Author's Note: Thank you for your reviews! They mean so much to me! Here's another longer part like the last one. Enjoy!
Lorelai slowly came out of her peaceful slumber. Her body was haphazardly strewn across Luke's. She barely remembered making it back to the hotel the previous night. The two of them were eager to return to her room and could not keep their hands to themselves the entire way. The cab driver had seemed annoyed by them until Luke paid and quickly rushed off with Lorelai, not even bothering to wait for his change.
With her head against his chest, she could hear the steady beating of his heart. His fingers were tangled in her hair as he tenderly drew them through it. She shifted so that her chin was resting against his chest in order to look at his face. She smiled at him. "How is it that you're always up before me?" She stifled a yawn.
"Years of getting up before the crack of dawn," he answered as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her up for a kiss. "How else would I always have coffee ready and waiting for you at the diner?"
"The coffee that I have to practically beg you for," she remarked sarcastically. "Mmm... coffee. I need coffee."
Chuckling, he reminded her, "You always need coffee."
"Need coffee to function," she responded.
"Well, the faster you function your clothes on, the faster we can go get you coffee."
Sitting up in bed, she looked at him with mock anger. "Why, Luke, are you trying to get my clothes on? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"I don't recall really having to try to get you out of your clothes," he teased, playfully tickling her bare stomach.
"Are you calling me easy?"
"You and easy are definitely two words that I would not use in the same sentence. You and difficult? Maybe."
She could tell he was joking. His tone was serious, but his eyes were sparkling with the gleam he saved only for her. She knew that as much as she sometimes annoyed the hell out of him, he wouldn't change her for the world. That simple thought brought butterflies to her stomach. He understood her better than anyone else ever could. For that reason, she continued to joke with him. "I'll have to remember those words when you try to seduce me tonight."
Before she knew what was happening, he had swiftly scooped her into his arms and pulled her down over his body. He nibbled softly on her lower lip. She opened her mouth to him without a second thought.
When they finally parted, Luke said, "You were saying?"
"There were words? With actual syllables and everything?" She grinned, feigning forgetfulness. "I guess that I am easy." He opened his mouth to say something, but she covered it with her hand. "I know, I know. Me and easy are like oil and water. You can't mix them. Well, you can, but it just becomes one great big mess with the oil sort of just sitting there." She took a breath before rambling on, "There was this Saved by the Bell episode, and Becky – she was a duck – got covered in oil, because there was an oil spill in her pond. That was not a pretty sight. Rory cried for a week, and I had to try to convince her that no actual duck was hurt making the episode. So I guess that oil and water do not mix."
He rolled his eyes at her. "You done with that complete nonsense?"
"Depends."
"Depends on what?" he asked her.
"Coffee," she replied slowly, sounding it out like a child. "I need some. We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious."
"You're crazy," he said, pushing her out of bed and gently nudging her towards the bathroom. "The faster you get ready for the day, the faster you can have your coffee," Luke challenged her.
After feeding Lorelai's caffeine addiction and having breakfast, they once again ambled their way around Paris.
They were walking leisurely when Lorelai suddenly had a stroke of brilliance, and she practically pulled Luke down the sidewalk. "We have to see this," she stated, stopping in front of a rather large looking house.
He was about to question her when he noticed that it was actually a museum. Still a bit confused, he followed her.
Lorelai paid a euro for each of them to be allowed into the garden. "This is great, I promise." She led them both to the large bronze statue. "It's like a piece of history right in front of us."
"I can't believe you paid to get in here. We could have probably seen it from the street," he motioned.
She sent him a sharp look, effectively silencing his rant before it came.
Feeling angry at himself, he gazed at the hunk of metal in front of him. He cast a glance at Lorelai. She was studying it intently with a look of amazement and childish thrill. He never knew her to be interested in art other than when Stars Hollow held that damn festival with all the paintings. He looked back at the work. It was vaguely familiar. He knew that he had seen it before.
As if answering his question, Lorelai said, "It's Rodin's The Thinker. I've seen it everywhere. I even bought Rory a little replica of it once." She stepped closer, leaving Luke's side. She stood on her tip toes, trying to get a better view. "I never realized how detailed it was."
He peered at her, surprised at her sudden knowledge of art and her stroke of uncharacteristic maturity. However, her gaze never met his, she was still staring at the statue. He turned his attention to the statue, stepping up beside her.
She continued after a few minutes of silence, "It almost looks like a real man. I wonder what he's thinking about." For the first time in minutes, her attention left The Thinker and focused on him.
He had been so focused on trying to see what Lorelai saw in the statue that he almost didn't hear her. He shrugged. "Life, maybe? The future? Whatever it is, he looks lost in thought so it must be important."
Now, it was Lorelai's turn to be surprised. She searched out his hand with her own, entwining their fingers, their future suddenly making its way to the forefront of her mind. Pushing it away as quickly as it came, she took a deep breath. "I know where I want to take you next."
Guiding their way through the streets which had become thick with Parisians and tourists alike, Lorelai found what she was looking for. "We probably shouldn't have walked," she said, sitting on a bench to massage her now aching street.
"You're the one who said it wasn't far."
"It didn't look far on the map. I should have learned my lesson the first time. Rory and I walked from the Champs Elysées to the Eiffel Tower, because it didn't look far. Big mistake," she stated.
He had eased one of her shoes off her feet and was softly kneading out the tightness. She put her hand on his shoulder and gently directed his attention to the building before them.
"That, my friend, is Notre Dame. The Notre Dame," she said. "Insert proper Hunchback of Notre Dame reference here."
"The book or the movie with the singing gargoyles?" he questioned her.
"The movie is a classic!" she exclaimed. "Okay, Beauty and the Beast is so much better. And don't forget Cinderella! And oh!"
Realizing that she was probably about to ramble on about the entire collection of Disney movies, Luke changed the subject. "It's huge. How did they build it? They didn't exactly have cranes back then. Those had to be some pulleys that they were using. The architecture is amazing! Look at the flying buttresses."
"There's flying butts?"
He ignored her comment. "The attention to detail, all the careful carvings! They had to have been carved by hand. I wonder what it's made of. It has to be something sturdy in order for it to have held up so long."
"Men and architecture. Can't you just look at it and be like 'pretty'?" she rolled the last word off her tongue. He shot her a glance. "Right. Saying that it is pretty wouldn't be manly."
"And the insurance costs must be colossal. Think of what it costs to pay for the damages. What with all these people trampling around like a bunch of cows everyday. Who even pays for the insurance?"
"The pope," she stated. "Well, it is a church," she reminded him after he gave her an incredulous look. "Are you done playing backseat contractor, or are you about to go on about how they got the gargoyles up there?"
"I'm done," he assured her.
"Good, because I want to go up there. I hear the view is incredible." She slipped her shoes back on. She began to tug him towards the line of tourists waiting to climb the stairs.
"I wonder how they got the gargoyles up there." He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at the top. "Some of them are way up there."
She laughed and shook her head.
After about an hour of waiting in line, and Lorelai teasing Luke about his continuing remarks about the architecture, they finally were climbing up the circular staircase.
"My feet hurt," Lorelai complained. "And I'm getting dizzy. Is it just me, or is it getting narrower in here? I think the stairs are getting smaller."
She was right. Luke was having trouble keeping his balance. His feet no longer fit on the tiny stairs.
"Guess those great architects forgot to put in an elevator," she uttered. Finally, the dimness in the corridor started to brighten, and they soon found themselves in the fresh outdoor air. Forgetting her aching feet, Lorelai rushed to the ledge. She pressed her face against the metal caging. She looked out across the vastness of Paris, fixing her eyes on the Eiffel Tower. "It's beautiful."
"Those gargoyles are really something," Luke noted, at last being able to see them up close.
"Luke," she groaned.
Stepping up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist. "It is beautiful," he agreed, whispering into her hair.
She turned slightly in his arms in order to place a kiss on his lips. "I wish this could all last forever." It was the first time either of them had brought up the fact that this was almost over. She turned back so that she was once again looking out onto the city.
When she didn't continue, Luke decided to stay silent himself. Neither one of them really wanted to discuss the inevitable.
Minutes passed, maybe more. Lorelai eventually broke the silence. "We can go up higher, or we can head back down." She completely avoided the subject that she herself had brought up.
"What are your feet telling you?" he asked, hoping that she wouldn't want to climb anymore stairs.
"That if it was possible, you should carry me down all those stairs," she suggested, already walking back into the building. "But since narrow stairways aren't suitable for that kind of behavior, I'm going to have to hobble down myself." She bounded down a few stairs, momentarily losing her balance.
Luke steadied her. "Be careful. You'll kill yourself if you're not."
"Thanks for the positive image." She took his hand. "If I go down, you're going with me."
Luckily, they made it back outside without further incident. They spent the remainder of the day aimlessly strolling around. They walked through gardens, Lorelai leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked, and enjoyed each other's company.
In the evening, the two of them found themselves walking along the Seine River where Lorelai was happily licking at the ice cream Luke had bought her. She watched as a boat full of tourists glided past. She finished the last of her ice cream and threw the remainder of the cone to a pigeon. Luke's arm was securely around her shoulders, his fingers twisting a strand of her hair between them.
The lights on the surrounding banks reflected off the water. It cast a romantic glow which her mind was having a difficult time enjoying. Her mind was going a mile a minute. They had to talk. She knew this. They both did. She just didn't know how to start the conversation. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, deciding to just dive in head first. "What's going to happen?"
"Hmm..." Luke answered absentmindedly, still savoring the comfortable atmosphere that encompassed them.
"We've avoided talking about the reality of this situation the whole time." She abruptly stopped walking and faced him. She now had his full attention. "I go back to Aix tomorrow."
"And I go back to Stars Hollow." He felt suddenly panicked. He was about to go back to a life without her. A life in which he was able to only hear her voice through a phone.
She caught his alarmed look. "You could come back with me." Her voice sounded feeble, small. She knew the answer before he even answered. Tears were already pricking at her eyes.
"You know I can't. I have to work. So do you," he reminded her, his voice remaining surprising steady though he felt like he would break down at any moment. "I'd only be in the way."
"No, you wouldn't," she whispered. The tears were getting harder and harder to hold back. She focused her gaze on the ground, intently studying her shoes. An unexpected gust of wind swept across the river, chilling the air. Lorelai wrapped her arms tightly around herself, pretending that it was only the cold air that she was protecting herself against.
"I can't, Lorelai. You know it." He put his hands on her shoulders. "I want to, believe me, I do," he added.
"Then don't go," she pleaded, knowing that it wouldn't help. He was right. They both had jobs waiting for them to return. Her eyes remained fixed on the pavement. If she looked at him, she knew that she would lose it. She tightened her grip on herself, crushing the air out of her lungs. Maybe if she couldn't breathe, she wouldn't cry.
His hand traveled to her chin, urging her to look at him.
She reluctantly met his gaze. The tears began to pour down her cheeks. She pulled away from him, frantically trying to wipe away her tears. "I'm not the kind of girl who begs her guy to stay," she admitted. "I'm being stupid. I knew that this would have to end."
"It's not over yet. We still have tonight and tomorrow morning." He finally managed to pull her back into his embrace. "What was that movie you made me watch awhile back with the Nazis and Paris?"
"Casablanca," she answered softly.
"Those two characters... what were their names? Humphrey Bogart and that woman..."
"Rick and Ilsa," she told him, unsure of why he bringing this up.
"When Rick was telling Ilsa that she needed to leave, he told her that they'd always have Paris. And so will we, Lorelai. No matter what happens in the future, we'll always have this weekend. We'll always have Paris." Luke wiped away her remaining tears with the pads of his thumbs. "No one can take that away from us. Not ever." He drew her tightly against him and placed a kiss tenderly on her lips.
She clung on to him as if her life depended on it, bunching his shirt in her fists. "We'll always have Paris," she repeated against his chest, her unsure words suffocated by his shirt.
To Be Continued. Please review!
