Disclaimer: If they were mine, they'd be back together by now.
Author's Note: First of all, thank you so much for the wonderful feedback and reviews on this series. The encouragement really helps when I run into writer's block. Secondly, though I'm trying to keep the stories in this series as independent as possible, it will help if you have read chapter nine of Broken before reading this chapter. Lastly, my betas are awesome. CineFille always keeps me (and Lorelai!) honest and Lula Bo makes sure that the character's conversations get to the heart of the matter.
As they round the corner from summer into fall, with the nights edging towards cool and the days not so sticky and humid, Lorelai can't help but think that she and Luke are headed into a new season as well. She wonders sometimes if she should be worried about how well everything is going, as if it's too good to be true. If she should pinch herself when she wakes up curled against him. But ever since they've returned from the cabin, they've felt so together that she's just been trying to enjoy it, to simply live the moments as they come.
It's like what Rory had said about being content. It's a perfect description, and even more true now than while they were away. She sees Luke two or three times a day and he stays with her more nights than not, fitting back into her home and her life more seamlessly than she could have hoped.
They're also settling smoothly into Luke's new visitation routine with April. She's with him after school two days a week and the two of them have been making plans for their first weekend together since the Labor Day trip.
In spite of all that, she's still thrown when, little more than a week after they return from the cabin, she's getting a load of laundry ready and she finds her engagement ring in Luke's pocket. She's surprised because they haven't talked marriage. They haven't gone there yet. They've been focusing on making it work in the present, on being together and happy, so plans for the future seem almost unnecessary just now. But it's here in his pocket and it means he's either started thinking about a wedding again, or that he never stopped thinking, and suddenly either option is overwhelming.
She'd been half-convinced she'd never see the ring again and when he confirms that he'd thought about throwing it in the river in Vermont, but hadn't, it hits her all over again how close they'd come to losing it all. But instead, he'd held onto it, carried it with him and now he's given it to her to hold onto. It's really too much to process, to take in, so in the end all she can do is bury her face in his chest and squeeze her hand around the crumpled white envelope that holds their future inside.
It's not until the next morning, after Luke has left for the diner, that she can unfold the envelope and take the ring out, that she can hold it between her thumb and forefinger, turning it slowly and watching the reflected light play across the walls.
She gets an endless sort of stomach-sinking feeling when she thinks about him having it this whole time, knowing that he never gave up on them, not really. And she wants to acknowledge that somehow.
But she can't put it back on her finger. Not yet. He'd said she could wear it…if she wanted. It wasn't quite a proposal, and putting it on wouldn't quite be an answer. When they do choose to take that next step she doesn't want it to be some kind of default solution about where to put the ring for safekeeping. She wants it to be a mutual decision to spend the rest of their lives together.
She can't just wrap it back up and hide it in her underwear drawer either. The topic's been broached and though they haven't been consciously avoiding it, now that it's appeared on the horizon it can't be hidden away.
It's out there now. An idea, a possibility, an unspoken promise.
And it's then that she figures out what she needs and digs through her jewelry box for an appropriate choice. She finally finds the chain she's looking for and takes the delicate pendant off, threading the ring on in its place, then looping the chain around her neck and fastening it. Looking in the mirror, she fingers the ring gently, thinking that maybe, finally, they're going to get it right.
He doesn't see it right away. As much as she loves having this bit of their future hanging around her neck, she's not eager to broadcast anything, so she chooses her outfit carefully, not hiding it exactly, just making sure it's not obvious. And it ensures that when he does see it they're alone. He doesn't say anything, just smiles as he lifts it and twirls it between his fingers. Then he kisses her, soft and sure and full of promise.
The next day Lorelai stops by the diner before heading out to Friday Night Dinner and Luke fills her in on his plans with April. The two of them have made plans to see a movie after Anna drops off April and he mentions something about going to a museum on Saturday. It's a new routine for all of them and as Lorelai heads into Hartford, even though Luke has welcomed her into April's life, and even though she'd expected that he'd spend most of his free time with April this weekend, she knows she'll miss being able to stop by the diner to vent after having dinner with her parents.
In one of those moments during cocktails when Emily is off fetching something and Richard is mixing drinks, Rory asks Lorelai what kinds of plans she and Luke have for the weekend. When she explains that it's his weekend with April, Rory gives her a worried glance, saying cautiously, "Mom? Is he still keeping you away…?"
"No, we're good, really," she insists.
Rory eyes her skeptically. "Are you sure?"
When Lorelai answers, she's able to say confidently, "Really kid. Luke and I are solid."
"Okay," Rory says slowly, then tilts her head and gives Lorelai a knowing grin. "Does your newfound confidence have anything to do with that ring you're wearing around your neck?"
"What? How did you…?"
Rory smirks. "Oh, don't worry, it's well hidden, but you were fiddling with it before we rang the doorbell. So, I guess things are going well then?"
"They are, kid. They really are."
It's refreshing to know this with certainty. To know that she's welcome at the diner any time. To see Luke's eyes light up when she's around in a way that she hasn't seen for a long time. To know that April will be as pleased to see her as she will be to see April.
And yet it's still reassuring when he calls her late Friday night to ask how dinner was, telling her that it's not really a Friday unless he's heard her complain about her parents at least once. And after she's done the requisite whining, it feels right to say good night while snuggled warmly into bed and to hear him end the conversation by saying, "I'll see you tomorrow."
When she stops by for breakfast Saturday morning, she doesn't have to wonder if it's okay for her to be there because both Luke and April welcome her with bright smiles and Luke leans across the counter for a good morning kiss. While they eat April regales her with anecdotes from the movie and the things she's most looking forward to on their afternoon outing. Then she tells her that Lorelai needs to come to dinner at the apartment, that they are going to make it a Saturday 'thing,' at least for the Saturdays that April is in Stars Hollow. Lorelai has to laugh at the way that April informs her of this, without asking if she's available.
It's what the whole weekend is like, both April and Luke making her feel, in small and large ways, as though she is a part of their lives. Because of that, she's not surprised to see Luke on Sunday night after dropping off April, standing on her front porch holding a take-out bag. And she's not surprised when he wraps her in his embrace and whispers, "Missed you."
Of course, once everything is going so well it means that it's time for something to go terribly wrong. She should have known, she thinks, that it had been too easy cutting things off with Christopher, that it was too much to expect him to just be out of her life forever. But when he calls on the pretense of planning a party for Rory's birthday it's not just about him snaking his way back into her life. It's also a confirmation of everything Emily had said about him. That for Christopher, it's always been more about Lorelai than about his own daughter.
And so she finds herself standing perfectly still as Luke's steps recede behind her. When she hears the front door open, and then after a pause, snap shut, her legs give out under her and she collapses into a heap on the floor. All she can hear are the words that have been repeating over and over in her mind since she hung up the phone: "She was right." Her mother was right about Christopher. About Christopher and Rory. And it makes her ill to think that she hasn't seen it.
For a time all she can do is sit there, eventually moving to lean against the end of the couch, her knees pulled up under her chin.
She's angry. Angry at Christopher for confirming what she'd tried to deny, for making his daughter a pawn in whatever game he was trying to play with Lorelai. For not being a dad.
She's even more angry at herself for letting him breeze in and out of their lives, for those times that she'd wanted him for herself, and those times that she was relieved he wasn't around because he'd hurt or disappointed her. For all the times that she'd let him be a boyfriend and not a dad.
Because now that he's trying to make plans for a birthday bash for his almost twenty two year-old daughter, she's remembering all the other birthdays he's missed – the early ones when Rory hoped desperately for a card or a call and the more recent ones in which they didn't even bother to expect any recognition. She remembers creating excuses and distractions to try to erase the disappointment from Rory's face.
And then it's not just birthdays she remembering, but school plays, graduations, dance recitals, town pageants and that's when the tears begin to flow, when she buries her face in her crossed arms and sobs for her daughter and all of the non-existent memories. She cries until her sleeves are long past wet with tears and she's given up sniffling back her runny nose. She can feel the puffiness around her eyes and the ache in her backside. When Paul Anka ambles down the stairs to give her a baleful, worried look her muscles creak when she shifts to pull him into her lap.
She holds him to her, anchoring herself to his warmth, nuzzling her nose into his fur and finally, when he begins to fidget, she lets him lead her upstairs and then falls onto her bed in exhaustion. And though the anger and guilt make her mind restless, eventually it can no longer fight against the fatigue and she falls off to sleep.
It's only when she wakes that she can even begin to process her conversation with Luke, as though her mind simply didn't have space for all of the conflicting emotions at one time. She'd just known that there was still too much sadness and hurt about Christopher to allow herself to feel everything she needed to feel while Luke was there. She needed to be angry at Christopher without adding Luke's indignation to the mix, and she needed to be angry with herself without him trying to console her.
So before she'd fallen apart from the sheer strain of holding together all of her thoughts she'd sent Luke away. In the warm, bright light of morning, she's rational enough to know that there will be consequences for not letting him into this. To know that he trusted her enough to leave and she didn't trust him enough to let him stay.
And when she goes downstairs to find a cup of coffee, a bag with a Danish sitting on the coffee table and a note reading 'Come by for a refill when you can,' it makes it worse to know that rather than anger, he's feeling hurt, disappointed, and worried.
So, she goes to the diner and watches him cover up his injured feelings with concern. She lets him pour her coffee without a lecture, bears his careful scrutiny, and responds to his not-quite-full smiles. She watches him bite back questions and lets him because even now, she's not sure she could explain to him what was running through her mind during that phone call and what it had confirmed for her. And throughout it all, she tries to remember a time when she hadn't ended up letting him down.
Over the next few days they start to find their rhythm again, and though they're both a bit subdued, it gradually feels more comfortable. Lorelai's tells herself that maybe it's possible to move past Christopher's latest invasion into their life without a big fuss being made about it.
But one night when they're getting ready for bed she comes back from the bathroom to find Luke sitting up in bed, his back against the headboard, his posture too stiff and his hands just a bit too fidgety to be relaxed.
Watching him for a moment, she asks hesitantly, "Are you okay?"
"I feel like I should be asking you that," he says, his voice low and soft. He lifts his eyes to meet hers as he finishes speaking.
She knows but asks anyway, "Why?"
"You're not yourself."
She waves her hand, trying to brush it off, "I'm fine."
"No you're not," Luke says firmly, "and you haven't been since he called. She opens her mouth to speak, but he goes on, his voice softer now. "I just don't know what it means."
His voice trails off with a defeated sigh and his shoulders slump weakly. He has every right to be accusatory, she reflects, given her odd behavior over this, and the fact that he's not, that he's concerned, confused even, weakens her defenses.
"It means…" She stops, bringing her fist to her mouth and closing her eyes. "God, Luke. I don't know if I can talk about this…right now, with everything that's happened, and we're finally…" She wants to say that they're past it, that they're moving forward, but it doesn't feel so true right now.
"Then when?" he asks. All she can do is stare back at him helplessly and when she doesn't answer, he says softly, "I shouldn't have left the other night. I thought I was giving you some time, but now it's like you're hoping the whole thing will blow over." He lets out a long sigh. "It's not going to. We really need to talk about this."
She doesn't want to admit she'd been avoiding it, but deep down she knows that if they could put off talking about Christopher forever, she wouldn't complain. "Does it have to be now?" she pleads.
He takes in a breath and lets it out slowly. "I think it does."
"Why?"
Pausing a moment, he gives her a serious look. "Because I want you to stop being afraid that if I hear Christopher's name I'm going to suddenly decide I don't want to be with you anymore."
"I'm not," she protests weakly.
"I think you are," he insists gently. "But, the thing is, he's Rory's dad and whether I like it or not, he's around, so you have to believe that I can deal with that."
Of course, she thinks, he can deal with it. She's just not sure why he would want to. Her shoulders sag helplessly and he gives her a sympathetic look, crossing his legs to make a space for her next to him. Patting the bed, he asks, "Please?"
With a reluctant sigh, she walks the few steps to the bed and lowers herself to sit on the edge, half facing away from him. Her movement concession enough for the moment, she waits for him to talk,
Leaning forward slightly, he speaks, his words warm and gentle. "It's just that he keeps coming between us." She stiffens involuntarily and he pauses, sighing. "And we keep letting him. And this time, it's not even about…well, I have no idea, but it feels like something else is going on." There's another pause, this one more hesitant. "The kind of thing it might help to talk to someone about."
She glances quickly over her shoulder at him and his little half-smile is so hopeful and his expression so open that she has to look away. Staring down at her hands for a moment, she notes absently that her new moisturizer doesn't quite seem to be doing the trick. She's not quite sure how long she sits there, but it's a credit to his patience that Luke waits for her to speak.
"The thing is," she starts, her voice thin and reedy, "him calling like that – it means my mother was right. And that right there is a sure sign of the apocalypse, but if that weren't enough it means…it means that I didn't see it. I didn't see how it all affected Rory." She pauses, swallowing. "I let it all happen."
"What? What are you…" he stumbles over the words. "What does your mother have to do with anything?"
"She's right," Lorelai says, her voice too high. "I let him worry too much about me instead of Rory. I let whatever feelings he had for me get in the way-"
"Stop," she hears him say, and taken aback by the sharpness of his words, she turns to face him. "You're wrong."
"No," she protests, "I let him care more-"
He cuts in with a frustrated groan. "Lorelai. You can't-" Tapping his closed fists on his leg, he takes a deep breath. "The last thing I'm going to do is defend your screwed up relationship with…" Luke lets his voice trail off, and she notes the irony that even though he'd insisted he could deal with it, he's avoiding saying the name out loud. He continues though, his voice hard. "But no matter what happened, he's the one who chose not to be a father. You are not responsible for that." He gives her hand a squeeze to emphasize the point and it's the first time she's realized that he's holding it.
"But how could I not have seen it?"
"It's not like you didn't have a few other things to worry about," he says lightly. "You came here, just you and Rory. You were still a kid yourself, but you got a job and worked your way up and bought a house, and the whole time you were raising this amazing daughter all by yourself."
She can feel her cheeks flushing at the praise, but the guilt is still there, a tight knot in her gut, so she just looks down in her lap where his fingers are tangled with hers.
"You know," he says thoughtfully, "sometimes you make it look too easy, I think. You're so strong and independent and confident and capable and-"
"Stop." She hits his knee gently with her free hand.
He leans a little closer, so that his folded legs rest against her hip and she can feel his breath on her shoulder. "I haven't said anything that isn't true." Shrugging, he adds, "And maybe that's the thing."
"What are you talking about?" she asks, a little too brightly, covering up how self-conscious he's making her.
"You're the mom every kid wishes they could have. The one that's cool and funny but knows how to lay down the law when she has to. The one who devotes her life to her kid but still has time to start her own business and participate in every freak show Taylor drags this town into. You're like some kind of superhero mom. And everyone knows it, and expects it, and pretty soon you start to believe it too – that you've got to be the perfect mother and have all the answers." Sometime while he was talking, he'd tugged her a little closer and slipped his arm around her waist, resting his fingertips against the skin just above her pajama bottoms. "You take all of the responsibility. You always have."
"I just did what needed to be done. What anyone would have done."
"But that's the thing, not everyone would have done it." Turns to look her in the eye. "You always do that, you know."
"What?"
"Give everyone the benefit of the doubt." There's a serious note in his voice and she narrows her eyes a bit, wondering where he's going with this. He takes a breath and says quietly, "You've always given Christopher the benefit of the doubt because he's Rory's father."
It sounds like an accusation and after all of his compliments and praise she's suddenly feeling defensive, thinking that maybe she'd been right to avoid this conversation, that it was too soon to talk about it after all. She twists away from him, biting back a response about the way he'd let Anna treat him.
He holds her firm though, this time pulling her all the way into his lap and wrapping both arms around her, then whispering into her hair, "It's not the worst thing in the world, always thinking the best of people."
A lump forms in her throat at the way that he can turn this all inside out and make it about her being a good person. He rests his chin on her shoulder and she relaxes against him. It's reassuring, as though he's trying to tell her that he'll always be able to see that part of her. That maybe he not only is able to understand, but that he wants to as well.
And so she tries to figure out how to explain what seems beyond explanation. "It's just…the alternative," she says weakly, "to think that your kid's parent doesn't want to be a part of her life, doesn't want to be involved. It's just a hard thing to imagine. I can't really wrap my head around it." She lets out a short little laugh, "There's an image. Wrap your head around it. Have you ever really thought about that?"
He doesn't say anything, but his arms tighten around her.
"Now all I can think of is a really gross version of pigs in a blanket."
He chuckles and leans back against the headboard, pulling her along with him and she's glad for the moment just to lie there thinking about hot dogs wrapped in brains, anything really, besides the many, many ways that Christopher has let down Rory over the years.
For the moment, Luke seems as though he's content to leave it at that, but after a few minutes, he runs one of his hands up and down her arm and asks, "Can I ask you a question?"
She nods. "Sure."
From the way that he hesitates and takes a breath before speaking, she can tell he's been thinking about this for a while. "If he'd shown up when Rory was younger and wanted to be in her life, wanted her to visit him regularly and everything, what would you have …I don't know, what would you have thought?"
She shakes her head. "I would have been pissed as hell." His muscles tense and she struggles to clarify. "I would have been angry if after so many years of not taking responsibility, he suddenly wanted in. But Luke, it isn't the same as it is with you and April. You didn't know. Anna didn't give you a choice." She takes a breath. "And she had no right to keep that from you."
He's quiet for a while, but finally asks, his voice low and thick, "What would you have done?"
Letting out a long sigh, Lorelai says reluctantly, "We would have worked something out. I wouldn't have been thrilled about it. By then I was used to having her all to myself and it would have been hard to share her. But I wouldn't have been able get in the way if he'd really wanted to be there for Rory."
"Of course you would have," he says, and she can't make sense of his tone. There's warmth mingled with resentment and she wonders how it's possible that she's annoyed him again so quickly. He's silent for a while and when he finally speaks again he takes a deep breath first, as though he's working up the nerve to say something important. His voice is as tight as his arms are around her. "It just makes me so angry, that he wasn't there for Rory. That he had that opportunity and threw it away. It makes it so easy to hate him."
From the way that he goes still as he says it, she can sense how big an admission this is – to say out loud how he feels about her daughter's father. "I get that," she says, running a soothing hand along his arm to show that she understands his resentment.
The fact that he can be as open with her as she has been with him makes it possible to ignore the fact that when he speaks next, he sounds a little like a schoolboy complaining about the teacher's pet. "But it's still always going to matter to you that he's Rory's father."
She has to pause for a moment, to try to put into words the way that things have changed.
"Yes it will," she admits, turning slightly in his embrace so that she can look him in the eye, "but that's all that matters now."
He lifts one eyebrow curiously and she tries to explain. "He's always going to matter to me because he matters to Rory – like I'll wish him well because that's what Rory would do – but I think maybe it's time for Rory to decide how much slack to throw him."
"Really?" he asks, a faint little smile playing across his lips.
"Yeah," she says, sinking back into his chest again, "I think it's about time."
He mutters softly, "About damn time."
She chuckles into his chest, and as the soft laughter bubbles up out of her, she feels freer than she has in a long, long time. And she realizes that the relief she feels is less about the weight of her relationship with Christopher being lifted off her back and more about breaking down a barrier between her and Luke.
To be continued