Owen Mars was a short, dark-haired, tan and muscular man who wore exclusively Armani. Meeting him hadn't gone exactly as planned. It had taken Maggie almost a month to set up a meeting with him, mostly because he spent the better part of the summer on a yacht somewhere on the Mediterrainean. His book was important to him only so he'd be able to tick a box and Rory's fifteen pages of constructive criticism on top of vocabulary and grammar changes within the text were a waste of paper, as he hadn't looked at them. Rory was already feeling rather desperate so she did the only thing she knew - she put herself in the role of a reporter and poked him enough to admit to a couple of conflict situations in his life. She'd found a few worth exploring, and now she was basically a glorified ghost writer. It was not what she had planned, but it was a job that enabled her to step back inside the walls of Yale University. It was just what she did that day.
The scent had not changed. It smelled of old books and stale coffee, as she walked past the office of Yale Daily News this time without stopping. Her first class on research methodology was beginning on the second floor. She'd paced around the building a few minutes, trying desperately not to show up more than five minutes early. The classroom was filled with young fresh faces straight out of undergrad. To her relief at the back of the class sat a somewhat plump curly haired blonde woman, who was roughly her own age or slightly older, browsing her tablet. The freshman Rory would've been an hour early and sat in the first row, but this was Rory the second time around, she thought, taking confidently a seat one over from the blonde woman.
An hour and a half later, her head was already filled without doubt whether her original proposal had really been as good as she thought it had been, but luckily next week's class was promised to be about just that - another student had to look over their proposals and discuss them in class.
"Hi my name is Rory," she said, ready to exchange emails to send over her proposal to her.
"Gwen," she replied with a british accent, shaking her hand.
"I'll send you my proposal, what's your address?" she offered, and the two exchanged messages on the spot.
"Want to grab a cup of coffee?" Rory offered. Paris was not with her this time around, and she knew too well that college experience, despite being slightly different this time, was significantly improved by having a few friendly faces around.
"That's my poison alright," Gwen replied.
"How was the first day of school?" Lorelai asked, carrying in a box of donuts.
"Short, just one class," she replied, lifting Leah out of her high chair.
"Make any new friends?" Lorelai continued.
"I am not sure 'friend' is the right word just yet but there was this one woman, Gwen, who didn't look like a teenager," she replied, adding, "we had coffee after."
"New beginnings are exciting," she sighed.
"How did it go with Shira?" Lorelai asked after eating one with a chocolate glaze.
"Utterly pleasant," she replied sarcastically, picking up a donut.
"Hah," Lorelai said, while playing with Leah by hiding Leah's pink elephant behind her back and finding it again.
"Wouldn't have expected otherwise. The obligatory questions about kids and marriage were brought to the table before dessert," Rory replied.
"Dare I ask what you said?" she asked, fearing she'd turn into Shira in her daughter's eyes that very moment.
"Not much. Logan got pretty mad at her," Rory said plainly.
"Have you talked about it?" she inquired hesitantly.
"Mom," Rory rolled her eyes, feeling for a moment like she was still 21, "no, he left to the city the next day and this is not a phone conversation," she added honestly.
"Have you thought about it?" she continued, "if you haven't, you probably should, it's bound to come up. I know kids may be a gentle topic for you," she added, hoping Rory's experience with Leah hadn't left a severe trauma.
"I just started at Yale, Mom, I think I have some time with this conversation," Rory said, hoping to dismiss the uncomfortable topic for the time being.
"Sure, there is time, but it may be something he'd like to know. You can't expect him to just…," she began, but stopped.
"What?" Rory asked, sounding agitated.
"Guys are different - some will be more than happy to raise another man's child, take Luke for example, others not so much," Lorelai explained, hoping to avoid finishing that sentence.
Rory looked at Leah who was building a tower out of colorful wooden blocks. How could she not be enough? She realized she'd been so focused on herself - her job, her studies, her daughter and her relationships. Maybe mom was right?
"I'm going to miss you guys," Rory said, hugging Rex, who had the last shift as her bodyguard before handing him a thermos full of coffee like she had done most mornings. They hadn't been sure, whether the statement had been enough or the dark car out front that had allowed them to live a fairly quiet life ever since that one unpleasant incident. Instead Logan had had a few security cameras installed, just in case. Even without them, she felt safe at her new home.
Logan arrived at his Manhattan apartment at 10.45 PM, having finished a meeting with his team mere 30 minutes earlier. He'd grabbed a box of noodles from a nearby deli and gulped them down to an empty stomach. He hadn't eaten since noon, the two cups of coffee not counting as a meal. However, somehow whenever he stayed at his apartment, he felt as if he was just passing time, as if he was staying at an anonymous hotel room just to catch an early morning flight to wherever he was going next. It had stopped feeling like home. He lived with Rory roughly half a week each week, sometimes with Leah in tow, sometimes not. And while their company felt like home, he wasn't quite sure whether it was what home was supposed to feel like. It was not like he ever experienced a normal family dynamic. He was still on tip-toe with things that came to Leah - Rory was mostly taking care of her. While he occasionally helped her out with something, the distinction was still clear that she was her daughter. He played with her, and that he did willingly, from Leah's side there was no objection to someone paying her attention and introducing another colorful and noisy toy to her. She was too young to really care who the person was as long as it was remotely familiar and friendly.
The truth was, the wealthy, successful and otherwise perhaps even too confident Logan Hunzberger was scared. He was afraid to really bond with Leah, terrified of loving a child that was not truly his, to whom he had no right to and could have been ripped from his life at any given moment. Whether he liked it or not Shira's questions had struck a chord. Ever since he'd found out about Rory's pregnancy the 'what if...?' question had dithered in the back of mind. He'd never thought of him as a father figure, not truly, his own father being less than an ideal role model. Could he be a father? Could he be a better father than his own father? Even though he knew how Rory had struggled with it, the way he recalled her looking at her daughter just the other day, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach that he too yearned to have that connection. He knew if he allowed himself, he probably could have had the same with Leah, but he couldn't help to think it would've been even easier with a child of his, their, own.