She'd left the double doors to the room open. That had to be a good sign, he hoped. His heart beat erratically as he walked into their bedroom, closing the door behind him. Yes, she'd called for him to come upstairs, but maybe it was only to hand him a pillow and blanket and send him packing. She'd sounded welcoming, and the cards on the mantle had showed him that she was OK with the idea of April as part of their family, but still…the look on her face in the diner...
Luke looked at his left hand. He was still holding the card he'd picked up from the floor in front of the fireplace. After this, how could he not love her more than ever? He thought about his life. Infused with color and happiness for the first ten years, then came the darkness with occasional grey. Intermittent flashes of color when Rachel and Anna passed through his life, then back to darkest grey. Over the next few years, splashes of bright color appeared, becoming more frequent. Quick splashes, flashes really at first, and in the past year-and-a-half, it was all color, all the time. All because of Lorelai.
He glanced towards the bed. Immediately, he noticed that she was not in it. The bed, still covered with the fluffy white comforter Lorelai'd chosen because "it wasn't too girly" and "would go with anything plaid you have" loomed large in front of him. The lighting in the room was muted, but warm. Paul Anka already lolled about on his little doggy bed.
Luke remembered the last night he'd spent in this bed, his mind wandering to the previous night. They'd been awoken at 3:12 AM by the tolling of the damn bells. Wasn't that the name of one of Lorelai's favorite classic movies? Or was it one of Jess's books? Ironic, he thought, that the clamor had roused him from the most mundane of dreams. He'd been car shopping, for a family car of all things. Of course! He'd need something to transport April and her friends around the area. Of course, in the case of her science experiment, that was one huge display and they'd have to cart something like that around in the truck, he mused. In his dream, he'd left Lorelai at the house; all she'd requested was that he not buy a Volvo and if the car could be purple or bright yellow, she'd show him how happy she was by "initiating" the car...
But the damn bells' clangor had interrupted his car buying, and with that, a night of sound sleep. He and Lorelai had settled into a routine; he supposed all couples eventually did that. Although neither would ever admit it out loud, they were unable to sleep unless they were in physical contact. Often, just their toes would touch, but Luke's favorite was to gather her close and protectively place his arm across her body. Especially after sex.
Now with sex, there was some poetic justice, he mused. Ever since he'd started keeping his deep dark secret, their sex life had seemingly gone to hell. Lorelai had noticed, jokingly referring to him as "Mr. Saturday morning" in what he assumed was a blatant reference to the scarcity of times they'd made love since Thanksgiving. Luckily for him, Lorelai herself was so preoccupied with wedding plans and with Rory's return, that she probably didn't notice as much as she otherwise might have.
He'd of course recently experienced many sleepless nights. The bonus was that he loved watching her sleep. It was during the times that he watched her, that he mostly thought about the whole April situation. During the day, Lorelai was often a whirlwind of giddy bride-to-be, mocking girlfriend, sensible businesswoman, and just plain old crazy caffeine-seeking addict. But sleep calmed her, and he would often look at her and try to imagine what she would have been like had her life been different: no kid at sixteen, not that he begrudged the existence of Rory at all. He wondered what his life would have been like had he known about April from the get-go.
As he reminisced, Luke took off his jacket, then sat down on his side of the bed, pulling off his shoes and socks. That done, he gently placed the card on the nightstand.
"Lorelai?" he inquired.
He heard a splash, and a sluggishly said "Tub."
Ah, she was taking a bath.
He walked towards the bathroom and stopped at the door, which was slightly ajar. Should he knock?
"Just me taking a bath with Ryan Seacrest," she giggled.
Huh?
He took a single step into the bathroom. And then another.
She giggled again. A wet leg emerged from the cloud of bubbles nestled on top of the water; her wet foot tapped a container at the edge of the tub.
"Sea-cret. Seacrest. Get it? It's a brand of scrub. Straight from the Dead Sea."
"Oh yeah?" Luke replied, moving towards the jar, picking it up, and studying its label. "Probably just table rock salt with a fancy label on it…" he added.
She pouted her annoyance at him, and the leg, with its delicately pointed toe, disappeared back underneath the bubble cloud.
He stood rooted to his spot on the floor, and quietly looked at her.
The sight in front of him both reassured and stunned him. Reassured him because if she was letting him see her like this, it meant he was still her guy in some way. The scene also stunned him because, well, the nude beauty before him was breathtaking. As sporadic clouds of bubbles floated on and skimmed the water's surface, they gently moved, revealing then concealing, revealing then concealing. As his eyes swept across her body from foot to head, his body began to react, so he focused his attention on her face.
Her head rested gracefully on a rolled-up towel, her eyes closed, her hair swept up in a high ponytail. He wanted nothing more than to undo that ponytail, and fan her hair out around her face, then gently wash her from head to toe.
Instead, he just stood there.
"So, quiet night at the diner?" she murmured after a beat, eyes still closed.
"Yeah," Luke replied, staring down at the tops of his feet. He desperately wanted to touch her, to take off his shirt and clasp her wet body against his, to run his hands down the slickness of her back, to slick back her hair and kiss her, but wasn't sure if he merited the privilege.
He had a real problem, he thought. He loved everything about her, everything around her, just as she was presented before him, from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. He loved her, even every word she said that drove him insane with annoyance...Everything.
The silence was so overwhelming, that he swore he could hear the bubbles in the tub popping…
"I won't break, you know," her still, quiet voice pointed out, her eyes finally open.
He raised his eyes to meet hers.
"C'mere," she whispered, inclining her chin in his direction.
He moved to the edge of the tub, pushing the sleeves of his flannel up to his elbows. Kneeling at the tub's edge, he folded his arms and leaned forward.
Her eyes were once more closed as she tilted her chin upward.
He held his breath, so close to her.
"I'm not exactly waiting for my close-up, Burger-Boy!"
"Lorelai, I'm so sorry," he began.
"Shhhh," she whispered.
Before he could react, a slick, wet hand shot up out of the water and grabbed his shirt close to the collar.
TBC…