Chapter Five

2014

Logan

Thurs, April 10, 8:26 AM

L: Looks like you left something behind.

R: Well… I guess I'll just have to come back soon and get it then.

Rory stared at the message window on her screen, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard, frozen, as she tried to think of what to say.

It had been a month since she'd sent that message. An entire month since they last talked. She'd attempted to write something to him a few times. Late at night if she found herself bored or thinking about him, she'd open up the thread and desperately try to think of something to say. But, she always fell short. She always came up blank. She always chickened out.

She wasn't quite sure how to approach the situation. She wasn't sure what she had gotten herself into - what they had gotten themselves into.

Were they friends?

Friends was always a laughable description of her relationship with Logan, even in the days before they were in a relationship. Before they started sleeping together, they were acquaintances and colleagues. They were friendly at most, but they weren't friends. They weren't hanging out and having movie nights together. And when they did spend time together there was always some other factor involved. It was either something to do with the paper or something to do with an event that her grandparents were throwing. They never got together of their own accord just to spend time together.

After they'd started sleeping together, they tried to tell themselves that they were friends. Friends with benefits. That had been a disaster, and time and wisdom and had shown her that you could never really be "friends" with someone whose face had been between your legs the night before. You could pretend, but you would be fooling yourself. Friends don't make other friends come. That's an entirely different kind of relationship.

So here she was again. Ten years later and stuck in the same limbo that she'd been in in 2004, wondering what exactly Logan was to her. He wasn't her friend. That much was clear. But he wasn't her boyfriend either. They hadn't spoken since she'd left because she'd been too much of a coward to face the looming question hanging over them. And the longer she waited, the harder it got to reach out.

Are you going to be in town on|

Her finger held down the backspace button, moving the cursor all the way back to the beginning and erasing all the letters she'd typed in the process.

Hey. I just got another assignment in|

She erased them again.

It was too clinical. Too matter of fact. Too formal after all this time not talking to each other. She didn't want to be boring. And she didn't want to make it seem like she only wanted to talk to him when she was going to see him in person. It was just that this was finally the excuse she'd been waiting for. A tangible reason to reach out.

Coming up with an idea to break the ice, she quickly did a quick google search for the worst hotel in London, finding an image of a shoebox of a room with nothing but a tiny cot-like twin bed, mysterious stains all over the carpet, and peeling yellowed wallpaper. The room featured a walk in shower rather than an actual bathroom and a single sink built into the wall right next to the tv. She pressed her thumb down on the image, holding it until it prompted her to copy, and then sent it off to him as a message.

Logan

Today: 3:40 PM

R: Thinking about booking this place for a few days in June.

The Greenfield Inn. Reviews seem decent. There's a complimentary

continental breakfast. What do you think? Heard anything about it?

She smiled as she sent her caption off, and she was just about to put her phone back into her pocket when she was surprised to see that the little ellipses appeared almost immediately at the bottom left hand corner of her screen. She bit her lip in anticipation and watched as the ellipses appeared there for several moments, disappearing a few times before reappearing again as he struggled with a response. Finally, however, she received one.

L: I say go for it. I heard they have excellent room service.

Try the scallops. Word is the shellfish is always an experience there.

Rory smiled again.

R: Really? I was thinking the beef tartar.

L: That too.

The ellipses appeared again, repeating the pattern of disappearing and reappearing for a few moments before another message finally came through.

L: So… I take it you're going to be in town in June?

Or was this all some kind of elaborate ruse to get me riled up?

Rory smirked, pleased that her cheeky attempt to get under his skin a bit had worked.

R: Riled up? Why would you be riled up? It looks nice.

L: You're hilarious. Truly. I'm pretty sure you could get

herpes just from sitting on that bed.

R: Oh please. If I was that concerned about getting

herpes, I never would have jumped into bed with you.

L: OUCH. 😅

R: But, yes, as a matter of fact I will be in London in June.

Though sadly it looks like the beautiful Greenfield Inn

does not have any vacancies. So I guess I'll just have to go

with my old standby airbnb.

This time there was a small pause for a moment before the ellipses popped back up. And the familiar disappearing and reappearing act continued on for far longer than it had previously. She was starting to get nervous, worrying that he was trying to break the news that he wasn't going to be there. June was the time of year that his family usually went down to Martha's Vineyard, and she had no idea if he still went. He could very well be gone… or worse just not want to see her at all.

L: You could just stay with me.

Now it was Rory's turn to pause. She found her thumbs hovering over the keyboard again as she tried to formulate a response. She hadn't been expecting that at all. And it hadn't been her motive in sending him that photo. At least she didn't think it was…

L: I mean… you spent most of your time sleeping here last time you were in town.

L: But I don't want you to feel pressured or anything.

L: If you don't want to thats totally fine.

L: You really don't have to if you don't want to

She could practically hear the panic in his voice as the texts continued to roll in while she was silent. He was backpedalling now, that much was clear, afraid that he'd overstepped. He hadn't, of course. It was just that she had been caught off guard. It seemed like a big deal, like something far outside the scope of what they were… whatever they were.

R: No I don't not want to…

R: I mean I guess that does make more sense

R: If you're sure that is… that you want me staying there

R: I'll probably be there for a couple weeks again. I don't want to be a burden or anything

L: You could never be a burden to me, Ace

Rory took a deep breath. She could feel herself on the edge of something, knowing that she was about to take a plunge. But into what she wasn't entirely sure. She was sure of one thing, however, and that was that when it came to jumping into the unknown, there was no one she would rather do it with than Logan Huntzberger.

R: Okay. Yeah… I'll just stay with you then.

2036

It took a second for Riley to remember where she was.

The last time she'd woken up cocooned in such a plush pile of feathers and foam had been at her great-grandmother's house in Nantucket. Waking up there was always like waking up in a five-star hotel, and it was the only place where she'd ever experienced so much luxury… and space.

The bed she was in now had so much space, space enough to spread her arms and legs out as wide as she possibly could and never even get close to the edge. It must have been a king sized bed. She'd never slept in a king sized bed in her life, and she honestly never thought she would. Not by herself at the very least.

When she opened her eyes, the full luxuriousness of her surroundings came into focus. The massive room was bright and clean. The tall walls were covered in a coat of light gray paint with beautiful white crown molding and panelled ceilings. The windows were dressed in floor to ceiling white curtains. And the chocolatey wood floors were covered by a soft gray and white rug with an almost lace-like design. Beautiful creamy furniture filled the room, the kind that looked somehow old and new at the same time. It felt like a hotel. Or a spa. A French spa.

Sitting up, she ran her hands over the fluffy white toile duvet spread across the bed and turned to look out the huge paned windows to her left. They were separated by a fireplace - a fireplace - in guest room - and a small sitting area with two tufted slipper chairs. The windows looked out over an expansive and meticulously kept back yard, stopping at a line of trees at the very edge of the property.

Forget the hotel. It felt like a palace.

Riley rose from the bed, noting how the torn jeans, v-neck t-shirt, and black converse she'd placed on the ottoman in front of the footboard seemed so wildly out of place in this room. She was suddenly overcome with an all-encompassing feeling of self-consciousness, and for the umpteenth time since showing up at the front door to this house the previous evening, the voice telling her that she didn't belong here started ringing in her head once again.

She wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to do at this point, if she was supposed to stay in here or leave. She wasn't sure what she would do if she ran into someone in the house who wasn't her... who wasn't Logan. But then, she also wasn't sure what she was supposed to do if she ran into Logan.

Ultimately deciding that hiding away in this room for the rest of her life wasn't the best option, Riley pulled off the old t-shirt that Logan had given her to sleep in the night before. She pulled on her jeans and v-neck, laced up her sneakers, and walked over to the door. She paused for a moment as she touched the handle and took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage she had.

When she opened the door, the air was quiet. The only sound that rang out through the halls was the soft hum of the air conditioner as it was blowing cool air through the massive space. Comforted by the fact that it seemed no one was awake yet, she made her way down the hall, wincing at every squeak and creak in the floors as she did.

The moment she reached the balcony looking out over the grand curved staircases into the foyer, he had to hold in a gasp. She'd seen the room last night, but it had been dark. The only lights illuminating the space were soft ambient outlet lights that didn't do much more than protect whoever was walking from slamming into a column or table with some kind of priceless vase sitting on top of it.

It was one of the tallest ceilings she'd ever seen in her life, at least inside someone's house, and hanging from the center of it was an enormous and pristine crystal chandelier. She started to quietly descend the marble staircase on the right, her eyes scanning over the art covering the walls and the ornately carved handrails underneath her fingers. And when she reached the bottom, she realized once again that she had no idea what she was supposed to do.

To her left was a room closed off by a french door, to her right was an open doorway leading into what looked like some kind of living room, and through the doorway under the stairs - as she knew - was the kitchen and great room. She looked around for a few moments, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth and listening for any sign of life in the house. And when she heard nothing, her curiosity got the better of her. She took a sharp turn to the right, feeling an undeniable urge to explore, and started tiptoeing her way into the open room.

The moment she walked through the doorway, she was overcome by an overwhelming brightness. Sunlight was bursting in through the floor to ceiling dome windows on both sides of the fireplace, casting beams of light onto the traditional yet modern set of matching sofas in the center of the room. The entire room was light and airy, done in creamy whites with touches of pink and a dusty sort of purple color here and there. It was drawing her in like a warm inviting hug, and she found herself desperate to run her fingers along the tufted material of the sofas. She started moving in that direction, but on the way, her attention was captured by something else entirely.

A small gasp escaped her lips as her eyes landed on the back right corner of the room. Sitting diagonally between one of the large domed windows and a tall built in bookcase was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. It was a piano. But, it was nothing like the stained oak upright piano her Grams had at the Inn, or even the baby grand piano at her Great-Grandma Emily's house in Nantucket.

This piano was stunning. It was a grand piano, considerably longer than her great-grandmother's. It was a creamy ivory in color, and either baroque or rococo in design - she'd never really been good at telling the difference. Ornate hand-carved ornaments sprouted out from the claw-footed legs, and intricate panels covered the sides. The cover of the piano was propped open, bearing the mechanics of the instrument to the eye and showing off the beautiful - though slightly faded - pastoral scene painted underneath.

The instrument looked like it could have been plucked off of the set of Amedeus or lifted from the actual Palace Schönbrunn, as if the real Mozart himself might have played it once upon a time. Riley was drawn to it almost hypnotically, her fingers reaching out entirely of their own accord. She ran them lightly over the keys - real ivory by the look of them - making it likely that the piano was a genuine antique.

Riley wasn't a very musical person. She'd suffered through leaning to play the recorder in the fourth grade, and her Aunt Lane had attempted to teach her to play the drums when she was about ten. But, it hadn't stuck. The only thing she'd ever learned how to play on the piano was the very beginning of Heart and Soul. But, for some reason, something primal in her was screaming out for her to press down into the black and white keys beneath her fingers.

She did. And just as the dissonant sound from the random notes she'd plucked filled the living space, so did another.

"Don't touch that!"

Riley practically leapt in the air. The voice had come out of nowhere, and it had startled her to her very core. Right away, her heart started pounding as the adrenaline went coursing through her. She'd been caught again. Even trying to be as invisible as possible, it seemed that she simply couldn't go undetected in this house.

She snatched her hand away from the keys, pulling it into her chest as she turned to look at the person who had discovered her. Standing in the doorway of the living area was the boy who had answered the door yesterday - Alex if she remembered correctly.

Her brother.

At least, she assumed he was her brother. She couldn't think of any other reason why a boy of his age would be living in this house. Somehow, in all of her thinking and obsessing over coming here, she'd never really stopped to think about discovering a brother. In hindsight, it seemed foolish. But, she had been so singularly focused on her father, and she was so used to being an only child, that it hadn't even occurred to her.

He was wearing the same pajama bottoms he'd been wearing the night before, but he had traded the coffee stained sweatshirt for an oversized white t-shirt bearing the image of a woman with long blonde hair standing in stark profile. She had a black tattoo on her shoulder, spreading out onto her back, and on top of her head was a wide brimmed pink hat. It must have been a musician or an actress or something of that nature, because Riley could have sworn she'd seen the image before. But, she couldn't quite put her finger on where.

Alex took a step closer to her. His brow was furrowed in anger and his lips were curled in a scowl. The next thing she knew, he was all but pushing her out of the way, and his hand shot out quickly to slam the lid closed on the beautiful black and ivory keys that she had just been admiring. As if the strength of her hands was enough to make the entire instrument collapse, or the oil on her fingers was enough to make it break down and disintegrate before their very eyes.

"That's my Mum's!" he yelled.

"I'm sorry. I - "

"You're that girl from yesterday…" he said, his eyes narrowing at her. "The messenger girl…"

He looked her up and down again, in the same scrutinizing fashion that he'd done before. This time, however, it wasn't judgmental as much as it was curious. Riley had the distinct impression that he was about to ask what she was doing there, but before another word could be said between them, he was cut off by a loud bark breaking through the tension in the air, and the clamoring sound of nails tapping against hardwood floors. And the next thing she knew, she was being assaulted by a mass of black and white fur that had come out of nowhere.

"Beau, down!" a familiar voice yelled. An American voice.

The dog obeyed immediately, removing his paws from her and ceasing his efforts to plant a never ending series of kisses on her face. He sat down on the floor in front of her, wagging his tail wildy.

"Sorry," Logan said as he appeared in the doorway. "He uh… he likes new people."

"That's okay," said Riley. She reached down and scratched the animal behind his ears, prompting him to start dancing a bit in place, clearly fighting the urge to jump up at her again. Though, to his credit - or more likely his trainer's credit, he stayed put.

When she looked back over at Logan, she saw that he was dressed quite differently than the night before. The perfectly fitting pair of black pants and dress shirt had been traded in for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, making him appear far more casual and far less intimidating. His eyes, she noticed, were fixated on the hand that Alex was still resting against the lid of the piano, and he had a sort of hopeful expression at the sight. But as soon as Alex noticed, he snatched it away, as if the instrument was burning him.

"What are you doing back here, anyway?" he asked, walking across her to sit on one of the arm rests of the couch and steal Beau's attention away from her.

Riley bristled and she watched as a nervous look passed over Logan's face. He froze, standing there saying nothing as his son's question hung in the air. And with every passing second, Riley felt her heart begin to split in two, the crack getting larger and larger the longer he said nothing.

It probably wasn't fair. She didn't know what she expected him to do. Did she really think he was going to stand there right now and tell his son that she was his long lost sister that he'd just found out about and that she was going to be a part of their family now? This was real life, after all. It wasn't an episode of Full House or some kind of Hallmark movie.

Still, even though her brain knew that she couldn't be upset at him, her heart felt differently. There was a part of her that wanted him to say the words out loud without any shame or reservation. Screw what his son would say. Or his neighbors. Or his...wife…

In the end, her brain won out, and she knew that the best thing to do at this moment would be to let him off the hook.

"I just came back for my - "

"She's going to be staying with us for a while."

This was news to every single person currently standing in the room. Riley hadn't been expecting it. Alex certainly hadn't been expecting it. And by the look of shock on Logan's face, it seemed like he himself hadn't been expecting it. She didn't know what to think about this. What to say. What to do. She didn't know what he was thinking, or even what she was thinking about the idea. And she was just about to ask for some clarification when she was abruptly beaten to the punch.

"What?!" Alex asked, the t sound at the end of the word doubly emphasized by both his English accent and his utter outrage.

Logan's eyes met hers across the room and she saw him swallow nervously. He took a step forward and looked over at Alex.

"This is Riley Gilmore. She's uh…" he said. "She's the daughter of an old friend of mine. From college. She's here to - "

"Tour Oxford."

"Tour Ox -" Logan interrupted himself, his eyes flicking over to her in a kind of dazzled surprise. "Tour Oxford."

She wasn't sure if he was surprised at the school, or surprised at the story. But, it wasn't like she had just thought it up this second. It was the reason why her mother thought she was here, after all. And it was partially true.

"I'm thinking about applying for the Yale/Oxford study abroad program, but I…" she trailed off for a second. She wanted to meet him first. She wanted to find out if she had a reason to stay here first. "...I wanted to see… what it would be like… first."

"You go to Yale?" Logan asked. There was something in his eye as he asked, something contented… prideful even. Though, she didn't know if she wanted to admit that's what it was. She didn't want to get ahead of herself.

"Yeah," she answered. "I go to Yale."

He smiled at her, and Riley was starting to feel like perhaps she didn't need to worry about getting ahead of herself after all. An almost tingly sensation started settling over her from her head to her toes, and she was almost worried that there might be a trace of blush on her cheeks. It was a good feeling, but strangely uncomfortable at the same time. Thankfully, however, Alex quickly made sure she didn't need to stay in the feeling for very much longer.

"If you're smart enough to go to Yale and Oxford, surely you know that it's two hours away from here," he said.

When Riley turned to look at him again, she noticed that he was looking straight at Logan through narrowed eyes, and she was starting to think that his displeasure wasn't actually directed at her. Especially considering the exhausted and frustrated expression Logan was giving him in return.

"Alex…" he said, pleadingly. "She flew eight hours to come to the UK. I think it's well worth her time and money to spend some time in London."

"Well good," he said, still addressing Logan. "I'm glad she can stay with us. Cause now you finally get to have the kid you always wanted in this house."

He walked out of the room, leaving her behind somewhat shell shocked at his comment. The dog was fresh on his heels, his happy energetic attitude completely unfazed by what had just occurred. Next to her, she heard Logan sigh.

"I'm sorry about Alex," he said, rubbing at the back of his neck, probably in an attempt to relieve some built up tension. "He's not usually this… well… He's always a bit snarky. But he's not usually this angry."

"That's okay," Riley replied.

She didn't actually feel entirely okay about it, but she wasn't sure what else to say. Being here was terrifying enough without worrying about an angry boy saying hurtful things to her and attempting to chop her fingers off just for touching a piano. A piano that apparently belonged to his mother…

"Are you sure it's okay for me to stay here?" she asked. "I don't have to stay here. I don't need… I don't need anything. I'm fine staying where I am, really. I don't even have to come back here. I..."

"I don't want you staying in a hostel," he firmly replied.

"But - "

"It's not up for debate," he said.

"But what about your wife?" she asked.

Her voice dropped off to a whisper at the end, and her hand subconsciously started to run along the top of the piano sitting next to her. Logan watched her fingers as they moved, and a series of expressions passed over his face. At first he seemed surprised, confused even. But once he got over his initial reaction, he just looked...sad.

"I thought you knew…" he said. "My wife died a month ago."

Riley suddenly found herself pulling her hand sharply away from the piano yet again. She hadn't known. She hadn't known at all. Though, now that she did so many things made sense. Why her great-grandmother was sending him cards. Why she hadn't seen any sign of a woman in the house at all by this point. Why there were flowers everywhere. Why Alex was so...miserable. It also explained why Logan seemed so tired. And sad.

"I'm sorry!" she said, suddenly feeling like the worst person in the world. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have come here. Your wife just died and now you have… now you have me. I just threw this on you at the absolute worst time. I'm so sorry. I should just go…"

She turned to leave, but she was suddenly stopped by the feeling of two hands wrapped around her upper arms. She let out a small gasp at the contact, being very aware that this was the first time he was touching her.

"Riley…" he said, his voice soft and pleading. He squeezed her arms, firmly but gently. And considering how close he now was to her, she had no choice but to look up at him and into his imploring eyes. "There's never a right time for something like this. Okay? But you're here. And I'm glad you're here. And I'm not letting you go back to sleeping in a dirty bunk bed with God knows who sleeping above you and only a tiny locker to keep your things in."

"I don't want to be a burden," Riley insisted.

"You're not a burden. You're not a burden at all," said Logan. "You came here for a reason, didn't you? I mean… I assume you wanted something more than to just deliver a greeting card?"

"Yes…" she admitted, quietly.

"Okay. Well, now you've got it," he said. "And part of having it means you're not staying in a hostel. Ever again."

Riley took a deep breath. She wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with staying in a hostel, but judging by his reaction she figured there was no point in trying to fight him on that particular issue. And judging by her surroundings, she would have to assume that his idea of roughing it was staying in a three-star hotel. She didn't know exactly how to tell him that a house like this was far more terrifying to her than a dirty bunkbed in a communal room full of other people her age. And she didn't want him to know that she felt out of her element, or think that she was ungrateful for his offer. For his acceptance.

"Okay…" she agreed.

Logan smiled at her and squeezed her arm again before dropping his hands back down at his sides.

"Good," he said. "Why don't we go get some breakfast and I can take you to get your stuff?"

She nodded and fell in step behind Logan as he led her to the kitchen. Her footsteps were slow, and as she moved she reached down for the phone that was tucked away in her pocket, realizing that she hadn't yet checked it since waking up. She walked into the kitchen and sat down at the bar on the island, and when unlocked the screen, it instantly prompted her heart to start pounding and her palms to start sweating at the sight of a message sent late last night.

Mom

Friday: 1:02 AM

Okay. I know I need to give you some space to be on your own. And I'm not trying to be crazy stalker lady, but I'm still your mom and I'm gonna need some indication that you are alive and didn't crash over the Atlantic or get hijacked or kidnapped or run over by a big red bus. Are you all settled? Did you find the place okay? Is it clean and safe?

Riley looked up from her phone, her eyes landing on Logan as he was softly whispering something to a woman standing over the sink dressed casually with a hijab wrapped around her head. When he was done talking, the woman looked quickly over her shoulder at her, her eyes widening in shock before returning to address Logan once again in hushed tones. She watched them for a few more seconds, only hearing about every fourth word, and after a few moments the woman walked over to her.

"Hello, dear," she said, kindly yet somewhat awkwardly. "I'm Miriam. I'm the housekeeper."

"Hi…"

"How do you like your eggs?"

"Um… scrambled is fine," said Riley.

Miriam gave her a soothing smile and reached out to squeeze her arm in the same place that Logan had just a couple minutes ago. Normally Riley wasn't a very touchy feely kind of person, but she had to admit that at this moment it did feel nice. It felt comforting.

"Any cheese with those?" the older woman asked

"Um, yeah," said Riley. "Cheese is good."

"Scrambled eggs with cheese coming up."

Riley watched for a moment as the woman walked to the fridge and took out a clear carton of brown eggs. She started heating a pan over the stove at the center of the island, and Logan made his way over to the espresso machine on the counter. With nothing else to do to keep herself occupied as a silence fell over the air, Riley looked back down at her phone and started typing out a reply.

Mom

Today: 8:15 AM

Sorry. I know I should have called. Yesterday was just really hectic. The place is really nice. Really safe. Much cleaner than I thought it would be.

TBC…

AN: Points if you can guess who was on Alex's t-shirt! Lol.

Also, I can't tell you how many times I started to write Ellie instead of Riley and had to fix it. Whoops. Apologies in advance if one of those ever slips through. :/ Just let me know and I'll fix it. And also, as a disclaimer I HATE that FF. net won't let me allign the page from the right to make text messages look like text messages. It's drives me bonkers. The R: and L: were the only solution I could think of. So, I hope that works. Ao3 lets me have my right sided alignment and emojis... just saying. Lol.

Lastly, please don't be angry at Logan for not telling Alex right away what was going on. Dropping that bombshell on him in that environment first thing in the morning isn't really the best way to go about delivering that news. Plus… from a pure writer's perspective it eliminates potential future conflict and that would just be silly. Lol.

Don't forget to review!