So, neither one had felt this shell-shocked since...
The Sockman?
"....how I found out your daughter has been dating my son for the past six months..." or maybe: "Dean just came by to borrow something." –?
Well, in awhile anyway.
Yeah, there is far too much drama in our lives. Not at all healthy, they decided on the drive home.
And, even though Lorelai had assured Luke that shock, followed by fury, followed by denial (to get through the next week, of course) was a perfectly normal sequence of feelings to have after spending any amount of time with her parents... ('Luke, I don't know why you're surprised, I've been coming in and complaining to you about them for years.' 'Yeah well, I guess maybe I should have actually listened once or twice. Nope, even if I had, it could not have prepared me adequately for this,' he decided. 'Probably not,' she agreed.)
Friday night dinner. Their first, and Luke now wished to God, the last. Lorelai told him she'd been wishing that for years now too but she'd still had to keep going, dammit.
"And Rory was no help at all," he complained.
"No, she wasn't," agreed Lorelai sadly. She couldn't deny the wisdom of her child in this matter—staying out of the line of fire that is.
"I thought she'd be a buffer, or at least a distraction," he went on.
"Yeah, we haven't had a lot of luck with that approach," frowned Lorelai.
Home now, she grabbed a couple of beers out of her 'frig, handed one to Luke and took a deep swig of her's, while he loosened his tie with his free hand, then took a drink of his own.
The quiet kitchen was quiet—something very welcome right now.
"How do you think they found out?" he finally asked.
Lorelai shrugged and looked away. There was no telling with them, she thought as she walked into the darkened living room and flopped on the couch, releasing her feet from stiletto hell at the same time.
He flopped as well and side by side they stared into the empty fireplace and drank beer.
"Crap."
"Yep."
And it didn't really matter who said which.
For his part, Luke's brain was still spinning with it all: A maid in a uniform for crap's sake. And that had only been the beginning.
"I still don't understand how they found out," he repeated.
Lorelai sighed. "I don't know, Luke. The point is, they did. My dad was probably snooping around my affairs while he was settling my grandmother's estate. He knows everyone."
"But that's illegal. There are privacy laws in this state!"
And then Lorelai got a cold clutch of recognition in her belly.
"It was Jason," she said quietly as she continued to stare into the fireplace. (There was quite a nice-sized cobweb forming in there.)
"Jason? How?"
"That night at the Inn run-through, he must have heard you say you were an investor. Somehow that information got back to Richard and Emily."
"But... Why? I thought they were on the outs?" said Luke in confusion, "Did he do it on purpose?"
Lorelai closed her eyes, "It doesn't matter, Luke. They know now. They know I went to you when I needed money, instead of them. They know I didn't want their help (yet again) and, worst of all, they know that I needed help.... needed it badly."
Luke looked over at her. A tear was sliding down her cheek.
"Oh hey," he said, and leaned forward to set his beer bottle on the table, so that he could wrap his arms around her. "Don't do that. It doesn't matter," he said softly and rubbed her back gently.
Lorelai stiffened and pulled away from him to look him in the eye.
"It does, Luke. It does matter."
"Lorelai, it's just money," he said.
Her eyes flashed at that. "It's not just the money," she said and stood up. She crossed to the mantle and set her bottle there, as she gazed down into the still-empty, still-cob-webby fireplace. She shivered then, crossed her arms around herself, and turned back to him.
"You don't understand," she told him.
"I do. I understand that you don't want to depend on anyone for help, especially when it comes to money. I don't know why, but there it is," he replied, looking up at her across the dark room.
"Luke, money is just... to them, it's... Gah! You'll never get it," she cried in exasperation.
He stood up and crossed toward her, his hands in his pockets.
"Try me."
She sighed and looked down.
"It's how they control everything, Luke. And everyone. And I had to get away from that. I had to do it on my own. It just about killed me to ask for their help for Rory's school."
"You paid that back."
"Yes, but... I had to ask," she said looking up at him again, willing him to understand.
He looked at her and seemed to get it. Partly anyway. After this evening, he could well understand her doing anything to not be beholden to the Gilmores.
"Okay," he said gently.
She stepped over to him and smiled thinly, "Thank you."
They wrapped their arms around each other then, and she lay her head on his chest and closed her eyes. He smelled good.
After a moment, a thought forming in his mind came to the surface.
"You know, why don't we just forget the loan-slash-investment?" he asked her, thinking aloud.
She looked up at him, "No way, Luke," she shook her head.
"Why not?" he asked.
She pulled away from him, "What do you mean, 'why not?' It's a huge amount of money, that's 'why not'!"
"Look, I'm trying to do a nice thing here, Lorelai, really. You don't need this debt hanging over your head right now, and I can afford it. What does it matter?"
"It matters!" she said stubbornly.
"But we're together now," he tried reasonably, "What if we move in together or something; Are we gonna label our food in the refrigerator? Itemize the phone bill? I don't want to live that way. Let's just forget the money."
Lorelai bit her lip and took a deep breath.
"Luke, I just don't think it's a good idea for us to co-mingle..."
"Co-mingle what?"
"Our money!"
"But what if, like I said, we're living together... or something...?" he asked quietly.
"I'd still want to pay you back for a business loan," she insisted.
"Fine. I don't want to argue with you about it," he sighed and ran his hand over his face. What was he doing, anyway?
They both looked down then and wordlessly walked over to the couch and flopped again.
After a moment she looked over at him. He looked tired and she felt instantly sorry about the whole thing.
"How are your feet feeling tonight?" she asked sympathetically.
"They're fine," he grumped. He should be able to give her the money if he wanted to, he inwardly pouted.
"Ummhmm," she said knowingly and reached down to untie his laces. She just wasn't going to let the Emily and Richard hour-of-fun get to her right now. She would just will it away. There were, after all, better things here now. And Emily and Richard would still be there next week, pissed about something else....
And here was Luke. Right where he belonged.
"Lorelai, you don't have to," he made a stab at protesting as she continued undoing his shoes—one had to make the effort after all.
She just smiled and pulled his feet up into her lap, gently pushing his shoulder down onto the couch at the same time. He leaned back, put an arm up over his head and watched her as had become their habit.
She, as a matter of convenience for just this situation, had learned to store a bottle of lotion (non-fruity smelling) in the side-table drawer. She reached over and pulled it out now after peeling off his socks.
She warmed the lotion in her hands and watched with a little laugh as Luke visibly relaxed merely in anticipation. When her hands were warm enough, she began working his feet, gently pulling and rubbing the tired tendons and muscles. Pushing her thumb into the knots, stroking and kneading his toes, sliding up and down his achilles tendon.
Luke moaned and sighed as her hands slipped and slithered over his aching feet.
Lorelai shook her head and clucked at him, "Oh honey, tomorrow we are going to get you some better shoes. You cannot stand in the diner all day in those old ones anymore... Your poor feet."
"I don't need new shoes," he said mostly for form's sake.
"Yes, you do," she insisted as she continued her ministrations.
He smiled at her. Almost. "You just want an excuse to GQ me up," he smirked.
She smiled, "You got me there, cowboy."
They continued like this in silence for awhile. He watching her, delighting in the sensations of flesh against flesh. She focusing on her task, letting go of the Richard and Emily stress with each breath she took.
"I'm going to clean out that fireplace tomorrow, so we can have a fire," he said after awhile, "Now that the leaves have turned, it's cold."
"That would be nice," she agreed. "You know what would look great next to that fireplace?" she added after a quiet moment.
"What?" he asked, getting drowsy now, her hands still sliding and smoothing away...
"That beautiful Arts and Crafts clock of your father's," she said quietly, and reached to warm more lotion in her hands.
He snapped his eyes open at that and looked at her.
Eyes down, Lorelai worked her hands up his left calf a little.
"Do you want me to give you the clock?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level.
"No," she said as she switched to his other calf. "I just thought you could bring it with you."
"Bring it with me?" he repeated and then swallowed, hard.
She lifted her eyes to meet his.
"Yeah. I know it means a lot to you. And I know this house might be too... girly... for you, the way it is... You know, what with no singing 'Be Happy' bass and all, but there's a perfect place for that clock right over there," she explained as she slid her hands back down to work on the knot in the arch of his right foot.
"Lorelai...?"
"Closet space will be a problem," she went on as an afterthought.
He took a deep breath, "Well, I can build a closet. I could expand the bathroom too, if you like."
"Do you think we'll need to?" she asked, and looked him in the eye.
"Well," he cleared his throat, "it'll make things easier when we're getting ready for work in the mornings."
She nodded, considering that. "Hey," she began brightly, "Could we put a coffee machine next to the bed?"
He chuckled, "No."
"All right," she gave in, and returned to the knot in his arch.
Luke smiled and watched her again, feeling peaceful and, well, happy, he guessed and then...
Oh, man...
He moaned aloud.
"Did I strike a nerve?" she asked innocently.
He looked at her darkly, "I told you about that spot," he shook his finger at her naughtiness.
"Yes, you did," she breathed in the most sultry tone she could summon, "I believe you said that this nerve," she squeezed it again and smiled at his responding groan, "leads directly to certain... other..." another squeeze and moan, "nerve centers in your body.... that it's almost an electrical kind of feeling..."
"Yes, it is," he said and sat up and placed his hands on her upper arms, his eyes intent.
"Feet can be very sensitive," she said, returning his gaze.
"Yes, they can be," he agreed.
"Do you want to go upstairs?" she asked.
Wordlessly, they climbed the stairs, arms around one another, smiling. At the bedroom door though, he paused and pulled on her hand. She turned to look up at him.
"Hey, did I just volunteer to clean the chimney, build a closet, and extend the bathroom?" he asked.
She nodded merrily, "But you got a foot rub and the perfect place for your clock in return... among other things."
He considered that for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her and took a deep breath into her hair.
"Totally worth it," he sighed out.
