It was a spring day. Leaves were falling all around Lorelai's feet. Her perfectly pedicured feet. Her shoes fit perfectly on her feet. Normally, when Lorelai wore heels, it seemed that the edges either ended too early or too late. Her foot was either too fat or too narrow for any pair of shoes. It drove Lorelai nuts. But on this day, her wedding day, it seemed as if her foot was perfect. She smiled as she looked down. Her wedding dress hung perfectly on her. The white satin grazed over her feet just slightly. It hung to her hips—not too tight, but tight enough that one could tell she had a figure. It accentuated all of her best features, and it hid all of the ones she wasn't fond of. She loved her dress; she'd loved it since the day she tried it on, just seven months earlier with Lydia and Laura. She smiled and ran her thumb across the petals of the violets she was holding. They looked perfect. She'd picked the perfect flower. She had violets done up in her hair. The violets were fastened on to some old, rusty clips that her great-grandmother had worn in her hair on her wedding night. Every Gilmore woman had worn them on her wedding night, and Lorelai wasn't going to break that habit. Her something old and something borrowed fit perfectly together. Her something blue had been obvious from the get-go; her eyes. They were a brighter blue than anything man-made, and Luke loved them. She wouldn't dream of using anything else as her blue. And the something new. Well, she knew it was there. It was this feeling. This feeling that everything could be okay. This feeling that forgiveness was complete. That she could let go of the old, nagging feeling that she'd hurt her baby, that she had done wrong, and that she was never going to be okay again. She was ready to go, with her something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. She was ready to get married.

Christina came up to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Lorelai smiled when Christina touched the tiara lightly and gushed, "You look like a princess, Auntie Lorelai." Laura and Lydia had smiled, watching them. Both had to agree with the little girl. Lorelai looked gorgeous. Neither of them could believe that Lorelai had finally made it to her wedding day. They'd had so many conversations about Lorelai. They'd always thought she'd get married eventually. A woman like Lorelai isn't the type to grow old with only cats to feed. They'd watched, painfully, as man after man had waltzed into Lorelai's life, and man after man had been pushed away after getting too close. Lorelai had never wanted to be hurt again, but for once, finally, she'd taken that risk. And here she was, beautiful, radiant, on her wedding day.

The march started up and Christina waltzed down the aisle, dropping violets on the ground like one would rose petals. Lorelai smiled as her father took her arm. He patted her arm softly, lent down and kissed her cheek. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered in her ear. Before she could turn her head to reply, he'd started marching her down the aisle. She smiled as they walked, left-right-left-right-left-right. It was perfect, in sync. She looked ahead of her at the man waiting for her. He looked stunning in his tuxedo; she could hardly believe it. He smiled at her, and she had to hold on to her father tighter to keep from melting to her shoes. He had this look in his eye, this look that told her how deeply he cared for. A look that told her that everything would be okay. This look that said it all.

And she kept walking. Not knowing what the future would hold, just knowing that it would hold something. She kept walking to her burger boy in a tuxedo. She kept walking to the possibility of more, the possibility of overcoming. And when she stopped at the altar, she felt ready to tackle anything.

Luke sprawled across the couch in the cabin they'd rented for the week, one arm resting on the back of the couch and holding a glass of wine, the other dangling off the edge of the couch. He put his feet up on the arm of the other side and took a glass of wine. He was in the mountains with Lorelai. He was in the mountains with Lorelai, his wife. It hadn't quite sunk in yet. She'd looked beautiful earlier. He had been torn as he stood there, waiting for her to reach him during the wedding march. He'd been torn between viewing her as the most beautiful woman in the world, between lusting after her and adoring her. He had a little bit of both. It was understandable, though. He'd been with Lorelai for over a year, and they'd never succumbed to the pressure of having sex. It wasn't that Luke didn't want to. He just knew that Lorelai wasn't ready. And as much as she had prepared herself for her honeymoon night, he knew there was a big possibility she might not be ready tonight, either. And although he was more than ready to love all of Lorelai with all of himself, he wanted her to be okay. He needed her to be okay.

He smiled when she came out of the bathroom in blue jeans and a t-shirt. She looked like a porcelain doll before she got dressed up. Her hair was still stiff on her head from all of the hairspray, and her face was still made-up, but the rest of her looked as natural as can be. He patted his lap lightly and when she came and sat down, he smiled. She reclined against his chest, nestling her head in the crook of his neck. He smiled and brought the wine glass to her lips, giving her a taste. She kissed him and smiled. He was more in love with her than he'd ever been before. Every moment he fell for her again. He smiled and looked down the couch. Their toes were intertwined. He could hardly tell where his gruff, manly feet began and where her French-pedicured, soft toes began. He didn't mind. From now on, that was his life. Everything was intertwined with Lorelai.

"I love you," Lorelai said softly. She whispered it, almost like a secret. Luke smiled back. Had she said it at another time, he might have reacted differently. He might have wondered why she'd whispered it. Why hadn't she shouted it over the rooftops like he'd been dying to do since the day she walked into the diner. But this, this was intimate. This was close. It was as if her love for him was so vast and huge that nobody else could even understand it. Her love was a secret; it was something only he could know. It was something not many people heard. Not many people could feel the loudness of Lorelai's love underneath her whisper, but he could.

He smiled at her and nodded. "I know," he said, and she returned his smile. He ran his fingers through her hair and gave her another sip of wine. She smiled and sighed contentedly. They laid on the couch together for a good hour, neither of them speaking, just enjoying each other. Enjoying nothing but the silence and the comfort that came with that silence. His mother had once told him that only those comfortable with each other could sit in total silence. It had sent him thinking for days, and finally, he had realized it was true. When you sat silently with someone, you trusted them. There was something intimate about silence. Something so utterly intimate that even sex didn't seem to compare.

He realized he'd closed his eyes in the process of thinking about silence, and when he opened them, he found Lorelai, staring into them with all of her love. Sometimes, when she looked at him, he could feel the love radiating out of her eyes and just burning his skin. It wasn't in a bad way. It was in that painful way that for some reason felt so good. Like after a run. His legs would be burning, but the runners high was so extreme that it wasn't even complete without the pain. That's how Lorelai's stares felt; there was a pain that came with them of knowing how completely vulnerable they both were, but when there was that love, that acceptance, there was a runner's high that could mask anything.

He smiled at her as she pressed her lips to his. She changed position so that she was facing him and she smiled, touching his clean-shaven face. "Luke," she whispered, softly, kissing his jaw. He rolled his head back to give her more access, and at first, she looked shell-shocked, but she planted light, sensitive kisses on his neck. Luke sat up slowly and kissed her cheek.

"Lorelai," he said tenderly, "are you sure you're ready for this? We don't have to do it now if you're not."

Lorelai smiled at him somewhat nervously. "You're going to have to talk me through it, but I can do it." Luke nodded and kissed her again. She touched his face and stared into his eyes and said firmly, "I love you, and I'm scared. But I want you. And I need you. And I trust that when this is over, I'll wonder why in the world I was ever scared. I trust you." She smiled at him, tears gathering in her eyes. He kissed her nose and wiped her tears away, as he kissed her more passionately.

As their clothes fell on the floor in the midst of a tornado of passion and infatuation, the steps of healing had finished their course. When all was said and done, Lorelai laid awake in bed, wrapped in white sheets and Luke's strong arms. She laid her head against his chest, and she could hear his heart beating. She smiled and kissed his chest softly. She burned and hurt from the pain, but she was grateful for it. The pain signaled forgiveness and healing. The pain that came only from a first-time experience had come back during her second, and for this Lorelai was truly grateful. She smiled and looked up at the ceiling, closed her eyes, and whispered a soft, quiet, Thank you. She then closed her eyes, scooted closer to Luke, and fell asleep.