A/N: I have decided I need to include events that do not include Rory (First-person voice), but I don't want to confuse people by switching to another character in the first person. So, I will be switching to a third-person to give the readers events outside of Rory's presence. I'm hoping this will add depth to the story.
Chapter 5
The fair-haired maid brought the sweaty teens a pitcher of iced tea with two glasses. Richard was not used to this kind of service. Growing up, he'd only ever experienced maids at his Great Grandma Emily's place and Grandpa Chris's house.
"Thank you," he said with an appreciative smile. She smiled back at him and nodded her head.
"Thanks, Lena! I've got it from here," Vivienne said dismissing the woman.
After the maid left, Vivienne filled each glass and offered one to Richard. He accepted happily. The cold beverage quenched his thirst after the hard-fought tennis match.
"Your backhand has really improved! I think you wanted to show off, not get pointers. You nearly whooped me out there!"
"That's kind of the point," she said with a laugh and smirk.
"Have you been practicing more?" he asked curiously.
"Between my parents' divorce and then my mom's death, I threw myself into tennis as a way to escape everything," she confessed quietly.
"And you didn't think to tell me any of this? I had no idea any of this was going on, and I would have been there for you. You know that, right?" he replied, shocked by the revelation of his friend. He hadn't really bothered to do much research on his father. He'd been so preoccupied with simply knowing his name and the prospect of meeting him that he had forgotten the most important step. On the other hand, he figured she would have told him. It's not as if they hadn't kept in touch over the past couple of years.
"I didn't want to bother you with my problems," she began quietly. "I didn't really talk to anyone about it. I tried to ignore the problem in hopes that it would go away."
Richard could see the hurt on his friend's face, and the tears welling in her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her instinctively, just like he had done so many times at tennis camp. He remembered how he felt when his great-grandmother passed away. It had been really hard on him because they were very close. He couldn't imagine the pain she felt after losing a parent.
"It's ok. I'm here for you," he said softly. "You don't have to say anything."
He felt the warm, wet tears settling on her cheeks and soaking through his shirt. She quickly relaxed in his embrace. Her breathing returned to normal by the time he heard a man clearing his throat. Richard quickly dropped his arms from around Vivienne as she turned toward her father.
"Dad, you're home early," she said surprised by his presence. "I didn't expect you until later."
"I see that," he retorted with a stern look towards Richard. Logan had instantly jumped into protective father mode.
Oh, my god, this man is my father, Richard thought and suddenly got nervous. He felt his palms get sweaty and his pulse began racing. He'd never felt like this before, even when he had to deliver the commencement address, a privilege reserved for the valedictorian.
Vivienne smiled and with a laugh, introduced Richard.
"Dad, this is Ritchie. We met at tennis camp a couple years ago," she said. "Remember, he's the one who recommended his tennis club when I told him we were moving here? He's just a friend."
She was the only person who could get away with calling him Ritchie. He was relieved she used it, and that she didn't use his last name. It bought him some time before his cover was blown. He knew it would give him away, and he wasn't ready to face that truth quite yet.
"It's nice to meet you, Sir," Richard said as he held out a hand.
"Sir?" Logan's replied with a chuckle. Richard noticed his expression had softened, and the men shook hands. "Ritchie, you say? Well, it's nice to meet you, too, but in the future, you can just call me Logan." He patted him on the shoulder and left the room.
Or Dad, Richard thought. He watched closely as his father exited, studying his every move.
"Ok, that was totally weird," Vivienne observed. "Why did you get all nervous? It's just my dad."
"Nothing, it's nothing," he said trying to evade the truth a little longer. He had to keep his secret. He couldn't tell her yet.
"No, it's not nothing. Now, spill!" she ordered.
"Seriously, it's not a big deal. I just don't want to get into it."
"Are you sure? I mean, I'm here if you need me," she said sounding more worried.
"Thanks, but I should probably get going. It's my turn to cook tonight," Richard replied with a slight smile.
"Not in the mood for take-out?" she joked.
"No, not really. I don't know how my mom does it," he said as he shook his head.
"I'll text you later, ok?"
"Ok. Talk to you later," he replied.
Richard couldn't seem to get away quick enough. He grabbed his keys and tennis bag from near the door. He said in his car for a few minutes. He tried to calm down once again. He'd done a good job of concealing it before leaving, but it had returned. A minute later, his breathing had begun to even out, but his pulse still raced. He's nothing like I thought he'd be. I wonder if he knows who I am. Viv didn't tell him my whole name, so maybe, he thought.
Inside the mansion, Vivienne heard her dad calling to her.
"Coming, Dad," she said and located him in his study.
"So, who was that young man?" he asked directly. Logan wasn't one to pussyfoot around with the questions. He'd always been very direct with his daughter.
"I told you. It's my friend Ritchie. We met at tennis camp a couple years ago, and have stayed in contact ever since."
Logan gave her a knowing look. "Is that all?"
"I swear, Dad. We are just friends and always have been just friends. It's not what you think," she explained defensively. She'd always had to defend her friendship with Richard. People couldn't quite understand that they were merely friends and nothing more.
"You looked quite cozy," he replied still not believing the teens were just friends as his daughter claimed.
"He's like a brother to me, not a boyfriend," she continued her defense. "We've never been like that. It's completely platonic."
The word brother struck him a way that made him stop and reassess the situation. Logan approached it from a different angle, especially after Rory's admission yesterday at the coffee shop.
"Sorry to doubt you, Viv, but you're my only daughter, and I can't help but be protective of you," he said as he lightened his attitude. "What did you say Ritchie's last name was?"
"I didn't. What does that matter? Dad, don't do the family connection thing. I know you grew up here and know a good deal of society families, but I don't want my friends to be subjected to that. Mom used to get so caught up in it," she replied.
"Well, I do want to know what family he comes from, but I won't use it as a means to judge. I just want to know who you're hanging out with. A father's got a right to worry," he said.
"Ok, just so we're on the same page. This is a fresh start for me. I don't know anyone here except Ritchie, and I don't want to ruin the one friendship I have."
"Fair enough," he conceded.
"His name is Richard Gilmore. He comes from a single-parent household here in Hartford. His mom is an author of some sort. He recently graduated from Chilton, and will be going to Yale this fall," she said anticipating the next questions out of her father's mouth.
Holy shit, Logan thought. I just met my son and I didn't even know it was him. Rory wasn't making it up. Not that she'd make up something like this, but it was really real. How could I even question whether or not I wanted to be a part of his life? He was made with love that night in New Hampshire, and it was the best parts of us coming together.
He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the color drained from his face. He knew his intuitive daughter would pick up on this change. He was usually much more level-headed around her, even when Odette pushed just the right buttons, or he found out some terrible news at work.
Vivienne noticed a change in her father's demeanor. "Are you ok, Dad?"
"I'm fine," he replied trying to reassure her, but it didn't work.
"Seriously, what's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"It's nothing. I don't want to talk about it right now," Logan replied.
That's almost the same thing that Ritchie said to me earlier, she thought. Something hinky was going on, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.
Oh, the irony that Vivienne thought of Richard like a brother. If she only knew that he is her brother. I think I need to talk to him before I say anything to her, Logan thought.
He'd forgotten the anger he'd been harboring toward Rory since yesterday. This was real and definitely bigger than his resentment of her actions. Logan figured Richard must know because he noticed how he got all nervous when they were introduced. It wasn't the scared of my girlfriend's father look he usually got. It was distinctively different upon reexamination.
Vivienne interrupted his thoughts. "Dad, I'm gonna go clean up and figure something out for dinner."
"Ok, Viv," he replied and turned to his phone. He found Rory's message from yesterday and replied.
Logan: I've been thinking and I'd like for us to get together and talk about everything. I was thinking maybe dinner. Perhaps tonight, if it's not too short of a notice?
Anxiety continued to build inside of him, but the longer he put things off, the more everything would continue to grow. While he waited for an answer, he went back to answering emails from work.
Upstairs, Vivienne had turned on the shower and climbed in. As she began to wash her hair, she started assessing the situation. Why am I not attracted to Ritchie? He's sweet, funny, smart, and good-looking. He's one of the best friends I've ever had. We'd be a perfect match for each other, but there's something almost too familiar about him. I just can't put my finger on what it is, she thought. It was going to bother her until she figured this out. She wondered if it had something to do with why he and her father both acted weird today. If there was one thing she loved more than tennis, it was a good intrigue.
