A/N: My apologies for the long delay in getting this chapter published. Everyone in my family has gone down with a cold or flu since Christmas, so I'm only now starting to feel on top of things again.

We're getting so close to their big date that I can't even stand it! I hope you guys are as excited as I am… As always, I love to hear if you're enjoying this story, and any insights or thoughts that you have about it. I don't own Gilmore Girls, nor any of the characters. I just like to write about them. Cheers!

Chapter 11 – This House is a home

Rory arrived at work that Monday morning humming to herself. She and Jess had talked late into the night about his work with Shavi's book, and her recommendations for his tour date readings. They'd talked almost every day for the past week, actually, and she was feeling pretty good about it. Some days it seemed like they were still teenagers, arguing about books and trying to catch the other with obscure references. And then, other times, the conversation would turn suggestive and flirty and she was reminded quite suddenly that they were both adults now.

It was different, but it was the same. This cloud nine, slightly giddy feeling he brought out in her was certainly familiar. She glided up to Angelique's desk and handed her assistant her usual grande, peppermint latte. The woman smiled over the silly grin on Rory's face, but it didn't bother her.

"Thanks, boss. You have a visitor waiting in your office."

Rory was surprised, as there wasn't anything in her calendar until 11:00, but she didn't think anything could shake her good mood. Her feet felt like they'd been barely skimming the pavement all the way in to the office. She smiled to herself as she recognized Agent Wells' back, sitting in one of her guest chairs.

"Hi, Jermaine. Sorry, I didn't realize you were coming to see me, or I would have brought you a coffee as well."

She bustled in, shutting the office door behind her, not noticing that he hadn't really answered her.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning?"

Her smile slipped a little when he turned and she saw the serious look on his face. When she spotted a slim, manila folder in his hand, her happiness all but evaporated on the spot.

"Another? So soon?"

Jermaine nodded solemnly as she settled at her desk.

"But, I don't understand. They've never come this close together before."

He sighed, and slid the folder across the wooden surface between them. "I'd say this is a clear escalation."

Rory took a deep breath, and a long pull on her coffee, before flipping the file open.

Lorelai Leigh,

I cannot seem to catch your eye,

Despite my longing and willingness to try.

To date you have been largely distracted, surely,

By Madam Secretary, and your work to spin her comments obscurely,

Which means you must shoulder some of the blame,

As the race of females is one and the same.

Sadly, the protector of sand and oil,

Does not appreciate your trouble or toil.

But soon they will see that you are a prize,

At least to mine own, unworthy eyes.

I trust you will also see me and my worth,

A standout talent, amongst gifts in dearth.

The timing not a question of if, but when,

Your patient and faithful admirer,

N

Rory tried but couldn't control her shudder. She shut the folder quickly and pushed it away.

Jermaine sat silently as she tried to reign in her emotions. She got the feeling he was watching her, perhaps to gauge how she felt about this latest letter. Honestly, she wasn't sure if anger or fear was going to win the battle going on in her head. But she knew his quiet observation was definitely driving her crazy. She looked at him pointedly and he took her cue, clearing his throat.

"Does the message mean anything to you, beyond the literal words?"

She rubbed the back of her neck and got up to pace in front of the windows.

"No, not really."

Her brain was racing, but the thoughts were too quick for her to hold onto, leaving her feeling curiously detached and blank.

After allowing her to fret for a few minutes, Jermaine stood and leaned his hip against her desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket and tucking his hands into his pockets.

"I know you want to just forget he sent it. But this is important. He's choosing these words for you for a reason."

Out in the driveway, a gardener fussed with trimming the low hedge, and Rory watched him work through thick, ballistic glass. Why had she chosen a job in the public eye? Why couldn't she just be someone in the background, checking facts or writing speeches? Or maybe gardening. No one would bother to stalk a gardener, would they?

She started when she noticed Jermaine had walked up beside her.

"Look, Rory. I know it's scary. But it's not going to stop until we figure it out."

She looked at him sideways through her lashes. "Do you think I… I mean, was it something I did?"

He turned and took her upper arms gently in his big, warm hands. "It's not your fault. People like this, they don't think the same way you and I do. Their brains are wired differently."

The conviction in his words and shown clearly in his eyes didn't do anything to assuage her feelings of guilt. Had she wronged this person in some way? Slighted them such that they wanted to scare her or even hurt her?

Rory bit her bottom lip, not willing to put voice to the uncertainties swirling around inside her.

"I can catch this guy, but I need your help. Will you help me, Rory?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to gather a little of the strength that had deserted her upon seeing another letter. Jermaine's thumbs rubbed back and forth against her suit jacket, seemingly unfazed by her hesitation. If he was trying to hypnotise her into assisting with analyzing the letter, it was working.

Finally, she nodded. "Ok. I'll try."

Rory took a seat at her little conference table and moved aside the piles of newspapers and file folders to make some space to work. Jermaine quickly joined her with the letter in its protective sleeve and his pen and notebook.

At first, she could only stare at the lines of neat printing, breaking out in a cold sweat at the implications she was reading into them. Trying to mentally distance herself only left her more amazed at the distress one sheet of paper could cause. Words truly are powerful, she thought to herself with a wry smile.

"I know it's hard, but just give me your first impression."

Her trembling fingers reached out to straighten the letter's position, lining it up with the pad of paper in front of her. "It's longer than the others."

"I noticed that too." Jermaine cleared his throat and leaned back into his chair. "And considering the timing, I'm guessing that Madam Secretary is Secretary Clinton. You two were both all over the news last week."

Rory shook her head absentmindedly. "No, it was more like two weeks ago."

His eyes narrowed, and he silently started counting off on his fingers. When the answer didn't seem to make sense, wrinkles formed across his forehead.

"What?"

"The postmark was November 4th, so his anger stewed for 10 days or more before he actually sent this."

"So?" She wasn't following his train of thought, but that wasn't surprising considering the inner turmoil she was trying to contain.

"I wouldn't say we're dealing with someone with poor impulse control, if they can wait that long."

Rory wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she turned back to the letter, her finger tracing over the same line again and again.

"This feels different, somehow. Like it doesn't belong."

Jermaine leaned forward, trying to see what she was pointing to. "About the race of females? Yeah, that stands out."

"I just don't know what it could mean, though."

He scratched at his chin, contemplating, and then seemingly came to a decision. "I'm starting to think that this is more political than personal."

That brought Rory's head up. "What? Why on earth would you think that?"

"The reference to Clinton, and sand and oil? The race of females shouldering the blame? It sounds more and more like a conservative nut to me."

"I don't think—"

"Maybe someone who's not happy with the way the country is progressing and has chosen to take it out on you."

She hugged her arms around herself. "But, why me?"

"Because you're a female in an important role. Because you have connections to the President beyond this building and your current appointment. Because you're young and pretty and your face is on TV? Take your pick. Like I said, it's not about you. Not really."

Rory blushed a little as his compliment registered. Still, she didn't quite buy the political angle. The letters had never sounded like this before. And while the tangible details meant it could only have been sent by the same person, the language pointed in a different direction. She got to her feet and started pacing again.

"I would love to believe that it's not really about me. But the letters started coming before I worked here, before I had anything to do with the administration. And this is the first mention of anything current or controversial."

Jermaine just shook his head, rapidly making notes on the pad in front of him. "I'm going to run this by the behaviour analyst we have on staff. Now that the threats are becoming a little more overt, we can probably put some resources to work on your file."

"I still don't think they qualify as threats…"

"Not a question of if, but when? He didn't say that for fun, Rory."

She winced a little when his voice raised, and he immediately looked apologetic.

"Sorry. I just want to make sure you understand the seriousness of the situation."

"I do, believe me."

He didn't look convinced.

"I think we should turn the dial up on your security precautions."

Rory's eyebrows raised and she could feel all of her muscles go taut. More security was the last thing she wanted, because it was annoying and restrictive. If she were being honest with herself, and with Jermaine, she would also have to admit that the more "secure" she was, the more she feared the noises in the middle of the night, and the shadows along her route home from the office.

It was that lick of fear that made her sigh in surrender. "What now?"

When Agent Wells looked up from returning the letter to its folder, he was wearing his trademark, persuasive smile. "I would prefer it if you started a schedule of nightly phone check ins."

"Is that really necessary?"

He looked at her hands, and she noticed she was wringing her fingers together.

"Maybe not. But I don't want to take any chances. Like I said before, there's something about this that doesn't feel right."

Rory snorted. "When exactly do letters from stalkers feel right?"

"You know what I mean." Jermaine rolled his eyes and slowly grinned. "My spidey sense is tingling. And I know well enough to listen to it."

They stared at each other across the plush carpeting as she weighed the arguments for and against what he was proposing.

"Who would I have to call?"

His grin got wider as it became obvious she was giving in to his request. "The security office here. There's always someone on duty. You just pick a time when you're generally home, say 10:00pm, and the office will know to expect your call before then. If it gets to be 10:00 and you haven't checked in, the office will attempt to call you on your cell. If there's no answer, someone will be dispatched to investigate."

"What if I'm not going to be home by 10:00?"

"You call before then and give a new time that you will be home. And then you call again when you're home and the alarm is engaged."

The formality and rigidness of the system irked her a bit. Rory wasn't used to being accountable for her comings and goings. She hadn't had to answer to anyone for a long time, and it seemed a stretch to think she could accommodate this into her life.

"And what if I'm just late calling in?"

Jermaine's expression grew darker. "Then I'd be very annoyed because we'd worry and deploy someone unnecessarily."

"Right." She measured his face and wondered why she immediately felt bad at the idea of putting him out. "So I guess I'll have to be careful and not be late."

"That would be best, yes." His smile returned quickly and he stood to leave. "I'll get working on this and call the analyst I mentioned. If you think of anything, you've got my number."

Rory nodded, opening the office door for him. "If I think of anything, I'll call." She could feel him looking at her. "I will, Jermaine. I promise."

His hand lingered on her arm as he passed her in the doorway. "Take care, ok?"

Through the open door she could feel Angie's eyes on her, silently assessing how close he was standing and how comfortable he was acting.

"So, thanks for stopping by, Agent Wells."

At her change in tone, he suddenly remembered himself and stood a little straighter. "No problem." Jermaine was all business as he strode out into the hallway.

Both women waited until they knew he was out of earshot, Angie because she was dying to ask about what she'd just seen, and Rory because she was trying to formulate some sort of response to the questions she knew were about to come at her.

After counting to ten, the other woman's mouth dropped open, then quickly shut again as she remembered her position. But the questions still burned in her dark eyes. Rory wanted to laugh it off, but she knew Angie was too shrewd for that to work. Instead, she inclined her head towards her office, inviting her assistant inside.

Angelique hustled around her desk and shut the two of them in the larger office. Once they were both seated, her face took on a bemused expression.

"So nice of the Secret Service to take a personal interest in their work."

Rory suddenly got the impression that her assistant and Grandmother went to the same school of delicate but ruthless interrogation.

"Yes. He was nice enough to come down to discuss something rather than making me go upstairs again."

Angie's smile turned teasing. "Mmmhmm. And what were you two discussing? Is it something I should make time for in your calendar?"

"No, no. Just a shared file he wanted my thoughts on." Right, she thought. Let's stick to the all-business angle.

Her assistant just raised her eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "When I talk to Manny in the OPC, he doesn't hold onto my arm and say 'Take care'."

Rory felt the heat rising to her cheeks. The last thing she wanted was a rumour swirling around the West Wing about her love life. Which was ridiculous, because there was nothing between her and the agent. At all.

"Well, maybe Manny is a germophobe."

Angelique threw her head back and laughed. "Right. And I'm the Queen of Jupiter. My space ship is parked out back."

When sound of her laughter died off, she looked her boss in the eye, trying to tease out the truth.

"I have noticed that you've been in a very good mood the last few days." She picked on a thread at the hem of her skirt, apparently taking time to choose her words carefully. "Should I be sending Agent Wells a thank you note for that?"

Rory rolled her eyes. She was never going to get out of this completely unscathed. Time for some damage control. If there was one thing she'd learned in all her years of reporting on politics, it was that sometimes you had to distract the pack of dogs with a piece of bacon over here so they didn't find the huge pile of sausages over there.

"I have been in a good mood, but it has nothing to do with Agent Wells."

Angie just sat patiently, an expectant look making her eyebrows raise up a little too high on her forehead.

"I've been writing back and forth to an old friend since I started here, and he's going to be in town at the end of the week."

The dark haired woman across from her raised her hand quickly to cover the way her mouth had opened in surprise. Then she grew serious again. "Friend friend, or ex-boyfriend?"

The look on Rory's face was answer enough.

"Interesting. And you've been writing to each other?"

There was a hint of confusion or disbelief in her assistant's voice, and Rory felt compelled to explain.

"He's in publishing, and books and writing have always been our thing. And who doesn't love getting mail?"

Angelique just nodded thoughtfully.

"And we've been talking on the phone, too, and texting—"

She could feel a ramble coming on, but couldn't explain the motivation behind it. There was no need to legitimize how she and Jess communicated. So what if it was a little old fashioned? Personally, she thought it was sweet; romantic, even.

"And he's going to be in D.C. this week?"

Rory nodded. "Yes, on Friday."

"Is he taking you on a date?" Angie's lips turned up in delight at the possibility.

The conversation was veering into distinctly unprofessional territory, and Rory knew it wasn't a good idea to be discussing this with her assistant. They hadn't known each other that long, and she knew better than to confuse the employer/employee dynamic with something resembling friendship. But she hadn't shared the development with anyone else in her life. And as with most exciting news, she really did want to share it.

Rory propped her elbows on her desk and covered her face with her hands. "I'm not sure."

Angie chuckled. "Then let's break it down. Who invited who?"

"He told me that he was going to be in town for a couple of days for work, and suggested we get together to catch up."

"And that's it?"

She looked so disappointed in the explanation that Rory had to smile. "No, that's not it. He was grumbling about a project he had to work on, and I made a recommendation that paid off. So he said he owed me."

Angie still wasn't impressed with the story so Rory pressed on. "To make it up to me, I suggested that he could take me out to dinner while he was here."

Her assistant's eyebrows popped. "You asked him out?"

"I guess so." Rory waived her hand in the air dismissively. "But that doesn't matter. Does it?"

"Well, I don't know your history, so maybe not. Is there anything else?"

"He said he's really looking forward to seeing me. And he picked the restaurant and made a reservation, but he won't tell me where because apparently it's a surprise."

"It's a date."

She was surprised by the conviction in Angie's voice.

"You think?"

"Definitely." The other woman nodded confidently. "You don't surprise a friend with a nice dinner. Not like that."

Rory let herself smile and leaned back in her chair. "Yeah, it feels like a date to me, too."

Angie giggled. "Some people are going to lose out big on this one."

"What?"

"Oh Rory, this is the West Wing. It might as well be a junior high school." She stood and patted her boss' hand. "There's been wild speculation and wagering about how long it would take for you to start dating someone."

"Are you serious?!" Rory stood up so quickly her chair rolled back and bumped loudly into the wall. "People are betting on my social life?"

Angie just shook her head like Rory was a little slow on the uptake. "Of course. People in this building are horrible gossips and apparently need something to fill the hours of boredom. Although I heard most people bet you'd be dating someone from here, so I'm going to really enjoy seeing them eat their words."

"I'm not interested in my private life becoming part of the White House soap opera, thank you."

Her assistant held her hands up. "No, no. I know you told me in confidence, and I won't go blabbing to anyone. My mother raised me right. But it will come out sooner or later."

Rory was still apprehensive, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had shared her news, and now she had to deal with the consequences, if any.

"So, Agent Wells…" Angie drew out his name like she was savouring a fine wine.

"Is very nice, but I'm not interested."

"Are you sure? I mean, have you seen that man?"

Rory laughed at her assistant's incredulous expression. "Yes, I have eyes. He's attractive. But he's just not for me."

Angie crossed her arms over her chest. "This other guy must be Brad Pitt's gorgeous brother, because honestly, I don't see how you can do better than—"

"I've known the other guy forever. Trust me, no contest."

The other woman looked skeptical, but left their conversation at that. "You have a call from Sky News at 10:00, and then Bethany has 15 minutes at 11:15."

Rory shuffled through the files on her desk. "Did she say what it's about?"

Angie shook her head as she walked towards the door. "No, but when the President's office wants time, I make it happen."

After Angie shut the door, Rory got down to work. As usual, she was totally engrossed when her phone buzzed.

"Yes, Angie?"

"Two minute warning for your meeting with the President's office. And she's meeting you here, by the way."

"Ok, thanks."

Rory quickly closed up the folders on her desk and piled them neatly on the side. She was in the middle of pouring herself another cup of coffee when she heard raised voices out in the reception area. Angie sounded particularly excited about something, which really piqued her interest. As she walked towards the door, Angelique opened it for her guest and Rory instantly understood what the fuss was about.

The President was watching, bemused, as her assistant stumbled over her words and stood in the way of the open door.

"I'm sorry, sir. We were expecting your Secretary. Please, let me get the door for you. Can I offer you something to drink?"

"No, no. That's fine." He smiled graciously, trying to put the woman at ease. "I wasn't expecting to have time to come over myself, but it's nice to stretch my legs when I get the chance."

In her confusion, Angie hadn't noticed that she was still blocking the door, so he just stood to the side and waited for her to calm down. Rory tried to contain her smirk, but she couldn't. The President was one of the nicest, most genuine people she had ever met. He had told her once, before one of their many interviews, that he still wasn't quite used to the reaction people had upon seeing or meeting him.

Rory finally had to step in, as this awkward impasse showed no signs of ending, and the President's time was precious. "Angelique? Could you make me another pot of coffee, please? And hold all my calls."

The woman blinked, broken from her celebrity paralysis. "Oh, of course."

As Angie moved out of the way, Rory and President Obama shared a private smile.

"Please come in, sir. What can I help you with?"

The door closed behind them and he glanced up at the bank of televisions which were always on and showing the highlights of world news. Noticing his slight frown, Rory quickly shut them off with the remote on her desk.

"This isn't really official business. Not Administration business, at least."

She followed his lead and sat down at her desk, clicking off the power to her computer monitor as well so that she could give him her undivided attention.

"I'm intrigued, sir."

The President steepled his fingers, considering his words. "Something was brought to my attention by my Secret Service team this morning. I was surprised and concerned when your name was mentioned."

It was obvious what he was talking about, and Rory's stomach dropped. She had to clear her throat before any sound would come out.

"Oh?"

"I take things of this nature very seriously."

His face was grave, and Rory momentarily wondered if she was about to be fired. She didn't know what she could have done differently, under the circumstances, but that seemed to be where the conversation was headed.

She considered her options, and decided to just be honest and open with him, because he'd been nothing but nice to her during their working relationship.

"I am so sorry for bringing this drama with me. I honestly didn't think it was an issue until the letters started coming again."

He sat back and listened, his poker face encouraging her to keep speaking.

"I promise to do whatever the Secret Service recommends, and I'll cooperate with the investigation in any way I can, sir."

When he still remained silent, Rory started to feel flustered. Her eyes dropped to her desk and she searched for the right thing to say, to save her job and her dignity.

"I really didn't think it was anything serious – just some over-zealous fan with no social skills."

She chanced a glance up at him and found him waiting for her to meet his eyes. And then he smiled and the knot in her stomach unfurled.

"Ms. Gilmore, what exactly did you think I was going to say? Did you really think I'd hold you responsible for what are clearly the actions of a disturbed person? A stranger, no less?"

She sighed gratefully, and took a calming breath. "No, I suppose not, Mr. President."

"I wanted to come over here personally to make sure you were ok, and to offer my support and assistance in any way I can."

"Thank you, sir." She tried to keep the surprise out of her voice, but it was difficult. To think that arguably the most important and busy person in the country, hell, in the world, was taking a minute to check up on her was astounding.

"Agent Wells tells me that you were getting letters while in Atlanta, and that you've received two in your short time here."

"Yes, sir." She nodded, still not believing she was having this conversation.

"He also tells me that he's already beefed up the security in your apartment and has suggested call-ins?"

Rory studiously avoided rolling her eyes at the reminder. "He has, yes."

The President smiled at her mischievously. "It's no secret that I'm not a fan of security, either. Unfortunately, it comes with the territory. And if Agent Wells says this is a serious matter, I have to believe that's true."

She nodded again. "As I said, I'll do whatever is recommended."

"Good, good. Now, as corny as it sounds, I consider everyone in this building to be family, and we take care of each other. I truly believe that."

He leaned forward as he warmed to his topic, and braced his elbows on his knees.

"If things get worse, please know that you can come to Denis, or myself. You're an important part of the team and you're not in this alone. Ok?"

"Ok." Rory found herself fighting back watery eyes as they stood. He offered his hand and they shook briefly. Then he clasped her hand warmly between his own.

"No one gets to hurt someone in my house."

She looked down at their hands and tried a shaky smile. "Thank you, sir."

He opened the door for himself and looked back over his shoulder. "Keep up the good work, Gilmore."

As he left, Angelique gaped at her, but Rory wasn't going to attempt to explain. Instead, she closed the door again and collapsed into her chair. Her mind reeled and she rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. In the quiet of her office, her mind was anything but.

Did that conversation just happen? Has my caffeine intake finally led to hallucinations? Did I just get the equivalent of a hug from the leader of the free world?!

Rory laughed to herself at her last thought. She was definitely losing it. Whether it was the late hours, or the partially self-induced stress, or the fact that someone was stalking her, her grip on reality appeared shaky at best. It seemed only natural to reach for her phone at a time like this. There was only one person that could put her crazy thoughts into perspective.

"Hey, Ror. What's up?"

"Jess, you're never going to believe what just happened!"

"You've changed your mind again and want to add more quotes to the list of possibles for my appearances?" he chuckled.

"What? No. No, no. Jess, this isn't—"

"Good, because I'm leaving on Wednesday, and I should probably prepare a little. I thought we decided last night that the readings were locked down. Your words, I might add."

She rolled her eyes. "No. Jess, listen. This is nuts. You're never going to believe it."

"Well, if you don't tell me, I definitely won't be able to..."

"Well, if you don't stop teasing me, I can't tell you."

"Then what we have here is a genuine conundrum, Gilmore."

"Jess," she giggled in spite of herself, "if you shut up for a second, I'll be able to tell you."

He gasped in mock outrage. "Is that the kind of language skills they're teaching you on Capitol Hill? I always wondered where my hard-earned tax dollars went…"

"The President just left my office." When there was only silence from his end of the conversation, she was confused. "The President, Jess. Obama himself."

"Yes, I know who he is. But thanks for the recap. And isn't he your boss, sort of? I mean, don't you bump elbows with him at the lunch table and stuff?"

Rory burst out laughing. "NO! I have an in person meeting with him maybe once a month, if I'm lucky. I think I've actually seen him a grand total of 4 times since I started. And by seen, I mean I saw him walking down a hallway surrounded by Secret Service and various other advisors."

"Oh. I didn't realize."

She laughed again, thinking how absurd this whole conversation was. "Did you honestly think he and I just got together to chat about things on a regular basis?"

"Shit, Ror. I don't know. It sounded reasonable in my head."

They laughed together for another few seconds. "So, out with it. Why did the big man come to visit you today?"

"He wanted to check up on me, actually. It was sweet."

"Well, that's nice." Jess sounded suitably impressed. "Why did he think you needed checking up on? Was it just a Hey, you've been here for a while now. How are you liking the job? check up? Or maybe Did you see that last episode of GoT?"

"Har har. No, Jermaine ratted me out. Apparently no one gets to have a secret stalker around the Secret Service." Rory bit her lip when Jess' laughter dried up at the mention of the word 'stalker'.

"Did something else happen?"

His tone gave her pause. She obviously hadn't thought this through. Of course Jess would ask more questions, and be worried, and do all the reasonable things she had been avoiding doing herself.

"Um…"

"Rory. What happened?" He seemed calm, but she could tell he was concerned. She could hear the strain underneath his carefully practiced laissez faire.

She sighed. "I got another letter."

His response was a long time in coming. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, I guess. I have to start calling in every night when I get home."

"Do they think it's serious this time?"

Rory blinked against the tears that threatened and tried to downplay the drama for his benefit. "No, not really."

"Then why do you need to call in?"

"Uh, just procedure, I guess."

Jess paused and cleared his throat. "No offense, Ror, but you're a horrible liar."

Damn him and his ability to read me, she thought. "This one was… different. Than the others, I mean."

"How so?"

"It was longer than usual."

"Ok. And…?"

She knew she was hedging, but she was reluctant to talk about the letters with Jess in any detail. Not because he wouldn't understand, of course, but because she didn't want to bring her drama to his doorstep as she had to the White House.

"And nothing. I think the agent assigned to me is just being overly cautious."

He sighed, and she felt badly about her deception. "Ok, fine. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But you know you can talk to me, right?"

"I know. But it's my mess and I can clean it up myself."

"Alright. For the record though, I've never been afraid to get a little messy. Especially for you."

His sentiment was unexpected and Rory blushed. "Can we please just talk about something else?"

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, I know you got my last letter. Were you ever planning on responding?"

"We've been talking on the phone so much lately, I figured writing back might seem like overkill."

"Oh. But I like getting your letters." She tried not to let her disappointment show. Their correspondence had become something very dear to her, but maybe he didn't feel the same.

His voice dipped, giving her goosebumps. "And I like writing to you too, Ror. I just didn't want to bother you. You're very important now, or haven't you heard?"

She smiled, realizing that he could completely reverse her downward mood swing with just a few words. "I had heard that somewhere, yes. But so are you. Imagine how important I feel when I receive a personal letter from a famous author?"

"I think you're overstating it just a bit, but I appreciate the thought," Jess chuckled self-consciously.

"So you'll write me back?"

"I will, I promise. Listen, I'm sorry but I've gotta run. Interviews start tomorrow and I've got a truckload of stuff to do before then."

She couldn't stop her face from falling a little, but then remembered that Friday wasn't too far away. "Ok. Well, I guess I'll see you in a few days."

"Yeah, you will." He said it like a promise and her face warmed once again.

"Can't wait. Bye Jess."

She hung up before she could hear his reply and fanned her face with a file folder. If her racing pulse was anything to go by, this thing on Friday was definitely a date.

Four more days to go.