Chapter Two
2014
"I'm sorry… did you say this is your jogging route?!"
Logan let out a breath of laughter as they continued their leisurely stroll over the dirt and gravel path running alongside Serpentine Lake.
It was truly a picturesque scene, one that he might even call romantic. Not that that was a bad thing in the current context. The sun had just begun to set, casting a golden light over the park that was shining onto the water to their right and through the leaves of the lush trees to his left. The air was still warm, no longer giving way to the evening chill of the early spring.
There had always been something about this particular part of the park that he loved. He loved the water. He loved seeing people paddling away in their boats, eating picnics in the grass. He loved seeing the geese - those white geese with the bright orange beaks. So different and so much nicer than those damn Canadian devil geese that used to lord over the Yale campus in a reign of terror. He also loved it in the morning. The sun would shine in that glow so similar to the one they were experiencing now, and there was that crisp dewey morning feel to the air.
Rory, however, didn't seem quite as taken with the idea. She was looking up at him in shock and awe, a bemused expression on her face as she held her 99 flake aloft. Apparently, she was taken so off guard that she could no longer eat.
"What?" he asked with a shrug of his shoulders and a wide smile. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No!" Rory responded, shaking her head back and forth very slowly. "It's not bad at all. It's just… you jog now?!"
He laughed again, throwing his head back ever so slightly in amusement. He should have known that that would be what Rory would take issue with. Not his choice of running route, but the fact that he ran at all. He'd become one of those people. Runners. Rory never understood runners. She never understood exercise in general, but running was in a category all on its own. He knew that well about her. He'd listened to more than one rant about how weird she always found her Freshman year roommate.
"Yeah, I jog now," Logan said with a nod while Rory resumed eating her ice cream cone. "I don't know why that's so shocking. I've always worked out. You can't get this Adonis like physique from sitting on your ass and eating bonbons all day, you know."
Rory let out a noise that was half laughter half scoff at his comment. She rolled her eyes and looked him up and down scrutinizingly.
"Yeah, okay…" she said, clearly disagreeing with this assessment of his own physical prowess. Logan on the other hand bit back a remark about how she hadn't been complaining the night before. "And I know you've always worked out. On vacation. And in the middle of the afternoon. You weren't waking up at six am to ride an underground train to Hyde Park and jog every morning."
"Well… in my defense riding a train from New Haven to Hyde Park to jog every morning would have been a really inefficient use of my time."
Rory rolled her eyes again, but the delighted smile on her face remained. She brought her ice cream to her lips yet again, and Logan took that as a cue to keep the conversation going.
"I'm a busy man, Ace," he said, a little more seriously this time. "I've got to get my workouts in when I can."
Rory looked up at him for a moment. The once teasing and flirtatious expression on her face was gone, and she tilted her head at him as she examined him thoughtfully. The sound of their footsteps against the gritty pathway was the only noise between them for a few moments. They were both lost in their thoughts. Both reflecting on all the things that were… different.
Being with Rory invoked the strangest feeling within him. There was affection of course. Happiness. Joy. But, most of all there was this strange dichotomy of familiarity and strangeness. All at once it felt as if he knew her better than any other woman in his life, but at the same time he knew nothing about her. Being near her made him feel as though nothing had changed in all these years, but then he would be reminded that everything had changed. It was an emotional rollercoaster, one that was full of drops and twists and shook him violently from side to side. But, then, Logan had always liked rollercoasters…
"So what about you, Ace?" he asked, his tone chipper. "Any new habits I should know about? You haven't started knitting have you? Joined a multi-level marketing scheme?"
"Sadly, as committed as I am to Arbonne's altruistic efforts to improve mind, body, and skin, I just haven't been able to devote the time and energy it deserves."
"That's a shame," Logan quipped.
Rory went quiet again, but Logan wasn't quite satisfied. Although he had asked the question in a humorous sort of way, the truth was he really did want to know. He wanted to know what she had been up to the last few years. He wanted to know her the way that he used to. He wanted to know every painstaking detail about her, just as he had all those years ago since the moment she dressed him down in front of a dorm room bulletin board. He was just as fascinated with her now as he always had been.
"But, seriously…" he said, his tone matching his words. "What is new with you?"
She shrugged her shoulders as she swallowed another bite of her dessert. He watched patiently for a moment as she licked her lips, his mind going places outside the scope of their current conversation.
"Nothing much," she said once her mouth was empty.
He found that hard to believe.
"Nothing?" he asked. "So… you're still writing tons of pro-con lists, guzzling copious amounts of coffee, and spending Friday evenings with your grandparents?"
"Well… no…" said Rory, her tone somewhat subdued. "The pro-con lists and the coffee, yes. But… I don't see my family as much these days."
Logan was taken aback by that statement. Of all the things that he had expected to change about Rory Gilmore over the years, her relationship with her family was never on the list. She'd always been so close to them, something that Logan had always been somewhat intrigued by and envious of. It didn't feel right that Rory wasn't seeing her family as much. And judging by the expression on her face, it didn't feel right to her either.
"Problems in Gilmore world?" Logan asked. Rory shook her head.
"No," she answered, quickly. "No problems. I'm just… traveling a lot lately for work. I don't get home as much."
She looked sad. And while Logan hated to see her sad, he couldn't bring himself to regret the fact that she was traveling a lot. He wouldn't mind if she traveled every day for the rest of her life. As long as it was to London. Though, seeing that look on her face was a rough price to pay.
He stopped walking. The right hand hanging at his side reached forward, catching her left with his fingers. He pulled her back as she tried to take another step forward, forcing her to stop walking and turn back toward him. She looked up at him in confusion at the move, her striking blue eyes piercing though his very soul.
God how he missed those eyes. Even with the twinge of sadness in them, they were the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen.
Without even realizing what he was doing, Logan brought a hand up to caress her cheek. She smiled at him, and seeing the melancholy haze start to clear away from her expression filled his heart with gratitude.
"Have I ever told you how much I love your eyes?" he asked in a near whisper. Rory smiled at him again, and she leaned her face into his hand
"Not in a while…" she answered.
Not able to contain himself for one moment longer, Logan leaned into her. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers in a passionate kiss, one that was modest enough for a public park, but so filled with emotion that it replenished his soul and made him never want to leave this spot for the rest of his life.
Unfortunately, however, the world around him wasn't as keen to let him stay in his moment of bliss for very much longer. After a few seconds, he felt something bump against the side of his shoe. And the moment he broke away from Rory, he was suddenly brought in contact with a blurry mass of golden fur.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed as he wobbled on his feet.
He looked down and was met with the sight of an extremely happy golden retriever pouncing on a tennis ball that had landed by his foot. The dog's tail was wagging a mile a minute, and he had the dopiest look on his face. Rory laughed at the sight, and Logan reached down to pat his new friend on the head.
"Hey there, buddy," he said with a laugh. "Where did you come from?"
"Sorry!" a feminine voice hollered from a few years away in a thick estuary accent. Logan looked over and saw a young woman, probably about their age, standing underneath a tree in the grassy area to their left. Her hands were around her mouth as she yelled at them with a look of pure mortification on her face. "I'm so sorry!"
"No worries!" Logan yelled back.
At that moment, the dog decided to join in on the conversation. A loud bark sounded from the ground, and Logan looked down to see that he had dropped the tennis ball onto the gravel. He was looking up at him with an excited and expectant expression, his tail still wagging in glee. Yet, when Logan didn't react, he let out a low 'boof' and a snort before nodding down at the ball with his snout.
Logan could take a hint. He bent down at the knees, scooping the ball up in his hand and chucking it in the direction of the woman. The dog took off like a rocket, and Logan watched him chase after his prize with a smile on his face.
"Look at you throwing that slobbery tennis ball like a pro," Rory chimed.
Logan laughed. He threw an arm over her shoulders and took a step forward, resuming their walk along the lake and leaving the animal behind to chase tennis balls to his heart's delight.
"I always wanted a dog…" he said as Rory. "But my mom would never let me have one."
"I know," Rory stated with a teasing pout. It was a sob story he'd no doubt told her a million times. She wrapped her arms around him in a side hug, careful not to let her ice cream cone come in contact with his shirt. "Poor little rich boy…"
2036
"Come on, Beau!"
Logan brought his fingers to his lips and exhaled, sending a sharp whistling sound echoing over the expansive grounds of his backyard. In a matter of moments, a black and white blur flew out of the wooded area at the back of his property and started barreling toward him at a speed unparalleled by any other living thing Logan had ever witnessed. He clearly still had energy to burn. But energy was in short supply at the Huntzberger house these days, and Logan had been standing on his back patio long enough.
He was mentally and physically exhausted. Though, that wasn't anything new. The last few months - hell the last year - had been one of the most mentally and physically draining of his life. Now it was supposedly "over." Yet, Logan felt anything but relief.
He felt more drained than ever before. He felt lonely. He felt overwhelmed. He felt lost, confused, and worried.
For what must have been the tenth time that day, he felt tears start to rush to his eyes. And for what must have been the tenth time that day, he shoved them down, quickly bringing a hand up to his face and wiping away any offending moisture that might have escaped. He didn't have the time or the luxury to break down. He had too many responsibilities to let himself indulge in self-pity.
When he brought his hand down from his eyes, he was met with the black and white face of his dog. But the goofy excitable expression that usually looked up at him was now missing. Instead, the animal was looking up at him with a mournful, worried expression, one that looked strikingly similar to the doe eyes he gave him when he was waiting for a treat or wanting to go for a walk. There was a sadness in the creature's strikingly blue eyes. It was an empathetic kind of sadness, an understanding one.
He'd always heard that border collies were smart, but having little to no experience with dogs he was always surprised at just how smart he could actually be. He was so perceptive, so emotionally aware. He knew exactly how Logan was feeling as of late, and he was so much more willing to sit on the couch with his head in his lap or curl up with him in bed.
That one really made all the difference, lately.
"Come on, buddy," he said, reaching down to scratch at his ears. "Let's go inside."
Beau didn't need to be told twice. His commiserating expression was gone in less than a second, and he bolted to the french doors on the patio, his tail wagging wildly as he waited for Logan to catch up. The moment he opened the doors, the dog burst through them, making a beeline toward the kitchen on the left where Miriam was probably ready to get him a treat.
Logan wasn't quite as fast, and even if he was able to move as quickly, he wouldn't have been able to. The space separating the living room was littered with flower arrangements, more than Logan had ever seen in his life. In fact, it seemed that in the time he had been at the office, there were about four new ones. All of them looked the same of course. And they didn't really serve any purpose other than being tripping hazards. Still, he probably shouldn't complain. It was a nice gesture, after all.
"Oh okay, you dozy dog. I'm coming!"
Logan followed the sound of his housekeeper's voice as she playfully sniped at Beau for barking her ear off in front of the pantry doors. He walked through the entry way in the kitchen just in time to see her reach into the french doors hiding the shelves of food and pull out a medium sized Milkbone. She tossed it into the air and Beau caught it with a jump before settling himself on the floor and munching away.
"There you are!" Miriam greeted cheerfully as she clapped her hands together and rid herself of the crumbs that the box of treats had left behind. She walked toward the expansive kitchen island, adjusting the turban hijab on her head before coming to a stop in front of a plastic covered glass casserole dish sitting on the counter.
"Hi, Miriam," Logan greeted in turn. Though, he wasn't quite able to muster the cheerfulness that came so easily to her .
"You're home early," she said. "I was just leaving you a note. The Robinson's next door dropped off a lasagna for you this afternoon. But, I can go ahead and heat some up for you now, if you'd like."
Logan smiled at the kind gesture, but shook his head in the negative.
"No, Miriam," he said. "That's nice of you. But you should go ahead and head on home. I don't want to keep you."
"Are you sure?" she asked in a tone of maternal concern. "It's no trouble at all."
"You spoil us," said Logan with a grin.
"I worry about you," Miriam corrected. "I worry about Alex. He needs to eat something. He skipped lunch again today."
Logan took a deep breath and let it out in a forlorned sigh. His hand found his way to his face again, and he started to rub the tension away from the tops of his eye sockets. That wasn't the news he wanted to hear. When he'd left the house this morning, Alex was still locked in his room. He'd basically been locked in his room for weeks at this point, only coming out to take a shower every once in a while and finally eat something when he ran out of fuel. But it was never much.
"I'll make sure he eats some dinner," said Logan. Though, he had no idea how he was going to follow through with that promise. Alex hardly ever listened to him. In fact, if Logan told him to eat, it was highly likely he would starve himself completely just to spite him.
"Alright…" Miriam answered reluctantly. "I'll go, but this lasagna better be eaten when I come back tomorrow."
"Deal," said Logan.
He watched as Miriam grabbed her purse from a chair at the breakfast table. She threw it over her shoulder and bid him yet another reluctant farewell before walking into the solarium and out through the door at the side of the house. Logan watched her go, making sure she made it safely to the sidewalk before he walked back inside.
His eyes landed once again on the pasta waiting for him, and he made his way toward it to the kitchen island. Taped to the top of the dish was a notecard with heating instructions and a nice note written in the hand of his older next door neighbor, Beth Robinson. As he read, he made a mental note to send her a thank you. At this point, he had so many thank yous to send that he'd lost count. But, considering this one was for the people he shared a fence with, it was probably within his best interests not to forget.
He looked down at the casserole, knowing that he should turn on the oven and throw it inside, just as Miriam has instructed him to. Yet, the longer he looked at it the more he realized how non-existent his appetite was. He didn't think he'd be able to stomach it if he tried. Instead, he threw the card back down on top of the saran wrapped dish and started walking out of the kitchen toward the hall. He pulled his tie off as he went, throwing it haphazardly on the table behind the couch.
His plan was to head upstairs and change. Maybe even shower. And hopefully by the time he was done he would have worked up some semblance of an appetite. Yet, as he turned to walk down the hall toward the staircase in the foyer, he started to hear voices coming from the front door, only one of them familiar.
"Alex!" he yelled, worried about what might be happening.
The last thing he wanted was more well-intentioned neighbors dropping things off and talking Alex's ear off. The simplest things set him off lately. He had little to no patience with people. Even strangers. In fact it was incredibly surprising to Logan that the boy had even decided to open the door with the prospect of seeing someone on the other side.
"Who's at the door?"
Maybe it was pizza. Or Chinese. It would make the most sense. And while it threw a wrench in his plan to make good on his promise to Miriam, at least Alex was eating. He wasn't going to complain about what.
"Hell if I know!" the boy answered, putting a swift end to his take out theory. "She's here for you!"
He furrowed his brow in confusion. His first thought was that it was someone selling something. A new home security system or faster speed Internet. But, it had been so long since anyone had actually come to his door to sell him something. In fact, he was pretty sure the last time it happened, he was still living at his parents' house.
Logan turned down the hall, walking quickly to the front door to relieve Alex of his duties as the family greeter. As he approached, his confusion only grew. Standing on the other side was not any middle-aged salesmen, delivery boy, or a nosey neighbor. It was a young girl. A pretty young girl. One that was here to see him for some mysterious reason, and not Alex. Not that Alex was all that interested in entertaining pretty young girls…
The closer he got, the clearer the picture of her became. She had long wavy blonde hair that fell down past her shoulders and was pulled back by a thin leather headband. She was a skinny thing, with thin legs and a long torso. She was dressed in a medium length floral print sundress covered by a baggy open sweater. A crossbody bag was cutting across her chest, and she had a pair of brown sandals on her feet. She looked every bit the typical teenaged girl. But as Logan stepped into the open doorway and got a good look at her face, it became clear that she was anything but.
"Hi," he said, just before he was almost knocked off his feet.
The moment they made eye contact, it was as if a freight train had rammed into his side. Looking up at him from behind a set of long blonde eyelashes were two of the most striking blue eyes he'd ever seen in his life. A pair of striking blue eyes the likes of which he hadn't seen in twenty years. And the most striking thing about them was that they weren't just similar in intensity. It was as if they were exactly the same. The exact same pair of eyes that had haunted his dreams for twenty years.
He was momentarily struck silent, his entire being freezing as if he had just walked through his front door to the entrance of the uncanny valley rather than his front yard. Thankfully, however, he was quickly able to muscle through his astonishment.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
If he could, it didn't seem as if he was going to find out. The girl was suddenly just as bewildered as he was. She was slowly inching away from them, and her head was making the slightest movements back and forth. Her mouth dropped open, yet it took a few seconds for her vocal chords to consent to vibration.
"I…" she finally said, stopping with something of a stutter. "I have to go."
Before Logan could muster a protest, the young girl spun on her heel and took off down the pathway at a pace that rivaled his sister in her track and field days. Logan watched her for a moment, his voice caught in his throat until he saw something fall from the front pocket of the bag she was carrying.
"Hey!" he yelled after her, taking a step outside toward the fallen item. "You dropped your…"
Logan trailed off. It was too late. She had made it through the gate and turned on the sidewalk, vanishing from their sight entirely. With a sigh of defeat, he continued walking toward the object, hoping that it was nothing important. However, those hopes were dashed instantly when he looked down and saw the undeniably familiar little blue book.
"Passport."
He groaned as he bent down to pick it up. It was strange the way his mind worked these days compared to the way it used to work when he was her age. In that moment, a lecture sprung to his mind instantly. Fully formed and dripping with consternation. He could practically hear himself giving it.
"Don't you know better than to carry your passport around with you? That's what a hotel safe is for. You should know where your passport is at all times. You don't carry it around with you loose in your bag or your pocket!"
Thankfully, however, it wasn't Logan's responsibility to give that lecture. Though, his heart did go out in sympathy to the person who no doubt would be giving that lecture in the next couple of days.
"Well…" he muttered as he walked back into the house and shut the front door behind him. "I guess I'll hold onto this for now. See if she comes back for it. If not, I guess I'm taking a trip to the embassy."
Alex only shrugged in response, not that Logan was expecting much else from him. He hadn't been very verbal lately.
"What did she want?" he asked.
"She was delivering this."
Alex was holding a light purple rectangular envelope in his right hand and tapping it against his left. Logan raised an eyebrow at the sight of it. The only kind of paperwork that was usually hand delivered to people at their front doors were things like service papers and subpoenas. This definitely didn't seem like something all that important. In fact, judging by the envelope it looked like nothing more than a personal greeting card.
"What is it?" Logan asked, blinking at the mundane looking pastel envelope.
"What does it look like?" the boy asked in turn. "It's a card."
Logan sighed.
"I know it's a card," he said. "I meant what does it say?"
"I don't know! I didn't open it."
Logan sighed again. It seemed Alex's mood was just as constant as his lack of appetite. There had been no changes or improvements. And while for the most part it was concerning to him, at moments like this he had to shove down an overwhelming urge to knock him upside the head. Instead, he settled for snatching it out of the boy's hand and digging his finger through the sealed flap on the back.
"Well, why didn't you open it?"
"What's the point!?" Alex answered with an aggressive shrug of shoulders. "They all say the same thing! 'Dear Logan and Alex who I haven't seen or spoken to in over ten years, I'm so sorry to hear about your dead wife and mother. I know this card won't help you feel better at all, but it makes me feel less awkward about it. Thoughts and prayers. Sincerely, your... uncle's... cousin's step-mother's… second cousin twice removed."
"Alex…." Logan breathed. In any other situation he would lecture him about his smart ass tone, but at this particular moment in time, he didn't really seem to have the energy or the interest in doing so, especially at the sight of the boy's hazel eyes reddening from the production of tears yet again, tears that he refused to let fall in front of him since the day of his wife's funeral.
Alex was just as disinterested in listening to such a lecture. He didn't wait around for Logan's response. Instead, he started heading up the U shaped marble case back to his room, Logan calling after him as he went.
"Mrs. Robinson sent over a lasagna. I'm going to heat it up for dinner."
"I don't like lasagna," the boy muttered under his breath. But, Logan wasn't having it.
"Alex…" he said, firmly, causing the boy to actually stop in his tracks. "You need to eat something."
"I don't. Like. Lasagna," the teen repeated just as firmly and far more definitely. Logan's patience was wearing thin.
"Since when do you not like lasagna?!" he asked. Frustration was eeking through his tone. And if it was obvious to him, he knew that it was obvious to his son. It wasn't something he was proud of in the moment, but he wasn't a saint. And he was so exhausted.
"Since I fucking hate ricotta cheese, and I've always hated ricotta cheese my entire fucking life! Something you'd think you would know after seventeen years!"
His son's bellowing voice was punctuated several seconds later by the slam of his bedroom door echoing through the house. Logan just stood there, defeated. His eyes were closed and his body flinched as the sound permeated the rooms. For the moment it felt as if he could even feel the vibration. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to be mad at the outburst. He couldn't bring himself to feel anything other than utterly heartbroken and full of self-loathing.
Odette would have known that he hated ricotta cheese.
When Logan opened his eyes, the tears that he had been keeping at bay all day long finally escaped. He swiped at his cheeks, furiously wiping them away. But, it was no use. They continued to come, pouring out of him at a rate that he wasn't going to keep up with.
He suddenly felt heavy, too heavy to keep standing, as if every bone in his body had been replaced with iron, and he was being crushed under the weight of a building. He placed his hand on the bannister and lowered himself to sit on the steps that his son had just previously climbed. He buried his face in his free hand and took a few moments to compose himself, breathing deeply in and out.
After a few moments, the tears had stopped. He sat up straighter and rolled some of the tension out of his shoulders. And when he opened his eyes, he was met once again with the doe-eyed face of his border collie. He hadn't even heard him walk up to the stairs, and for the second time that day he was blown away by the animal's emotional intelligence.
Beau let out a small whine and lifted his paw to scratch at Logan's knee. Logan couldn't help but smile down at him. He reached his hand out and scratched at the top of his head, causing his long black tail to start thumping against the floor as he wagged it back and forth.
"Hey, buddy," he said, solemnly. "You always know when I need a friend, huh?"
Beau was happy with the attention, and Logan had to admit that he was feeling a bit happy with the attention as well. Yet, as he sat there thankful that he at least had his dog to sit here and provide him some comfort, he couldn't stop thinking about his son sitting all alone in his room. As he had been for weeks.
"Why don't you go say hi to Alex, huh?" he said, pointing up the steps. Beau's face followed his finger, looking toward the direction of Alex's room and standing up on his feet. "Go say hi to Alex. Go on."
With another gesture of his hand, the dog bolted up the stairs. The sound of his nails against the hardwood floors echoed down the stairs, followed by a scratching sound, a brief moment of silence, and then the opening and closing of a door.
Satisfied with the knowledge that his son was no longer alone, he took a deep breath. His focus returned to the partially opened envelope and small booklet still perched in his other hand. He threw the passport down on the step beside him, knowing that dealing with that little issue was going to take far more effort than simply reading a greeting card.
When he pulled it out, he realized that he hadn't even looked at the return address on the front to see who it was from. Not that it really mattered. His son was right. They all said the same thing. And whoever sent it would certainly have signed the inside anyway.
He ran his hand over the crisp white cardstock, his fingers passing over some delicately drawn and embossed white lilies along the top left corner. The words 'With Deepest Sympathy' were printed in a mechanical cursive font at the middle of the page. Though, upon opening it, he noticed that the inside had at one time been blank. The only script in it now was handwritten and more personal than a generic Hallmark sentiment.
Dear Logan,
Tweeny Halpurn told me the devastating news about your wife. I am so terribly sorry to hear of your loss. She was so young, and to have her life cut short in this way is truly a tragedy. You and your son are both in my thoughts. I am sending you heartfelt condolences and wishing you healing during this difficult time.
Sincerely,
Emily Gilmore
Logan's heart jumped at the sight of the signature. And not only because he was somewhat shocked and impressed that Emily Gilmore was still with them after all these years.
It was also just… strange. Too strange really. It felt unreal that just five minutes ago he had been been standing in front of a girl, looking down at those eyes for the first time in twenty years, only to open a greeting card from Emily Gilmore herself moments later.
What were the chances of that happening? Slim to none really. But, then, it wasn't as if the card had arrived via the post either.
With that thought, his heart rate suddenly increased. He wasn't sure why he was having such a visceral reaction, but the events of the evening were starting to seem far less random and far more… significant. There had to be a reason why this particular card was hand delivered - hand delivered by a girl who's eyes tore through his very soul in a way that none other had the ability to do.
He tossed the card down on the step beneath him and his left hand shot out to grab at the navy blue booklet that he had set aside just moments ago. He picked it up, glancing over the golden lettering spelling out the word 'Passport' and The Great Seal of the United States. With shaking hands, he opened it, first landing on a couple of pages bearing stamps from Canada and here in the UK. She wasn't very well travelled it seemed, but then she also looked quite young.
He flipped to the front of the book, slightly afraid of what he might see. And when he scanned the laminated page containing her image, he realized with shocking epiphany that her eyes might just be the least haunting thing about her.
TBC…
AN: So first off… it's probably not very important that you know this. But, in my mind Miriam just… IS Nadiya Hussain from Bake Off. Lol. So if that puts a clear image of her personality in your mind then good.
Also, I told you that Alex had a good reason to be miserable. And wearing coffee stained pajamas at 6pm. He's a sad sassafras who wants his Mommy. We can't be angry at him for that. Funnily enough so many of you were so interested in what happened between Logan and Odette, but no one guessed that she died. Though… I guess it wouldn't have been my first guess either. Lol. Most of you did guess that Alex was Logan's son though, so kudos on that.
I know a lot of you were hoping for a bit more intrigue regarding Emily's letter to Logan. It's actually pretty mundane. Lol. Sorry if that's a disappointment. It's importance wasn't so much what was inside, but rather that Riley found it.
As for Logan… some of you might find it odd that he is crying over the Odette's death while he was still clearly pining over Rory for all these years. I would just say… he was married to the woman for twenty years. Losing your wife and the mother of your child is a lot - even if she isn't the love of your life.
Thanks so much for the wonderful response to the last chapter! I hope you all continue to enjoy it. I know it's sad atm, but things need to be sad now so that they can get happy later. :) Slight spoiler(ish) content in this next sentence… a few of you were concerned about the dynamic between Rory and Logan in this and my intentions with them. As I've told a couple readers in responses, I will never write a fic that doesn't end with Rory and Logan together.
Please review!
