Logan had just changed out of his work clothes, having worked until 10 PM that evening, and was getting ready for bed. He now slept in the guest room, while it was smaller and would not fit all of his things, which he probably had too much to begin with, the bed was still just as comfortable. He felt good about that move - making a clear distinction both mentally and physically that his loyalties laid elsewhere. Every muscle in his body was tired - his eyes, his shoulders, even his head throbbed slightly. He knew sleep would definitely help, but he needed something to switch his brain off from the work, replacing those thoughts with something more pleasant. He drank a glass of cold water, which already cleared his head a little.
It took hardly any time to look up Rory's number on his phone, boldly located under 'Ace' always gave her the first position. The phone rang several times. He was almost beginning to lose hope, even briefly beginning to worry. Why wasn't she picking up?
"Hey!" Rory replied hastily, slightly out of breath.
"Hey," he replied, the urgency in him settling at the sound of her voice.
"Sorry, I was just in the shower," she replied, trying to dry herself off while she switched the phone on speaker.
"I bet you're quite the sight right now," he murmured smugly, trying to picture Rory on the other end of the line.
"Logan..," she scolded playfully, yet with some intrigue. She'd learned over the years to really not hold back with him, from the distance or up close, but the changed situation made her feel different - it was as if they were still just in the beginning of something, still fragile, still healing from within.
Silence followed, Logan trying to shake the image, somewhat reluctantly. He wasn't going to push this, he decided. They needed slow and steady, despite having agreed on being as exclusive as it was possible under the circumstances.
"Are you there?" Rory asked a moment later, unsure if he was still on the line.
"I am," he replied, with an audible smirk. "I talked to Odette when I got back," he began, changing the topic. It had been a few days since they'd spoken. "She's caught up, I let her keep the bedroom to herself for now. And she is willing to meet you," he added.
"Good," she sighed. It was good to hear that Odette didn't have hard feelings and wasn't otherwise upset with the change of plans. But she still felt like they needed to discuss things, she wanted to understand her better.
"How was Thanksgiving? I just worked right through it here. I hope it wasn't too lonely over there all by yourself," Logan asked.
"I actually wasn't alone. Catherine, the housekeeper, invited me to have dinner with her family," she shared.
"Oh, that was nice of her," he replied.
"She's pretty interesting, her family as well. Has she worked long for your family?" Rory inquired.
"As long as I remember, though I haven't really been up there too many times, maybe a few times when I was a kid and a couple of years ago with Honor and her kids. So I really don't know her that well," Logan explained. He hadn't really paid much attention, frankly.
"Too bad, she's pretty cool," she added.
"Well I'm glad you have someone to talk to over there," Logan said, adding after a brief pause, "Are you sure you're okay with not really talking with Lorelai about all this?" He knew how the only couple of times Rory and Lorelai had not talked, really talked, for extended periods of time, Rory had been definitely influenced by it.
Rory sighed, adding, "I don't like keeping things from her, but I am not sure I am ready to discuss everything. I'm doing a little better, the interaction with you, Catherine… I even scheduled a therapist for next week, it has all already helped a little. But I can just sense the way mom is going to react - the pity, the sadness, the scolding, the judgement. Even if she doesn't say it out loud, I can just sense it. She won't like that I'm staying here if she knew you were involved," Rory explained.
"I thought she knew about Didi?" Logan inquired, recalling Rory telling him she'd told Lorelai about the two of them.
"She does, and I guess she wasn't too terrible about that, but this is a whole other level. I know this is not it, but I just hate her thinking like I've settled into the role of the "other woman" shipped away to some remote destination only to be visited on occasion. Oh my god, I am just that, aren't I?" Rory realized, half jokingly. It was almost too surreleal how her current life reminded her of the fictional, some more than other, books she'd read over the years, most of them from the 19th century. Had she still been pregnant it would've fallen into even more stereotypes.
"Well there are a few similarities, I have to admit. But you know that's not what you are, right?" Logan assured carefully, finding the comparison a little funny at the same time.
"I do, but mom doesn't. I don't think she'd just take my trust in you as proof unfortunately," she explained.
"I'm sorry for putting you in this position," he sighed a moment later.
"By the way, what were you thinking when you first offered me this place, back in New Hampshire? Did you really just assume that I'd just write here and that'd be all?" she inquired sceptically.
"I wouldn't have expected any strings, no, not unless you wanted them. But I always aimed at explaining things to you. You just seemed to freeze up every time I wanted to, so I kept postponing it. And for a long time I really wasn't sure how you felt about us, I felt like you kept pushing me away," he confessed.
"Self preservation," she noted plainly, thinking back.
"I figured," he added.
"I'm sorry about that," she replied.
"It's okay," he said, adding, "at least we're talking now."
"You know some of the famous royalty also used to talk to their mistresses, some were considered more like advisories even," she continued, her train of thought involuntarily thinking up any story she had ever read about famous mistresses and "other women".
It was a brisk afternoon, and Rory had just stepped out of the classic four storey red brick building in Portland historic district, having had her first session with Dr. Abbot. She'd prepared herself for it almost the entire weekend and had walked into the session with her own notes, as if having done homework, none of which had actually very proved useful, other than just having her practice in her mind how she was going to explain the complexities of her present relationships in the most comprehensive manner, not wanting to waste precisions time on storytelling. The short grey-bearded man with rectangle glasses, roughly in this 50-s, had explained to her that therapy was about the process rather than reaching a solution as quickly as possible. And while he'd already helped map out some of the roots of her fears, leading back to her parents, per past experiences with men in general - what a surprise, there was still plenty to do when it came to teaching her to recognize her own flawed thinking and getting past those fears. She'd parked further away, the noon parking situation having been worse than she'd expected as she had to circle around a few times to find a spot. On her way there she noticed the stores lining the street. While she still had no news on the job front, still waiting to hear from Logan about that, having completely forgotten to ask the last time they'd spoken, she just couldn't help herself to step into a second hand book shop, with a cafe nook in the front. She browsed the aisles, taking her time, picking up a few books -The Liar's Club, Lab Girl, Minor Characters. This was going to be her homework. Not for therapy, but writing her own book - this was her way of doing it, other than just letting it flow out of her like the first chapters had. If she wanted it to get published on her own, she needed to know what the best of the best were like. She was just about to pay, letting out a sigh of relief, when she realized the books she'd picked up had all been for sale at 50% off, when someone approached with a slightly startling "Hi, Rory!"
Rory paid with two crumpled up ten-dollar bills hastily and turned only to find Owen standing behind her in the line.
"Hi," she greeted, "funny running into you here. My first time in Portland and already seeing familiar faces," she added smilingly, stepping aside.
Owen paid for a few books of his own. "So what brings you to town?" he inquired. He certainly had presence, drawing the attention of the room when he spoke. Confident, engaging and well-read, and not just in his field, that much she'd learned from the dinner last week.
"Oh, just needed a change of scenery today," she said casually. Explaining her issues to someone she'd just recently met wasn't in her plans. "You're not working today?" she asked, glancing at the time in passing, hoping to diver the topic
"A couple of grades are on an excursion today, so lucky me," he smirked, packing his books into his leather backpack.
"Ah... another perk of being a teacher, I see," Rory commented, smilingly.
"I'm going to grab some coffee, care to join me?" he offered gesturing towards the front of the bookstore.
"Sure," she replied. Rory had been missing the speciality coffee being cooped up at the house only with an espresso-maker and a french press for weeks.
"I'll have a latte with a dash of caramel," Rory placed her order.
"Americano," he added.
They paid and got their drinks, settling in a window table with two armchairs facing each other.
"So what brings you to Maine, other than writing the book, I mean. Why Maine?" Owen asked.
"I just needed a quiet place to write, a friend offered this, so it's as good a place as any to hide out from the small town that I'm from. It's hard to think straight there sometimes," she explained, scooping a few spoonfuls of milk foam into her mouth, enjoying the texture.
"Well I'm not sure quiet is the best word for it, in the winter it can get pretty stormy on the coast. But I guess it keeps the people away," he joked.
"So you've lived here all your life?" she inquired, sipping the coffee.
"Pretty much, I did my undergrad in Brunswick, then came back here," Owen explained.
"Did you always know you wanted to become a teacher?" Rory asked.
"Well I guess I followed in the path of my mother in a way - natural sciences were always easy for me. But I don't know, working for the industries here just never really seemed that interesting, they lack the social factors that school's have plenty of. And when I graduated I felt a little bad for my mom living here all by herself, so I factored her in. She's not from around here either, we have no family here. And she only met Caleb like 7 years ago," he summarized.
"That was nice of you," Rory commented.
"Did you always know you wanted to write?" he asked in return.
"I wanted to be Christiane Amanpour," Rory chuckled, the reality having turned out something rather different. "But sure, I knew I wanted to write. It is what comes the easiest," she sighed.
"Who's that?" he inquired.
"Oh, she's a journalist, used to be one of the leading foreign correspondents," she replied.
"So you wanted to travel. Have you?" Owen asked curiously.
"Europe, all of the US. At some point I realized that I do have a comfort zone which I am a little reluctant to leave. I guess adventure is more exciting from afar, than actually living it. I guess not everybody is cut out for it," she explained.
"Well I am sure you've seen plenty then as it is, certainly more than me, " he replied modestly.
"I guess I can't complain," Rory noted, taking another sip.
"Listen, I was wondering whether you wanted to grab dinner sometime," Owen asked, after finishing his coffee.
"Look, Owen, I think you're a nice guy and honestly I'd have nothing against dinner itself, but I'm actually not interested in dating right now. It's a little complicated," she replied. Owen was attractive surely, reminding her a little of Jess in his build, except for the blonde hair, but she wasn't going to throw away everything she'd gone through with Logan just to explore her options.
"Sure, forget I asked, I hope it didn't make things weird. It's just been skim pickings when it comes to women that actually are interesting to talk to," Owen noted.
"Thank you for that though," she smiled apologetically.