The Gilmore-Gray Union

By Michael Weyer

POV: Vincent

I've woken up drunk before, many, many times. You'd think it'd get easier and yet it doesn't. But I've never woken up to something quite like this before.

I shouldn't have been at the bar, I know that. It was a bad idea, I knew that going in. I shouldn't have tried drowning my problems in liquor, I know that too.

This is how I know I've been living at home too long. I'm automatically defending myself to Mom and Amy.

It was supposed to be a simple assignment, getting some flavor for the next book. I figured Atlantic City should have a good spectrum of people, surely I can find some material there. What could go wrong?

Seeing my ex-wife in town could go wrong. Seeing her with her husband and doctor that she left me for could go very wrong. Bringing up all the pain could go so wrong.

I thought I was over the pain, I really did. I suppose that was pretty naïve of me. You don't give up everything for a woman you love, marry her, move across the country with her, help her through her cancer and not be affected when she dumps you for her own doctor.

It's the sort of thing that sucks away any good humor you had and puts you in a bar. Which I suppose is where a lot of moody authors go to a lot. At least I think it is. Never got to know Hemmingway or Faulkner in person so I can't tell you for sure.

So now here I am waking up in bed hung-over and naked and…

Wait.

Naked. Why am I naked? I don't sleep in the nude. Even when I was married, I didn't do it too often and I certainly never made a habit of it when I became single again. So why…

Maybe if I open my eyes, I'll be able to tell why.

So I do. And I instantly regret it.

I'm staring at a girl. No, not a girl, a young woman. Thank God, it's not a girl. I

mean, not that I'd want it to be a guy, because I wouldn't. But at least it's not a teenager.

She's pretty too, which is a plus, I suppose. In fact, in other circumstances, I can imagine she'd be quite beautiful. Of course, it's hard to judge given her hair is a mess and she's got this deer-in-the-headlights look on her face.

I guess I should say something. Not sure what, of course. I lick my lips and finally open my mouth. "Uh…good morning."

"Morning."

A big silence fills the room. Well, as if it wasn't clear before it's obvious now we didn't spend a lot of time last night talking. I raise my hand up to rub at my face and that's when the glint of gold catches my eye.

I stare at my hand. It takes a moment to realize that the finger is once more adorned with a gold band. It takes another moment to sink in that I stopped wearing my old ring months ago.

Which means…

Oh no. Oh, God, no.

I look up at her with fear in my eyes. "Please tell me…"

She just holds up her hand. Yep, gold ring there too. "Um…are you…Vincent Gray?"

I nod weakly. "How did you know?"

In answer, she holds up a small piece of paper. "Um…it says here. On our…" She takes a deep breath. "Marriage certificate."

I grab it and stare at it. There it is, in black and white. Vincent Gray and….Rory Gilmore. Man and wife.

Oh, God. I don't know who's going to kill me first, Amy or Mom.

"Um…I know this is a bad thing to ask now but…do you remember…using protection?"

Definitely Mom.