AN: I'm sorry guys. I'm still writing kinda slow. My mind is just… fuzzy still. I've found that actually physically distracting myself has been my coping mechanism so I've been doing a lot of spring cleaning and cooking and seeing friends and going down to my brother's lake house rather than writing. But, please know that I have absolutely NO intention on abandoning any of my fics any time soon. It's just… taking a little while while my mind is on other things. My writing is slower than usual, but it's steady. I promise.
Thank you all so much for your reviews and your kind words of sympathy on the last update to Hollow Holiday. For those of you who don't read that and might be confused as to what I'm talking about, my grandmother and my dog both passed within two weeks of each other last month. So I've just been… distracted and not in the best headspace. Things have been coming fast though the past couple of days, so I'm hoping I maybe have my groove back.
Anyway, hope you enjoy! I will be working on Mind the Gap next.
Chapter Two
Friday, August 23, 2018
"Grandma. Hi!"
Rory was practically holding her breath as she swung the door of the house open to find her grandmother standing on the other side, her fingers wrapped around the light beige handle of a brown Louis Vuitton rolling suitcase and a matching carryall settled in the nook of her elbow on her other arm. The smile on her face was radiant, and likely far more genuine than the one on Rory's.
Rory was doing her best to hide the fact that she was almost entirely out of breath - a result of running down three flights of stairs after having to practically wrestle her fourteen-month old into her crib to settle her down for a nap and picking up stray toys on the floor on every level of the house to throw them haphazardly into closets and under couch cushions in a last minute ditch effort to make it look like she was capable of keeping her home in order. It didn't help that she'd gotten unexpectedly caught up on the phone with her agent earlier in the morning, and precious time that she had been planning on using to prepare for her grandmother's visit at the last second were spent in her office instead.
As a result, the morning had been more than a little hectic. She hadn't had time to go up to her bedroom and change into a more suitable outfit before Emily's arrival. She hadn't had time to run a straightener or curling iron through her air dried hair. And she hadn't had time to sit down and calm the rapid pounding of her heart from running around the house all morning like a madwoman. Still, her smile didn't flinch.
"Let me take your bags!"
She lurched forward, taking the luggage from her grandmother's hands before lifting it over the threshold and pulling it through the entryway and into the parlour. Emily followed just a couple steps behind, her neck craning as she examined every inch of the newly renovated Brooklyn home that she had yet to see in person. Her smile only grew as she stepped over the tiled floor of the small foyer and through the large white double doors decorated with panes of etched glass that separated the entryway from the main part of the house. She paused in front of the staircase once she was fully inside, looking around with a pleased yet scrutinizing eye as Rory rolled her luggage over to the elevator door behind the stairs.
"I hope your flight was okay," she said, depositing the bags in the corner and returning to her grandmother at the front of the house.
"It was a flight. We didn't crash. That seems to be the best you can hope for these days…" the statement was uttered with an air of Emily's typical dry judgement, but the look on her face gave her away. She seemed to be absolutely enchanted by the house, and any annoyance she'd held at the airline had melted away. Rory breathed a small sigh of relief. "Rory… this is absolutely stunning."
"We like it," she replied with a smile of her own, a more genuine one now that she felt genuinely complimented and she'd had a moment to get her heart rate under control.
She never got tired of hearing compliments about her house. They'd been there for about eight months at that point, and everytime someone came to see it for the first time, it made all the headache worth it - the months of renovation, the problems with contractors, fights about wall colors and backsplash tiles and flooring, fights about money, living in Stars Hollow, raising a newborn in a tiny apartment in Stars Hollow… The end result had been worth all of it.
The house just felt like it was… theirs. It was their home, not Rory's or Logans, but both of theirs. It was a quality that had been missing from the other places they had lived together, all of them being very much Logan's spaces that Rory had moved into. This one was different. The designer they had worked with was able to perfectly merge Rory's more traditional tastes with Logan's more contemporary leanings. The place looked undeniably sleek and modern with it's white walls, clean lines, and floor to ceiling windows at the back of the house. But it was grounded with traditional touches, like the refinished original herringbone parquet floors, the built in bookcases filled with both Rory's massive collection of books and the leather bound copies she'd been left by her grandfather, and the occasional use of white paneling to accent walls and ceilings. And now, after eight months, the entire place was finally completely furnished and decorated.
"That painting is beautiful," said Emily, walking into the living area toward the brightly colored piece of art handing over the fireplace.
"Thanks," said Rory, following her. "My friend Olivia did that for us as a housewarming gift."
Rory was pretty sure that the gesture had more to do with the free advertising Olivia would gain by nature of her work being hung in a Huntzberger living room than an actual gesture of generosity and affection. Still, she wasn't going to complain. It was a beautiful piece of art, and Rory was secure enough in their friendship to know that Olivia wasn't only using her for her deep pocketed connections. She didn't really have a problem with it. Besides, any negative feelings Rory might have had about it would have been rendered moot with the small cubist portrait of Peppa Pig that she's also done for Ellie's nursery.
"I didn't know you had a friend whose an artist…"
"Yeah…We met when I was covering an art show during my senior year of Yale. I don't think you've met her. Or… well...maybe at my baby shower," Rory replied with a shrug. "Can I get you something to drink, Grandma?"
"Some iced tea would be lovely if you have it."
With a quick response in the affirmative, Rory started making her way to the kitchen, her grandmother trailing slowly behind her as she looked over the rest of the living and dining area. She walked directly to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea that she'd brewed freshly that very morning, knowing without a doubt that her grandmother would request some as soon as she arrived. She then pulled down a glass from the shelf and started filling it up as Emily made her way over to the windows looking out onto the balcony hanging over the garden.
"You have a nice sized yard out there…" Emily commented with a tone of surprise.
"Yeah, we got lucky," said Rory, offering the glass to her. "The view is incredible too, but it's really easier to see from our room or the roof. I'll show you when I give you the tour. Do you want anything to eat? I've got some cheese and crackers or- "
"Oh, no. I'm not hungry. Besides, I wouldn't want to ruin my appetite this late in the afternoon."
"Logan made us dinner reservations at Le Bernadin." Rory watched as the smile on her grandmother's face curled up practically to her forehead and a bright sparkle appeared in her eyes. She knew she'd be happy about that development, but how she would react to the rest of the plan was anyone's guess. "And Mom is driving down to join us."
"Oh."
To say that Emily was upset might be a bit of a stretch, but she was certainly somewhat disappointed. Rory had no idea what the status of the ever rocky relationship between her grandmother and her mother was at this particular moment, but she still knew that whether they were currently fighting or not, Emily was probably expecting to spend the evening alone with Rory and Logan fantasizing about about the wedding she'd always dreamed of and finally had the opportunity to plan. Lorelai's inevitable comments and digs were certainly going to burst whatever bubble she was floating on. Though, Rory couldn't help but think that grounding her grandmother from the gate was probably the best course of action before things got out of hand.
"Is that alright?" Rory asked, innocently. Emily picked up her fallen expression and adopted an air of nonchalance that was clearly forced.
"Of course it's alright," she replied with shrug. "Do you think I don't want to see my own daughter?"
"Well… no… of course not, Grandma…"
"Speaking of dinner…" said Emily, walking toward the direction of the table with her nose ever so slightly turned up, a look that to someone less practiced in the Gilmore matriarch's mannerisms might not even notice but Rory recognized instantly. "Where is your formal dining room? Is it downstairs?"
"Oh...well… uh…" Rory's brow furrowed. She was slightly surprised at the question, though now that she was thinking about it she knew she probably shouldn't have been. "It's… there."
"Where?" Emily asked, turning around and looking at the table next to her in what could only be described as shock and horror. "Here?"
"Yes…"
"This is a kitchen table…" Emily countered, pointing at the piece of furniture behind her.
Of course, it wasn't a kitchen table. It was a very beautiful, very expensive (too expensive in Rory's opinion, but that was one fight she had lost) live edge table with grey upholstered chairs that very much took up it's own space separate from the kitchen. But, convincing Emily Gilmore of that reality wasn't going to be an easy feat.
"No that's… that's a dining room table."
"I'm standing in the kitchen, and I can see the table. There's no door here.," Emily continued, unsatisfied. "That's a kitchen table."
"Well, yes, there's no doors on the parlor floor, except to the bathroom…" said Rory, gesturing to the half bath behind her. "We wanted an open concept. You know… let the light through… It was so dark and cramped in here before..."
"So there was a dining room in here at one point?"
Rory sighed. So much for her grandmother being enchanted with the house. With as much as she had lightened up about so many things since her grandfather had passed and she'd left her life in Hartford behind, there were still things about her that would never change. To Emily, there were still ways that things needed to be done, ways that were far more traditional than Rory and Logan's more millennial tendencies.
"There's still a dining room, Grandma. There's just no walls…"
"But what do you do when Logan brings business associates over for dinner?" she asked. "Surely you aren't serving them dinner here… not when they can see the mess in the kitchen.'
Rory wasn't serving dinner to Logan's business associates at all. The last time he'd had work friends over, it was hours after dinner and they'd stumbled through the door drunk with greasy bags of Shake Shack and one of them - Rory'd forgotten his name - had ended up in the hot tub with his clothes on. Logan had ended up sleeping in one of the guest rooms. And the hangover he'd ended up with in the morning was nothing compared to the cold shoulder she had given him after the entire debacle.
"We don't really host…"
"Rory," Emily sighed. "You're about to marry a very important man. There are certain expectations…. It will be your job to - "
"Grandma, how's your bathroom remodel going?"
It was a risky move, but an abrupt change in conversation was the only way that Rory could see forward without the prospect of an argument hanging over their heads. She was going to be staying with them for more than a week. And while there was plenty of room for privacy between the five separate floors of her house, it would probably be for the best if they didn't start the entire visit off with a fight hanging over their heads.
She and her grandmother didn't fight very often. In fact, Rory could count the number of times they had fought on one hand. All of those times had one particular thing in common, however, and that was sustained proximity over a substantial period of time. In fact, this would be the largest amount of time they spent under one roof together since Rory's sabbatical from Yale. That situation hadn't ended very well at all, and funnily enough, her grandmother's opinions about her relationship with Logan had also played a large part in sparking that particular divide.
Her grandmother meant well, and Rory knew that she meant well. But, the fact of the matter was that she didn't know much about the dynamic of her relationship with Logan at all. She didn't know much about the dynamics of relationships in 2018 in general, come to think of it. And there was a part of her that still looked at Logan as if he was an idea rather than an actual person. Sometimes she still thought of him more as a Huntzberger than just… Logan. And her marriage advice tended to be more focused on Rory being a good wife to the former rather than the latter.
Thankfully, her bold attempt at redirecting the conversation seemed to work, and Emily let out a groan of annoyance before launching into a three minute long tirade about her incompetant contractors who were weeks over their estimated date of completion due to the fact that they couldn't seem to lay tile in a straight line. Rory, having experienced similar headaches over the last year was about to chime in with a few words of commiseration. Yet, it seemed that she wasn't the only Gilmore girl capable of abrupt changes in conversation.
"What's this?"
It took Rory a couple of seconds to realize what she was talking about, but when she saw what her grandmother's hand had inadvertently landed on during the course of her diatribe, she remembered instantly. Sitting on the island counter underneath her grandmother's perfectly manicured fingers was the large manilla folder holding the prenuptial agreement Logan had brought home just the night before. The one that she'd agreed to look over, but had been avoiding all day.
"Oh that's… um…" she started. "That's a….prenup. Mitchum gave it to Logan yesterday, but we were going to go over it with our own attorney before we made any decisions."
"You mean attorneys…." said Emily, putting a strange emphasis on the plurality of the word.
"I…" Rory's voice caught in her throat. "What?"
"Attorneys," Emily repeated. "Surely you're getting your own attorney for this."
Rory had no idea how to respond. All her life, she had prided herself on being one of, if not the smartest person in the room. She'd always considered herself to be savvy. To be in the know. She knew how the world worked. She was independent and competent and she could handle herself. But, standing here looking at the scrutinizing expression on her grandmother's face, she was suddenly feeling like an idiot. An idiot who was way in over her head and had no idea what she was doing. And that was a feeling that Rory did not have a lot of experience with.
"Rory…" Emily continued, apparently seeing her stunned silence for exactly what it was. A look of pure horrified concern was written across her face, and in that one instant Rory realized that perhaps she was a bit to flip about dismissing her grandmother's advice as out of touch and irrelevant. She was realizing that whether Logan made her feel like it or not, she was marrying into a world beyond her comfort zone. A world that she didn't know the most basic rules of. A world where she could be easily taken advantage of… even if that wasn't her fiance's intention. "You have to get your own attorney to look over this. You can't share one with Logan."
"Oh. Well. Sure… I dunno…" Rory stuttered, trying to hide her obvious discomfort. "We might not even use it…"
Apparently, shrugging it off as if it wasn't a big deal was not the right move, because the look of horror on Emily's face only grew. And grew exponentially.
"You might not use it?!" she asked. "Rory… you have to have a prenup."
"I…" Once again she found herself stunned. If anything, she had expected that her grandmother's more romantic and conservatite tendencies would have inspired the opposite reaction. "I'm not sure that we do…"
"Rory…"
"I don't want his money!" she exclaimed, somewhat surprised by the volume and intensity of her own voice. "If we get divorced he can take it all! I don't care! I have my own money. I'm not marrying him for his money!"
In that moment, a flurry of emotions rushed over her, emotions that she had been keeping tightly sealed inside of her for so long that she herself had almost forgotten they even existed. There was a lot that she had been repressing - a lot of insecurities and trigger points that she had been ignoring for so long because things were going so well with her and Logan that she could delude herself into thinking that they didn't matter.
Deep down, she knew they needed a prenup. Deep down she knew that it was only a matter of time before the subject came up, and she knew that it was the only logical and sane move for two people in their position entering into a marriage. But, the feeling that the topic stirred up inside her were ones that she'd much rather ignore.
"Rory, dear…" Emily said, gently. "No one thinks that you are…"
"That's not true…" she replied with a scoff. She crossed her arms over her chest and her eyes drifted over to the window, anything to keep her from having to make eye contact with the woman in front of her. She was being a little more vulnerable than she was comfortable with. As much as she felt safe around her grandmother, it was hard for her to admit that after all these years she was still so affected by her future mother-in-law's ever present disapproval.
The truth of the matter was that it wasn't only the idea of a prenup that was bothering her so much. That was a small part of it. But, it was also all of the unspoken implications that may or may not exist around it. It was the fact that it had come from Mitchum. It was the fact that his parents had made sure that one was drawn up as soon as humanly possible - before they'd even had the conversation themselves. It was the idea of Shira whispering things to Mitchum behind her back from the moment Logan had slipped a ring on her finger. It was the things she might say about Rory behind closed doors - things possibly worse than what she'd actually said to her face. It was the idea that she was about to inherit a mother-in-law that saw her as an enemy to be evaded rather than the loving mother of her grandchild or the woman who loved her son more than anyone else in the world.
As much as she hated to admit it, there was a small part of her that was still trying to prove her wrong. A small part of her still wanted to somehow win the woman's approval, even though the rational part of her brain knew that it was a hopeless endeavor. A small part of her somehow wondered that if she could just convince Shira that all the things that she thought about her weren't true, then maybe she would finally be accepted.
"Don't you let Shira keep you from making the best decisions for yourself. Don't let her get inside your head and manipulate you like that. I won't stand for it," said Emiy. "Anyone with two eyes can see how much you love that boy, Rory. And the people who would listen to anything Shira might have to say about it aren't people you need to concern yourself with anyway. Don't pay her any mind."
"She's my mother-in-law…"
Technically she wasn't yet, but that's all it was at that point. A technicality. She and Logan had been living together for months now. They were already raising a child together. For all intents and purposes, they were already mother and daughter-in-law. The only thing missing was the 'in-law' part. By this point, Rory had already stepped in as a full-time member of the family. She'd been to Christmas. To Easter. To Mitchum's 65th birthday party. They'd had her daughter's first birthday party at the house in Martha's Vineyard for crying out loud. The woman was undeniably a pretty significant part of her life.
"Oh, who gives a crap!" Emily dismissed with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hand.
"Grandma…" said Rory, somewhat shocked by the slightly out of character utterance. But, Emily paid her no mind.
"Do you think you're the first woman who hasn't gotten along with her mother-in-law? Because I have news for you…"
"Of course not…"
"I spent so many years bending over backwards trying to get your great-grandmother to accept me, and it was all a waste. In the end, no matter what I did or what I said or how much I loved your grandfather, she was never going to like me. I only wish I'd realized it sooner and saved myself all the grief… Women like Shira are always threatened by their daughters-in-law. They're unhappy with their husbands, so they put all their energy into their sons, and they can't stand to see them grow up to love any woman more than they love them. It sounds disgusting because it is… But, unfortunately, it's the truth. As long as Logan cares more about you than he does about her, she's never going to approve of you."
"She liked Odette."
"Of course she liked Odette," Emily countered without a moment's hesitation. "Logan didn't love Odette. He was sleeping with you for the entire duration of their engagement for Christ's sake."
"Grandma!"
"Oh, Rory, don't sound so scandalized. It's your life, not mine," Emily replied flippantly, as if speaking so candidly about sex in front of her granddaugher wasn't something completely out of the norm for her.
"It's not just Shira…" Rory admitted with a sigh. "It's also just… the idea of sitting in a conference room with attorneys talking about my divorce before I even say my vows… it's weird."
"It may feel strange, but it's the right thing to do. Your grandfather and I had a pre-nup, Rory. It's not some kind of omen…"
"Rationally, I know that…" she said. But, the irrational part of her mind couldn't keep up.
"It's not just about Logan's money, Rory…" Emily continued. "You have your own money too, you know. You're a successful author. You have the trust from your grandfather. You have your own assets to protect. And not to mention you have a little girl sleeping upstairs. You have to make sure that if anything happens she's taken care of too. As well as any other children you might have."
Something in her face must have given away the wheels that were turning in her head. Because, without even having to say a word, a satisfied smile passed over her grandmother's face and she nodded her head as if she'd won an argument that Rory wasn't even aware they were having.
"Good." said Emily. "I'll call Peter Ingram. He handled all of our family law dealings. I'm fairly certain he's licensed to practice in New York as well. If not, he'll be able to recommend someone. Hopefully we can set up a meeting within the next few days so that I can come with you to talk about everything..."
"Thanks…" Rory replied, somewhat surprised by how quickly she had gone from not even knowing whether or not she wanted to agree to a pre-nup to having her own independent counsel lined up.
If her mother were here now, she would whisper in her ear that she'd been Gilmored, and Rory wasn't exactly happy about the fact. Rory had been preparing for this for days - not just physically by meticulously cleaning every inch of the house and making sure they had every single thing that Emily might possibly ask for, but also mentally. She'd been so focused on making sure that she didn't let her grandmother railroad her while planning this wedding. And now she'd been here not even ten minutes and it had already happened.
It didn't matter so much that in this particular case, Emily was right. It still didn't bode well for Rory's abilities to keep control of what was supposed to be her special day.
"Now, I'm dying to see the rest of this house…"
The next few minutes were spent with Rory taking her grandmother on a grand tour of the place, resulting in an unexpected rollercoaster of emotions as they traveled from room to room. It started with the excitement of finally getting to show the place off, moved on to pride every time Emily saw something she approved of to annoyance every time she saw something she didn't, took a sad but touching detour into grief when her grandmother teared up at the sight of Richard's desk sitting proudly in Rory's garden level office, and then ended quickly white hot anger when Rory took her grandmother into her bedroom only to find several pairs of socks, a couple shirts, and at least three pairs of dirty black trunks lying spread out on the closet floor rather than in the laundry hamper where they belonged.
Once they were finished and Rory left her grandmother to freshen up in the guest bathroom, Rory quickly whipped her phone out of her pocket and wasted no time before pulling up the most recent text chain in her message app. She typed furiously, grinding her teeth and tapped her thumb a little harder than necessary over the send button, as if she was somehow hoping that he would be able to sense her terse tone of voice over through his phone screen.
Logan
Today 12:07 PM
R:"You told me you cleaned up the bedroom before you left the house this morning…."
She didn't expect much from him when it came to keeping things neat and tidy around the house. She'd lived with him for what was almost an accumulative five years of her life at this point. She knew very well that she would always find his socks stuffed between the cushions of the couch or his shirts laying on the bedroom floor just inches away from the closet door because he couldn't be bothered. She knew this about him, and she had long ago accepted it. She expected it. What she didn't expect, however, was for him to look her in the eyes before heading off to work and telling her a bold-faced lie when he knew that she was stressing more than usual about making the place pristine for the arrival of her grandmother.
L: "I did…"
Rory scoffed the moment the message eventually popped up on her screen. She started shaking her head back and forth, and she tried her best to keep her wording as un-bitchy as humanly possible. Though, it was easier said than done.
R: "Your clothes were all over the closet floor. How hard is it to throw them three more inches to the left and actually put them IN the laundry basket? Seriously, why is this hard? Didn't you play basketball in high school or something? Do I need to get you a little basketball hoop to throw them through?"
The blinking ellipses popped up again, starting and stopping just as they had a few moments ago. Though, this time instead of coming through with an actual response to her complaints, Logan said nothing. She waited for a few seconds, scoffing again when she realized that he apparently didn't have anything to say for himself at all. But if that was the case, she had no problem doing the talking for both of them.
R: "You told me you cleaned up after yourself so I thought it was safe to take my grandmother on a tour of the house. So imagine my embarrassment when I take her into our bedroom only to find a closet that looks like Oscar the Grouch is about to pop out of the floor boards any second."
L: "You've got to stop watching television with Ellie…"
R: "I'm not joking. You know I've been stressing out about this visit and you lied to me. I'm pissed."
L:"You asked me if I cleaned the bedroom. I did clean the bedroom. I didn't think you were going to show your grandmother our closet."
Rory could have banged her head against the wall. The logic of that statement was just so… masculine. Perhaps it was a result of growing up in a household with a single mother and no siblings, but there were some elements of living with a man that boggled her mind to this day. Like the sheer amount of time he spent watching sports - sports he didn't even care about like… rugby, and cycling, and curling, or the astonishing way he played into cliches about leaving toilet seats up every time he used the bathroom, or the fact that he didn't understand that the walk-in closet was a part of the bedroom - a part that any red-blooded woman was definitely going to want to see on taking a tour of the place.
R: "Of course I showed my grandmother the closet! In what world is Emily Gilmore going to walk into a master bedroom without wanting to see the walk-in closet?"
L: "I'm sorry."
L: "Next time I will make sure to protect your grandmother's delicate sensibilities from the traumatizing sight of my underwear on the floor."
Rory sighed. She looked up from her phone and threw her head back for a moment, trying to gather herself. Part of her was still annoyed and angry with him, but a bigger part of her was annoyed at herself for being so annoyed. She couldn't deny that his tongue in cheek response has disarmed her a little bit. It did put in perspective how much she was blowing the issue out of proportion. But, then again, her frustration probably didn't have all that much to do with the underwear at all. It was probably a culmination of things. This was just the easiest to pick at for the moment.
L: "Besides…. I'm still not entirely sure your grandmother hasn't seen parts of me that are far more intimate than my underwear..."
The urge to bang her head against the wall only grew. Her right hand found its way to her face as she covered her eyes in a futile attempt to protect herself from the non-existent images of her grandmother walking into her bedroom at the big house to find she and Logan sleeping next to each other - naked - fresh off a morning quickie and an entire night love making. The reminder of that morning was definitely not what she needed at the moment, and the reminder of the fact that neither one of them were totally confident that Emily hadn't seen Logan in all his glory wasn't what she needed to make her visit more tolerable.
R: "Well now she definitely knows that you prefer to keep your junk supported by the capable hands of Calvin Klein"
L: "What can I say?"
L: "Nothing comes between me and my Calvins…."
Rory smirked and rolled her eyes. At this point, her frustration was waning and she was starting to feel at least slightly amused by the situation.
R: "I think I came between you and your Calvin's about five hours ago, mister…"
The flashing three dots made an appearance once again in the bottom left corner of Rory's phone screen, and without even being there, she could practically see the smirk curling on Logan's face as he formulated a response to her flirtatious reminder of their speedy rendezvous in the bathroom that morning.
L: "You came between something, Ace… "
L: "But I think it was the shower wall and my co - "
"Rory!"
Rory's phone practically went flying through the air as she jumped from the sound of her grandmother hollering for her from the floor above, cutting her off from reading the remainder of Logan's latest text message. Though, she didn't really need to read the rest of it to know what it said. She knew very well what it said. The flush on her cheeks knew very well what it said.
"Yes, Grandma?" she yelled back, her heart beating heavily as she walked over to the staircase to find the woman in question standing at the top dressed in a fluffy peach colored bathrobe.
"Are the towels in this bathroom your guest towels? Or are they just decorative?"
Rory blinked, confounded.
"I don't… have... decorative towels, Grandma."
"So I can use these?" Emily asked as if it were a perfectly normal question and not one of the strangest things Rory had ever needed to clarify in her life.
"Yes…" she said, drawing out the 's' at the end ever so slightly.
Emily disappeared around the corner, and the moment she was gone, Rory let out a massive sigh. Her visit was already off to an interesting start, and the day wasn't even over yet. She had taking her mother to Le Bernadin to look forward to on top of everything else, an adventure that wouldn't pass without a few snide comments under her breath about how expensive it all was.
It was true that Rory had never really romanticized the idea of planning her wedding. But, in the annals of her mind, she'd always thought that the entire process might be a little more romantic than this. None of this seemed all that romantic at all - the prenups, the family squabbles, and endless to-do lists, the politics of it all. It wasn't very romantic, but it was real. And, like the struggles they'd gone through renovating this house, she was optimistic that in the end it would all be worth it.
The phone in her hand buzzed again. But, this time, instead of seeing another text come through from her fiance as she had expected, it was a notification from her baby monitor app, alerting her to the fact that noise and movement had been detected in Ellie's crib.
Rory slid her thumb over the screen, opening it up to an image of Ellie sitting up wide awake from her afternoon snooze. She was slapping her hands on the mattress beneath her, keeping rhythm as her little voice sung out a series of notes set to nonsensical lyrics and a tune that Rory wasn't sure was an actual tune at all. Every once in a while though, she could make out the word 'mama' finding its way into the verse, and all she could do was smile.
Suddenly, she was finding her life pretty hard to complain about. She might have a control freak for a grandmother, a disapproving mother-in-law, and a future husband who was incapable of keeping his underwear off the floor, but at that moment she couldn't deny that she was happy. And she wouldn't trade a single piece of her reality for a fantasy that she'd never been all that invested in to begin with.
"Mama's coming, baby."
TBC…
