Author Note: There are so many of these this time, I had to split them up into three chapters.

Part 1

3.0: The Rest of the Scene

"Will you marry me?" Tristan asked, on bended knee, looking up at Rory.

"Yes."

"What?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

Tristan furrowed his brows as he looked up at Rory. "Do you listen when I talk or is it just white noise?"

"It's about fifty-fifty, but I was listening just now. And I said yes."

"I told you to think about it."

"But I don't have to. Mom was right."

"About what? You didn't even go talk to her first. You just blurted out an answer."

"That's because she said I wouldn't want to hesitate someday—when someone asked."

"But I just asked."

"I know. If it makes you feel any better, my sixteen-year-old self is probably having an aneurysm. We don't have to tell her about this though." Rory nodded at the ring he still held. "Do I get to wear that now? You said something about it looking pretty on me."

He looked down and started to put it on her finger, but then stopped to look back up at her. "This means we'll get married."

"I know."

"You and I."

"I know."

"To each other."

"I know." Rory frowned and put a hand on her hip. She'd have put both hands on her hips, but Tristan tightened his grip to her left hand. "I understood the question—and its implications. And I said yes."

"I'm just making sure you're sure. You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay," he said as he finally slid the ring on her finger.

She tugged on his arm so he would stand up. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and he leaned in enough for his lips to meet hers. He pulled her closer to him as her hands slid to the sides of his face.

He pulled away slightly, to say, "You know, I've heard that it takes three years in a relationship for a person's cute quirks to get annoying. You're agreeing a year before that happens, just so you're aware."

She silently gave him a piteous look. "You think you're cute?"

He stared back. "So, no worries in that department. Final answer?"

"Yes," she said again and continued to kiss him.

When they heard a loud noise off in the distance a moment later, they both turned their heads to look at the car that caught their attention when they'd arrived at the park. The carjacker had finally succeeded at breaking the lock.

"He still has to hot wire the thing if he's planning on driving away," Tristan said with a shake of his head.

Rory dropped her arms as they both glanced around. They didn't see any Park Police, so Tristan pulled his phone out and made a call. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled in the direction of the car. When he got there, he propped his arms on the open door and watched the man sitting in the driver's seat, trying to get the car started. The man looked up when he noticed a shadow.

"Forget your keys?" Tristan asked nicely. The man glanced through the window and observed the detective's badge attached to his belt. "Oh good, you saw," Tristan said, letting the window down. "I need your wrist. And I'm in a generous mood, so you can pick the wrist."

Since the man was cornered and had no way out, he grudgingly followed orders, offering an arm. Tristan cuffed him to the frame of the window. The man looked around sourly and glared at someone beyond Tristan. "What are you looking at?" he asked bitterly.

Tristan glanced over his shoulder and saw Rory standing a few yards away as she waited. He looked back at the carjacker. "Shut up. Don't talk to my girlf—iancée like that."

"What the hell's a girl-fiancée?

Rory wigged her fingers in their direction. "A girlfriend who was recently promoted."

The man looked from her to Tristan and back. "My condolences."

"Thank you," she said with a cheerful smile.

After waiting a few minutes, the same two officers who'd responded to the mugging from the previous week approached.

Tristan nodded to them in greeting. "I don't come here that often, I swear," he said. "I didn't arrest this guy. I have better things to do today than fill out paperwork." He gave a witness statement to the uniformed officers. When he finished, he took Rory's hand and they resumed walking through the park.

When they got to a shaded area, he asked, "So when do we have to move?"

"Move where?" she asked. She remembered that she hadn't finished telling him about all her meetings. She gasped. "Oh! That. We're not moving."

"But what about the new job?"

"I didn't take it."

"Why not?" He stopped and turned to her.

"Because I don't need to be the Boss. I already hang out with the Police."

He raised a brow, waiting for the real reason.

She shrugged. "I don't want to be an editor. At least, not right now. I don't want to get stuck in an office and lose sight of my real goal," she explained. She put her hands on her hips indignantly. "Wait, you thought I'd just take some job without telling you about it first?"

He shrugged. "I was actually thinking of refusing the terms of a break up—if you tried to leave me here."

She raised a brow. "So there's more than one way to annoy me for the rest of my life," she commented dryly.

He nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"Ah. Well, either way, I didn't take the job. New York is a better place to work on being a foreign correspondentm" she said. "I need to start writing about international affairs, so I applied for media accreditation at the United Nations. Do you know where the UN headquarters are located?"

"Manhattan," Tristan answered.

She smiled and said, "Right. They're in session from September to December. So I had to talk Jimmy and the editor-in-chief into giving me assignments there."

"They said yes?" he asked.

"They did after I told them I was going to do it, regardless. I'd just take vacation time and do it. I called my former editor—from when I covered politics. He said he'd run any story I wrote freelance if the Daily News didn't want to."

"Ah. Leverage."

"Yup."

"How'd the Daily News take that?"

"They didn't fire me, so I guess I was persuasive enough."

Tristan nodded. "Your arguments have improved considerably."

"It did come with a price though. Jimmy said I have to take his place as editor whenever he's out of the office. And I have to mentor Kyle."

"Bummer."

"Yeah. But that means I can use my vacation days for vacation. So that's what I'm doing—at the end of September. You should take off too. We don't want to get burnt out. Or become cynical alcoholics."

"Good idea."

"I thought so. I mean, everyone else has gone on vacation, we deserve one, too. And I'm thinking about Thailand. I've never been there."

"Neither have I."

"So I thought about it this week, and I refined my foreign correspondence goal a little."

"How so?"

"I decided that it would be nice to work in another country. You know, like at a foreign bureau for a paper. Even if it's just for a while."

"Sure," he said with a nod. "We can live abroad."

"Yeah, we can. But I don't have to go parachuting into a war zone," she reasoned. "You can do the dangerous stuff. It's already your thing. Besides, the kids should have one parent with a safe job."

"Right. The kids."

She nodded. "The kids."

"Our kids."

"We don't have to get started on those right now, or anything," she added quickly.

"Oh, thank God," Tristan said. "One thing at a time."

Rory's face lit up. "I have to call Mom!" She took her cell phone out of her pocket.

Tristan frowned and took the phone from her. He threw it.

"Hey!" she said indignantly. "That was my phone!"

He turned back to her. "I'll get you a new one. You need a new number anyway."

"All my contacts are in there," she protested.

"Like you don't have them all written down somewhere."

She was silent for a moment. "But still, why did you throw it?"

"You were going to call your mom."

"So?"

"So, was I supposed to ask her—," he thought about it a second, "or several parental figures—first?"

"Ask what?"

"For permission—to marry you."

"I just gave you permission."

"But was I supposed to get permission to ask?"

"I don't know. I don't think you have to."

He shook his head. "I knew I was going to do it wrong."

"You didn't do it wrong."

"Were you there?"

"Yes. You were more prepared this time. Just—nervous."

"Hmm," he muttered doubtfully as he put his arm around her shoulders and headed out onto the lawn in the direction of the phone. "I guess you don't want a hobo to start calling all your family and friends."

"Not really," she agreed.

"So what are you going to do during the rest of the year, when you're not at the UN?"

"Crime beat," she answered. "Someone has to keep you in check."

3.1: August 29, 2015

Christopher Hayden was sitting at a table in a swanky Manhattan restaurant. Since it was a Saturday night, they were exceptionally busy. A waitress had just taken his drink order, when the hostess led Luke and Lorelai over to his table. They both frowned at him in confusion.

"Hey guys," Christopher greeted. He and Luke shook hands as the couple sat down to join him.

"Uh, hi," Lorelai answered.

"How's everything at the inn?" he asked with a smile.

"Good. How's Gigi?"

"She's doing great. She's glad to be back at school. She missed her friends over summer break."

"Well . . . that's good," Lorelai said, not sure what else to say.

Luke muttered to Lorelai, "Did we know he was going to be here too?"

She shook her head and asked Christopher, "Don't take this the wrong way, but what are you doing here?"

"What do you mean? I was invited," he answered. "I thought you knew I'd be here."

Lorelai shook her head again. "We made dinner plans two weeks ago. Rory didn't mention that you would be here, too."

Luke quickly added, "Not that it's a problem."

"Right," Lorelai agreed. "Because it isn't. And she had other things on her mind this week, so maybe she forgot to mention it."

Christopher looked perplexed. "Oh, well, Tristan actually asked me to come tonight."

"He did?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "He called and asked if I could join you all for dinner."

"He has your number?" she asked.

"He has your number," Luke pointed out.

"How else would we text?"

Christopher deadpanned, "You two text?" Lorelai shrugged and nodded. "About what?"

"In about two seconds it'll be to ask what this is all about."

"I don't think that's necessary," Christopher said. He tilted his head at someone beyond Lorelai. "There he is now."

Tristan joined Rory's parents at the table, shaking hands with Luke and Christopher and nodding at Lorelai. "Thanks for joining us at the last minute," he said to Christopher.

"No problem," Christopher said. "But where's Rory?"

"She'll be here. I told her seven fifteen. I want to speak with you before she gets here."

"About what?" Lorelai asked.

"There's something I want to ask you." He glanced at each of them. "All of you."

Christopher exchanged a look with Luke and Lorelai.

She raised a brow at Tristan. "What's that?"

Then he surprised them. "Can I be in your family?" he asked—with a straight face. "I think adoption is the obvious choice." He turned to Christopher. "You only have daughters, what do you say?"

"Uh—," Christopher started. "Adoption is one option."

Tristan shifted his gaze to Luke and Lorelai. "Did you want me? I'm pretty much a free agent."

Lorelai wrinkled up her face and looked out the corner of her eye, as though she was really pondering. "Well, I'm on board—you can be in our family. But, I think Chris is right. I think there's another way to accomplish that."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Tristan asked casually before he took a sip of water. "Surely we can come up with something if we put our heads together."

"I bet Rory would have an idea, she's smart," Lorelai mused. She added slowly, "If you'd like to ask her."

Tristan nodded. "That's a good idea. I could do that. If everyone is okay with it." He looked around at the three of them pointedly with a raised brow.

They glanced at each other silently. They nodded to each other before turning back to Tristan with their mutual consent.

"You can ask," Lorelai told him. "Uh—just be sure to actually ask this time."

Christopher frowned. "This time?"

Tristan shook his head and said quickly, "It's nothing." He added, "And just a warning, if she says no, I'll just handcuff our wrists together."

Lorelai furrowed her brows. "What?"

He nodded. "Yeah. So she can't get away." Assuming Lorelai knew about the job Rory was offered, he added, "From me. Not here—she can leave here. But I'd be chained to her side—literally. Let's call that Plan C."

"Oh," she said, frowning in thought. "I guess that'll come in handy if you're too attached to New York," she reasoned.

"What?" Luke asked, confused at his wife's ramblings.

"Nothing," Lorelai and Tristan both answered.

Knowing she'd go crazy wondering, Lorelai asked, "When are you going to—"

"Shhh," Christopher hissed, "There's Rory." He nodded toward his daughter, who was following the hostess. Lorelai stood and met Rory for a hug.

Tristan was about to stand as well, when Christopher grabbed his arm and leaned in. "Hey, thanks for inviting me."

Tristan looked at him, slightly perplexed. "You're her dad."

"Still, thanks."

"Uh, you're welcome," Tristan said as he stood to pull a chair out for Rory.

"Hi," she greeted everyone with a smile. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

"Oh no," Luke said reassuringly.

"Yeah, we were just chatting," Christopher added.

"About what?" she inquired nicely.

Her father flashed guilty eyes toward Tristan, who answered coolly with, "Stuff."

Rory looked at Tristan and shook her head. "Why do you always talk about stuff with other people and never me?"

He shrugged. "Just waiting for the right time. Why don't you tell them your news?" he said with a nod toward her parents.

"Okay," she said with a smile and looked at the other three. "You'll never guess what happened Thursday." She paused for dramatic effect before excitedly continuing with, "I got a murderer to confess."

Incredulously, all three of her parents asked, "What?"

Rory nodded. "Yeah." She tilted her head toward Tristan. "He heard the whole thing. I was wearing a wire."

They paused in suspense when their waitress came to their table. After they'd all given their drink and dinner orders, Rory launched into a story that started with Tristan's investigation and ended with her role in solving two homicides.

"But was that guy dangerous?" Luke asked in concern.

Tristan fielded that one, "He was after she got him to confess. But don't worry, I made her wear a Kevlar vest."

"Why was she doing your job?" Christopher asked, retroactively worried for his daughter's safety, and starting to regret the consent they'd just given.

Tristan shrugged. "She wanted to do it. It tried telling her no." He leaned in toward them and said conspiratorially, "But how am I supposed to get what I want if she doesn't get what she wants?"

Her parents silently mulled that over. Lorelai, thinking she understood, nodded once. "Oh. That makes sense." She turned to Rory and pointedly asked, "Has anything else happened this week?"

Rory paused before answering. "Well, I didn't take that editor job."

"What editor job?" Christopher asked.

Tristan looked at her father. "A paper in South Carolina wanted her."

Lorelai commented, "You finally told him."

"Mm-hmm," Rory answered.

"How did you decide?" Lorelai asked. "Was it something I said?"

Rory shook her head. "No. It was something he said." She tilted her head in Tristan's direction. She chose that time to reach over to her water glass with her left hand to take a drink.

Lorelai noticed something on Rory's hand catching the light. She tilted her head sideways and narrowed her eyes. She turned her accusatory gaze toward Tristan, but he was looking at Rory.

"Oh? And what was that?" Lorelai inquired.

"Yeah, what was that?" he asked with furrowed brows.

Rory glanced at him. "You figured out other stuff you could do—besides being a detective."

"Oh. That did it?"

"Yeah," she said with a nod.

Though they were slower on catching sight of Rory's new jewelry, Luke and Christopher had noticed by this point. They all looked from Tristan to Rory.

Christopher took the plunge. "So, is there anything else you have to tell us?"

Tristan gave Rory a sidelong glance.

he blankly surveyed the three on the other side of the table as she thought about it. She nodded silently. Then she smiled. "We're getting married!"

"Congratulations," her parents said as Lorelai got up to hug her daughter and Christopher and Luke shook hands with Tristan.

After she'd sat back down, Lorelai asked, "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday," Rory said excitedly. "In Central Park. He even restrained himself from apprehending a carjacker until after he asked."

"And I was very smooth," Tristan added. He pointed at Rory. "She, however, would not stop rambling."

She snorted. "I remember it differently."

"It was all their idea," Tristan said, nodding at her parents. "They begged me to take you off their hands," he joked as their food was being delivered. He took a bottle of Champagne that the waitress handed him and started filling glasses as they carried on merrily.

3.2: September 1, 2015

It was mid-morning on Tuesday, and Lorelai was helping to set up the dining room at the Dragonfly. She put the finishing touches on one of the tables before she glanced around at the rest of the room. Seeing that her staff had everything under control, she returned to the front desk, where her French concierge was on the phone.

"She's right here," Michel said. He held the phone out for Lorelai. "It is for you," he drawled.

"Who is it?" she asked before accepting the call.

"Answer and find out," he replied impatiently.

She took the phone. "Dragonfly Inn," she answered.

"Lorelai, do you have a moment?" Emily Gilmore asked.

"Well, I'm pretty busy. Busy, busy, busy. But I'd love to talk to you this Friday, see you then," Lorelai said quickly, trying to get out of a conversation with her mother.

However, Emily didn't let her off the hook. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," she said urgently. "Rory just called me."

"Oh? How is she?" Lorelai asked, not adding that she'd just seen her daughter.

"She's fine," Emily answered. "She said she'll be at dinner this Friday."

Lorelai was checking a linen order as she half listened to her mother. "I know, it's the first Friday of the month. That's usually when she makes it for dinner. Is this why you called? Because it sounds like you just need someone to talk to. Have you considered getting a puppy?"

Impatiently, Emily continued, "I know she does, Lorelai. But she said Tristan would be with her."

"Well, she likes him, so you should probably just accept him. I don't think he's going anywhere."

Emily pounced, "What do you mean by that?"

Lorelai paused and looked up from her clipboard, wondering if she'd chosen her words carelessly. She proceeded slowly, "Uh—nothing much . . . Just that she likes him around."

"But is there anything else?"

"No." Lorelai decided to change the subject. "Why did you call again? So far it's only been to tell me things I already know."

"I'm calling because Rory requested something, and I want to know what you know about it."

Lorelai sat the clipboard down and headed for the kitchen. "Oh, okay. What did she request, pot roast for dinner? I think she just likes pot roast." As she went to the coffee machine, Lorelai rolled her eyes in Sookie's direction and mouthed 'Emily'.

Her mother answered, "No. She asked that I extend a dinner invitation to Janlen DuGrey."

"So?"

"So I want to know why," Emily said.

"Uh, I don't know," Lorelai lied as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Is it a problem? I thought he was a friend of yours."

"Of course I do, and I already called him. He sounded like he knew something though."

Lorelai backed out the door of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. "Then why didn't you ask him instead of me?"

"Because Lorelai, how would it have looked if I invited him for dinner and asked why I was doing so? I should know since I'm doing the inviting."

"Then why didn't you just ask Rory?" Lorelai asked as she walked down the hall of the second floor, making sure everything was in order.

Emily answered, "She said that she and Tristan want family there this week."

"Okay."

"You know Lorelai, these Friday night dinners are for family, I need a good reason to invite someone who isn't family."

Lorelai treaded carefully, "Well, Rory is in a relationship with Tristan, and Janlen is his family."

"Exactly," Emily said in a somewhat triumphant tone.

"Exactly what?"

"That's why I invited Janlen to Rory's graduation party a few weeks ago. And you had a problem with it."

"I didn't have a problem. I was just wondering why he was there, since he's Tristan's family and not Rory's.

"There it is again. Rory said family, and she included Janlen. I think that means something."

"I think it means you need a hobby," Lorelai countered. "She probably didn't know you were going to over-analyze the whole thing."

"Just tell me what this is all about—so I can plan the dinner appropriately."

Lorelai gasped as she made her way back downstairs. "Oh my God. I do know what this is all about."

"What?" Emily said eagerly.

"Tristan knows you had your eye on him and he's making his move. He's finally going to ask you out. This way, he can announce it to everyone at once," Lorelai said. "Poor Rory, she really does like him. I can't believe you'd steal him away like that."

"I am not joking around with you, Lorelai," Emily said sternly.

"I'm not joking either. I think I'm right about this one. Maybe he'll even fight Dad for you." Lorelai considered that for a moment and nodded. "I would like to see that."

"Really now, be serious."

Luckily, a couple walked through the door then, and was making their way over to the front desk. "You know what? Even if I did know what this is all about, I wouldn't tell you, just to drive you crazy," Lorelai said quickly. "I'll see you Friday, bye."

She sighed as she ended the call and put the phone down. She was in for a long four days of dodging her mother's calls.

3.3: September 4, 2015

Rory and Tristan entered her apartment late in the evening. They were just getting back from what had to be the longest Friday night dinner to date. They went straight to the kitchen, where Rory slunk onto a bar stool and put her head down on her arm, which she sat on the counter top.

"I didn't think we'd ever get to leave," she said tiredly.

Tristan stood across from her, on the other side of the island. He leaned over to rest his face in his hand with his elbow propped on the counter. "I know. Every time I tried to get away, Emily poured me another drink."

Rory turned her head so she could peer up at him. "But did you have to go for cigars? You smell like one now."

"I didn't have a choice. They dragged me into Richard's study. Then I couldn't escape."

Rory pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You left me out there with Grandma. And Mom—who was a lot less helpful than you might expect. She got sick pleasure out of the whole night."

Tristan stood up straight and went to the refrigerator. He opened it and emerged with a bottle of wine.

Rory got up to grab a couple long stemmed glasses from the cabinet. She sat them down on the counter before returning to her bar stool.

Tristan frowned down at the glasses as he uncorked the bottle. "Oh. You want to be civilized." He poured each of them some wine and they both drained their glasses before going for seconds.

"She's going to make me invite my parents," he complained. He took another gulp of wine.

"Don't you think it's time I met them anyway?" Rory asked.

"Why would you want to?"

She shot him an indignant look. "Are you ashamed of me or something? Don't you think they'll like me?"

Bewildered by her questions, he argued, "I'm ashamed of them. And I'm the one they don't care for." He considered her for a second. "Why wouldn't they like you? You're like a ten—every parent's dream girl."

Rory tapped her glass on the counter and nodded at it. "Hit me again," she requested. He filled it with more wine. "I would be flattered, except I know that it isn't true."

He shook his head. "You aren't even making sense."

After taking a long sip, she elaborated, "Let's just say, some families are more important than others."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I have not been all parents' dream girl."

He looked at her for a moment and shrugged. "Luckily, my family isn't important. I mean, don't tell them that. But it's true." He turned back to the refrigerator and browsed the contents again. "I'm hungry. Emily should have served snacks since she kept us there so late."

He spent a long minute with the refrigerator door hanging open before he returned with some leftovers from that week. He put a plate in the microwave and punched in a few numbers. He took out a couple forks from a drawer and returned to the island a minute later with their snack.

"You'd think she was worried that you were going to end up an old maid," he commented as he ate a forkful of chicken.

Rory scoffed as she took a bite. "Please. She hasn't worried about that since we started dating. She put a lot of faith in you." She sat and thought about her grandmother's excitement about their engagement and pending wedding. She gasped, suddenly panicked. "Oh my God, did she say something about dancing midgets?"

Tristan shook his head. "I think I would have remembered that."

"Oh good," she said, feeling relieved. "I must have been thinking of something else." She restlessly drummed her fingers on the counter. Her hand stilled as she apprehensively stared at the ring Tristan put there a week ago. She started to chew on her bottom lip.

He watched her and commented, "That didn't take long."

Her eyes flashed to him. "What didn't?"

He nodded down at her hand. "For you to reconsider." He picked up her hand and made like he was going to take the ring off her finger, but she swatted his hand away.

"That's mine. You gave it to me."

"Just so you know, that's a contingent gift. Legally speaking, it isn't yours until after you marry me. You don't get to keep it if you change your mind."

She knit her brows. "Are you sure? It seemed like there was some gray area when you gave it to me—during the rambling portion of your speech."

He shook his head. "I don't even know what you're talking about now." He was silent a minute before he slowly said, "There's a way that we could get out of all of your grandmother's big plans."

She glanced at him and frowned. "No there isn't. You put a ring on it and now you have to deal with the consequences."

"I'm only talking about avoiding the wedding part."

"How would we avoid that? It's kind of necessary to start the whole marriage thing."

He raised a brow. "But is it? We could elope."

"No we couldn't," she argued.

"Yes we could. Let's just go do it."

"What—now?"

He shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Because," she protested, "I'm not running off to Vegas for a quickie wedding."

"Who said anything about Vegas?" he asked. "We don't have to go that far."

"I don't have a dress," she objected.

"Then go get one."

Before she could come up with another excuse, her phone started to ring from inside her purse. She took it out and checked the caller ID. "It's Mom. Hello?" she answered. "I'm putting you on speaker," she said as she sat the phone on the counter.

"So, how are you guys doing?" Lorelai asked with sadistic glee in her voice.

"Fantastic," Rory answered flatly. "We've already had half a bottle of wine since we got home."

"You're drinking more?"

"What do you mean?"

"You took a drink every time Mom mentioned wedding details."

Rory thought back to the evening and protested, "I did not."

"You did too. Didn't you notice? I thought you started a new drinking game without telling me."

From the other side of the island, Tristan asked, "New drinking game?"

"Yeah," Lorelai answered. "Wait, did we never tell you about the old one?"

"No." He glanced over at Rory.

She explained, "We take a drink every time you suck up to Grandpa."

"Huh," Tristan pondered.

Lorelai went on, "You guys obviously have to elope."

"Obviously?" Rory asked with a frown. She sat her fork on the plate. "Tristan just suggested that. Are you psychic or some—." She stopped and glared at him. "What were you doing in the refrigerator a minute ago?"

He tilted his head down at the plate of food in front of them. "Getting a snack."

"What else?" she demanded.

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Or requesting backup?" He was silent for a second too long. She shook her head at him. "You're shameless." She addressed both of them, "We can't elope."

This time, it was Lorelai who asked, "Why not?"

"For one thing, elopement means to run off secretly and without permission from parents," Rory explained. "Don't you want to see me get married?"

"Oh I'll be there. Just tell me when and where," Lorelai said. "But do us a favor and put your dictionary away, Webster."

"What about Grandma and Grandpa? I can't get married without them being there."

"Uh, sure you can," Lorelai argued. "That's kind of the point."

"Grandma has probably been waiting for me to get married since—for a long time. It would break her heart."

"Well you definitely shouldn't tell her," Lorelai advised. "I know you're going to feel guilty, but fight the feeling. It isn't her wedding. She's already had one—actually, she's had two. She can't tell you how to do yours. Don't let her suck you in."

"They can still come if you really want them there," Tristan said. "Just don't tell them what they're coming for."

"Ooh, yeah," Lorelai agreed. "Set them up. Invite them for dinner or something, but get married first."

Tristan silently nodded in agreement.

But Rory shook her head. "It won't work."

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her. "Yes it will. We're already going on vacation at the end of the month. It can be our honeymoon—it's perfect."

"That's in three weeks," Rory deadpanned. "You want to get married in three weeks?"

He shrugged. "Sounds like a good a time as any. And you'll have time to go buy a dress."

"Hey now," Lorelai said sternly. "No daughter of mine is going to wear a wedding dress that she found hanging on a clothing rack. I've made outfits for all of her major life events—graduations, Halloween, the Chilton formal."

Tristan frowned in thought and inquired, "The blue one?"

Rory raised a brow. "You remember?"

"Aw, that's sweet," Lorelai said. "And yes. I made that."

Tristan nodded curtly, remembering that particular lost battle. "You should definitely make her wedding dress," he told Lorelai, satisfied with the turn of events in life. "You have three weeks. Can you handle that?"

"Easily," Lorelai answered.

He looked over at Rory. "Invite whoever you want. Just don't tell Emily."

"Mum's the word," Lorelai agreed. "You won't regret it."

"Meeting adjourned," Tristan said with a nod. He took off his jacket and started to loosen his tie.

"Wait, what? That's it?" Rory said.

"Yup," Lorelai answered. "It's that easy."

"But where will this blessed event take place?" she asked sardonically.

Tristan waved his hand dismissively. "Details. We have three whole weeks to figure that out."

"Three weeks," Roy stated dubiously. "You're crazy." She glanced from Tristan to her phone. "Both of you."

"Crazy like a fox," Lorelai said.

3.4: September 5- Morning

On Saturday morning, in a state between awake and asleep, Rory felt a finger trace her jawline. When Tristan's finger reached her temple, it skimmed over to her cheek bone. She kept still as he continued his slow exploration of her facial features. After a couple minutes, her eyes fluttered open. He stopped when he noticed her looking at him.

"Sorry," he whispered drowsily. "I like your face."

She smiled a little and softly said, "That's okay." She turned toward him and slid her arm under his to hold herself closer to him. His hand went to her neck so his fingers could intertwine in her silky brown hair. He pulled her closer to kiss her cheek.

"You weren't serious last night, were you?" she asked.

His lips barely brushed against hers. "About what?"

"About getting married in three weeks."

"I was serious," he answered. "Why? How have you pictured your wedding day? You're the girl. You should have it all planned out already." He started to kiss a trail down her jawline that he'd traced before.

She shook her head. "I never really thought about it."

He stopped and lifted his head enough to gaze at her. His expression was more curious than disbelieving.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I knew I was partially right."

With a frown, she asked, "Right about what?"

He just shook his head again. "Nothing," he said before he continued to kiss her face softly. "I always knew you were different," he whispered in her ear before he nibbled at her earlobe. "What kinds of stuff did you think about then?"

She shrugged and adjusted slightly, to give him better access to her neck. "Books I was reading. Places I was going to go," she answered breathily.

He nodded once and slid his hand under her shirt, not stopping until it covered the smooth skin of her breast. She arched into him, encouraging his ministrations, and placed her hands at the sides of his face to drag it to hers so she could kiss him on the lips. She licked his bottom lip and their tongues met briefly, before Tristan returned to kissing her neck.

"You should work on your morning breath," he recommended.

Rory scoffed. "That's the price you pay for initiating morning sex," she said—weakly, as he lingered where her pulse pounded at her neck. "And yours isn't any better."

"Mmm," he mumbled indifferently.

She turned her attention to removing the articles of clothing that would soon be in the way. When she finished, Tristan shifted his weight and pressed her down into the soft mattress. She separated her legs so he could fit between them and ease inside her. As he started to move above her, she clung to his muscular arms. Their pace sped up until release came for both of them. Tristan rolled them over so Rory could sprawl on top of him as they caught their breath.

She lifted her head a little and asked, "Did you hear knocking a minute ago?"

"Uh, maybe. I don't know—I wasn't really paying attention."

Just then, they heard the apartment door close. They both tensed at the sound and listened closely. Rory's heart pounded quickly, and it was no longer because of the physical activity they'd just engaged in.

Tristan rolled her back onto the bed and quietly said, "Don't move." He reached for his boxers and quickly put them back on. He opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand and was about to grab something out of it.

Rory frowned, wondering what he was reaching for. However, she didn't have long to wonder before they both heard a familiar voice.

"Rory? Are you home?"

Tristan turned to her sharply and his eyes were narrowed. "What the fu—is that Emily?" he asked incredulously.

Rory looked back at him, bewildered. "That's who it sounds like."

They both jumped out of bed quickly to find jeans.

"She has a key?" he asked as he put on his pants.

"Well, she and Grandpa own the building, so yeah," Rory answered.

"She just crossed the line. I am not okay with this," he said as he pulled on socks.

"I'm not okay with it either! She's never come in uninvited before," Rory said in a hushed tone. "I can't believe you almost shot Grandma!"

"I can't believe she let herself in. She'd better have probable cause," he grumbled.

When she was fully clothed, Rory walked out of the bedroom and down the hall to the living room. "Grandma?" she called out.

"Rory, there you are. I didn't think you were home," Emily said, turning to her granddaughter. She was not alone. She was supervising a moving team as they started taking the furniture out of the living room. Richard was with her as well.

Tristan walked in, stopping behind Rory and putting a hand at his waist. His eyebrows moved closer together in a frown when he saw what was happening in front of them.

"Ah, and there's Tristan," Emily beamed.

He nodded and offered a tight smile. "Morning," he greeted in a mostly toneless voice.

"Did you hear us knock?" she inquired. "Surely you weren't still sleeping."

"Oh, uh—we were—actually," Rory answered hastily.

"I told you they were here, Emily," Richard said.

"How was I supposed to know?"

"We saw Tristan's car down on the street."

"You didn't know that was his car," Emily protested.

"Who else's would it have been?" he argued.

"I'm sure he isn't the only person in New York City with that car."

Rory interrupted their spat, "Um, what's going on here?" She gestured at the living room.

Emily turned to her to explain, "If you two are going to continue living here together after you're married, you're going to need more room. A two bedroom apartment certainly isn't big enough." She turned to a couple of the movers, to give them stern instructions.

Rory turned to scowl at Tristan. "This is your fault," she accused in a whisper.

He glared back. "How is it my fault?" he asked as he pulled her into the kitchen, out of her grandparents' earshot.

"You told them we were going to keep living here," she answered.

"And you said the closet wasn't big enough."

"It isn't—you don't even have all of your clothes here. And I didn't know she'd have the whole place remodeled."

"You should have anticipated it," Tristan said. "She's your grandmother." He turned his attention back to their uninvited guests. "Richard, Emily, would you like some coffee?" he asked, this time using a friendly tone.

"Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you, Tristan," Emily answered with a smile.

While he busied himself with making coffee, Rory crossed her arms and watched as her grandparents discussed the merits of knocking out the living room wall while referring to the blueprints of the building. She shook her head. "They're out of control."

Emily turned to her. "While we're here, we need to pick a date for the party."

"Party?" Rory and Tristan both asked.

"Yes. The engagement party," Emily explained. "After you left last night, we decided to throw you a party."

"We?" Tristan asked, knowing who was still at the Gilmore house after they'd made their escape.

"Yes, you're grandfather and us," Richard said.

Rory tilted her head toward Tristan and grimly commented, "You aren't really surprised, are you?"

Tristan clenched his jaw for a moment. He took a second to take a deep breath. He remarked courteously, "That's nice of you all." Then he muttered under his breath, "I knew it was a bad idea leaving him there last night."

Rory eyed him. "You can really turn it on and off, can't you?"

He glanced at her. "Like flipping a switch," he confirmed.

Emily continued. "So what day works for you? I was hoping we could have the party in a few weeks."

Rory sighed and reached for her purse. She took out her planner and opened it. She flipped a couple pages and saw the line she'd drawn through the last week of September. She picked up a pen to draw a heart around the date that their flight was scheduled to leave and wrote 'noon'. She underlined it, then elbowed Tristan and pointed at it. She looked up at him with a brow raised in question.

Knowing what she was asking, he nodded once in agreement.

She addressed her grandmother then, "We're leaving for vacation in three weeks. How about the week after that—the second Friday of October?"

"Isn't that right around your birthday?" Emily asked with a frown.

"Yes. It can be one great big celebration."

Emily thought it over. "Well, if that's what you want."

Rory nodded. "It is," she asserted. "And we'd love for you to meet us for lunch the Friday before that. We can discuss the wedding in finer detail."

"That would be wonderful," Emily said excitedly. "I brought you some bridal magazines to look through," she said, pointing to a stack on the kitchen island.

"Oh . . . great," Rory said, glancing at the tall stack.

"Well, I'd love to stay," Tristan started, "but I have to go to work today."

Rory turned to him sharply and hissed, "What?"

He nodded and whispered back, "I'm getting the hell out of here."

"What do you have to do at work today?" she demanded.

"I'll find something," he answered. He went to the cabinet to retrieve a few coffee cups before he headed back to the bedroom.

Rory was a couple steps behind him. "Are you really going to work?" she asked as she went to the closet for her shoes.

He nodded. "I think I'll go upstairs and play lawyer with Jacobs," he answered. "But I'm going to go make lunch arrangements for our wedding day first," he said with an assured grin. "I thought of the perfect place—since you don't have any ideas."

"Where?" she asked.

"Can't say. It's a surprise."

"But you don't know if I'll even like it," she objected.

"Oh, you'll like it," he said confidently. He finished tying his shoes and stood so he could start to make the bed.

"Can you take me to the train station?" she asked as she helped him.

"Where are you running off to?"

"Stars Hollow. I'm not staying here with them—they have everything under control," she answered. "Besides, Mom probably needs my input. She only has three weeks to make my dress."

3.5: September 5- Afternoon

Later that same day, Rory was sitting alone at a table in Luke's diner. She was reading a book and sipping coffee. When she drained the cup, she caught Luke's attention and raised her brow, indicating that she needed a refill. He approached her table a couple seconds later with a coffee pot in hand. She held her cup up to him and gave her best pleading expression.

He didn't move, he just looked back at her a bit disapprovingly.

"Come on," she prodded. "Please?"

"You don't need any more. You've already had three cups."

"So we should just make it an even four."

"I blame your mother for your problem."

"So do I." She dangled the cup up at him. "I need more."

"Need?"

"Yes. I'm getting married in three short weeks. I'm a wreck from all the stress," she said in a tone that was not at all convincing.

Luke sighed and shook his head as he poured her more coffee. "I'm just an enabler," he muttered.

"And we love you for it," Rory said with a grin before she took a sip.

A few minutes later, Lane walked into the diner and joined Rory at the table. She had a faraway look in her eye as she gazed out the window.

Rory closed her book and set it aside. She glanced outside, but didn't see anything, then turned to her friend with brows knit in concern. "Is everything okay?"

Lane shook her head. "It happened again."

"What did?"

"Remember the first time we went on a honeymoon?"

"Well, like I said before, I wasn't there. But I remember that you went on one. And this time it was better. So it's all good, right?"

Lane made eye contact then and shook her head. "It happened again."

"Are you going to tell me what 'it' is? Or do I need to start guessing?"

"Remember how I thought I had a parasite when we got back?"

"Yes," Rory answered. "Do you have another one?"

Lane nodded silently.

Then Rory gasped. "Did you get pregnant again?"

Lane nodded her head and buried her face in her hands.

Rory smiled and laughed a little. "I'm going to risk sounding like Mom here, and say that someone should make a movie about you. It would be like The Hangover, except yours would be called The Honeymoon. This would be part two. Were there any exotic animals?"

"I can't believe this," Lane said miserably.

"Cheer up," Rory said encouragingly. "At least this time you got to enjoy the conception. There was a bed involved this time, right?"

Lane nodded.

"You love Steve and Kwan. I'm sure you'll learn to like this kid, too."

"I guess," Lane conceded.

"It's probably only one this time," Rory reasoned.

"It'd better be just one."

"And I know for a fact that Steve and Kwan will volunteer to baby-sit."

"How do you know that?" Lane inquired.

Rory took a sip of her coffee before nonchalantly answering, "Oh, they offered their services when I watched them last weekend."

Lane frowned. "Baby-sitting services?"

"Yes."

"For who?"

"My kids."

"You don't have any."

Rory shook her head. "That's what I kept trying to tell them."

Lane sighed and looked over at Rory. "Tell me something."

"Like what?"

Lane shrugged. "Anything."

"Oh, okay. But first, what did you think of St. Lucia? Was it a good place for a vacation?"

Lane looked at her like she was a little crazy. "It was great. It's an excellent place to conceive a child, apparently."

"So does that mean you'd recommend it as a honeymoon location—if someone was on the market for one?"

"Sure," Lane said with a nonchalant shrug. "The beaches were beautiful and the water was this amazing blue color. The weather was perfect." She frowned in thought and shot Rory with a quizzical expression. "Wait, did you ask if it's a good place for a honeymoon?"

"Mm-hmm," Rory answered brightly as she picked up her coffee cup with her left hand. She pretended to take a sip, but was really watching her friend's face.

Lane's eyes widened and she sat up so she could lean across the table. When Rory sat her cup down, Lane grabbed her hand.

"Oh my God! Are you getting married?"

"Yes," Rory said with a smile.

Both girls jumped up from the table to hug and fawn over Rory's engagement ring before sitting back down to discuss the details of the pending nuptials.

3.6: September 12, 2015

"Okay . . . yes. Great," Rory said into the phone before hanging up. She was seated at the small table in Tristan's dining room on a Saturday afternoon. She looked into the living room, where he was sitting on the couch, watching television. "The photographer will be meeting us at the courthouse at noon," she informed him.

"Cool," he commented as he flipped through channels.

"Mom is about half finished with my dress and Grandma thinks we're meeting for lunch at a fancy restaurant, so she won't feel like she's underdressed when we shanghai her."

"Sounds good."

"So we are?" Rory asked.

Tristan looked over at her then. "We are what?"

"Eating at a restaurant."

"I didn't say that," he answered.

"So we aren't."

"I didn't say that either."

"Well we have to eat somewhere."

"I know. And we are."

"Where?" she asked quickly, hoping she could get him to answer without thinking about it.

Not fooled, he replied, "I can't say." He put the remote down and stood up. He walked over to the table and sat down across from her. He crossed his arms and raised a brow, ready for whatever trickery she'd try to use next.

"Don't you think I should know? What if I hate it? My disappointment could be avoided if you just tell me now."

"You won't hate it."

Rory shook her head. "But how do you know for sure?" she asked as she gathered some papers and her wedding checklist from the table and stacked everything in a neat pile.

"Because I do."

"That's not a reason."

"Fine," he conceded. "I know you won't be disappointed because I've met you before today."

"But you won't even let me pick the food," she protested.

"Again, I've met you. What food do you not like?"

Rory sat and thought for a few moments and couldn't come up with anything. She sighed in frustration.

"Where's the trust?" he asked with a smirk.

Rory narrowed her eyes at him before—sort of—changing the subject. "Who are you inviting?"

"You."

She shook her head. "I'm already invited. You'll need a witness."

"I can take care of that."

Assuming she knew how he was going to take care of it, she didn't press the matter. "No one else?" she asked in disbelief.

He shook his head. "I can't think of anyone."

"What about your grandfather?"

"What about him?"

"Don't you want him there?" she asked incredulously, turning her palms up.

"For someone who knows the definition of elopement, you sure don't have any problems with breaking all the rules."

"You're the one who said I could invite anyone I want."

He tilted his head and raised a brow slightly. "Then there you go."

"Fine," she said. "He's invited."

"Fine." Tristan retrieved his phone from his pocket and started to scroll through his contacts. "I need to call Paris."

"Why? She and Doyle are already coming."

"I know," Tristan said. "I'm putting her in charge of lunch while we're busy getting married."

"But then she won't get to be there—to see us get married."

Tristan smiled slowly. "I know."

"That's so mean," Rory objected.

"Is it?" he asked. "You haven't forgotten that she made you sign a contract when you were her maid of honor, have you?"

"Would you expect any less from Paris?"

He shrugged. "Either way. She likes to be in charge of things and she owes you. It's payback time."

Tristan stood up and walked down the hallway, so he could speak with their friend without Rory overhearing the details. At the table, Rory opened a piece of mail that had been delivered to both her and Tristan, at his apartment—where they were living while their soon-to-be-shared Upper East Side home was being remodeled. The mail was from Emily Gilmore. Rory tore open the envelope and pulled out an invitation. She perused it before Tristan returned and once again sat down across from her.

He looked pleased with himself in a smug way. Rory ignored this and handed over the invitation.

"What's this?" he asked as he read the fancy calligraphy. "A dinner auction for the DAR?" He glanced up at her. "Are you still a member?"

Rory shrugged. "Technically. My membership is lapsed. But I think 'once in the DAR, always in the DAR'."

"Do you usually get invited to their events though?" he asked as he handed the invitation back.

"No. Not really. Grandma just sent us an invitation." She showed him their names on the envelope.

Tristan's brows lifted in interest. "Us? I'm definitely not in the DAR."

"I know. But maybe she thought there would be something at the auction that we'd like to see."

"Such as?"

Rory shrugged. "I don't know specifically."

"The dinner is this week. It's not much notice," he commented.

"Yeah, I guess that's true," she agreed.

Tristan sat and thought about this sudden function, and the fact that he'd been included in the invitation. He crossed his arms slowly and leaned back in his chair a little. "You used to work in the DAR office, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And you had access to membership lists?"

"Yes."

"Do you still?"

Rory frowned and answered, "How would I still have access?"

He raised a brow. "You're a reporter. You have access to more information than regular people. Plus, Emily isn't just any old member, is she?"

"Well, no. She holds an office."

He gave a single knowing nod. "Mm-hmm. And she definitely knows who all the members are."

"Yeah, she does," Rory admitted.

"She could probably even tell you who's a member, if you asked nicely."

Rory didn't respond. She attempted to keep her face blank. She would have succeeded if she hadn't bitten her bottom lip.

He rolled his eyes at her tell.

She inquired, "Is this an interrogation? It feels like one. At least, I think this is what one feels like."

Tristan didn't confirm or deny. He paused a moment before he evenly said, "Do not invite her."

"Invite who—to what?" Rory asked with knit brows.

"My mother. To our wedding," he stated clearly.

Rory blushed. "Why would I invite her? I've never even met her," she reminded him.

Tristan picked up the invitation and waved it in front of her. "I bet you could at this thing. And I'm not interested in a family reunion," he informed her with a warning look.

Rory carefully asked, "How about a deal?"

"A deal?" He looked skeptical.

She nodded. "I promise not to invite your mother to our wedding if we can go to the dinner auction this week—where you can introduce us."

He covered his eyes with his hand and exhaled heavily. "So this is what a criminal feels like when asking for a plea bargain."

"What?"

He lifted his hand. "The prosecutor still gets the conviction and the criminal gets a lesser punishment. Everybody 'wins'," he said with mock enthusiasm and air quotes.

"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic?"

He shook his head. "No." He was silent for a moment. "Fine. We can go to this stupid thing this week and meet Mommy dearest."

"Really?" Rory asked, unsure of the prospect, he clearly didn't like the idea.

"Really. It'll prove that you don't want her at any upcoming important life events," he explained. "You'll see."

"It won't be that bad. And the food should be good at least." She thought some more, fishing for a better incentive. "There will definitely be an open bar."

"There'd better be." He shook his head. "You know, for someone who isn't a lawyer, you have to negotiate-behind-closed-doors thing down."

"Would it help if we went to do some other things behind closed doors?"

He considered the offer. "It couldn't hurt. Let's go find out," he said as he stood.

3.7: September 17, 2015

Tristan and Rory were milling about a large banquet hall in Hartford on Thursday evening. Emily had just left them alone, having introduced them to several of her friends. They'd evasively talked their way out of naming a wedding date when asked, though Emily had several suggestions.

"I like how some of them are your old friends," Tristan commented pleasantly. "Did you all hang out on the weekends?"

Rory took a sip of her wine and wryly answered, "Yeah, we got together for slumber parties and had sweaty pillow fights all the time."

Tristan closed his eyes and shook his head at the image of the older woman. "Did you have to say that?"

"You asked, funny guy." She glanced around at all the well-groomed guests who were socializing before the dinner and subsequent auction began.

Tristan nodded his head toward a small group of women standing about fifty yards away. "There she is."

Rory's gaze followed his and found a tall blonde woman who was wearing a long navy dress. "Your mom?" she asked.

"The one and only," Tristan said. "Does she look surprised? I think she looks surprised."

"About what?" Rory asked. She glanced from the woman to Tristan. Then she rolled her eyes at him impatiently. "And don't say because you're getting married. She can't be surprised about that." Rory thought for a moment as she took a sip of her wine. "Unless she's surprised that you'd marry someone like me."

"Someone like you?"

Rory nodded. "Yes. I'm sure she's heard all about me already, word gets around. And if she has issues with me being a journalist or wanting to travel, then that's her problem. I can have a career and be married to you," she ranted defiantly. "And I'll tell her that to her face if I have to."

Tristan casually took a drink of his Scotch and eyed Rory before he commented, "I had no idea you came so prepared. Now I'm hoping she does say something so you can tell her all that. I'd hate for you to waste a perfectly good speech." He nodded at the thought. "Then we can storm off."

He continued, "I didn't mean that she looks surprised about me or you. I meant that it looks like she got some work done."

Rory frowned and looked at him. "What?"

He nodded and pointed to his forehead. "I think she got an eyebrow lift recently."

"Stop it."

He smiled and laughed a little. "I'm serious. She probably just got Botox."

The woman caught sight of her son then and headed in their direction.

"This is it," he told Rory. "The former and future Mrs. DuGrey's coming face to face."

"Be nice," Rory warned as she took his arm and sat her drink down at their table.

As Tristan's mother got nearer, her eyes flickered to Rory's hand for a moment and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She toyed with a few of the large rings that adorned her own fingers.

"Did she just make a face?" Rory asked quietly.

"It's possible," Tristan answered. "She must recognize the ring—as something she never wore."

"Tristan, dear," his mother crooned when she reached them. "Imagine my surprise, when I heard you'd be here tonight." She stepped forward to hug him and he kissed her on the cheek.

"Mom," he greeted. "I'm as surprised as you are."

He gestured to his right. "I'd like you to meet Rory Gilmore. We're getting married soon. I think you know her grandparents, Richard and Emily."

"Yes, of course," she said, extending her hand toward Rory.

As the two women shook hands he continued the introduction. "This is my mother, Eileen—," he glanced at the blonde woman with furrowed brows. "What's your last name these days?" he inquired. "I can't keep track."

Eileen addressed Rory, "You'll have to excuse him. He likes to poke fun at me." She shot Tristan a look. "I feel so old when you call me mother."

"My apologies," he said nicely.

"I've heard so much about you, Rory," Eileen said.

"Oh? Good things I hope."

"Of course. Emily is so proud of you. She simply glows when she talks about you and all your accomplishments."

Rory smiled politely. "I think she's obligated to, as my grandmother."

"She's certainly thrilled that you're marrying Tristan."

"I'm glad," Rory said. "And I'm thrilled to be marrying him."

"Aren't you nice tonight," he remarked.

"The ladies are all abuzz about your engagement and how much they miss you," Eileen told Rory.

"Well, I'm pretty busy these days," she reasoned. "I don't have much time to organize fundraisers."

"It's such a shame too. I heard you were a huge hit." Eileen turned to Tristan. "I was so relieved when I heard you were dating Rory last year."

"Relieved?" he asked with a perplexed expression.

She nodded. "I was so worried you'd find some girl in the city who no one's heard of—and then insist on marrying her." She shuddered for dramatic effect.

Rory suddenly felt like she needed a drink. She reached back to the table to pick up her glass.

"Well we dodged that bullet," Tristan said smoothly. "Rory's from the right crowd."

"I know," Eileen said with an approving nod. "And to think, she could have married the Huntzberger heir."

Rory choked on her drink and started to cough.

Tristan tilted his head and grinned a little. "I guess he couldn't please her the way I can."

"Oh my God," Rory muttered in dismay after she recovered.

"Really though, Tristan," Eileen started, "you could have money too."

"Here we go," he murmured under his breath.

"Julian has an opening in the legal department at his company. I told him you'd be perfect," she explained.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Tristan said evenly, not getting his feathers ruffled over the suggestion.

"But if you did, your father would finally give over your trust fund," she reasoned with a tone of disdain at the mention of her ex-husband. "It's yours anyway. He has no right to hold it over your head the way he does."

Tristan shrugged. "It's just money."

His mother's expression suggested the thought was foreign to her. "You should still think about it. Tell me you'll think about it."

Tristan didn't respond, he just took a long drink as his eyes roamed around the banquet hall.

"Rory, maybe you could talk him into it," Eileen suggested hopefully. "He could quit that vulgar job of arresting criminals."

"Sure, I could switch sides and let them run free instead," he said dryly. "After they pay me a hefty fee, of course."

Rory did her best to play her role of buffer. "Uh, he likes his job, actually," she told her future mother-in-law. "I think he should do whatever makes him happy."

Eileen sighed and gave them both a frustrated look. Someone at another table caught her attention. "I see someone I know. But I want to talk to you again, Rory. I want to know all about the wedding plans."

"Oh, sure," Rory said hastily before they watched her walk away.

"Well?" Tristan asked expectantly.

"She's— "

"Shallow," he supplied. "I'm pretty sure that's the word you're looking for."

"It was only five minutes. I can't really judge a person in such a short period of time."

"Fine. How about vapid?"

"I'm not sure if I'd say that," she said uneasily, not wanting to say anything negative.

"Come on, she gossiped about you . . . right in front of you."

Rory conceded, "I'm not surprised she knew Logan proposed—a few of these women were there when it happened. But I wasn't expecting her to bring it up like that."

"Mm-hmm. She's without tact," Tristan said matter-of-factly. "Just admit it."

"Fine, I can't argue with that."

"So she's definitely not invited next week then?"

Rory nodded. "That seems safest."

"Told you," Tristan said as they turned to take their seats at the table. "On the bright side, you didn't have anything to worry about. She likes you."

Rory gave him a skeptical look as they placed their cloth napkins on their laps. "How could you tell?"

"She thinks you could do better."

She shook her head. "What does she use as a measuring tool?"

He raised a brow. "What do you think?"

Rory changed the subject and asked, "Who's Julian?"

Tristan shrugged. "My guess? I'd say her current husband," he answered. "She'll probably keep her word about coming back to talk some more. When she does, can I tell her you're pregnant?"

"What?" Rory exclaimed. "No—why would you do that?"

"I think she'd give us the silent treatment for the rest of the night if we had the audacity to make her a grandmother. You should think about it."

"Except my grandmother would expect results."

Tristan thought about it for a moment. "I think it would still be worth it—just to see my mom's face."

"We're leaving right after dinner," she flatly informed him.

"Sounds like a plan to me."