May 2007

Rory is leaving the ladies restroom, thinking of a way to escape this luncheon and drive like hell to Stars Hollow when she bumps into something solid, expensive, and blond.

"Logan?!"

"Hey, Ace," he says, his hands light on her upper arms, steadying her.

"What are you…why are here?"

He smiles that preppy, winning smile and her heart beats faster.

"I came to see you graduate, even though I shouldn't have."

She steps away from him, smoothing her hair nervously. "No, you shouldn't have. You should be in London or Rome, doing what you do."

He slips his hands into the fine charcoal cotton of his pressed pants, his two-button jacket undone displaying her favorite color shirt on him, a light blue cotton that soaks up his cologne and stays in long after it has been worn. She's worn that shirt many times and she's taken it off many times.

"Rome can wait- I had to see you. I never imagined that I wouldn't be there, waiting for you afterwards, ready to kiss you. Since I can't do that, I'll settle for attending this luncheon," he says easily, his voice never betraying how much he longs to hug her, feel her mouth against his cheek, smell her perfume. No woman in Rome can do to him what Rory Gilmore can do to him- he's learned that multiple times.

"Logan, please don't do this. Please," she says, wringing her hands.

He rolls his shoulders, his eyes hidden. "What am I doing, Ace?"

"You know what you're doing. You're here, looking good and smelling good and being you and I'm still susceptible to your ways, so please, go away, bump into a dessert tray, say you have to leave due to an international newspaper incident, something," she whispers, making a move to walk around him but he cuts her off.

"We tried this separation thing and it's not working, at least not for me. I can't sleep without thinking of you. I can't enjoy the museums without imagining your running commentary on history and art and the scandals of Michelangelo. I miss you," he whispers fiercely, for the first time letting his emotions come through, "I miss you and we were wrong."

She searches his face, seeing the truth and, reading him well, the lie.

"So there were no beautiful Roman girls coming and going? No Roman girls distracting you from the history and keeping you from thinking of me at night?"

He clenches his teeth and Rory nods simply. "Why do you want to make me out as a fool? We did this before, remember?"

"Yes, I remember. I remember you coming back to me, throwing in my face your fling with that wannabe writer," he answers angrily and she looks away from him.

"It's not like you've never made a mistake, Rory."

"But I don't continue making them, Logan. And I didn't like who I became when I was with you. If I stayed with you, I would be the female cuckold, and that's not me. It has been hard without you and your quick understanding and your affection, but I'm making it work. And so will you."

They stare at each other for a long time and he withdraws his hand from his pocket, holding out a small, square, velvet box.

"I came to ask you to think about being my wife," he says after she pales.

"But…"

"I know, we broke up, but, I don't know, I thought that maybe, if I came back and you still loved me, we could put it on a necklace until you were ready."

She shakes her head, tears threatening to overwhelm her.

"You're a real snob, you know that?"

He takes her hand and puts the box in her palm, closing her fingers over it. "I love you, Rory Gilmore. And you're the only one who can neutralize me. Please, love me."

When he lets her hand drop, she is still clutching the box.

"We'll put it on a necklace."