Chapter Thirteen

For the fifth time in a row, Lorelai turned the TV back on after turning if off in disgust. There was nothing on she wanted to watch. She couldn't get interested in any of the video tapes she had boxed up. And she'd seen all the DVD movies she liked at least twice. She looked at the clock – 9:20.

It was Sunday night, and she really missed Rory. She had been gone all of six days, but it felt more like six weeks. They had talked every day since she'd gone to London, for at least an hour each time, but it wasn't the same.

Once again she turned off the TV and decided to take a shower and go to bed early. If she woke up early, she would just go to the Dragonfly. It never hurt to be there before she normally went in. There was always something to do.

Just then there was a knock on the front door. The bell rang, and then another knock. Hoping it wasn't Babette, Lorelai reluctantly opened the door.

"We have to talk."

It was Luke.

"What?"

Lorelai was more than a little surprised to see him.

"We have to talk, about us," he said again, and then pushed his way past her to come inside.

"We have to talk." Lorelai repeated. "About us."

"Yes! About you and me and April – and your condition."

Lorelai's surprise was instantly gone.

"Oh, so a whole week goes by after I tell you I'm pregnant, you just now decided that we have to talk?"

"Yes."

Lorelai shook her head in disbelief.

"And just what are we supposed to say?"

"I'm ready."

Lorelai didn't answer, but the look on her face told him he'd better get it all said before she threw him out.

"To get married. We can go to Maryland, or that to that little chapel you were talking about, wherever, it doesn't matter. And the fact that you're pregnant . . . well, I just want to do this the way it's supposed to be done. And I know it sounds like I'm trying to do the right thing justbecause you're pregnant, but that's not it. Well, it IS, but it's not the only reason. I love you, Lorelai, and I want us to be a family, all of us – you, me, Rory, April, the baby. And I know I've done things all wrong, and I know I've let you down, but I want to make up for that. I want things to be right between us again. And this thing with April – you were right, I have to fit her into our lives, not the other way around. . . ."

As Luke ranted on and on, Lorelai tried several times to interrupt without success, finally she just yelled out, "LUKE! Stop! Just – stop it!"

A bit stunned at her vehement outburst, Luke went silent.

"We can't," Lorelai said as she fished around for the right words. "We can't get married. That's all in the past. Things – are different now."

"I know. You're pregnant, but that doesn't really change things. It doesn't change the way we feel about each other. We – I want to marry you."

"Luke."

Suddenly Lorelai felt her stomach tie itself into thousands of excruciatingly painful knots.

"We can't get married because," she took a deep, ragged breath, "because this baby – it isn't yours. It's Christopher's."

"What?"

"I'm pregnant with Christopher's baby, not yours. I'm sorry, but there it is."

"Are you sure? I mean, I know we were always careful, well, almost always, but sometimes things happen even when you take precautions. . . ."

"Yes, I'm sure. I had the test done a month ago. They don't match. You're not the father."

"And he is? You tested both of us?"

"No, just you, your hair. But it was enough. If you didn't match, then there wasn't any reason to test Christopher. And if I went to him to get strands of his hair he would want to know why, and I don't want him to know, not ever."

"Then do the test again! Something could have happened. They might have made a mistake."

"Luke, I can't afford to have it done again. It's just too expensive. I don't have the money."

"Then I'll pay for it."

"Luke, they don't make mistakes like that. They have reputations, they can't afford to make mistakes."

"But maybe you got the wrong hair, maybe you got Rory's instead. You sure didn't come to me."

"I know, I got some of yours off that old blue and white blanket."

"What blue and white blanket? I don't know anything about any blue and white blanket. I didn't even know you HAD a blue and white blanket."

"As many nights you slept here last winter, you have to remember that blanket."

"Lorelai, I have never seen, heard of, or slept under any blue and white blanket. I swear to you."

"Then – who . . . oh my god!"

"What?"

"Oh my god!"

T B C