The Gilmore-Grey Union Book II: The Homecoming

By Michael Weyer

POV: Lane

I can feel the tension rolling in as soon as I enter Luke's. I used to work here so I know the difference between tension of customers and tension of family matters. And oh boy, is the latter clogging us up.

I see them by the table instantly. Rory and Lorelai of course and there's a hot guy which I assume is the new hubby. Wow, can't fault Rory's taste. He at least seems better than Dean or Logan in the looks department. With him are a nice-looking brunette Lorelai's age and a gray-haired woman who seems pretty annoyed by all of this.

"Lane!" Rory calls out as she sees me enter. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you I'd be coming," I explain as I give her a quick hug. I look to the strangers and smile. "Hi, I'm Lane, I'm Rory's best friend."

"Oh, hi," the guy says. "I'm Vincent Grey, this is my sister Amy and this is my mother, Maxine."

I nod to each of them and then look at Rory. "Okay, we gotta talk." I grab her by the arm, hoisting her up and pulling her away.

"Lane!" she cries out as I drag her outside. The others all look at us in surprise but I give them a smile. "Don't worry, I'll be right back. Girl talk." I pull her out and across the street, her trying to pull away the whole time.

"Okay, details," I say as I turn to her. "Where's he from, how was he, is this for real?"

"Lane, Lane, take it easy," she replies, putting her hands on my shoulders. "I don't know as much about him as I'd like. Well, except he wrote that book and he's working on another in Hartford. And he was married once but she left him. And he's as confused by all of this as I am."

"Hmm…and he's damn hot too?"

"Lane!"

"Oh, please, even you can't be so dense as to notice!"

"Lane…"

"Come on, you've got to have some juicy details!"

"What details I may have are lost in the haze of cheap bourbon."

"Oh, he couldn't afford the good stuff?"

"LANE!"

"There you are!"

We both turn to see a fiery blonde marching toward us, eyes fixed right on Rory who lets out a long groan. "I've been looking for you!"

"Hi, Paris," Rory weakly says.

She gives me the barest of glances before starting in on Rory. Now, Paris and I have only met a handful of times but I've always been struck by the fact that she's the only other non-Gilmore I know who can say ten sentences in the length of time it takes other people to say two.

I manage to catch up as best I can, somewhere around the eighth "how could you do this!" shriek. "You are throwing your life away, you are ruining all our plans, how do you think you can handle being a wife?"

"Paris, we just got her, we're just dealing with----"

"I don't care what you're dealing with, we're dealing with this now! We were supposed to be ruling the academia of Yale right now! We are supposed to be readying to make all others tremble in our shadow before unleash shock and awe in debate clubs! Now, I'm broke and working at an inn and you're married to some, some-----where the hell is this bastard anyway?"

"He's in there," I helpfully say, pointing to the window showing the interior of the diner. Paris looks at it and blinks a couple of times. "Damn, he looks good."

"He does, doesn't he?" I say. "I'd marry him in a drunken haze."

"Me too, probably."

Rory is looking from one of us to the other. "I thought you were supposed to be helping me!"

"Sorry," we both say. Paris shakes her head. "Okay, so he's handsome, that's a point in his favor. But he's still nowhere near your level!"

"He's an author, Paris. His first book won a couple of awards."

"Okay…" she says, obviously trying to deal with that little factoid. "But still, he…I mean…" She shakes her head. "Rory, this is still way too big a step. I mean, okay, he's a step up from Logan."

"Got that right,'" I say.

"Excuse me?" Rory gasps.

"Rory, his dad destroyed your dream and his son is pretty much the same," Paris states.

"You were doing great before he came along," I agree. "Now, you're a married drop-out! I think it's safe to draw a line as to how much good he's done for your life now."

I can't tell if she's more shocked by what we're saying or by the fact we're on the same side on this. She just shakes her head and throws up her arms. "Look, I don't know what's going on. I'm not broken up with Logan, I can tell you that much."

"Really?" I press. "Then where is he now?"

"Well, he…I mean…" she shrugs. "We decided to take a break until this got handled."

"Uh huh." Paris and I exchange a look. "Stop that," Rory hisses. "I don't….I'm still with Logan, I'm not breaking up with him, I just…"

"Have a husband now," Paris states. "And one, I might add, who seems a bit better to handle than Logan is."

"You haven't even met him!"

"I'm good at judging people." That earns her a major blank look from Rory so I quickly step in. "Rory, you have to face the facts that one way or another, this guy is probably going to be in your life for a while."

"No, he won't! He's going to get the annulment and we'll never see each other again!"

Paris snorts. "Oh, please. I know how your family works, Gilmore. People you think you're never going to see again come back all the time to cause drama. It's like you've got your own field of gravity to suck in the troublemakers."

"Can't get more troublemaking than a hubbie," I add.

Rory throws up her hands and turns away. "I am not staying married to the guy! I don't…I don't even know if I like him."

Paris and I exchange a knowing smile at that. I've known Rory longer than she has so I know when she feels something. And hearing her protest over not liking her hubbie is like hearing Jessica Simpson and Lindsay Lohan protest over Pink slamming them in a video.

"Is that Taylor?" Our musings are cut off by Rory's question. We all look up and sure enough, Taylor is marching toward Luke's diner, a sheet of papers in his hands.

"What is he doing?" Paris asked.

I see the papers and my eyes widen. "Oh, no. I…thought Kirk was just joking."

Rory turns to me, fear in her eyes. "Joking about what?"

I lick my lips. "He…he said Taylor was trying to get a petition going to make sure the marriage is annulled fast."

Paris' eyes widen. "Excuse me? What does he think this is, 1806?"

"He's going into the diner," Rory moans. "With the petition."

"Oh, dear sweet Buddha," I remark. We exchange glances and then take off running. Rory is out to stop it, of course but Paris and I, in a record, are on the same page for the third time in five minutes.

We want front row seats for the impending smack-down.