March 2005

He felt the movement of the mattress beside him and a sudden influx of light penetrated his eyelids. He pried them open to see Rory on her side facing away from him and gazing out the second story window onto old campus below. A patchy dusting of snow coated the grounds which were cast in the orange glow of the late afternoon sun. "Careful," he teased, turning onto his side to spoon her and reaching over her shoulder to pull the curtains shut again. It was a perfectly nice view, but right now he was content pretending the outside world didn't exist and enjoying this moment here with her. "Unless you want to give all of Yale a peep show."

"There's no one here," she reminded him. It was true; they were practically alone on campus seeing as spring break didn't end for three more days. He wasn't sure what had compelled him to leave his ski trip early, he'd just found himself feeling strangely stifled up there. It was a sausage fest, for starters. And sure, they'd found girls to join them at the cabin for some après ski fun, but there was just something about it that wasn't jiving with him this year. So, he'd just…packed up his things and left. He wasn't about to head back to his parent's house to ride out the second half of the week though, that was for sure, so campus it was. And once he was there, he'd needed some way to pass the time. He knew Rory lived nearby, and he imagined she, of all the girls he was currently seeing, would enjoy the quiet solitude of an uninhabited university full of historical, old buildings. So, he'd invited her to join him. He'd be lying if he'd said it was a surprise when she'd knocked on his dorm room door last night, but he knew full well that once he put the suggestion in her mind, she'd take him up on it. And he had been anything but bored for the past twenty some-odd hours. "Besides, I'm all covered up."

"You are," he acknowledged, taking in the sight of her snuggled warmly under his blankets, "and I must say, it's a damn shame."

"Aren't you tired?" She wasn't looking at him, but he could practically hear the eye roll. Why was it that he found her irritation immensely sexy? Most girls would have giggled and demurred, not so covertly hinting for more complements. But not Rory.

"Exhausted," he confessed. Sure, he'd barely left this bed all day, but he'd still managed to tucker himself out. Still, despite his fatigue, he would find it within himself to soldier on. "But that doesn't mean I can't admire the view."

"You are so cheesy." This time she did laugh, only it was a genuine laugh—short and harsh, with a little snort at the end. Not one of those dizzying titters so many girls made in his presence. "I can't believe you actually score with lines like that."

"Says the woman I just scored with."

"Yeah, well," she replied, scootching around so she was facing him. "I'm just with you for the free Chinese food and this nice, big, cozy bed."

This time it was Logan who laughed; deep and real. "I feel used, Ace," he informed her with faux reproach. "Besides, the bed's not even that big."

"It's bigger than my bed,"

"It's only a double."

"Yeah, exactly…as in double the size of my twin."

"I'm pretty sure bed sizes don't work that way."

"Whatever," she scoffed. "The point is, this is a dorm room. You're supposed to have a ratty old twin bed, like the rest of us plebes." He had, of course, started out the year with a tiny, uncomfortable twin bed with a mattress of dubious hygiene, just like everyone else on campus. But that wasn't going to cut it for him. He had no problem squeezing into a girl's twin bed for a few hours, but he needed more space than that for everyday use. He was still mad he didn't have a Queen. And sure, it was technically against the rules to put a full-sized bed in there—something about it being a fire hazard—but a hefty tip for his RA at the beginning of the year ensured that no one was checking up on him. Besides, it wasn't like Rory didn't know a thing or two about dorm room upgrades.

"Sure, because that fancy couch and that high def, big screen TV in your dorm room are totally standard order."

"Yeah, well, you've met my Grandma. I had no say in that."

"Mmm." It was true, from what he knew of her grandmother, she was not a woman who knew how to take 'no' for an answer. "She is quite the formidable woman. Must run in the family."

"I'm sorry," she gasped, sitting up suddenly. The sheet slipped down, revealing more of her alabaster skin than she seemed to realize. But despite the increased exposure, his access to that skin was suddenly feeling very far away. "Did you just compare me to my grandmother?"

"Huh, yeah, I can see now how that might not have been the smartest thing to say. I take it back."

"You better," she huffed, relaxing back into the bed. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

"I'm sure you are nothing like your grandmother," he added for good measure. If there was even an ounce of hot water left in this trap he'd set for himself, he wanted to make sure he put some ice in it ASAP. "Or your mother. You are totally your own woman."

"Oh no, I'm exactly like my mother," Rory corrected him.

"Oh really?"

"Mmhmm," she confirmed. "Well, I mean, I read more, she flirts more. But other than that…we have the same taste in movies, TV, music, food..." Her smile grew as she talked about her mother. It was such a foreign concept to him; a fondness for one's parental figure. Although he knew her situation was different from most; her mother was just a kid herself when she'd had Rory. He imagined, in a way, they'd grown up together. He could see how Rory might view her as more of a big sister. And in his experience, big sisters weren't half bad. "My mom is actually really cool."

"Well, she did help keep your father and that other guy from ripping me limb from limb." He recalled the night of her grandparent's vow renewal; the first time they had hooked up. By that point it was getting harder and harder to deny his interest in the woman who currently shared his bed. But still, he had done nothing about it. As much as she piqued his interest, he wasn't ready for any kind of relationship; he had enough responsibility and expectations in his life from his father without adding a girlfriend to the mix, wanting to commandeer all his time and attention. And he knew that Rory wasn't the kind of girl who slept around. He didn't want to make her that kind of girl—which meant she was off limits. And yet, labeling her off-limits only seemed to make him want her more. So, against his better judgement, he accepted the invite to the party, but he'd brought his friend Jewel along to serve as a distraction and keep him from doing anything he might regret. It hadn't worked. How could it, when Rory asked him to dance, insisted she just wanted some 'stringless fun,' and then dragged him off to an empty dressing room? Alas, the moment had been interrupted by her not so happy mother…followed shortly thereafter by her father and her mother's boyfriend. It was only by the grace of Lorelai, as peeved as she had seemed, that he had made it out of the Windsor Club alive. "So definite points in the cool category there. I guess I just have trouble imaging a mother that I…well…like."

"Honestly, my mom is my best friend," she told him, propping her head up on her hand to look down at him. "It was just the two of us when I was growing up, and we lived in this tiny little shed behind the Inn she worked at, so it was kind of close quarters. But at night we'd sit outside and listen to the music from whatever event the Inn was having, and we'd dance and laugh and there were this cute little family of ducks that would come back every spring that we'd feed. Sookie didn't work there yet, but the cook they did have made these delicious macaroons and when there were leftovers, Mom would take the old, chipped china from the dining room and use it to throw a tea party for me."

"That sounds nice." He meant it. It was weird, he knew. He'd grown up with everything a little kid could have ever wanted; an entire wing of the house with all his toys, an inground swimming pool, a tennis court and a basketball court, mountain bikes and rollerblades and skis, every video game system on the market….it was a kid's Mecca. But there was something about the simplicity of the scene Rory described that was appealing. If felt…freeing. There was just one part of it that didn't make sense. "What did Richard and Emily have to say about you living there?"

Rory's face fell a little. "They didn't know," she told him. "Mom left the house with me when I was one. Mia, the Inn's owner, took us in. I'm not even sure if they had any idea where we were for at least the first few years after that. I think my first real memory of them was when I was…six, maybe. We went to Christmas at their house. I didn't even understand that it was their house. I thought it was like the Inn…that there were guests that stayed there. I couldn't comprehend that two people could live in some place that big all by themselves." He'd known in some sense that Lorelai had gone off on her own, raised Rory apart from the elite, Hartford society world they'd come from; he'd heard his parent's gossip about it from time to time when something with the Gilmore's would come up. But he'd never really understood the extent of the separation. He'd never known just how fully Lorelai had severed herself from them. Honestly, he kind of admired it. God knew there were days when he wished he could walk away from it all; the expectations and responsibilities; the fake smiles and inane gossip; the cutthroat wheeling and dealing of everything from business to social politics. But that was a pipe dream, he knew. His life was what it was. His future was already decided. And even if he really did want to walk away from it, he wouldn't even know where to start, wouldn't know how to survive on his own with no money and no family. He didn't like his family, sure, but he still didn't know what he'd do without them. But it was nice to imagine…just sitting by a pond listening to far away music and feeding the ducks with nowhere to be, and no one to impress.

"But you're close with them now, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Rory nodded. "When I was sixteen, I got into Chilton, but my Mom couldn't afford the tuition, so she had to go to Grandma and Grandpa to get it. They made a deal that in exchange for the money, we would have dinner with them every Friday night."

"Ahh, holding money and guilt over some one's head to manipulate them into a lifetime of obligation. Now, that's the kind of family I'm familiar with."

"It wasn't like that," Rory protested.

"Oh really?" he asked, his eyebrows raised knowingly.

"Well okay, it was for Mom. And yeah, they can definitely wield it like a cudgel when the mood suits them. But I'm glad it happened. I'm glad I get to have them in my life."

"Even when they gather every available bachelor on the east coast and try to auction you off like a piece of meat?" Logan laughed.

Rory rolled her eyes. "Hey, your parents brought you to that party."

"I thought we'd already established that my parents suck." He was hardly going to admit to her that he hadn't needed much coercion to get him there. As much as he hated any event his parents or their friends put on, he had found that the thought of a night at the Gilmore's didn't seem nearly as off-putting as it should have.

"Are they really that bad?" she asked, reaching up to finger a stray lock on his head. Her eyes were sad, but not in a pitying way, just…sad, like she was imagining a life without the mother and the grandparents she knew and loved. It made him uncomfortable; his life wasn't sad. People all over the world would kill for his life.

He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "They weren't bad," he said. "They just weren't…parental."

Apparently she wasn't buying it. She moved her hand down to grasp his, interlocking their fingers and giving them a squeeze. "You can tell me, you know."

"I know," he said. He didn't want to be talking about this. He wanted to go back to talking about her. He wanted to know more about her, running around in pigtails, feeding the ducks. "There's just not much to say," he insisted. "What do you want to hear? Some woe is me, poor little rich kid story? I had everything I could have wanted as a kid."

"Except them."

"Believe me, I didn't really want them."

Rory let out a sigh. "I'm just saying, I get it. Mom had everything money could buy as a kid too. And it didn't make her happy. No amount of money and fancy stuff makes up for a family that doesn't really see you."

He swallowed down an uncomfortable lump in his throat. "What about your Dad?" he asked, changing the subject back to her. He took the hand in his and started massaging it gently.

She didn't answer for a moment, as she stared into him. He held her gaze, despite the unyielding desire to look away. Logan Huntzberger didn't look away. After a few seconds she seemed to decide it was best not to push it any further. She let out a breath of air, her shoulders relaxing. "He wasn't around much," she admitted. "He tried, but he just wasn't…there. Still, I loved him. And for a very short period of time a few years ago, I really thought maybe things would finally work out, and that he was actually going to stick around. But then his girlfriend got pregnant and well…" she let out a sigh, "things have been rocky since then. We were having a good patch there for a bit, but then, after everything that went down with him breaking up Mom and Luke at the wedding…" she shrugged. "But we've been emailing a little and…I don't know. I've come to terms with the fact that he'll never be the Dad I dreamed of, but a part of me still hopes that one day we can at least have some sort of stable relationship."

"Well, if it helps at all, he certainly seemed to have some major Dad vibes going for him when he called me a weasel and threatened to kick my ass."

"Hah, yeah," Rory giggled. "That was pretty funny."

"Sure, funny for you. You didn't see your life flash before your eyes."

"True. And we hadn't even gotten to good stuff yet to make it worth your while."

"The good stuff?" he asked, his eyebrow raised teasingly. "You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you, Ace?"

"Well, we are lying here naked in your bed, aren't we?" she asked. "Of course, for all I know, I was fourth on your list to call for a good time this spring break." She spoke with the same open and relaxed tone she'd been using all along, but he still sensed a shift; a wall going up. He had a feeling she wouldn't be talking about her family or her childhood anymore.

"You called me," he reminded her. Of course, if he was being honest, it was only a matter of time before he'd picked up the phone himself. He'd thought of calling her a few times; he just didn't want to come off too eager.

"Hey, you know what I want?" Speaking of eager, her voice must have risen an entire octave and she was suddenly pushing herself up to try and climb over him.

"What?" he laughed.

"To read that paper."

"What paper?" he asked, confused both by what she was asking and by the sudden change in her disposition—not bad per se, just different.

"Your paper," she reiterated. She was now straddling him, but not in a sexy way. Not there was an unsexy way for her to be naked and straddling him. But she wasn't exactly there to put the moves on him. "You know, the ethics one you wouldn't let me see before because I might pull a Hadley and lose it."

"What?" Was she serious? Only Rory could be naked in a bed with him and want to read his term paper of all things.

"Come on, I want to see it." She was trying to swing her other leg over him to get out of the bed, but she was all tangled up in the sheets.

"I gave it to my professor," he reminded her. Even if he wanted to let her read it, he hadn't gotten it back yet.

"So? I'm sure you have the file saved on your computer. Cleary you've learned from Hemingway's mistakes and have a backup." She had almost succeeded in disentangling herself from the linens at this point, and Logan was not at all keen on it.

"Get back here," he insisted, grabbing her wrist and tugging lightly so she came tumbling back down on top of him. That was more like it.

She was giggling merrily, and wriggling on top of him, much to his enjoyment. "Come on," she pleaded as she continued her half-hearted attempts to extricate herself from the bed. "I want to read it."

"You're insane," he laughed.

"You got a problem with that, mister?" she asked.

"Not at all," he replied, pursing his lips together and quirking an eyebrow. "Actually, I find it quite the turn on."

"Oh yeah?" she asked as she stopped her squirming and bit her lip, her blues irises darkening as she peered down at him.

"Definitely," he replied in a breathy whisper.

"And what are you going to do about it?" she asked.

"Hmm," he contemplated as his hand snaked up her bare spine to the nape of her neck. "I was thinking, for starters…" he pulled her head down to meet his, kissing her passionately. Her lips parted and his tongue swept inside to battle with hers.

After a few minutes they pulled apart, both breathing heavily from the lack of oxygen. "Logan?" she whispered.

"Hmm?" Before he knew what was happening, she was no longer on top of him. He pushed his torso up off the mattress and turned his head to see her gathering up the top sheet and wrapping it around herself like a toga as she strode across the tiny dorm room to the desk where his laptop sat.

"What's the file called?" She asked over her shoulder. "The Lost Manuscripts? Hands off, Hadley? For Teacher's Eyes Only?"

He collapsed back into the bed with a sigh, knowing it was a lost cause. She was going to read that paper whether he liked it or not. And it wasn't so much that he actually cared if she read it. He just had other things he'd rather be doing.

"What are you going to do, grade it?" he asked.

She turned back to face him with an excited twinkle in her eye. "I could, you know."

He squinted his eyes at her in mystification. "Have I mentioned lately that you're weird?"

"I believe the word you used was 'insane.'"

"You want to grade my ethics paper?"

"Yep," she confirmed, popping her p for emphasis.

"Because the grade I'm going to get from my professor with the pHD in philosophy and seven published books on the topic, will be wholly insufficient?"

"Weeeeell," she said, starting to take a few steps back towards him. "I was thinking I might…grade from a different perspective."

"Oh really?" he asked, suddenly intrigued. "And what perspective is that?"

"For starters, I figured I would let you make a vigorous…oral defense of your paper."

"I see," Logan nodded solemnly. "An oral defense. I think I can manage that. I am rather quick of tongue."

"And then I thought maybe I'd allow you to…plead your case for extra credit."

"Oh really?" he nodded again, trying to keep from laughing…and from pulling her back down on the bed and beginning to plead his case right then and there.

"Really," she confirmed.

"And as my newly appointed ethics professor, tell me, what exactly are the ethics of allowing your students to perform sexual favors in exchange for grades?"

"Hmm," she plastered a look of contemplation on her face as she let go of the sheet and it dropped to the floor. "I'm not sure…shall we debate?"

If you had ever asked Logan whether he'd rather be at a chalet in Mont Tremblant, skiing with his friends, or at Yale discussing his term paper, well he knew what he would have told you without a doubt. But it turned out, life was full of surprises, and right now, Logan was pretty certain this was shaping up to be one of his best spring breaks ever.

November 2005

Logan stood on the sidewalk, staring at the glass doors before him. What was he doing here? Was this insane? Colin certainly thought it was. Robert was being surprisingly supportive, but he suspected that was just because he reveled in the thought of Logan becoming one of the lowly proletariats so he could lord his money over his head. And Finn, well, Logan wasn't entirely sure Finn even understood what a job was.

So maybe it was insane. After all, if Logan went through with this…if he got this job, if he accepted it, if he told his father…it was all over. Mitchum would cut him off without a second thought. He'd be on his own; supporting himself…and Rory and the baby, with nothing more than what he could bring home in his paycheck each week. That was if Rory would even have him. At this point, he still had no idea how she would react to him telling her that this meant more to him than a series of hotel room trysts. So far, every time he had so much as hinted at the fact that he wanted more, he'd feel every muscle in her body tense and see her azure eyes widen in terror as she fought the urge to run. She wasn't ready to hear it outright; she was still too scared. But he would have to tell her eventually. He could hardly walk away from his father and the family business and move to Boston without her catching on.

Was this really what he wanted, then? To give up everything he'd spent his life thinking was his destiny? To give it all up for a wife and a son…if he was lucky? He'd spent his life running from commitment and now here he was, ready to make the biggest commitment of all with no way of knowing if it would even work out. But then he thought back to that day in his dorm room so many months ago. That day that Rory had opened up to him about her childhood and her mother. He remembered her telling him about how Lorelai had just taken her and left her parent's house. How she had walked away and never looked back. And he remembered that feeling he'd gotten…just for a moment, then it was gone, pushed to the side for a torrent of reasons it would probably take a team of highly trained psychologists to figure out. In the moment he wasn't even sure he knew it had been there. But now, looking back, it was clear as day. He'd envied her…Lorelai. He'd envied her ability to live life on her own terms, even when it had cost her so much.

That's what he wanted. He wanted to be in charge of his own destiny. He was done being his father's puppet, just doing what he was told and having no say in his life. He was going to choose where he lived, how he made his money…who he loved. So that was it then. He was doing this. Not just for Rory, not just for the baby, but for himself.

He pushed open the door and entered, winding his way through the hotel lobby to the bar. The room, like most of the hotel, was lined with floor to ceiling windows but semi-sheer window coverings filtered out the light, creating a more typical bar-like atmosphere. It was three on a Thursday afternoon, which meant the lunch crowd had cleared but the happy hour crew had yet to manifest, so the room was only sparsely populated. Logan let his eyes scan the place, searching through the few remaining patrons until his eyes settled on three men, not much older than him, sitting on brown leather upholstered ottomans around a low bar table. They were all clad in jeans and t-shirts and Logan suddenly felt extremely over-dressed in his Ralph Lauren blue windowpane suit. He should have known not to go so formal. Tech guys were notoriously laidback in the wardrobe department, and he'd gotten a rather relaxed vibe from them during their email exchanges. His heart beat a little faster, but he pushed the anxious feeling down; there was nothing he could do about his clothing choices now. He was just going to have to make it work. Besides, this was who he was, and he had assets of his own to bring to the table; he just needed to remember that.

As he approached the table, the men stood to greet him. "Logan Huntzberger?" the tall, skinny one with curly, brown hair asked.

"The one and only," Logan informed them with a smooth grin, holding out his hand to shake.

"I'm Mark," the first man said. Mark was the one who he'd been emailing with. Rory had almost caught him replying to one of those emails last week. It could have been disastrous if she'd seen what he was doing. He'd tried to brush it off, but she had pushed the matter, so he'd told her the first thing he could think of…that he was working on a paper for school. In retrospect, it was a miracle it had worked and she hadn't insisted on reading it…and grading him on it like she had that time during spring break. Honestly, as relieved as he was, he was also a little sad about it. He was seeing more and more of the old Rory coming back to life over the past few weeks, but she was still missing some of that spark that made her who she was. He missed her passion for life, and learning, and the weird way she got off on academic achievement. Not that he'd had trouble getting her off that night, but still…

"It's nice to meet you," Logan replied, reaching out to give a firm handshake.

"And this is Kyle, and Jason." Mark pointed out his two business partners. Kyle was short and stocky with a full beard. Jason was also on the shorter side, with black hair and darker skin. He shook each of their hands before they all took their seats again. "Thanks for meeting us here, we're between offices at the moment."

Jason rolled his eyes. "He means we're working out of this one's Mom's garage." He pointed a thumb at Kyle. Logan noticed Mark give Jason some pretty severe side eye.

"It's just temporary," Mark assured him. "We're looking at some loft space downtown."

"On the bright side, my Mom makes some mean chocolate chip cookies."

"Umm, that's nice," Logan nodded politely. Dear god, what was he getting himself into here. Did these guys know what they were doing at all? They were MIT graduates, for fuck's sake. He'd thought this was a legitimate opportunity. Not some crack pot team literally working out of their mother's garage.

Mark glared at his partners again before turning back to Logan and forcing his best attempt at a reassuring smile. "It's not like it sounds, really. And like I said, it's just temporary. As a startup we need to run efficiently and keep our overhead low as I'm sure you can understand." It was clear why Mark had been the main contact up until now. At least he attempted to act like they had their shit together, and virtually, he did an okay job, but in person, his meager attempts were falling far short of being a reassurance to Logan. It was looking like it was going to be back to the drawing board when it came to the job hunt; and it wasn't like he had much time. Still, he couldn't just get up and walk out on these guys, it would be rude.

"I'm sure," Logan nodded.

"What do you know about data encryption?" Mark asked.

"Umm, that it…protects data?"

"Encryption translates plain text into chiphertext via a complex algorithm so that digital data can be securely transmitted from one computer network to another. It can only be decrypted if you have the correct encryption key. Symmetric encryption is faster, but asymmetric encryption provides an extra layer of protection as it requires both a public and a private key." Kyle explained without looking up from the mug of hot tea he had in his hands.

"Kyle's algorithm is one of the most sophisticated around. It's got excellent authentication, integrity, and non-repudiation measures. And he's added in some pretty revolutionary data loss prevention strategies into the software," Jason informed in. Logan had no idea what they were talking about, but at least now they sounded like intelligent, functioning adults who knew what they were doing. Maybe this wasn't as bad as it seemed. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd read something somewhere about Steve Wozniack getting his start in his parent's garage.

"Do you know how to code?" Mark asked.

"Umm, I know enough java script to properly format a web article." Logan was pretty sure that was not what Mark meant, but he hoped he'd said it with enough charm to come off as endearing. "Honestly, the tech stuff isn't really my wheelhouse."

"We're a tech company, coding is kind of what we do." Mark replied. Apparently, he wasn't impressed with Logan's delightful naiveté.

"Ignore him," Jason leaned forward, and waved a dismissive hand at Mark. "He's trying to play hard to get. He thinks those ridiculous tips he reads about in pick-up artist forums can be translated to the business forum.

"I hate to break it to you," Logan said, "but those don't really work for getting women either."

"That's not..." Mark tried to protest.

"We need you," Jason admitted.

"Oh, umm, okay…" Logan hadn't been expecting them to just come out and admit that. He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse about this venture.

"Look, we've got a good product. With the increase in internet sales of pretty much everything these days, there's a huge need for safer and more stream-lined online payment methods. And using Kyle's algorithm, we've created an online payment processing system that can do that in a way that no other product on the market right now can. The closest thing out there is Pay Pal, and that really focuses on connecting businesses with consumers, which is where we're at as company right now, and of course, we'll have that offering, but we really want to focus on connecting individuals to each other. We've done the market research and we've got something, I promise you that. I know Mark sent you our business plan and you must have felt like it was a good one or you wouldn't be here."

The plan did seem solid. They already had a few local small businesses using the product for their online sales. They wanted to scale up from there, to bigger businesses, of course, but they also planned to offer the ability for individuals to sell things online as well…art, homemade products, even just selling used stuff to one another, like an online yard sale. They even had a plan to allow for virtual payments outside of the home using people's mobile devices. People could pay electronically for their produce at the farmer's market, or for that antique side table someone was selling at the local flea market. Their product could revolutionize the way money and goods were exchanged online and in real life.

"It does seem to have merit, assuming the program is as safe and secure as you say it is," Logan acknowledged.

"It is." Kyle assured him.

"So, what do you need me for?"

Mark sighed, apparently resigned to the new plan of honesty. "We've had interest from a few venture capitalists, but none of them have quite been willing to take the leap and invest in us. They like the product, but they're worried about our ability to market and sell it."

"Gee, I can't see why," Logan ribbed in tone that he hoped came off good-naturedly.

"Yeah, well, you don't get to be a world class coder by being popular and charismatic," Jason smiled back at him.

"I suppose not."

"So anyway, yeah, the investors want us to bring on a business guy. It's the only way we'll get funding at this point, and we need that funding to take this to the next level."

"This company is our baby." Mark told him. "We're invested. And we know what we're doing. The product will sell itself. We just need a face for it. And honestly, your name has clout in the business world." Logan bristled a little at that. He didn't want to be wanted for his name. In fact, that was the very thing he was trying to avoid…getting a job just for being born Logan Huntzberger. "And of course, a little good press would…"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Logan held up a hand. "If you're interested in me for my name and connections, this isn't going to work. It's my turn to be honest here and let you know that if I take this opportunity, I can assure you that it will not incur you any good will with my father or his papers. Hell, I'll be lucky if my father speaks to me after this…or well, actually, it's my father so I'll be luckier if he doesn't."

This time it was Jason's turn to glare at Mark before he turned his attention back to Logan. "Listen, I'm not going to lie and say that wouldn't have been a plus, but that's not our main motive in wanting to bring you on. But the fact that you come from the background that you do…you have real world business experience. It's not easy to find that experience in someone who isn't expecting a million dollar a year salary. And add in your educational background and your…charismatic nature…You'd be perfect for the role. Because despite Mr. Hardball over there," he nodded at Mark, "I think everyone sitting at this table knows that the investors are right. The product is good…great, even. But it's not going to sell itself. Not in this market. Tech startups are a dime a dozen these days, and there's a good chance the product won't even get seen if we don't have someone who knows how to get it seen."

Logan nodded as he considered what was being said. Sure, they were a mess to look at. But they knew that. And they were trying to do something about it—and that something was him. Maybe the suit wasn't such a bad idea after all. That's what he brought to the table… the polish and shine, the negotiation skills, the people skills.

"Getting seen is definitely in my skill set," Logan informed them. "But as long as we're bringing up pay…"

"We can't offer much in the way of an actual salary right now," Mark admitted.

"But we'd bring you on as an equity partner," Jason quickly piped in. "And once we get the capital, and with the addition of your skills, this company is going to take off."

Logan winced a little at that. He needed money. He needed a paycheck. He was about to have a family to take care of. And while he had a trust fund that Mitchum couldn't mess with, he wasn't going to be able to access that until he was 25, which was still over a year away. What would they do for the first year of the baby's life…live off Rory's salary at the bookstore? She could barely take care of herself on that. "What's 'not much'?" Logan asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"1500 a month…the same as all of us." Ouch. That was basically minimum wage. A half way decent one bedroom here in Boston would probably go for 800 a month at least…and diapers were expensive.

"Is that a problem?" Mark asked, clearly noting the look of distress on Logan's face. "We know that's probably chump change to you."

"No, ummm," Logan brought his hand up to the bridge of his nose to massage away his sudden headache. "It's fine. Starting a business takes sacrifice." Running a business takes sacrifice. That's what his father always told him. But those were sacrifices that had been forced on him. This…this was a choice. He was sacrificing for something that mattered to him. He could do it. And maybe Honor could help him out? But even if she couldn't, there were people all over this country living on less. If they could do it, he could too.

"You can always crash on my Mom's couch if you need," Kyle offered. Oh dear god, what had his life come too?

"Thanks for the offer, but, umm, I think I'll be able to find my own place. He could do this, he reminded himself, even if he and Rory had to live in a toolshed…or Kyle's Mom's living room.

"We know you're still in school…you graduate in May?" Jason asked, moving the conversation along.

"That was the plan," Logan informed them. "But I've been looking into the possibility of graduating this semester." Rory hadn't told him exactly, but he knew the due date was coming up at the end of December or beginning of January. He wanted to be there. He wanted to be here. For her. For them. He didn't want to be hours away in Connecticut for the first five months of the baby's life. And honestly, he wasn't sure how he'd even pay for another semester of Yale if his father cut him off. He couldn't afford not to graduate in December. The irony of the fact that up until six months ago, he'd been fighting his father on graduation and putting it off at every turn, and now suddenly he couldn't wait one more semester, wasn't lost on him. "I need to file a formal petition with the bursar's office and drop my English major to a minor, but I'll have all the requirements for my Econ degree after this semester."

"Wow, that'd be great," Jason replied. "We were anticipating having to figure out how to work around your classes for the next six months. But if you could be here in Boston by January, that would speed things up a ton. And with a product like this, time is of the essence."

"Well, I'm doing everything I can to make that happen."

"Why?" Mark asked.

"Why?"

"Why are you graduating early? Why are you not going to work for you Dad's company?" he asked.

Logan sighed, closing his eyes and picturing Rory; picturing him and Rory walking through Boston Commons with their son on his shoulders. They were why he was doing this. "Let's just say, Boston's calling me."