"Hi Leah!" Rory called on Facetime, "I love your hat!" she added.
"Mommy!" the blue-eyed toddler replied happily, wearing a red elf hat.
"Leah's been having a great time," Finn explained in the background.
"Oh yea, what have you guys been doing?" Rory asked.
"We've opened all the presents and, my god, there was a mountain of them. I tried to tell Santa that Leah was just this small girl, but he didn't listen. And we painted a picture, made and ate cookies, what else Leah?" Finn explained playfully.
"Sounds wonderful," Rory gasped.
"Mommy come?" Leah asked.
"Tomorrow, honey, I am coming to pick you up tomorrow," Rory replied.
Leah blew an air kiss towards the screen leaving Rory's heart melting, before Leah scattered off to play with her new toys.
"Everything okay over there?" Finn asked.
"It has calmed down a bit. Paris is coming over today as well," Rory sighed.
"I know," Finn replied.
"Of course you do," she commented. It was still sometimes difficult to remember that Finn actually spoke to Paris more than she did.
"Anything I can do?" Finn added, feeling detached and obscure, unsure if it was at all his place to do anything at this point. He'd seen Rory in a bad place before, and even then knowing how to help had been a mystery.
"You are doing enough. I'm so glad Leah has you, and that she had a great time," she began. "I'm getting help. She's coming by every few days, it's not like with Dr. Burg at all, much more proactive," explained Rory, sounding almost optimistic. "And I took some time off work, so I'll hopefully have a chance to spend some more time with Leah as well," she added.
"That's good," he sighed. "If you need anything, just call, alright?" Finn suggested.
"Thank you! See you tomorrow!" Rory said.
"Bye," he said before hanging up. More than anything Finn wanted Leah to have a mother who was all there, happy and a positive role model. He just didn't know what his role was in that process these days.
Logan was catching up with some e-mails at the dinner table, having left his inbox unattended for the duration of their Nantucket trip. He almost hadn't missed it, that is until he realized the urgency behind his colleagues' words in many of them. The way they expected his seal of approval on projects and advice was almost ridiculous. He trusted them enough to make those decisions themselves but apparently they themselves didn't, likely causing his delayed replies to cause them unnecessary stress during the holidays, waiting to hear from him. He couldn't do that to them, so he dived into the sea of e-mails. What he would've rather been doing was reading the contents of the memory stick Rory had given him the night before. But now it had to wait.
At the same time Rory sat in her study, staring at a blank new document on her laptop. She had homework to do. But unlike her Yale homework, this one was actually difficult. She could've written about almost any subject within minutes. She knew all the writers-block techniques. But this was different. This was not about something she knew, it was about something she felt. She was even fairly unused to writing in first person. It took her ten minutes to force the words out of her. With Leah's adorable face freshly on her mind, the first page was about herself as a mother. It took a lot of willpower to focus and really stick to the present, her experiences from last year looming over her. She wrote about the games she liked to play with her, what she adored about her daughter - like the way she wasn't fussy about food or how well she was adapted to their flexible schedule, spending time in at least three different households on a regular basis. She tried to analyze her patience, which was patchy and the way she didn't like to feel like she wasn't in control of their schedule. What she learned from that exercise was that while there was still a lot to be improved, especially in terms of balancing her life a little better, and certainly bigger challenges awaited as Leah grew, the basics were solid, and by loving her and enjoying her company she could conclude that they were good together. Beginning to untangle that one part of her life that had just last year caused her a lot of guilt, made her feel warm inside.
"Do you feel up to talk or do you just want to hang out?" Paris asked, landing on Rory's couch a few hours later.
"Do you mind if we just watch a movie or something? I just finished my therapy homework, I feel I am just a little drained from all the reflecting," Rory said, tossing her the remote.
"Parks and rec?" Paris suggested. There was nothing like a little 'Leslie Knope girl power' to help when times got rough.
"Alright then, I'll go make some popcorn," Rory offered, walking over to the kitchen.
Logan stepped on through the front door having just returned from his run. He ran daily these days as long as it wasn't pouring or a complete blizzard, adequately equipped with Icebug trainers and layered thermal clothing. He waved in greeting as he switched off his headphones, adding "Hi Paris!"
"You sure are outdoorsy compared to Rory," Paris observed.
"Got to keep moving, especially after all the holiday meals this month," he commented laughingly, heading upstairs to shower.
"Logan Huntzberger - worried about his figure, my-my," she teased jokingly.
Rory returned from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of non-alcoholic apple cider and two glasses.
"We can at least enjoy some bubbly," Rory said theatrically.
"Has Finn told you about his trip yet?" Paris asked two episodes later, throwing the final piece of popcorn in her mouth.
"Briefly," Rory replied. Frankly she thought it was a great idea he was doing something for himself. He'd loved to travel, and his and his friends, including Logan's, adventures always had been something he enjoyed. Of course this time was somewhat different.
"He asked me to join him," Paris added.
"Are you going to?" Rory asked, curiously.
"I am not sure, I'm thinking about it," Paris replied, adding, "Do you think I should?"
"I think the question is whether you want to," she said.
"Maybe it's too soon?" Paris hesitated.
"I don't know, is it?" Rory reflected.
"I don't know how to do these things. It's been a while since I've been dating someone like this, I don't know what the protocol is. When is it okay to ditch your kids to your nanny and go off exploring the world with your boyfriend?" Paris huffed.
"I think in our age," she began, chuckling, "god, we sound old." "In our age there is very little protocol left. Everybody has some baggage and I guess now the questions just is how do you feel about it," Rory continued.
"I wish the breakfast cereal girls were still around sometimes for things like this," Paris recalled nostalgically.
"No, we're better off without them, they gave me terrible advice. Ask Logan," she argued.
"Is it weird for you that I talk about Finn?" Paris asked, after a few minutes.
"Not really. But I guess, I sort of feel protective of him. I hurt him badly, and I'd prefer if he didn't have to go through something like that again. And I know, it's an unfair amount of pressure on you, but this is just how I feel," Rory explained.
"Thanks for the honesty, now I know how flawed your logic will be if I ask for advice. I'll use a coefficient," Paris replied jokingly.
Rory had just got off the phone with Honor, who'd set up a private appointment at Kleinfeld's for her. Honor's name had carried far, opening up a fairly good time slot in a not so distant future. Kleinfeld's had offered the possibility of an in-home showroom and fitting after hearing the Huntzberger name, but Honor figured there was something special about going on an outing with the entire bridal party.
Rory still hadn't replied to Lorelai's text. She didn't want to talk about their fight nor about how she was feeling. But she also knew the rift would become even larger if she didn't tell her when she was going dress shopping. Lorelai was the Matron of Honor after all, and despite their disagreement, she didn't aim to change that - their history was bigger than that. She hoped time would sooth things over, and there certainly was still time. So she pulled up her last message failing to ignore it's contents, which indeed was exactly what she had thought, and typed a new message.
"Kleinfield's on January 4th, 11 AM." she wrote plainly.
