CHAPTER SIX - Constant Reminder
Lorelai insisted on driving herself home though he offered to take her—"The least I can do after sobbing all over that fashionably timeless flannel shirt is drive myself home—" because she needed the time.
When was the last time she'd needed that shoulder? Really and truly needed someone?
Well, there was the time when you needed money for the inn, every time you needed things to be fixed around the house, when you needed someone to help you find a lost baby chick, for God's sake. When didn't you really and truly need someone?
When didn't you really and truly need Luke?
Lorelai glanced in her rearview mirror as she took the exit toward Stars Hollow, seeing him follow in his big, dependable truck—
Oh, that's right, you needed Luke and Luke's truck to help move Rory into Yale…
And she couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips, despite herself, the wistful, half-amazed smile.
"Huh," she uttered, a half-aloud chuff of disbelief.
She'd wanted to be angry to see him there in the airport, intruding on what should have been a very personal moment, a moment for her and Rory alone, and then Lorelai alone. But she hadn't been angry, no matter how hard she'd tried. She'd been a little angry that he hadn't brought coffee…
But no, overall she'd just been glad to have those arms around her.
It seemed wrong to feel that way in light of what her daughter was going through, but the one thing Lorelai had now that Rory had gone to her father was time.
And in that time, she would have to think things through.
Like what on earth had Luke been thinking, kissing her like that?
And what were they going to do about the kitchen staff at the inn…
The Inn! Lorelai slammed on her brakes, wincing as she heard Luke lock his own brakes behind her, the short, staccato blare of his horn following close behind. She looked in her rearview mirror again and saw him starting to get out of his truck, concern written all over his face. She stuck her head out the window and looked back at him, shaking her head. "No, sorry!" she yelled, over-enunciating on the off chance that he was reading her lips. "Everything's fine! I just had an idea and I can't think and fiddle with that light bulb above my head at the same time."
And when he gave her a perplexed, exasperated look and shook his head, Lorelai thought that any other woman would be a goner.
But not, she told herself sternly, Lorelai Gilmore. Because being a goner wasn't convenient for Lorelai Gilmore right now.
She smiled anyway as she made her way into town.
He understood that any woman in Lorelai's situation would need time. Luke even understood that any woman in Lorelai's situation would need space.
But Lorelai wasn't any woman, and Luke gave her exactly one day after Rory's departure to wallow in her self-pity and throw herself into the inn. One day, twenty-four hours, and then he dove back in. Luke Danes did not start a job without finishing it, and Luke Danes was not finished with this job.
Luke was not about to let Lorelai forget about him.
Oh, sure, she'd been in and out of the diner for coffee a few times, but each time she'd been caffeinated to the gills, flying in and out of the diner on a wave of that exotic mix of Colombian blend and some spicy, sexy perfume that messed with Luke's nose and made him completely incapable of cooking for five minutes after she left.
When she'd come in for an evening cup after Rory's departure, Luke had given Cesar a look that plainly promised bad, bad things if Cesar dared make a comment about Luke's unfocused behavior.
So, he simply hadn't been able to settle for her flitting in and out of the coffee shop—damned Dragonfly, indeed—and the morning after Rory left, he'd risen early, made a few small arrangements, and had gone to the diner with a small smile on his face.
A muffin bouquet.
She would have laughed any other time, but she was lonely, dammit. With Rory gone, the house was too empty, the only calls hang-ups who couldn't be from anyone but Dean. She'd gone to bed insanely early the evening before, exhausted from telling her daughter goodbye, exhausted from studiously avoiding Luke, exhausted from the hour-long cleaning frenzy she'd gone into, scrubbing Rory's room from top to bottom, eager to rid it of any trace of Dean.
The bastard.
She'd woken up this morning, really and truly relishing that moment of fuzziness that came from a long night's sleep. For that moment, she didn't remember that Rory was gone or anything that had came before. It just seemed like another day in Stars Hollow.
And then she'd fully woken up, her brain yammering for coffee and her heart clamoring for Rory. She stumbled into the kitchen and found what Luke had left her, and her heart stopped its clamor and simply stared.
It was beautiful, really, a conglomeration of muffins and biscotti, forming what really and truly looked like a wonderfully tasty cellophane-wrapped bouquet.
"Oooh, goodies," Lorelai said, poking her finger at what she thought was Sookie's creation. The note fell out from between two muffins, written on a scrap of lined paper with worn edges that could only have come from one place.
Lorelai closed her eyes, her fingers clasping the note, and she could see Luke and that ever-present notepad he carried, shoving it wherever it would best hold, fraying the edges and crumpling the paper.
These won't be any good if you don't have any coffee to go with them.
He hadn't signed it—and had he really needed to? She sighed and, thinking herself a fool, tucked the note aside for later perusal.
She needed something to take her mind off things.
So she took a shower and headed to Luke's.
If she'd seen what was ahead, she wouldn't have gone in. But Lorelai was too busy thinking of everything else to look around, preparing herself for the act that was about to follow. She took a deep breath, shoved through the doors of the nearly empty diner, and cheerily greeted the first person she saw.
"Hey, Kirk, how's it goin'?" she asked, wondering in the back of her mind if he knew Rory was gone, if he knew why Rory was gone. "Did you and Lulu have a good time the other night? We tried to set things up all nice and romantic for ya, but Michel said there was some problem with the sconces. Never found them a turn-on myself, but hey, you need somewhere to anchor the handcuffs!" She laughed and hit his shoulder, actually finding humor in the pensive look on his face until she saw he wasn't looking at her at all, but behind her.
"Kirk?"
He jerked himself and looked up at her, eyebrows tugged almost comically low, hooding his eyes. "Lorelai, I know you tend to be a bit of a lone wolf, an independent thinker, a—"
"Nutcase in the woods cooking bombs in a shack. I got it, Kirk, skip to the chase." She wanted to turn and look behind her, where she could now hear low voices, but at the same time, she didn't want to. Oh, how much she didn't want to.
"Well," he said, standing and patting her shoulder with his perennially awkward air. "If you need anything, or if Rory does, you just let me know." He scurried out of the diner like a man fleeing danger, and Lorelai turned slowly on her heel to survey the threat.
She felt bile rise in her throat, blood rush to her head. She clenched her hands into fists and walked stiff-legged across the floor, trying to count to ten in her head. She'd never been very good at math, when it came to that.
"I don't know where she is," Luke insisted in a low voice, his eyes shifting to Lorelai. He'd seen the moment she'd walked in, seen her and heard her, his sensors for her going full blast.
But he'd had a bit of a handful.
"Come on, Luke, I know that's a lie!" Dean said, throwing his hands in the air. "You and Lorelai are as thick as thieves!"
"Speaking of people who steal things," Lorelai chirped, her voice brittle as she rapped one balled-up fist into Dean's big, stupid shoulder. "Is there something I can do for you, Narcolepsy Boy?" She hadn't mentioned that incident in a long time, but now seemed to be the time to be petty, to be snide, and she lowered her voice for the next barb. "Though I have to commend you, you didn't seem to have any trouble straying… I mean… staying awake this time."
Luke groaned, rubbing his eyes. Why did all things have to culminate in his diner? There was a perfectly good town square out front.
But he liked her here, where he could keep his eye on her.
"Dean was just leaving," Luke said by way of explanation, taking the younger man by the arm and escorting him to the door. To an outside observer, it would have looked chummy, even pleasant. But Dean gritted his teeth as Luke wrapped one strong hand around his bicep and squeezed unmercifully.
Taking a little abuse from Luke seemed fair considering the fear he had of Lorelai, so Dean said nothing, rubbing his arm and shooting one glance through the windows at the one woman left in Stars Hollow who could bring his whole world crashing down.
Lorelai watched him with uncharacteristically cold blue eyes, watched like a hawk until he was out of eyesight, and then turned to Luke, who stood beside her. "It's too bad you didn't squeeze a little harder," she said. "You could have broken his arm."
"I could have broken his neck," Luke responded automatically, then reached out to her, brushing his knuckles over the shadows under her eyes.
She stepped back, as he'd fully expected her to, and they spoke simultaneously.
"I could use that coffee."
"How about some coffee?"