Title: There's Luke
A/N: From Lorelai's point of view. And, by the way, I obviously don't own any part of Gilmore Girls.
I just had an epiphany. I know that word is completely overused, to the point that it seems to have no meaning, but I just had an epiphany. It's powerful, when your whole life falls into place in front of you.
I'm watching Luke stand in front of his counter, ranting, trying to save Rory from the worst mistake of her life. His ideas are impossible. He knows that. I know that. But it doesn't matter. They sound so good to me. I just love the idea that he has ideas, if that makes sense. I love him for trying. I love him for caring.
And I'm watching him, and suddenly I understand something about this whole rant. It's clear that he's trying to save Rory, but it's more than that. He's trying to save me.
I came in here tonight worn down, tired, on the cusp of defeat. My strong, beautiful, independent daughter is pulling the rug out from under herself, and even though I'm trying to stop her, her grandparents are helping her tug. When I walked in to this diner, I was wondering why I'm the only person who understood that.
But Luke understands it. Luke totally gets my rug metaphor and wants desperately to staple that rug to the ground under Rory's pretty little feet. He wants to do that for Rory, but he also wants to do that for me.
Even though he's still talking at a pace that rivals my own after a cup of coffee, I'm barely listening. Instead, I'm wondering what gave me the right to feel so sorry for myself tonight? Why did I feel so alone in my struggle? Sure, Sookie is busy with her baby, and my parents have abandoned me, and my daughter has… has changed. But I'm not alone.
There's Luke.
No, seriously, he's right there. Right here. Right in front of me. And that's what I mean when I say I had an epiphany. I realize now that I don't ever want to be in a situation where he's not right here, right in front of me, ever again. I want to know that he will always be right here.
What I am about to say is not impulsive. I've known subconsciously that it would end this way since it started. I've always known that I need him right here, right with me. But I've just now articulated it.
So here I go.
"Luke, will you marry me?"
I get a "What?" and silence. He stares just a second too long. Just long enough for my blood to turn to ice water and my heart to a stone. I'm staring into his eyes and they are darting from me to the ground to the door (is he going to leave?) and back to me.
This isn't supposed to happen.
"Lorelai," he says softly, with just the right tone to let me know it's an apology and not the beginning of some romantic oration that begins with a whispered "Lorelai" and ends with him scooping me into his arms and carrying me up the stairs to his bed.
I smile, sort of. I try to smile anyway. Maybe I can still play it off as a joke. Maybe it's not too late. Except that my quivering lower lip gives me away and he knows that I was serious. I can't believe I just did that. "Yeah," I say, trying to seem jovial.
"Lorelai," he repeats, with the same apologetic tone, but much louder this time. "This isn't right," he says emphatically, shaking his head, gesturing wildly with his hands. And now he's ranting again.
"Lorelai! Just today, when I mentioned 'the kids' you looked so upset – so shocked. I was going to… I mean, I was already planning on… But after 'the kids' happened, I already told Taylor that I didn't want the house… Oh my God! Taylor!"
And now he's running to the phone behind the counter and I am so confused. I rush over to him, motioning frantically for him to stop, to pay attention to me. "Luke!" He starts to dial. "Luke! What house? What are you talking about? Luke, it's late. You can't call Taylor. The man goes to bed at 8:15."
"He's awake. The bike race is tonight."
"Well, then he's busy. Luke, what are you doing?" I'm on the verge of tears, except I don't want to cry, I want to scream. What is he doing? Doesn't he realize I just proposed?
We're standing behind the counter. He's holding the phone in one hand, the other sits tensely on the counter. He's staring blankly at me. "You're right! He's probably right outside!" he exclaims suddenly, rushing past me towards the door. I'm quicker, though, and I throw myself in front of it.
"No! You're not just walking out of here! What just happened?" I ask emphatically.
He's standing in front of me, breathing quickly, almost panting. And then, suddenly, he's quiet. He puts his hands over his face and breathes deeply.
"Did you just propose to me?" he asks, as if he's not sure if it actually happened or if it was just a dream. I'm feeling the same way.
"Uh, yeah. I'm pretty sure that just happened." More silence. "So are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"Lorelai," he says, in that same apologetic tone. But this time he's walking towards me, putting his hands on my shoulders. He brushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "I love you so much. But you can't ask me to marry you. That's not what you want."
"Umm, Luke," I say, trying not to let my faltering voice betray my fear, my total desire to start sobbing. "I think I asked you to marry me because I wanted to marry you."
He looks serene now. He's smiling. This is so bizarre. "I know. That's not what I mean."
"Then what did you mean," I ask.
"I mean, you don't want to ask me to marry you. You're only going to get married once. I don't want that to be the story you tell your grandkids." He pauses. He can tell I'm utterly confused. "Our grandkids."
"What?"
And now it's making sense because he's dropping to one knee in the middle of his diner, right there on the tile floor. He's holding my hand. I'm crying now because I really can't help it anymore.
"Lorelai Gilmore, will you marry me?"
And he's right. This is a story to tell the grandkids. Our grandkids.
And wow, I like the sound of that.
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