Disclaimer: I'm unofficial, I don't own Gilmore Girls.

A glimpse at another might-have-been birthday for Lorelai.

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April 1989 Part III

If one more person asked about the wedding, Lorelai swore she would open her mouth beneath the spout on the champagne fountain and drink it dry.

"Where is that Christopher?" the woman in the burgundy twin set had asked.

"Oh, so sweet of you to ask! He's working on a secret project upstairs…" she baited Twin Set like a shark.

"A secret project, hmm?" Yup, the pearls could never resist a little gossip.

"Don't tell anyone, but Christopher is a novelist. He writes under a penname – you've read Danielle Steel, haven't you?" Lorelai nodded suggestively, showing off her million dollar smile.

"Steel…I don't believe I've read anything…oh, excuse me, I need to catch up with…happy birthday, dear." Twin Set vanished and Lorelai was left alone again. So far, she had Christopher writing romance novels, cleaning up after the Exxon-Valdez in Alaska, working as an extra in the Back to the Future sequel, and doing research for his thesis on cold fusion.

Only she knew that Chris was really just hiding out by the mini-bar in his dorm room at Princeton. He'd been coming home to visit less and less as his graduation approached. He was starting to face the impending reality of the plan their families had devised almost five years ago: Lorelai would finish high school and live at home with the baby, Chris would go on to Princeton, and they would be married as soon as he graduated and took his corner office in at Richard's insurance firm.

"Lorelai, didn't you see the cake come out? It's time!"

Her brooding was interrupted when her mother yanked at her arm and a thunderous round of The Birthday Song struck up in the parlor, threatening her hearing. Lorelai closed her eyes, took a deep breath and leaned forward to blow out the candles and make her wish. The cake was whisked out from under her nose to be cut behind the scenes, and Lorelai waited patiently, her hands clasped neatly beneath her ribs, ready to take the inaugural bite before her adoringly indifferent audience.

Vanilla Crème. To match the pearl motif, Lorelai guessed. She would have asked for chocolate, but she ate daintily, watching as everyone else was served. When the guests had been sufficiently distracted by the delicacy of the frosting and occupied themselves in complimenting the china pattern and asking for the recipe, Lorelai lay her fork down on her plate, gathered the folds of her skirt in her free hand to muffle its rustle, and tip-toed up the grand staircase.

At the end of the hallway, Rory's bedroom door was closed, but a faint light glowed from beneath it. Lorelai didn't bother knocking. The little face looked up from her picture book and broke into a grin when she slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her.

"Mom!" Rory whispered, lifting herself up off her stomach and making room on the satiny bed. Lorelai tucked herself in, kicking off her heels and curling her knees toward her daughter. "How's the party?" Rory asked excitedly.

"I brought you a taste," Lorelai said, urging the plate and fork into Rory's hands.

"I already brushed my teeth!" she protested.

"Just eat the cake! It's special toothpaste frosting."

"Mom!" Rory protested even as she took a bite. "Yum. Want some more?" Lorelai shook her head.

"That's your piece. How's your book?"

"It's just Cinderella," Rory said, licking between the tines of her fork. Lorelai flipped through the pages of the familiar story.

"Pretty," she said, pausing at a picture of Cinderella at the ball.

"Pretty dress. Is this what your party is like?" Lorelai smiled. Let Rory believe in the fairy tale.

"A little bit."

"Dad would have to be here. To be your prince!" For a moment, Lorelai couldn't take her eyes off the cartoon couple waltzing in the story in front of her.

"Your dad would look pretty silly in those gold pants, though," she pointed out, closing the book and putting her arms around Rory.

"Dad likes to wear that old jacket," Rory said, wrinkling her nose as she thought of the rough, torn leather that scratched her face and smelled like her grandfather's office after he'd been smoking cigars with a client. Lorelai kissed Rory's hair as she gazed through the lace curtains and out the window.

"Mm-hmmm."

"Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you like your birthday?" Lorelai squeezed a little tighter.

"It was a nice day. This is the best part."

"Good. Mom?"

"Yes, go and brush your teeth again." Lorelai took the plate and set it aside as Rory slid off the bed and scampered toward her bathroom. She paused at the door to turn around, a hopeful look on her porcelain features.

"Then will you read to me a little?" Lorelai could hear music swell downstairs.

"Of course, babe."

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