AN: What to say?
I will start with my deepest apologies for disappearing. I could give you a laundry list of reasons why - like not being in the best headspace after I put my dog down, work being insane, real life picking up after COVID and adjusting to that. And all of those things would be true. But, ultimately, I think what really happened was that the longer I went without writing, the more guilty I felt about it. And the more guilty I felt, the more I just wanted to avoid it all together and not think about it. And it all snowballed from there.
I want to thank Queenofthesloths and Caro1414 for sticking with me through my rut and supporting me even though even logging on to read their stories would give me too much anxiety. Huge shoutout to Caro1414 for forcing me to log on to ao3 after gifting me a story and essentially pushing me into the deep end of the pool that is my inbox. I think that's the push I needed to just face my anxieties and realize it wasn't so bad.
I'm in a better place now. I got a new puppy, and he is a menace but I love him. I've got a better handle on work, and I'm saying no to more commitments in real life so I don't overextend myself. And the result of this is that for the first time in months I sat down to write and this all came out in a total of three days. It's a massive improvement on staring at a screen for hours and not being able to finish even a sentence.
Just to give you a rundown of my plan here… I am going to be working on my fics one at a time. Mind the Gap is my first priority. After that I'll probably move onto Save the Date and then Hollow Holiday. You might see a few one -shots and/or Plans and Happenstances additions. But I think the best way to keep myself from getting overwhelmed again is to take it one step at a time and keep my mind focused.
Another item of business… I've heard from Caro and QotS that the alerts and notifications on are a mess at the moment. I've also heard that there are rumors that the site is no longer being moderated and one day it might just stop functioning. If you have not yet made the leap over to ao3 (a quick google search will send you right to the site), I HIGHLY recommend making the move. Even if FF does ultimately shuffle off this mortal coil the three of us and several other fantastic Rogan writers are still over there and will be keeping the fandom going. It takes a few days to get approved for an account, but you do not need an account to read or comment. And, personally, I find the reading and reviewing experience there a lot more enjoyable anyway.
Thanks to all of you for sticking with me. I really hope you enjoy the next chapter. And I hope you aren't too upset with me. And if you are upset… please keep it to yourself because I am still pretty fragile creatively atm. Haha.
Cheers,
LoveRocket
****PS SPOILER ALERT**** There's also a pretty major Game of Thrones spoiler in this chapter. The episode aired like 8 years ago, but… just be warned. It's at the very end of the 2014 segment.
Chapter 12
2014
Rory Gilmore was not a cook.
At least… that was the widely accepted truth among those who knew her. And the ones that had known her the longest were most steadfast in that belief. The ones who knew her best, however, might know that she at least had a few tricks up her sleeve when push came to shove.
Because while Rory Gilmore was not a cook by any stretch of the imagination, she wasn't incapable of cooking. The days of her relying on frozen pizzas, Poptarts, and Hot Pockets for sustenance were long behind her. When needed, she was more than capable of chopping up some onions and garlic or sauteing a nicely seasoned chicken breast on the stove.
The longer Rory had been on her own, the more her limited cooking skills had grown. What had started with following recipes for basic salads and peeling potatoes to boil into mash had become creating her own salads from fresh ingredients at the farmer's market and frying her own homemade french fries.
At this point in her life she'd learn how to make chicken, pork, and fish. She'd made spaghetti and lasagna. She'd made tacos and rolled her own sushi. She'd even attempted to make a steak at one point, though that had admittedly been a disaster that she did not want to repeat again. After all, she was pretty sure that beef wasn't supposed to be gray.
All in all, Rory had become somewhat confident in the kitchen - confident enough to feel as if she could make dinner for two for one evening at the very least. And the funny thing was, she was currently standing in the kitchen of the man who had first started her on the journey to get that confidence.
As her knife slid down on the bamboo cutting board and through the plump red tomato she was holding in her hand, she happened to hear the tell tale sounds of said man walking into the door of his apartment. She smiled and decided to leave the tomato half sliced for the time being, much more interested in greeting him at the door with the new apron she'd purchased at some crazy Americana store she'd stumbled into that afternoon tied around her waist.
"Well hello there!" Rory greeted jubilantly as she reached the top of the stairs to see Logan's blond head of hair rising up to the top level. She stood there with a bright smile on her face and one hand perched on the bannister while the other was placed on her hip. It was a showy pose - almost Vanna White like in its stance - all to bring attention to the ridiculous novelty item currently covering her dark jeans and white v-neck t-shirt. Yet, when the pose did not elicit the desired response, Rory was left somewhat disappointed.
"Hey," Logan practically grumbled as he walked right past her and threw his briefcase onto the couch.
Rory was taken aback and somewhat shocked by his sudden disinterested and sullen tone. At first, she almost found it entirely out of character for him considering how fun and happy and light he had been in all their recent time together. But then she remembered just how familiar and completely in character the tone actually was.
This might be the first time she was hearing it since meeting up with him again in Hamburg, but it definitely wasn't the first time she was hearing it at all. She knew this tone very well. Something had happened. Something to put him off. Most likely something that had nothing to do with her whatsoever, but she would be suffering the consequences of it for the rest of the night anyway.
"I went to a Farmer's Market this morning," she said, choosing to go on pretending that nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Logan, meanwhile, was avoiding eye contact with her as he pulled his tie loose and unbuttoned the top button of his light blue shirt. "They had some of the reddest looking roma tomatoes I've ever seen so I thought I'd make us some bruschetta before dinner for old time's sake."
"Sounds great," Logan replied unenthusiastically as he made a beeline to the bar cart and immediately poured himself a drink. Rory wanted to sigh but held it inside, choosing to go with a more diplomatic approach instead.
"You okay?" she asked, taking a step closer to him. The straight and direct approach. Sometimes it was the best way to handle his moods. Other times it was the worst way. Only time would tell how tonight's coin would land. "You seem off."
Logan's head sagged between his shoulders for a second before he placed the top back into the crystal decanter that was no doubt holding a fresh and expensive bottle of MaCallan. He turned around to look at her and at least had the decency to look slightly ashamed at his behavior.
"I'm sorry," he said, running a hand over his tired face. "I'm fine. I'm just… distracted."
"I'll say," said Rory. "You didn't even comment on my dirty apron."
Rory gestured to the yellow piece of fabric in question and watched as Logan's eyes flashed downward to take it in. Thankfully, the briefest of smiles appeared on his face as he read the red lettering spelling out the phrase 'This girl loves meat' surrounded by an illustration of a young woman drawn in a 50s pin-up style about to bite down on a massive hot dog. He laughed and took a sip of his drink before walking over to her and sliding his hands around her waist.
"Oh, I know you love meat," Logan replied as he pulled her closer to him, leaning strongly into the double meaning of the phrase.
"Mmm," Rory agreed. She placed her hands on his chest and tilted her chin up to look in his eyes. "Yours in particular."
"I do make a mean Kielbasa."
Logan placed a quick kiss on her lips and pulled away from her. He headed toward the bedroom as he continued to undo the buttons on his crisp starched shirt. Rory followed him, leaning against the doorframe as she watched him pull the rest of his work clothes off and swap them for a pair of sweats and a loose fitting heather gray t-shirt.
He moved silently about the room as he went. He chucked his leather shoes into the closest and haphazardly tossed the heavy and expensive silver Omega watch that had been wrapped around his wrist onto the antique mid century dresser that sat opposite the bed. Rory winced, hoping that it hadn't left a dent in the solid wood or a scratch on the glass watch face. She knew better than to say anything, though. It wouldn't curb the behavior. She knew exactly what his response would be.
It's just stuff.
Rory's insistence that it wasn't just stuff would prompt an argument, and given his mood that argument would quickly fly off the rails and they would spend the rest of the night fighting over an issue that wasn't even the issue that Rory was most concerned with at the moment.
All in all she decided it was best to just leave that be for the time being.
"Do you want to talk about it?".
Logan sat down on the foot of the bed to pull his argyle socks off and took a deep breath. He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair as he considered his options.
"It's…" Logan paused and looked over his shoulder as he gathered his thoughts, focusing on nothing in particular. And when he looked back at her, he wasn't quite meeting her eyes.
"It's nothing," he said while flashing her a closed lipped disingenuous smile. "My Dad just… He showed up unannounced at a lunch meeting today, and I wasn't quite prepared to deal with that. It threw me off. It's not a big deal."
Rory stiffened.
Is this what they had come to? Had they grown so far apart in the seven years that had passed that they could no longer be honest with each other? She was almost insulted that he would think she would buy such an incredibly obvious lie about how he was feeling - about how Mitchum had made him feel. But then she remembered exactly how closed off Logan had been about his father when they'd first started dating.
How long had it taken for him to open up about his relationship with Mitchum beyond his cryptic comments and insistence that he knew nothing about the man other than he hated peas? It was months. It had taken a breakup and a reconciliation and them moving in together before Logan had truly shared with her the depth of the emotional scarring Mitchum Huntzberger had inflicted on his only son.
Had he opened up to anyone since? Had he forgotten what it was like? Had he forgotten how well she knew him?
"You do remember who you're talking to, right?" she asked, her head and eyes narrowed with skepticism. .
The way Logan reacted to her question seemed to prove that he had- indeed - forgotten who he was talking to for a moment. A flash of realization appeared over his face, and Rory could have sworn she saw his shoulders drop a full two inches before he decided to start speaking. And when he did start speaking, he didn't hold any punches.
"You know the thing that pisses me off more than anything?"
Logan stood up. He grabbed his drink again and walked past her into the living room where he started pacing around the room and scratching his chin. Rory didn't respond. She knew it was a hypothetical question. She merely stood there and let him continue, knowing that what he needed more than anything was to just get it all out in the air.
"I've done everything he's ever fucking asked of me," he said. "You know?! It was always… 'Logan, you're not living up to your potential. Logan, you need to focus on school and graduate. Logan, you need to take your work seriously. Logan, you need to take pride in the things you do. Logan, you need to set an example for your employees. Logan, you need to fix your own mistakes.' I did all of that."
"I know you did," Rory agreed softly.
"I made something of myself. I created something of my own. Without any help from him or anyone else. It's more than he could ever fucking say."
"It is."
"I'm good at what I do," he continued. "I'm good at what I do, and he knows it. He asked me to come back here. He asked me to help him. And it's still never enough. Now it's 'Logan, you're a Huntzberger. You're not living up to your responsibilities to this family. Logan, you need to grow up. Logan, you need to set -"
He stopped, choosing not to finish the thought for some reason. Though, Rory had a feeling she knew what he was going to say. She was getting the same speech from her grandmother a lot lately. Every trip to Nantucket was packed with the same thinly veiled comments. Her emails usually contained links to articles about finding love in your thirties or the scientific advancement in cryogenic egg freezing.
Settling down, however, was a topic that neither one of them wanted to broach in any context. Not with each other. Not with the black cloud that still hung over them to this day. The cloud they chose to ignore by turning on metaphorical sunlight lamps and carrying around metaphorical umbrellas wherever they went. That cloud brought a storm she wasn't sure either of them could weather at the moment.
And why ruin a good thing while they had it?
Logan stopped pacing. He took another deep breath and reset himself, looking her right in the eye this time as he continued.
"Sometimes I think what drives him the most crazy is that I'm good at what I do. It's like… the idea of me failing was so unacceptable to him for so long that he never stopped to think about what would happen if I actually succeeded. He can't stand it. The fact that he's not needed here anymore… It makes him insane. And now he's got to show up out of the blue just to throw his weight around and remind me where my place is."
"Sounds like Mitchum…" Rory affirmed with a nod.
"If I have to hear the words 'Logan you're a Huntzberger' from him one more time, I'm gonna lose my fucking mind. I know I'm a goddamn Huntzberger. If the fact that it's written on my birth certificate and my driver's license wasn't enough, I've been hearing that bullshit since the day I was born. Before probably! I wouldn't be surprised if I found out he recorded himself saying that on a loop and made my mom carry a walkman around with the headphones over her stomach the entire time she was pregnant with me - just playing it over and over and over again until it was so deeply rooted in my subconscious that I could never forget it. Some babies get Mozart. I get prenatal guilt trips and the weight of familial expectations."
"I think I got a lot of Tears for Fears…" Rory said, trying at a bit of levity. "I'm not sure what that says about my subconscious…"
Logan merely sighed and flopped down on the couch. His face was no longer visible to her, so she walked toward pressed herself up against the back of the couch, looped her arms around his neck tightly, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Logan, in turn, reached a hand up to squeeze her forearm.
"You have nothing to prove to him, Logan," she spoke softly in his ear. "You never did. You're smart. You're successful. You're capable. And you're a good person. All of that is true whether you have his approval or not."
He closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to bask in a few seconds of silent comfort. Rory stayed where she was. Her cheek was pressed against the top of his head and she held him firmly.
"He asked me to get dinner with him tonight," Logan said, eventually. "I told him I had plans, and he could fuck off. If he wanted to get dinner, he should have told me he was coming in the first place."
Rory's grip went tight. A rush of anxiety came over her, and she stood up straight. The arms that had been wrapped around Logan just seconds ago were now wrapped around herself and her mind started reeling.
"Did you tell him about…?"
"No."
The answer was firm and resolute. Still, the bubbling panic in her stomach didn't quite go away. A string of what ifs started running through her mind at a breakneck pace. What if he showed up to the apartment? What if they ran into him on the street somewhere? What if one of Logan's colleagues mentioned to him that she had been at Bobbie's party just a few days ago?
The last time she'd seen Mitchum, he'd been more than amicable to her. He'd gone out of his way to bury the hatchet between them. But, as far as Rory was concerned there was much more than a hatchet used in the arsenal of weapons wielded against her by the Huntzberger family. There were still quite a few bows, arrows, daggers, and spears to be accounted for.
She felt a hand on her arm, and when she snapped her attention back into focus she noticed that Logan had twisted around and was leaning over the couch to get to her. He tugged on the arm in his grasp, pulling her toward him and around to the front of the sofa so that they could be face to face.
"He's not going to find out you're here," he assured. "He's not going to find out about us at all… Not unless you want him to."
Not unless she wanted him to.
That was the big question.
Did she want to invite Mitchum Huntzberger back into her life? Did she want to invite Shira Huntzberger back into her life? The one silver lining in losing Logan all those years ago was cutting his cancerous family out of her life once and for all. Was she ready to let them back in? With so many things still up in the air about their relationship, adding that particular variable at the current moment seemed like a profoundly bad idea.
"Let's not talk about that now," said Rory, refusing to spend any more of the precious time she had there thinking about it.
She placed her knee on the couch cushion beside him and swung her other leg over his lap. Logan's hands slid over her thighs and came to rest on her hips. His fingers dug into her flesh and she heard a low groan of appreciation come from his chest.
At this point, she wasn't sure if she was distracting Logan from his crappy day or distracting herself from the questions that she was not yet ready to answer. But, either way, a distraction was needed. They had both let Mitchum dominate their evening for far too long.
"How about we just… forget about cooking dinner tonight, gorge ourselves on carbs and bruschetta, and spend the rest of the night on the couch. I'll even suffer through the Game of Thrones finale that I know you've been putting off watching while I'm here."
"I could get into that," Logan answered with a nod before tugging on the strings of her apron and untying it from around her waist. "Although… Are you sure that you won't want any meat?"
Rory smiled. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his neck while one hand trailed downwards to the waistband of his sweats. It slipped smoothly underneath, and Logan threw his head back against the cushion with a groan. He closed his eyes as her fingers wrapped around him, and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
"I think I know where I can find some…"
The good thing about bruschetta was that there wasn't really much cooking involved in preparing it. There were no timers. No heat. No risk of burning any ingredients or starting any fires. She could forget about it entirely for a while.
It was an hour and a half before Rory made it back into the kitchen to finish dicing her tomatoes, chopping her basil, and toasting her bread. And it was another two hours before Logan finally got around to holding her to her promise regarding the viewing choices for the evening.
They both settled on the chaise lounge, cozy in a cocoon of throw blankets and pillows. Rory was wrapped up in the gray t-shirt that Logan had worn for all of ten minutes, and she was curled deeply into his side - an opportune place to hide her face every time a throat ended up slit or a head came flying off on the screen.
They were quiet for the rest of the night. And as much as it pained her to keep her mouth closed when watching any piece of media, she knew that Logan would be upset if she ruined the show for him by talking all the way through it. Logan had no problem not making any sound at all. That is until she started to hear a faint snoring noise coming from her side just as Tywin Lannister arrogantly tried to reason with an angry man pointing a crossbow at him.
"… I'd never let them execute you. Is that what you fear? I'd never let Ilyn Payne take your head. You're a Lannister!"
Rory tore her face from the screen to see that Logan's head had lolled to the side. His mouth was slightly open, and the glass of scotch in his hand was tipping dangerously to the side, ready to spill onto the fabric at any moment.
She grabbed the drink from him gently, careful not to wake him, and placed it on the coffee table. Moving her hand just slightly to the left of the glass, she grabbed the remote, pointed at the screen, and turned the show off.
But not before watching Tyrion Lannister shoot a deadly arrow straight through his father's chest.
2036
Walking through the streets of Oxford almost felt like traveling into another world. There was something undefinable about the feeling it gave her. It was more than a mere step through time. The entire place felt almost… fantastical. Like she was walking through the pages of a book rather than through the paved roads of an actual city in the year 2036.
With every turn of a corner, it was like she was being transported into a different realm. She half expected to look up and see the wings of a dragon flying overhead or the bright green flame of The Hightower at Oldtown calling its banners to war. She kept looking over her shoulder to ensure there were no children about to zoom past her on brooms or strange half-human half-goat creatures dressed in the trappings of wizened professors with stacks of books in their hands.
It was no wonder this place had inspired some of the greatest pieces of fantasy ever written. Magic practically glistened all around them. It was in the air. It was in the way that the sun bounced off the medieval buildings and the way that the cobblestones felt under your feet. Like you were walking through a street in a world that you were a mere visitor in. But the stones… they were eternal. That world belonged to the stones.
"Best brew in Middle Earth."
Riley was jolted out of her reverie by the clanking of a glass hitting the deep mahogany table in front of her - the table once frequented often by JRR Tolkein and CS Lewis themselves.
She looked down to see a pint glass filled to the brim with a dark and murky liquid sitting in front of her. The tiniest bubbles she had ever seen were forming a half an inch of foam at the top. Her eyes widened and her mouth popped open the slightest bit in something between disgust and concern.
Still… she didn't quite want to say no to the gesture…
"Oh… um…" she swallowed and reached out for the drink. "Thanks…"
"I'm kidding."
When she looked up at Logan, he was smiling at her. Smirking more like. Over the past few days she'd come to realize it was a somewhat common expression for him.
"The Guinness is for me," he clarified, pulling it toward himself as he slid into the booth beside her. "I got you a Pimm's Cup."
Across the table from them Alex scoffed. He crossed his arms over his chest as Logan slid the tall glass of amber liquid over to her. He frowned at him while doing so, a silent reproach that Alex didn't seem all that concerned with receiving.
"I didn't know what you liked, so I thought this was a safe bet."
"I'm not twenty-one," Riley replied, somewhat nervous as she looked at the proffered beverage. She had to admit, it did look far more appetizing than the beer that he'd set down in front of her before. Still, she felt odd accepting it.
"You're over eighteen, aren't you?" Logan asked, already knowing the answer. Riley nodded, and he shrugged in response. "Then you're legal here in Merry Old England."
Logan took a sip of his beer and Riley followed suit. She gingerly tugged at the straw in her glass, bringing it up to her lips and taking a modest sip of the cold drink in front of her. But when the fruity refreshing flavor hit her taste buds, she found that her sips instantly became stronger.
"You like it?" Logan asked.
"Yeah," Riley answered with a nod. "It's good."
"Good."
"You didn't get me anything."
Logan and Riley both slowly looked over at Alex once again. It was the first time that he had graced them with his trademark sardonic tone since they'd walked into the pub. Until then, he'd chosen to stay mostly quiet. His eyes were still hidden behind a pair of sunglasses and the rest of his face had been hidden buried in his phone.
"Are you over eighteen?" Logan asked, again knowing the answer.
"I might have liked a water," Alex said with a shrug. "It's hot and we've been walking for hours."
Logan sighed.
"I'm sorry, Alex," he replied in a tone equally as dry. "Would you like me to go fetch you a water from the bar?"
The younger boy stood up, slapping his hands on the table for leverage and walked himself over to the bar, grumbling under his breath about 'just wanting to be considered' the entire way. Riley watched him with a solemn look on her face as he started speaking to the barkeep and cast them a glance over his shoulder as the man started pouring him a drink..
"I hope he hasn't been a downer on your tour," Logan said as soon as he was out of hearing distance. "I just thought getting out might… I dunno… be good for him. Maybe I was pushing it."
"He hasn't been," Riley assured. And, truthfully, she actually meant it.
She was starting to get used to Alex. She was starting to see what Logan had meant when he first told her about his somewhat bristly personality. She was starting to see how it was just who he was. How his sardonic comments were rarely personal. In fact, there had been several times over the past few days where his comments had been used to make her laugh. And it seemed intentional. If anything, she was starting to find it endearing.
At the moment she even found herself feeling a little bit defensive on his behalf. Perhaps it was some kind of innate older sibling thing. She wasn't sure. But she did think that he had a little bit of a right to be annoyed at Logan for not even thinking he might like a beverage. Whether he could drink alcohol or not.
"Well good," Logan replied before taking another sip of his drink. "So what do you think?"
"Of Oxford?" Riley asked. She then looked around her at her surroundings and gestured vaguely in the air. "Or The Eagle and the Child?"
"Well… both I guess," Logan replied with an amused huff.
"It's…" Riley trailed off. She wasn't quite sure how to describe the impression Oxford had left on her. It was old. It was beautiful. It was idyllic. Prestigious. It was a dream. It was so many things that she didn't quite know where to start.
"It's incredible."
"Yeah," Logan agreed. "Sure makes The Old Campus seem pretty laughable in comparison, huh?"
Riley smiled around the straw of her drink and nodded. It was odd, but for a moment it was as if she had entirely forgotten about the fact that Logan had gone to Yale. For the longest time, it was one of the only things that she knew about him, and she clung to that knowledge fiercely. She would walk down the halls of Branford College and wonder if he'd ever gotten coffee at the same cart, or taken a class in the same hall. It made her feel connected to her paternal lineage in a way that nothing ever had before.
Now, though… now that she actually knew Logan, there had been some kind of shift in her mind. She no longer associated him with Yale or Connecticut. In many ways she no longer even associated him with her mother's past. He was his own person, separate from any other person in her life. The Logan she knew wasn't a mysterious stranger from Rory Gilmore's past. He was a prominent figure in Riley's present.
He was just… Logan.
He lived in a giant house in a fancy suburb of London. He worked a lot. And when he wasn't working his phone was never too far out of reach. He was rich - richer than Riley could even fathom. And he was pretty elitist in many ways. But he was kind to wait staff and customer service people, and he treated his housekeeper like a member of his family.
He had a dog that was equal parts absolutely loveable and mind bendingly frustrating when excited. He really loved his son - despite their bumpy relationship. He had loved his wife too, but RIley noticed that there was a haunted look that came over his eyes whenever she talked about her mother that just wasn't there when Odette was brought up.
His parents were still alive, but his father had a serious heart condition. He had a sister, a niece, and two nephew's - one who had a wife that was currently pregnant with his first great nephew. His best friend's name was Nick, but his oldest friend was Colin. Her mom knew Colin. They went to Yale together.
Rory had never mentioned Colin before. But Riley couldn't help but wonder if the three of them had ever gotten coffee at Branford together.
"It's different. That's for sure," Riley said with a confident nod.
She drummed her fingernails against the table top and bit her lip as a fluttering feeling settled into her stomach. She debated for a second on whether or not to tell Logan how she was feeling or whether she should keep it to herself. But the expectant look that Logan was giving her didn't give her much choice. It was as if he somehow knew that she had more to say, and the mere idea that he could know that about her thrilled her so much that she couldn't help but be honest.
"It's kind of… intimidating, really," she admitted. "I'm not sure I feel like I… belong here..."
The expression on Logan's face fell and his back went straight for a second. He inhaled before placing a hand on Riley's shoulder and looking at her very seriously.
"Don't be ridiculous," he said, his voice firm and nonnegotiable. "You're a Huntzberger. You belong anywhere you want to go."
Riley was too shocked to actually take the meaning of his statement to heart. Concerns about Oxford and her potential future there were suddenly meaningless in the face of her long lost father calling her a Huntzberger. She didn't have the bandwidth to formulate a response. All she could do was stare at him with her mouth slightly opened and her eyes wide in surprise.
Luckily, however, she was spared having to formulate words when Alex plopped back into his seat across from her with a large bottle of San Pellegrino clutched in his fist. Even with his sunglasses still perched on his nose, Riley could see that his eyes were glued to the image of their father's hand on her shoulder and they all froze for an uncomfortable moment of silence until Logan's fingers slipped from her person and landed around the laminated menu in front of him.
"Anyone want something to eat?" he asked as he cleared his throat.
"Fish and chips?" Riley asked, enthusiastically grabbing onto the conversational life raft and looking anywhere but at Alex.
"A classic,'" Logan replied. "Alex?"
When Riley finally looked back up at her brother he was still throwing scrutinizing glances between her and Logan.
"I'm not hungry," he said.
He was still giving Riley the stare down as Logan sighed and walked back over to the bar to put a food order in. She held Alex's gaze for a while, not wanting to break it and risk making him suspect that there was anything out of the ordinary about her relationship with Logan.
Though, honestly, she wasn't sure that was possible at this point. One of the things she'd learned about her little brother over the last few days was that he was incredibly perceptive and wickedly smart. A person didn't develop a wit as quick as his without being so. Riley usually liked smart people. She enjoyed being around them. Talking to them.
With Alex…it just made her nervous.
"So…" Alex began, slouching back in his booth a bit and recrossing his arms over his chest.
Riley jumped slightly as a pair of boots landed next to her in her booth. Alex had hiked his feet up in a deliberate attempt to take up as much space as he possibly could at their tiny little corner table. And if it was some sort of interrogation tactic to make her feel uneasy, it had succeeded.
"How exactly did you say you knew my father again?" He asked, unscrewing the cap on his water bottle. "Or - sorry. Not you, obviously. Your… dad? Was it?"
"My mom."
"Your mum…."
A shiver traveled down Riley's spine at the tone in Alex's voice. It was a strange tone. Polite but biting. Curious but almost… accusatory. If she focused hard enough, she could almost see his face morphing into Billy Hargrove's as he stood in the dining room of his girlfriend's parents' home staring down Eleven with a knowing and sinister look in his eyes. The tension in the air was certainly just as deep.
"That's right…" Alex continued with a slow nod. He took a sip of his water. "They went to Yale together."
"Yep," Riley answered cheerfully in a desperate attempt to make the line of questioning seem completely innocuous. "Did he uh… That is… Has he told you a lot about his Yale days?"
Alex laughed. He slid his feet off the seat next to her and sat forward on his bench. He took his sunglasses off for the first time since they'd left the house that morning and rubbed at his eyes.
"No," he answered, leaning forward. "The only thing my father has told me about Yale is that I am going there. I will go to Yale. I will major in economics. I will graduate in no less than five years. And I will be working in the New York office as soon as I graduate."
Riley was confused, but she tried not to show it on her face. The words coming out of Alex's mouth didn't really seem to line up with the Logan that she had gotten to know. But she wasn't foolish enough to say as much. After all, she had known their father for a little more than a week. Alex had known him for seventeen years.
"You don't seem like an economics kind of guy," she said instead, trying to keep her tone light - as if she was teasing him rather than feeling sorry for him. She had a feeling that Alex wouldn't respond to pity very well.
"It doesn't matter what kind of guy I am," Alex said with a shrug. "I'm a Huntzberger. That's all that matters."
Riley's heart started pounding in her chest. The name that had felt like a warm blanket to her just moments ago suddenly felt like a knife when it was wielded by her brother's tongue. What represented a new freedom and endless opportunities to her clearly felt like a noose around Alex's neck. She understood how he could be so resentful when she thought of it in those terms, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that he was… wrong.
Perhaps she was delusional - or too arrogant for her own good. But sitting there trying to reconcile Alex's perception of their father with the man that Riley had come to know just wasn't adding up. Yes, Alex had known him for almost two decades, but maybe there was something to be said for seeing the man through fresh eyes. Riley's perceptions were untainted by bias. They carried no trauma. No history of arguments or miscommunications or misunderstandings.
Perhaps she saw things more clearly.
And what she saw was a man who more than anything just wanted to see his son smile again.
"But we were talking about you. Not me," said Alex, deftly bringing the conversation back around to the one subject Riley would like to avoid at all costs. She winced on the inside. "They were… friends? At Yale?"
"I guess so," Riley answered with a shrug.
"I mean… they must have been pretty close in that case."
"Probably."
"Close enough that she felt comfortable sending her nineteen year old daughter overseas to stay with him for a couple weeks? Even though… I mean… It's been… What? Decades since they were at Yale together?"
"I guess they kept in touch."
Alex smirked - an expression that was undeniably inherited from their father. However, his expression didn't carry the same jovial spirit that Logan's usually did. His eyes roamed over her quickly, similar to the way that they had when she had first shown up at their front door, and Riley once again felt completely and utterly summed up by him. It took less than an instant, and it was as if he was able to read every tiny detail about her. Every thought in her head.
"Clearly."
It felt as if a stone had settled in Riley's stomach. She didn't know exactly what Alex was trying to insinuate, though she had a pretty good idea. And her suspicion was that it was very close to the truth. Still… she didn't want to say or do anything that would confirm or deny his suspicions one way or another. In all honesty, she was starting to hope that he wouldn't find out about who she really was at all until she was safely back over the pond in America. Sometimes the best way to handle conflict was to avoid it entirely. At least she thought so.
She was saved from having to figure out what to say when Alex's head swung quickly over in the direction of the bar at the sound of a very loud, very feminine laugh. When Riley followed his gaze, her eyes landed on the picture of their father leaning over the bar with a friendly smile on his face and the barkeep throwing her head back in amusement at something he said.
Alex scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I'd say you get used to it, but you don't. He has no shame."
"Maybe he just tips really well," said Riley with a shrug.
Maybe it just felt nice to get some innocuous friendly attention after his wife had died. Maybe it made him feel less lonely for a few seconds of the day. Maybe it wasn't even that at all. Maybe he just didn't want to be rude.
"I'm sure that's it," Alex grumbled.
Once Logan returned to the table, Alex returned to his mostly silent state of being. His face went right back into the screen of his phone, his sunglasses went back unto his face, and he went back to his goal of speaking only in monosyllables. Logan, however, tried his very best to keep the mood light.
But the truth was… Riley wasn't feeling all that light anymore. Alex had planted just enough seeds of doubt in her mind to make her question once again whether or not getting involved with the Huntzberger family was a good idea. Whether or not coming to Oxford for a semester was a good idea.
"Two fish and chips and a Shepherd's Pie?"
The server set the food down on the table, and when the white ceramic plate slid in front of Alex, he looked at it in surprise and confusion.
"I said I wasn't hungry…" he said, eying Logan across the table.
"Just in case you change your mind," Logan replied with a shrug. "That is your favorite, right?"
And just like that her doubts were dispelled. Logan might not be a perfect person or a perfect father, but her mother was hardly perfect either. No one was. He tried. That was the most important thing. When his son grumbles about not being considered, he shows with his actions that he listens. He tries to do better. When the daughter he never knew he had shows up at his doorstep one day, he invites her into his home and drives her two hours to take a tour of a university that he's probably seen a million times.
Riley was glad to have him in her life now. And she had a feeling that eventually Alex would feel the same. Even if he could be kind of pushy with his opinions and advice…
"Now look…" Logan said, leaning over Riley to get to the condiments on the other side of the table. "You've got to eat your fish with malt vinegar. No ketchup.. I've worked very hard over the last twenty-five years to not be constantly mistaken for a tourist. I can't have you in here ruining my street cred…."
"What actually makes you look like a tourist is that you think eating ketchup with your fish and chips makes you look like a tourist."
The bottle of malt vinegar that Logan was in the middle of grabbing stayed suspended in the air for a moment as they both froze to look over at Alex who was hunched over his plate and in the process of digging into his shepherd's pie with a fork.
"You can eat it however you like. There's no one English way," he continued, looking at Riley pointedly.
Logan's lips slowly curled up into a wide smile. And once he had fully absorbed the fact that his son was speaking to him in full sentences - teasing him - and actually eating his lunch, he untwisted the cap on the vinegar and started peppering it over his own serving of fried cod.
"Says who?" he asked, playfully.
"Says the only Englishman at this table," Alex shot back.
Riley laughed and Logan looked over at her with an expression of betrayal. Logan went on the defensive, throwing out a series of arguments about how he might be an American, but he'd still lived there than Alex had. The smile, however, never left his face.
And when she teamed up with Alex in making fun of him, it only seemed to get bigger.
TBC…
AN:
If you haven't yet, please take the time to read my AN at the top of the page. It contains the apologies and explanations you all are probably looking for.
A review would mean the world, truly.