Closing the door with a resounding click, Lorelai breathes in the cool night air. She stands for a moment on the sidewalk outside the diner, an empty hope that he will follow her anyway, dying quickly. She walks briskly toward home, the cold a distraction for her overwrought mind. As she turns the key in the lock, she's overwhelmed again with a feeling of loneliness.

They should be coming home together.

Hitting the button on the answering machine, she's deluged with messages of congratulations on her impending wedding. Ripping the paper open to see her smiling face, she cringes with embarrassment at what her folly in not being honest with her parents has caused.

It's funny really, when you think about it, that her parents who rarely support her in anything would go to so much trouble to announce her engagement, to do the whole parent thing, calling the relatives and making sure they save the date. You'd think she was a blushing bride of twenty-one, not a woman who has a daughter old enough to qualify for the title.

She can't help but open the closet when she enters the bedroom. The dress calling to her, as it has been ever since she heard the word elopement. Sliding it off the hanger, she holds it in front of her for just a minute, swaying a little like a little girl playing dress up in her mother's good pearls. How come she feels that something's been lost? Some elusive excitement, some element of anticipation, put on hold, now maybe put away, for good.

She rented a church, so unlike her. Somehow that church called her name, the thought of standing there with Luke, making vows in front of friends and family, of being blessed by something powerful and all knowing, feeling right and good. A beginning of something that would last forever.

Dropping down on the bed, the dress clutched in her hands, she only feels dread at what Luke's reaction is going to be on hearing of the latest Gilmorian faux paus. How does she explain to him that she couldn't get the words out of her mouth to tell her mother that the wedding had been postponed? She tried to tell him last night, that she had lost their deposits, had waited, hoping that he'd change his mind, but he didn't really hear her. Didn't hear what she couldn't say, that she didn't want to wait, that it was killing her to admit, even to herself, that it really wasn't going to happen the way she planned.

When did she stop telling Luke everything? When did he stop listening, stop seeing all the way to her heart?

Taking the velvet box out of her bag, she opens it and looks at the beautiful necklace he gave her. Logan has such good taste. How could he not know she wasn't that gullible. There was a time he wouldn't have even tried to pull off such a misdemeanor, a time when he knew that pulling her in for a meaningful kiss was worth more than any jewels could ever be.

When did they stop being honest?

How can she stop him from building a wall between them. . . five feet high and twelve years old. When did she become just the girlfriend and not the family? Why won't he bring her into his daughter's life? What is he afraid of?. Is there just not enough room left over for her?

She knows that he loves her, but she's not sure he's still in love with her, not sure if he's still all in. Where did the man possessed with jealously go? Where did the man obsessed with honesty go? She remembers long ago after arguing with him about Jess, after listening to him telling her he wasn't mad in that robot talk way of his, that she wanted . . . Luke back. After this weekend of sullen, complaining Luke, that's all she wants . . . is to have Luke back.

Why can't they even fight anymore? Has it all become too fragile? Are they secretly afraid that if they let it all out it will fall apart?

Too restless to worry all night about the confrontation she knows is inevitable in the morning, she quickly grabs her coat and heads out the door before she can talk herself out of it. Taking deep breaths of the frigid air as she walks back to the diner, she concentrates in just putting one foot in front of the other, fighting the sudden fear settling in the pit of her stomach. When has she become afraid of him? Afraid of what he might say, how he might react, what he might do?

Unlocking the door, she slips inside the dark and quiet diner. Removing her coat, she lets the warmth seep into her, hoping to still the shivering, that probably has nothing to do with the cold. Steeling herself, she tiptoes up the steps and knocks.

When he opens the door, she enters, dropping her coat on the couch, turning, ready to do battle. But standing there, just looking at him, she can't get a word out, not knowing where to begin, not wanting to hear his aggravation, not wanting to see his eyes glaze over in anger and annoyance. She takes a deep breath, again trying to say something, but the tightness in her throat, doesn't let a sound escape. Feeling vulnerable and weak, she closes her eyes for a moment, willing herself to start, to talk, to explain, to not cry.

When she feels his hand softly brush the hair from her cheek, lifting her chin so he can gaze into her eyes, when his voice turns all soft and tender, and his whispered, "What's wrong?" has her heart melting, she knows that she's found him.

Her Luke.

The one she fell in love with. The one she'll love the rest of her life. The one that understands her and loves her back. And when her arms close tightly around his neck, when her cheek rests on his warm flannel, and his arms close tightly around her she knows that if she could only bottle this moment, this perfect moment, she could live off it for the rest of her life.

"Hey, whatever it is, it's okay," he says softly, kissing her temple, and she wants so much to believe that.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he coaxes.

"Not tonight," she replies.

I And we could
Stay here together
And we could
Conquer the world
If we could
Say that forever
Is more than just a word.

Everything's Changing - Staind