

"Ah, so I see it's awkward silence," Logan said, sounding amused. "I should have been more charming these past few weeks."

Rory laughed lightly. "No, you've been plenty charming," she assured him.

"She speaks."

"It happens occasionally."

"Tell me more about how charming I am."

Rory gave a small, sardonic laugh. "Oh, you don't need me to tell you that."

"Why not? My girlfriend never does."

"You could always go out and get a new girlfriend who will."

"I could. Kind of a lot of work, though, all that wooing. Makes me tired at night."

"Or, um, newsflash: you could do things she thinks are charming."

"Are you saying the walks in Central Park, holding hands and stealing kisses, aren't enough?"

For the briefest instant, Rory entertained the thought of Logan holding her hand and stealing kisses. It made her knees feel shaky. "Have you considered that she's a mannequin?"

"Oh, no, this isn't a Real Doll thing. I have standards."

"Well, some women have hearts of stone."

"True. Or maybe I just don't care enough."

"That's a great reason to date someone."

"I've heard of worse reasons."

"You could always break up."

"Like you and Dean."

"Like you and all of your other girlfriends. You do have a knack for it. I've seen at least three leave your office in tears. Their mascara ran in a very flattering way. I should find out what brands they use."

"I hope you let him down easy."

"Who?"

"Dean. I hope you let him down easy."

"I…" Rory twisted to face Logan, even though she couldn't see him in the dark. "What is it with you and Dean? Why do you care so much? Do you want to go out with him or something?"

Logan laughed. "No, no, I don't want to go out with him. I don't know, it's…you seemed like you were a good couple, really solid. And I just…you know, there aren't a lot of guys like him out there. Good, stand-up guys. And I think you should be with a guy like that."

"You think I should be with Dean?"

"I think you should be with a guy like Dean."

"Logan, with all due respect, all you saw in our relationship was the big stuff."

"He does have great taste in flowers."

"Oh, God, the flowers. He must have spent a fortune on those. But you didn't know us."

"Rory, I saw how he looked at you at the picnic and at the restaurant."

"And you based your whole idea of our relationship off what, ten minutes total of interaction with him?"

"Rory, I'm a guy. I know what I saw."

"How are you suddenly the relationship expert? You can't even hold on to a girlfriend for a month."

"Why are you so upset about my opinion? It's just my opinion."

"God! Because you make it sound like I'm doing something wrong. Like I did something wrong in the relationship and I should feel guilty that we broke up."

"Did you?"

"No! I just didn't love him. And he knew it."

The second the words were out of Rory's mouth, every other thought slammed to a halt. She had been fighting the acceptance of her break-up with Dean since the moment it had happened. Now, like the aftermath of a dam breaking, the tension she'd been carrying around with her, that she'd tried to bury in work, was finally easing.

"He figured it out," she said softly. "And he broke up with me. That's why we're not together anymore. There…is that a good enough explanation for you?"

The darkness seemed even darker in the silence that followed.

"Yeah," came Logan's low voice. "It is. I'm sorry I pried."

"Don't be. It felt good to finally tell someone."

"You never told anyone?"

"I'm not the kind of person who tells people that kind of stuff."

"But you told me."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"Thank you."

"Why?"

"I'm not the kind of person people usually tell stuff to. People like to be around me, but they don't tell me things."

Another silence followed, one with a different kind of tension, and Rory could hear her heart beating in her ears.

"Logan?" she asked tentatively.

"I never considered asking Herbie to work with me," he said. His voice sounded closer to her ear than before, and there was a husky tone to it that she hadn't heard before.

"You didn't?"

"I didn't. The truth is, I wanted to work with you, but not just because you're talented or because you get stuff done on time."

Rory's heart began to pound at breakneck speed, and the same feeling she had when he'd told her she wasn't like other girls returned.

"Oh?" she asked.

"You're different."

"Uh, different good or different bad?"

"Different good."

"Okay, um, that's good."

"When I see you…when I see you at work, you make me…I feel…" He gave a small chuckle. "God, I'm bad at this. It sounded so much better in my head."

Somehow his hand found hers in the dark, and Rory had to strain to hear him over the rush of blood pounding in her ears. He was touching her…holding her hand…what…how…

"It's just, you're really --"

And then the lights suddenly came back on again.

"--Visible," Logan said, a notable change in his voice. Almost immediately he let go of her hand.

Rory winced as her eyes adjusted to the light. "You, too," she said quietly, feeling pierced by his sudden change of demeanor. She looked down at the hand he had held for those few seconds; in the light it looked white and frail.

She looked back at Logan, and something like cloudiness had dulled his eyes.

Before she had a chance to say anything, his cell phone rang.

Almost eagerly, he fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. "It's Isabel," he said mechanically. "I should take this."

He walked briskly out of the room, leaving Rory alone on the couch.

A knock on the door interrupted her swirling thoughts, and a scraggly-looking young man poked his head inside. He looked sweaty and was still catching his breath.

"Hey," he said, "did you order a Thai pizza? Man, those stairs are killer."

************

At six o'clock, Lorelai could barely contain herself. After her success with Ashley Benton, the rest of the day had been a blur. Why people had to work after finding out they were getting promoted was criminal. When she became head of a company -- maybe her own advertising agency -- she was definitely giving people the rest of the day off after informing them of their promotions.

She was starting to gather up her things to take home, when the phone rang.

"Lorelai Gilmore," she said into the receiver.

"Hi, Lorelai, I have Tad Brooks on the line."

Lorelai smiled. Tad was probably just calling to confirm the final details of the H&S deal with Ashley.

"Sure, put him through," she told the receptionist. After a second, she heard a click on the line.

"Lorelai, you're still in your office."

"Hi, Tad," Lorelai said, smiling. "What can I do for you? You're lucky you caught me, actually. I was about to walk out the door."

"Yeah," Tad said slowly, and something in his tone made Lorelai suddenly wary. "I actually thought you might have gone already."

"Tad?" Lorelai asked. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong. Everything's great, actually. There's just something I needed to pass on to you."

"Okay, I'm Terrell Owens."

Tad cleared his throat. "I just wanted to thank you for your services."

"You're very welcome. It's our pleasure."

"And I also wanted to say that we won't be needing them."

A horrible pit formed in Lorelai's stomach as she gripped the receiver. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Ashley has decided to go with another advertising agency for her fashion line. I'm sure you understand."

Lorelai's world was spinning. "Whoa, wait, no. No, I do not understand. I was there when we all signed the papers, Tad. I saw Ashley sign a contract with us, a contract for us to perform a service for her. You're joking, right?"

"Lorelai, I know you worked hard on your pitch, and I really commend you for your efforts, but Ashley wants to go in a different direction."

Lorelai's heart was in her stomach. The scene from earlier in the day replayed in her head as she recounted every word, every compliment. "Tad," she said, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice, "I was there. Ashley said our ideas were perfect. You told Mitchum not to let me go. Where is this change of heart coming from?"

"Lorelai, I've told you all there is to tell. We're simply going in a different direction."

"No. We signed a contract, Tad."

"But you haven't performed it, Lorelai. You haven't devoted any resources to it. We have an out."

Lorelai braced herself on the edge of her desk. "You don't want to do this, Tad. Don't go there."

"I'm sorry, Lorelai. Best of luck to you."

There was a click, and Lorelai was left holding the receiver, not sure if she could still feel her legs.

Rain began to pelt against her window, and she collapsed in her chair, not sure how she was going to break the news to Mitchum.

************

An hour -- fifty-eight minutes, to be exact -- was the amount of time Lorelai had listened to Mitchum rail. Some of the minutes had been devoted to bludgeoning Lorelai with blame; most of them had been devoted to screaming at Tad Brooks on the phone and spewing diatribes about Ashley Benton with rather salty language.

Lorelai, for the most part, had remained silent, her brain unwilling to process the loss of the account.

When she'd finally been able to leave, she'd stumbled back to her office, and that was when the nausea had hit her.

She'd never lost an account before. She'd occasionally had clients back out before the papers were signed, but she'd never had a client outright break a contract. People in the office knew her as a "closer," someone who could make business happen.

And now her reputation, and her promotion, had gone up in smoke. Mitchum had made it clear that he couldn't go to old man Stiles with this mess on his hands.

Feeling sick, Lorelai grabbed her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and ran toward the elevator. When the silvery doors opened, she flung herself inside, pressed the button for the ground floor, and bit her lip.

It couldn't be happening to her. It couldn't.

To be so close…and miss.

She thought of the hours, the days she had worked on the campaign. All the arguments, all the decisions, all the long hours perfecting every detail.

And now all of that was gone.

The elevator doors opened to the ground level, and Lorelai stumbled out the front door, where the rain was pelting down hard. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a deep roll of thunder.

Not caring about the weather, Lorelai stumbled down the street to her bus stop. Rain quickly soaked her clothes, and rivulets of water streamed down her face, but she didn't care. She just wanted to leave.

She found a little bit of shelter by the bus stop, and she drew her arms around herself to try to warm up.

Minutes went by, and no bus arrived. Lorelai checked her watch and frowned. She knew the schedule like the back of her hand, and the bus definitely should have arrived already.

She looked across the street and saw the stoplights blinking, and not just on this block, but on every block. She immediately concluded that there had been a power outage, which meant that the lights weren't working, which meant that the buses were not going to be on time, which meant she was never going to get home.

A fresh crop of tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped at her face with the back of her hand.

Why did bad things have to happen to people? To good people, like her? People who worked hard and were honest and treated other people fairly? Who didn't stab others in the back after giving their word?

She looked up, and the stoplights were still blinking. The bus was never going to come.

Fresh tears wet her face as she squeezed some of the water out of her blouse.

All she wanted was to be somewhere warm, and quiet, and safe…somewhere away from all of this.

With sudden fervor, she reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. After pressing a few buttons, she held it to her ear.

"Hey, Lor." Christopher's voice sounded cheerful.

"Chris," Lorelai choked out through her sniffles, "I need you."

************

The plastic parka that Christopher had brought for Lorelai whipped in the wind as he sped on his motorcycle through the city. Lorelai held on to his waist tightly from behind, aware of nothing but the firm warmth of his body.

He had raced to the bus stop in minutes. With no questions asked, he'd given her the plastic parka to put on, and they'd zoomed away from the scene.

She remained close to him as he pulled into the garage, and he held her gently against his chest as they rode in the elevator up to his floor.

"Well, here we are," he said softly as he followed her inside his apartment.

Lorelai looked around at the familiar surroundings -- the big screen TV, the ugly green couch, the stools at the bar in the kitchen -- and a wave of relief washed over her.

"Thank you," she said, turning to him with a grateful smile.

Christopher took her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Why don't you go take a shower? I'll order us up some food."

She nodded, and he kissed her hair.

"Go," he murmured. "I'll take care of everything."

************

The hot water of the shower worked as a magical stress reliever, and Lorelai was content to stand under the stream, letting her cares melt away.

She stepped out of the shower in a puff of steam and dried off, then wrapped the towel around her body as she stepped into Christopher's bedroom, where her wet clothes had been placed on a drying rack.

She walked over to Christopher's dresser and pulled out a drawer. It was filled with an assortment of T-shirts, and Lorelai smiled as she pulled out a well-worn blue one. She held it to her nose and breathed. It had been a long time since she'd worn a man's clothing, and a smile crossed her lips. She slipped the T-shirt over her head and went rummaging for a pair of boxer shorts. When she pulled them up over her hips, she discovered they were much too large for her, so she rolled the waist down a few times until they hung nicely over her hips. She used the towel to wring out more water from her hair, then padded out to the living room.

To her surprise, the room was dark except for the light from a small cluster of candles on the coffee table -- and the soft glow of the television, which was muted and showing the talking heads of reporters on an entertainment show. Several cartons of Chinese food were spread over the coffee table, and Lorelai could tell from the aroma that Christopher had ordered her favorite dish.

She looked up to see Christopher walking from the kitchen with two goblets and a bottle of wine. He had changed out of his wet clothes into a T-shirt and drawstring shorts, and Lorelai chuckled to herself at their ultra low-key looks. It was a first for them; up until now, Lorelai had always dressed to impress. But under the circumstances, it no longer seemed necessary.

Christopher set down the goblets and began to twist the cork out of the bottle as Lorelai came and sat next to him on the couch.

"All I had was Merlot, but I figured you could use something to help you unwind," he told her as he poured the dark red liquid into their goblets.

"The shower was pretty potent, but I won't say no to high-class hooch," Lorelai replied, picking up her glass to take a sip. The wine washed over her tongue, and she could feel even more of her anxieties disappear.

Christopher began to unpack the boxes of Chinese food, opening up the rice first and then their entrees. "So how are you doing?" he asked, watching her face carefully.

"Better," Lorelai said honestly.

"Good."

He handed her a pair of chopsticks, and she dug into the large carton of Chinese food. The second the food touched her mouth, she realized she was starving, and before she knew it, she had wolfed down half of the container in just a few minutes.

She looked up to see Christopher smiling at her.

"What?" she asked.

Christopher shook his head as though waking from a reverie. "Nothing," he said. "Just enjoying the view."

Lorelai made a face at him. "Voyeur."

He just smiled back, and they continued eating, mostly in silence, until Lorelai finally set down her chopsticks. A soothing shower and a full stomach had gone a long way in changing her mood.

Pouring herself another glass of wine, she scooted closer to Christopher and sighed contentedly.

"You all better now?" he asked.

"I think so."

Christopher refilled his own glass and sat back. "You want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Lorelai downed part of her wine and sighed. The wine was definitely helping her perspective. "Yes. No. Not really."

"Oh. Okay."

"It was basically like winning the golden ticket the Wonka Chocolate Factory, only to have a putrid little Oompa-Loompa snatch it away from you at the last second."

Seeing Christopher's confused expression, she began to tell him the events of her day. How she had been so happy after the pitch to Ashley Benton, and how gobsmacked and ecstatic she'd been when Mitchum had told her about the promotion, and how she had felt like the ground had dropped out from under her feet when she'd picked up the phone and heard Tad Brooks on the other end, and how she'd wanted to crawl into a hole when Mitchum began screaming.

"And then it was raining, and the power was out, and the bus wasn't coming, and so I called you," she concluded.

"And then I came and rescued you," Christopher said with a smile.

"You did."

Christopher continued smiling at her. "Come here," he said, and Lorelai willingly slid into his embrace.

His muscles were firm and he smelled of that slightly spicy, reassuring smell that she always associated with him. The wine, in combination with the food, was making her body lax and her eyelids heavy, and she snuggled closer to him, burrowing her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder. His fingers slid into her hair, softly caressing her scalp, and with his other hand, he turned up the volume of the television with the remote as Jon Stewart appeared on the screen.

As Jon cracked jokes with his studio audience and ran clips of his "reporters" on their beats, Christopher began to talk about his opinion of fake news, and whether or not comedy could be considered valid journalism when it broke news that regular news outlets ignored, and did people really need journalism degrees anymore when there was TMZ?

Lorelai nodded or murmured "mm-hmm" occasionally, but she was only half-listening. She was too full of food and wine, and it felt too good snuggling against his chest, with his arm wrapped around her, to pay full attention to what he was saying.

She sneaked a glance upward at his face, which was animated with his thoughts, and she smiled to herself. He was such a wonderful man.

And then, in the haze of her wine-addled mind, it slowly sank in: Christopher really was pretty wonderful.

Only a wonderful man would have driven out in the rain on a motorcycle at a moment's notice. Only a wonderful man would have made sure she was warm and fed. Only a wonderful man would have listened to her thoughts and laughed with her about the most mundane things and taken her to movies and out for rides and would have programmed her phone to play silly ringtones. Only a wonderful man would have been so passionate yet so tender when she was in his arms.

"I mean, if you're out there being a whistleblower, can you really then claim that you're just a fake journalist when others put the heat on you?" Christopher was saying. "It seems pretty weak to me that you can debate politicians and then say, 'Oh, hey, only a comedian.'"

His words were stopped cold when Lorelai pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

He turned to look at her, a note of surprise on his face. "What was that for?" he asked softly.

"Just because," Lorelai whispered back, the beginnings of a smile tipping up the corners of her mouth.

"I see," he replied.

He bent his head forward, and she met his lips with another kiss. Tiny electric shocks tingled her lips where they touched his, and she moved her hand to his cheek as they kissed again.

They kissed slowly, deliberately, letting their mouths speak without words. Their breathing grew heated as they continued, and Lorelai's hands wound into Christopher's hair as he pulled her against his chest.

Finally, she broke the kiss to catch her breath. "Wow," she muttered, her chest heaving.

Christopher continued to press kisses to her temple and cheek. "Maybe we should move this to the bedroom."

Lorelai smiled and nodded as he nipped her right behind the ear. "I think we should." Then, realizing the television was still on, she added, "Plus, I can't get naked in front of Jon Stewart."

Christopher stopped and glanced at the television. "Yeah, that could be awkward."

They looked at each other and giggled -- almost shyly, Lorelai thought -- and Christopher clicked off the television while Lorelai blew out the candles. Holding hands, they silently walked back to his bedroom.

Inside his room, he pulled her to him, and they kissed hungrily, all decorum thrown to the wind as hands and arms grappled haphazardly over clothes and skin. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, on her breasts and under her T-shirt and over her bottom and in her hair, and she was stroking his chest and his back and the hardness in his shorts.

He led her over to the bed and pulled off his shirt before helping her out of hers.

"That's better," he said.

"Definitely," she replied.

Smiling at each other, they crawled onto the bed, and his weight descended on her as they kissed again.

His mouth moved to her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and then he nuzzled his way down to the waistband of her boxer shorts. Lorelai's body tensed in anticipation of what he would do next, but to her surprise, he pressed a soft, almost reverent, kiss to the flesh between her navel and the waistband. He lingered there, licking and kissing, until Lorelai thought she was going to go insane from the desire that was building up inside of her.

Finally, he moved a few inches higher, tracing meandering lines with his lips and tongue, sometimes murmuring unintelligible words against her skin, sometimes nuzzling her with his nose and cheek. Lorelai's toes curled as she tried to maintain her control. He was making her mad, completely mad, and he had to know from the mewling sounds coming from her lips. She tightened her fingers in his hair and tried to think of things that could distract her from the growing, aching emptiness inside her. Things like shopping, or coffee, or…oh, God, her mother. No, no, not her mother. Never her mother when Christopher was making her mewl like a cat.

He reached her sternum, and it was all she could do not to thrust her breasts into his mouth. He found them eventually, tending to one, then the other, rolling her nipples under his tongue like small candies until she could have sobbed with pleasure.

He kissed her mouth again, drinking deeply, stroking her exposed skin with his hands, until she was breathless and crazed with need. They stared into each other's eyes, parting briefly to get rid of his shorts and her boxers, and then they were pressing their naked bodies together, skin against skin, all barriers between them erased. He felt like velvet against her, and all she could think was how badly she needed him inside her, satisfying her. She crushed her mouth to his, begging him with her tongue, and he rubbed against her, coaxing her legs apart until the tip of him was settled just inside the warmth of her flesh.

He stared down at her, a look of wonderment on his face. "You are so beautiful," he breathed softly. "So beautiful."

He bent his head and kissed her, and she made a small cry into his mouth as he drove inside her, stretching her body with the thickness she had been craving.

Home. It feels like home, she thought dazedly as they lay still for a moment.

He drew back, and she looked into his eyes, those blue eyes so fixed on her as though nothing else existed.

"You're here," she whispered to him.

"Yeah," he murmured back.

They smiled at each other, and as they shared another heated kiss, he began to move his hips, slowly at first, then with more speed.

She rocked with him, quietly moaning as they found their rhythm. Their hips moved up and down, back and forth, and Lorelai couldn't hold back a whimper as he hit the right spot. "Oh, God, there…yes…God, just like that," she hissed.

He obliged, and soon she lost herself in pleasure as she ground against him. "God, Lor," she heard him mutter between grunts.

The room filled with the sounds of their passion as the storm outside continued to rage against the window. They rocked faster together, and she drew her legs up, inviting him further in. Everything about him felt so good, she thought hazily as the slick skin of their bellies slid together, as her fingernails dug into his shoulders, trailed down his spine, curled around his amazing backside… He was so good, and she was so good with him, and they were good together.

They belonged to each other…could never belong to anyone else. He was hers, and she was his, and there was not a law of the universe more true.

Her back arched off the bed as she continued to thrust up at him, trying to pull him as deep inside her as she could. She needed to feel him, needed to be one with him, needed to melt into him until she couldn't tell where she left off and he began. She urged him to go faster, deeper, and she moaned as he plunged inside her again and again.

Dense, untamed emotions swirled like a hurricane inside Lorelai's chest, deeper than she could bear, too strong and too true to fight. They ground rapidly against each other, wild and feral as they careened toward the edge.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she cried desperately as she clung to the precipice. "Chris, oh, God, Chris…"

"Lor," he rasped against her neck, "Lorelai…."

And then she felt it coming, like a firecracker hurtling into the sky before bursting into sound and color -- and she heard her voice: "I love you, Chris, I love you, God, I love you so much --"

He trembled, and his breath was like burning hot steam on her skin. "I love you, Lor, I love you, you're everything, I love you --"

With a groan he spilled inside her, and then it hit her like a tidal wave, shaking her so powerfully that it was all she could do just to withstand it, leaving her limp and devastated in its wake, completely awash in pleasure and wholeness.

Minutes -- or was it hours? -- passed as the world slowly came back into focus, a welcome stillness settling over the room like the calm after a storm at sea. Rain pelted the window in a hypnotic rhythm like a sonic backdrop to Christopher and Lorelai's satisfied sighs.

Gradually Lorelai became aware of Christopher's weight on top of her, and she slowly untangled herself from his body. He stirred and gave her a lazy smile, taking her lips in a long, tender kiss.

They kissed softly and sweetly, silently thanking each other for what had just happened, and Lorelai felt moisture at her eyes as an unexpected wave of emotion overwhelmed her. She waited until Christopher had rolled off to the side, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. It was all just too… She couldn't think of the right word to complete the sentence.

Christopher's arm slipped around her waist, and she was happy to let him pull her close, his warm chest like a soft wall against her back. She felt enveloped and protected and cherished, and she let out a tiny sigh. Was this what pure contentment felt like? She strongly suspected it was.

Christopher's mouth tickled her ear, and she smiled dreamily.

"Don't go home tonight, Lor," he murmured. "Stay with me."

She nodded automatically, her eyelids fluttering shut as she listened to the rain against the window. "I don't think it's ever going to stop raining," she said, and that was the last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep.