Chapter 8: French Twist, Part Deux
Jess sits close to Rory and stares at the page, engrossed in a book. He's been ripping through them so fast that Rory's lost track of what he's reading.
Their week in Paris together is half over and most of it has been spent writing and reading in their favorite café La Tasse du Marais. The dim lights, the traditional French music and the sweet and tangy tart aux fruits keep them coming back.
The Walsh family farm was quiet enough for Rory's writing so when she did go to the Irish cafés it was for the fun of it. But since she's living in Paris with her grandparents' friends her café-writing is a necessity. Staying with Harold and Darlene reminds her too much of living at Richard and Emily's. Her time at the Gilmores' was not the happiest of her life: estranged from her mom who also didn't like her boyfriend back then and floating with little direction in her life.
Sneaking a sidelong glance at Jess, she grins, grateful for his patience in spending this time with her as she works at achieving her goal. She insisted on sending out at least five articles this week and told him that they could explore the city once she's done.
Since the premiere, motivation in her career efforts dramatically increased. She even started up a travel blog and jotted down notes for the book she plans to write about her travels.
She slipped by the reporters during the premiere but doesn't want to fear them all her life, hoping she and Jess will be together for many more public appearances.
The French woman at the corner table spreads a heaping portion of grape jam over her toast, and Rory muses that the café has never received jam from Sochelle.
She shakes her head, remembering her mom's pathetic lie to Luke when they came back from Europe without bringing him a souvenir. Fruits de la Terre. Oh boy.
Rory's phone vibrates. She reads minds from across continents.
"It's my mom. I'll just be a couple minutes," Rory promises, walking toward the exit.
"Have fun," he says, prying his eyes away from the book.
Rory answers, "Hey, Mom."
"Is there anything my estranged daughter would like to tell me?"
Rory searches her mind for what she could have forgotten to share since their last conversation more than a week ago.
"How was your red carpet debut?" Lorelai asks.
Oops.
"I'm sorry, Mom. Things have been really crazy lately. I wanted to tell you," which is half true since it involves the "J" word.
"I had to find out from Miss Patty that my only daughter was rubbing elbows with Hollywood's top celebrities as the date of her new – and old – boyfriend."
Rory's face drops. Did Jess tell Luke or did Lorelai just assume they were official?
"Je suis désolée," Rory says, attempting to crack the thin layer of ice covering their conversation.
"All right," she sighs. "I'll accept your apology if you bring me back a steaming hot bowl of soupe à l'oignon."
"How about I send you a picture?"
"Fair enough. So what are you and Jess up to this week?" Lorelai blurts out.
Rory's face scrunches together. "How did you know he came with me?"
Lorelai fumbles with her words then explains, "Hello, you two are like the hottest gossip in the tabloids."
Even if that's true, Rory senses there's something Lorelai isn't sharing. She hates that their relationship needs to be long-distance and that it's hurting their special mother-daughter bond.
"We're going to visit the Louvre tonight and the Eiffel Tower tomorrow."
"Ah, exciting stuff you got planned before hitting up Roma," Lorelai remarks. Hesitant silence is followed by, "Don't do anything crazy that I did."
Understanding her mom's implication, Rory's response is bold. "Don't worry, Mom. I'm not getting engaged and married in Paris without telling you."
"Okay," Lorelai says, her voice trilling.
"I better get going. I love you, Mom."
"Love you too, Kid. Au revoir."
Rory hangs up the phone and leans against the café's brick wall. Alluding to her parents' wedding reminds her of what she was going through while they were in Paris. She had just stepped down as editor of the Yale Daily News. Lucy and Olivia came with her to Stars Hollow, and she cried to them that she didn't know what to do with her life.
A sick feeling falls into the pit of her stomach as she feels her life is now paralleling that scary time. Her elaborate trip to Europe isn't giving her any substantial direction for her career. None of her articles have even been accepted yet.
She slogs back into the café and checks her e-mail – two rejection letters for articles she wrote earlier in the trip. Another dagger plunges into the heart of her writing career.
"You should go home, Jess. You don't belong with a failure like me." Elbows propped up on the table, Rory's head slumps into her hands.
"Hey, listen. You are not a failure. These idiots, they don't know what they're doing if they're gonna be rejecting your writing. It's really good, Rory, and they'll see it."
She appreciates his support but finds that encouraging words from an already very successful writer makes the sting of her failures worse.
Composing herself Rory says, "I'm really glad you were able to come to Paris with me, Jess."
"Yeah, me too."
"I'm sorry to keep you locked up in a café the whole time."
"It's cool. I haven't had much time to read lately, so it's been good. And just hanging out with you is enough for me."
Rory says, "Well, let's get out of here. We still have a few days before you need to get back for your interviews and the L.A. premiere, and I don't want to waste any more of our time cooped up when we can be wandering the streets of Paris together and eating fresh baguettes."
He grins and motions to the door. "Come on. I know what will cheer you up."
"Have another fry," Jess says, offering her one from his bag.
"These are amazing," Rory remarks between bites.
"I told you fries make everything better, especially when they're from France," he adds.
"I do love the frites." She wonders who is responsible for first calling them "French fries."
The sun is setting as they walk the grounds of the Musée du Louvre. The majestic museum seems to stretch on forever, engulfing them inside its courtyard. Three smaller glass and metal pyramids submit to and surround the towering Louvre Pyramid. Gushing water fountains erupt from both sides of the museum's entrance.
Rory's soft peach-colored sun dress waves in the warm summer wind. Jess stops to stroke her cheek with the back of his coarse but gentle hand, saying, "You look even more beautiful now than on the night of the premiere."
"That's impossible," Rory says, her face heating up. "Moriah and Sandy did an incredible job with my hair and makeup. And the dress and shoes you bought me were stunning. I'll never be able to repay you."
Jess shrugs off the gushing words. "It's nothing compared to the real Rory."
He draws her into a slow tender kiss.
The next night Jess takes Rory to the Champ de Mars where they view the Eiffel Tower lit up with greater elegance and charm than any photo could capture.
"France is never more beautiful than at night," Rory says, absorbed in the scene.
The glow from the Eiffel Tower casts romantic shadows on Jess' face, making Rory catch her breath. It's difficult for her to believe that someone this caring, attractive, and famous chooses her.
Jess looks deep in thought so Rory decides to catch him off-guard. Her hands wrap around his neck, and she pulls herself to him, pressing her lips into his with intense enthusiasm. Enjoying the surprise, his hands touch the back of her head and move through her hair.
They release their lips and Jess whispers, "Rory, I need to tell you something."
Still caught up in the moment she breathes out, "What is it?"
"Do you remember when I came back to Connecticut for my mom's crazy Renaissance wedding?"
She gives a short nod, recalling that he showed up at Yale and tried to convince her to run away with him.
"I did it all wrong back then. I meant everything I said but I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. It was immature for me to ask you to leave everything for us to be together. But I want you to know I'm ready now to be enough of a man to start over with you anywhere – even in Stars Hollow, wherever you want."
"Jess, what are you saying?" Rory searches his face for the answer.
He drops a knee to the ground and, from a pocket of his green cargo pants, draws out a dark velvet box, opening it before her. A solitaire diamond ring glistens in the soft light reflecting off the Eiffel Tower. It's much smaller and less expensive than Jess can afford, but he knows her well enough to make this beautiful and delicate choice.
"I'm saying, let's stop going back and forth, only seeing each other every few years or every few months. I want to be with you every day for the rest of my life. Marry me, Rory Gilmore."