A/N: to Lauren, no I'm not mad at you, your emails inspired me to get off my lazy ass and fix my error. And I agree, totally butchering a character's name is unforgivable.

I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Eight: Blue Eyed Ocean

The ringing of glass at the end of the table interrupted the sound of Rory and Logan's laughter. They turned their heads and noticed Mitchem Huntzberger standing, champagne glass posed, ready for a toast. The gentle hum of dinner conversation politely quieted as the rest of the table turned towards their host.

"I hate toasts," Logan groaned.

"It's for us," Rory prodded.

He made a face. "Even worse."

Rory laughed and poked him, causing him to tug her hair playfully. They both laughed.

"Friends, family, most honored guests," Mitchem began. "We are here tonight to celebrate two unions. The marriage of my son Logan, and the beautiful Lorelai Hayden." Gentle applause swept the table. "Secondly, and most importantly, the union of the families' companies." Laughter replaced the applause.

"I do believe he is serious about the order of things," Logan whispered to Rory. She rolled her eyes at him; Logan laughed quietly and took her hand under the table.

"Yes, Richard's agreement to give up 65 of his shares to my own company is very, very generous."

Rory's eyes widened. She knew little of business but she understood math. That was a large percentage. Logan was thinking the same thing, and he studied his father's face intently. He recognized a glimmer in his father's eye that left him unsettled.

Richard Gilmore was sitting directly across from Rory and Logan, and they watched as he squirmed, turned red, and whispered frantically at Christopher.

Lorelai leaned towards the conversation as discreetly as possible. She could not be sure, but she thought she heard her father say that he only agreed on fifty percent. Her stomach flipped over as foreboding and dread ran through her veins.

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Rory felt these things as well. She saw the look of anger and panic on her father and grandfather. She knew perfectly well what would happen. Maybe that is why she tried her best to push those thoughts out of her mind and enjoy the evening with Logan.

There was dancing; the Huntzbergers had spared no expense to hire the best string quartet on the East Coast.

She danced with Tristan, but they both felt stiff in the other's arms. Tristan's blue eyes were distant; Rory could not read what he was thinking. She was not really trying to.

After several waltzes, Logan caught Rory's attention. He was standing off to the side in a secluded corner, holding a wine bottle and two glasses. Rory politely finished off the last dance, bade Tristan good night, and allowed Logan to lead her upstairs.

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His room was spacious and comfortable. Logan poured the wine as Rory settled herself on a sofa. She fell back against the large cushions and let out a contented sigh. Logan turned his head at the soft noise.

"My feet hurt," she answered, but not in complaint. She sat up and took off her delicate dancing heels. "Much better," she added to herself.

Logan served her the wine. It was filled to the brim. "Don't spill," he ordered gently. "I like those cushions."

Rory smiled and gingerly took a sip.

"Wait," he said. She lifted her head. "We need a toast."

"You just said you hate toasts," she said. "Are you a hypocrite Sir?"

"I hate some toasts. You know the ones that aren't sincere, like you can tell the speech-giver is only there to listen to himself speak?"

"So basically your father's toasts," Rory joked.

Logan laughed with good humor and sat opposite Rory on the sofa. "Exactly."

A beat of awkwardness passed between them as they both reflected on the odd circumstances of the toast of the evening. Logan cleared the air.

"Happiness sounds so fake, what is happiness? Can one toast for it? How about contentment. All anyone can really ask for is to find peace, right?"

Rory nodded.

"All right then, to contentment. May our marriage by calm, comfortable, and content," Logan chuckled. "C cubed."

Rory lifted her glass. "Here here." Their glasses clinked delicately so as not to spill the liquid which was threatening to overflow. They both took long drags of the smooth wine.

She yawned audibly and set down her half empty glass. She settled down farther into the pillows. Logan finished his glass after several moments, and put his own down on the floor. He picked up Rory's stockinged feet and put them in his lap. He started to massage them.

Rory groaned in appreciation. "All of my dance partners were stepping on my toes tonight. I think they hit your father's special punch a bit too early."

"I saw you dancing with Tristan," Logan said, carefully keeping his voice even.

"Ugh, he was the worst of the toe squashers," she said with a dramatic hand gesture.

"So Prince Charming failed to dance his way into your arms this evening?"

"I'm beginning to thing he's not all that wonderful."

Logan fought the urge to smile. "Are you?"

"He's charming, I'll give him that much. Maybe too charming. I was at tea at the Dugrey estate with my grandmother, and every time a different maid walked into the room Tristan winked at them. I do believe he's had every single one of them!"

Logan kept his face downward, as he couldn't suppress the smile on his face. It struck him that though she was witty and open-minded Rory had been bred in an innocent world. Logan was thankful he did not wink at his maids, or else Rory would be just as displeased with her own fiancé.

He continued massaging her feet though Rory ceased to add to the conversation. Logan broke the comfortable silence after several moments

"Why did you tell me to take a second look at Rosemary?"

Rory, nestled deep into the pillows, did not open her eyes. "I didn't mean it literally."

"Well what did you mean?"

"I just don't think she's right for you."

"Why not?"

She opened one eye. His expression was curious, but not judgmental. "I think you can do better," she replied honestly.

He nodded slowly, deep in thought. Rory marveled at the absence of an arrogant comment from his part. Another yawn swept through her body, followed by Logan's.

"Stop," he said, gently pushing her feet off her lap and scooting towards the pillows on her end of the couch. "Haven't you heard that yawns are contagious?"

She nodded sleepily. "It's all in my master plot."

"Oh, you have a plot do you?"

Rory nodded again. Logan lie down next to her. As he opened his mouth to utter a witty reply, she turned towards him. Her skin looked so close, so creamy and soft. Logan stroked her cheek with his finger. Her eyes were so blue…

His heart sped up as he began to realize what was happening. He could not think, only feel her own heart beating against his and see her deep blue eyes gazing patiently into his own.

Slowly he closed the small distance that remained between them.

The sensation of her soft lips made his mind go blank. In an instant he was lost, falling, floating. Content.