So sorry for the hiatus! All I can say is mental health is important ya'll!

Also pleas follow me on Twitter! Will be posting some sneak peeks of my WIP for actual publishing! BrookeLynnePow1

Over the next week Rory got into the routine of spending mornings with her mother, afternoons with Lane, and evenings with Luke. She tried her best to not get angry at the constant hovering, voraciously reading the back log of manuscript submissions to ignore whoever was watching over her at the moment.

She looked out the window, rubbing her eyes after staring at the screen for three hours and wondered if there was anything to those blue-light blocking glasses Paris swore by. Outside the snow had melted and temperatures had climbed quickly. She knew not to trust it, in the next week or so she'd be shivering under blankets again, but she stretched out to enjoy the sun through the window while she could.

A sigh escaped her as she felt a rush of gratitude for having the afternoon to herself mostly. Lane understood what it felt to feel as if you were in a fishbowl the most, after her twin pregnancy so soon after the wedding, and gave her more space than the others. It was also a win for Lane, she looked at her shift as a chance to enjoy having time to herself without the boys crashing into everything.

Rory scrolled through her phone, still obsessively checking to see if she had any missed calls from Jess. It had been a week after she left the message and was beginning to feel foolish.

"Hey, I made you some seaweed soup, rice, and ice cream." Lane called as she opened the door carrying a tray with several bowls on it. "Hear me out, it was one of the biggest things I craved when I was pregnant."

Rory tried to not make a face at the sound of the combination. Once the tray was situated in front of her and the smells wafted towards her, she felt her stomach begin to growl in want at the strange pairing.

"This isn't bad!" She took spoonful after spoonful of the soup after trying the ice cream first and then the rice.

"I definitely had to sneak the ice cream into the house, luckily Zack and my mother have never joined forces since my pregnancy. They were ridiculous together; it was like a churchy version of mean girls." She said, shaking her head, spooning small bites of her own small ice cream bowl.

Rory nodded her head, now rotating between the rice and the soup.

"Any luck?" Lane asked nodding to the pile of technology next to Rory.

"Well, a majority of it's been awful, but I did pass along this one manuscript about a girl in Brooklyn who-" Rory began to get excited, but Lane cut her off.

"I meant Jess," She gave her a knowing look.

"Oh," Rory's face fell at the mention of his name. "No, nothing."

She paused, pushing around the last scoop of vanilla ice cream in the bowl.

"I think I really messed it up, Lane." Rory struggled to not cry. It felt like all she'd been doing these past few months was crying.

"What about Logan?" Lane offered, trying to change the subject.

Rory rolled her eyes and as a familiar queasy feeling took up in her stomach. She reached over to her bedside table and pulled out a small box.

"He left this on the coffee table when I went to the hospital." Rory tossed Lane the box shrugging her shoulders.

"Whoa momma-That's a lot of karats!" Lane's eyes widened as she popped open the box. "Are you…"

"No!" Rory could barely get the word out of her mouth fast enough. "I just haven't seen him yet. Luke's a really good bouncer."

Lane sat the box next to Rory letting silence fill the air. Rory knew she'd have to see him eventually. Have to talk to him eventually. Have to hand her child over to him and see him holding it eventually. Currently she was taking Lorelai's advice and not "crossing that bridge" until they got there.

"Well, just between us, I always thought Jess was the better pick." Lane smiled, absentmindedly picking at her jean jacket.

"I thought you hated Jess?" Rory asked in confusion.

"Well, I didn't like how he treated you. His loner act was way over the top. But he really…I don't know complimented you." She shrugged and continued. "You always had really deep conversations about music and books, there was something natural about the way you bantered with each other—I think if he wasn't going through so much with his mom and his dad you two crazy kids might have made it."

"And Logan?" Rory asked, curious for insight.

"Logan challenged you." She began. "And that was great, he brought you out of your shell. But the on again, off again, the partying. You felt like you could never be honest with him."

Again, a silence fell as Rory began to think back when her and Logan had first started dating in college. It took a while between her lost years and Logan's newness to commitment for them to finally find their groove.

"I couldn't half the time. I was so scared I'd lose him. So scared he would suddenly pull the rug out from under my feet."

"He really became a good boyfriend in the end, but he couldn't give you more time like you wanted. How long did that job in California last anyway?" Lane asked, already knowing the answer.

"Six months before he moved to New York." Rory sighed, resting her arms above her head.

Lane nodded, as her point sank into Rory.

"I don't know if he'll be a good dad. I know he'll try, and I'll never stop him from trying, but I don't want to marry him." Rory concluded.

"I think that's your first act of being a good mom." Lane smiled, standing to take the tray from Rory.

"My second act will be getting my walk in for the day before my legs fall asleep again." Rory threw the blankets off her body and wiggled herself to the edge of the bed.

She felt lighter. Like she had sorted through something she didn't know was bothering her so much. Lane unloaded the dishes into the sink to soak as Rory put on her jacket, flirting with adding a scarf for good measure. Although the snow had melted, it was still chilly out.

She decided against it and waddled to the back door where there were less steps. The air was crisp with a hint of spring promise in the air. She smiled. Her favorite time of year.