AN: Hi! Long long time! I hope you didn't lose faith, because here's the second part :)
Luckily, even through I planned a two-parter, this story insists to be a three-part. I'd expect another stretch of time until finish, because my life is in overload at the movement - but I do intend to finish this.
On to this new one. Honestly, it's one of my absolute favorites. I hope this gives your enough background and answers to the questions mentioned in your reviews.
As usual, my deepest appreciation for my beta M. You're the best.
2030, New York
Aiden pressed skip on his Spotify playlist, the upcoming song not providing its desired effect. A fast, loud, raging guitar rhythm started. Satisfied, Aiden leaned back with his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.
His mom might have confiscated his iPhone and wasted no time changing the WiFi password, but she forgot about the iWatch. And truth is, Aiden had long ago learned how to get around that password restriction thanks to the revolutionary powers of AI.
Rory always naively changed the password back to the same thing.
"Is it true?" Aiden opened his eyes just a crack. A pair of chocolate brown eyes gazed at him, wide with childish awe. She didn't wait for an answer before firing a couple more questions his way. "You were in jail?! Did you meet any criminals?"
"What do you want?" Aiden grunted, removing his earbuds.
"Mom and dad are fighting." His nine-year-old sister climbed into his bed uninvited, tucking her leggings-covered limbs underneath her.
"I know."
After storming off, he had waited at the top of the stairs, listening to the tail end of his parent's conversation. Curious how the consequences of his harsh outburst would unfold. He mainly heard Logan's deep, even voice; Rory didn't say much. The unmistakable slam of the darkroom door signaled the end of their short exchange.
So things weren't looking good.
"Who is that Chelsea person?" Cameron's questions kept coming, "Is she your girlfriend?"
"I don't have a girlfriend." Aiden denied with a huff, looking sideways at her before clueing her in, "She's dad's ex-wife."
"Daddy doesn't have a wife. He has mommy." She spoke with conviction, of a truth she's known her whole life. And why wouldn't she? It wasn't like she could remember a time when their parents weren't a solid unit. Even Aiden's memory was fuzzy at best. "She's his Ace."
"Well, he has an ex-wife too ," Aiden said matter-of-factly.
"You're lying." She accused him self-assuredly. Aiden sometimes envied her absolute confidence in herself. "I know you are."
"How would you know? You were named after a gadget."
"I was named after a director." The strong-willed brown-eyed girl retorted, well-practiced in their bickering.
Cameron hated being teased that she was named after Rory's camera. The name issue was a regular debate their parents never bothered to settle, even when it reduced the youngest Huntzberger to tears. Based on the hints of their smiles, Aiden had all but assumed that both versions were correct.
Nevertheless, it was a hill she was ready to die on.
"Whatever you say," Aiden mentally checked out, entirely uninterested in continuing the debate as he usually would. "Ask Siri if you don't believe me."
Aiden had previously looked her up. And although the gaps in timeline were starting to fill - a lot of the puzzle pieces were still missing. Aiden still had tons of questions left unanswered.
Cameron, sitting on her knees on his bed, contemplated his aloofness for a moment, her head crooked sideways. It was very similar to the way his grandmother Lorelai looked when she considered something insane. The same way his dad did when trying to decipher whether Aiden or Cameron was telling the truth.
"What do you want?"
"Can I stay?"
"No." He answered decisively.
"But -" His kid sister inhaled dramatically, her signature move when she was about to break into a lengthy ramble. A habit Aiden is sure she perfected last summer when they spent long periods with Lorelai.
Because last summer their mom was filming on location and their dad was in and out of planes and boardrooms. Aiden was relieved when school was back in session, and there was no more Stars Hollow.
Instead, she pouted, "I don't like it when they fight."
Aiden peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes looked a little glossy.
"Fine. Only for a little while." Aiden sighed, though unable to resist muttering the one thing that usually sent her tattling on him: "COVID-baby."
"You're a baby." Cameron fired back, pointing out the worn, pink elephant at the far corner of the bed. "You still sleep with Alfred!"
Aiden's mouth twitched at that dead-on comeback. Cameron always had to have the last word.
"Make some room." His sister sensed her victory. Her feet were twisting haphazardly inside the blanket, settling herself next to him, Aiden scooting to the side of his full-size bed a little.
"Ow! Fuck -" Aiden yelped in pain as her feet kicked his bad foot, "Stop wiggling."
"Sorry." She winced, genuinely full of remorse. "You should see a doctor."
"I don't need a doctor." He gritted his teeth. It didn't hurt when undisturbed. The medicine cabinet was in his parents' bathroom; for now that was a no-go zone. "It just needs to rest."
"You should have come with us to Stars Hollow," Cameron shared her nine-year-old wisdom, deciding to ignore her brother's stubbornness, "Mom and I had SO much fun. We had corn dogs, kettle corn, pie with three ICE CREAM types, and the BEST burgers and fries at Luke's. And a milkshake…"
Aiden zoned out, only half listening to her excited chatter. So far, it sounded like a recipe for stomach aches. And cavities.
"Oh, and you'll never guess! Kirk won the Elvis impersonators competition, although grandpa Chris was much, much better than him!" Her rant continued, "But Taylor disqualified him because Lorelai told Taylor that grandpa Chris agreed to sponsor the spring fling festival. Lorelai said I can be the spring fling festival princess."
Aiden hummed noncommittally. People had always commented on how pretty Cameron was. Her heart-shaped face still held some of that baby cuteness, her pale skin causing her brown eyes to pop, especially when she wore her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Aiden remembered the first time Lorelai saw Cameron. She cooed – as all the grown-ups did – and when Cameron opened her eyes, she loudly expressed her disappointment over the dominance of the Huntzberger genes.
Aiden suddenly jolted; deep brown penetrating eyes stared at him, "What?"
"I knew you weren't listening." She frowned accusingly, "You'll come with us to the spring fling festival, right? Dad said he would."
Aiden let out a little huff, finding that hard to believe. His dad never volunteered to join them in Stars Hollow unless his mom made him. Last summer, Logan stood on Lorelai's porch the minimum time required for Aiden and Cameron to collect their bags, before loading them up into the SUV, to head home.
"I don't think so; I'm grounded for life." He answered smartly.
"You suck." Cameron pouted, then sighed and rolled onto her back.
The Huntzberger siblings lay in silence, blonde and brown hair spread out on their respective pillows, their matching chocolate-colored eyes gazing at the vibrant night sky projected on the ceiling.
"Aiden," Cameron cracked her knuckles like she always did when out of her depth,
Aiden glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Hmmm."
"Is dad's ex-wife pretty?" Cameron questioned, obviously plagued by that new information.
"Yes."
"More than mommy?"
"No."
"Aiden?"
"Hmmm."
"Do you miss grandpa?" She whispered, as if she wasn't supposed to ask.
Her question caught him off guard; grandpa Mitchum was gone, and that was just a fact. But now, with his sister voicing the question, Aiden found himself fighting back tears he didn't know existed.
All of the time.
"Sometimes." He finally answered instead.
"I miss him too. And daddy is away a lot." She said, not noticing her brother's stirred up emotions.
"Yeah." Aiden agreed softly - That was also fact.
Her brunette head craned up to look at him, her long lashes fluttering like butterfly wings, "Can I sleep here?"
"If you must," he uttered grumpily, the teen spirit rearing its head again.
Cameron shuffled around again, this time careful of his leg while trying to find a more comfortable position. One hand under the pillow, the other tugging the blanket closer to her chin, and just before she closed her eyes, he heard her say: "I liked you better when you were less mean."
~W~
Logan patrolled outside the white panel door, phone in hand, in dire need of the WIFI password; there were emails to reply back, strategy decks and invoices to review and approve – and he couldn't do all that on his Hotspot forever. His battery was already low.
He had just finished another phone call - this time with the headmaster - and despite his outward composure, his brain felt heavy as he listened to the woman. The conversation revealed some new facts and details. Logan paced some more, unsure how to proceed. Whether to knock, enter, or just wait Rory out.
The red light was on, and the last time he went in unsanctioned, mid-process, he didn't hear the end of it for weeks. Plus Logan was still unsure which topic to tackle first.
Another notification popped up on his phone. Quickly forming a string of text notifications from various channels requiring his attention. Performance reviews were due end of the month and they were all understandably worried due to the stormy business climate.
Logan added a mental reminder to put a stop to his team's habit of working all hands on deck, at all hours.
It had to wait though. Logan set the phone to 'do not disturb' mode, scratched the side of his head, ran his fingers through his hair - a habit he couldn't quite shake– before rapping his knuckles on the door. And waited.
"Come in."
He'll just have to wing it.
The red light is indeed on when he slips through the darkness, past the heavy curtain hanging behind the door. Logan let his eyes adjust. Rory's hair was tied up in a messy bun; her gloved hands fishing pictures out of the chemical water, then clipping them to the wire.
He decided to open with a neutral topic: "Good pictures?"
"Mmmm. Eh." Rory supplied distractedly, closely examining a fresh one, "Some."
"Right." He commented, trying to find a way out of this small talk.
Rory was silently examining her handiwork. Logan stepped further into the room, pulling down the Murphy bed he had ordered for this room nearly a decade ago.
It's the only thing he didn't install himself.
Setting up the darkroom was a surprise. A grand gesture Logan devised in an attempt to cheer Rory up when COVID was raging. New York was in chaos; the world was in chaos. Schools were closing. The film industry went into indefinite lockdown, and all the projects she had lined up dropped one by one. Rory was anxious. Moody. Aiden was grumpy: the excitement of playing hooky from school (and spending the entire time indoors with his parents) wore off quickly.
And Logan? Logan found himself jumping from one video conference to another, holding the corporate reins for the first time.
Adapting a multi-national news conglomerate to a new reality, in the midst of quarantine and changing-by-the-hour policies, was a constant balance of improvisation and cutting your losses on the go. That was adrenaline inducing. To pause and explain his reasoning and decision making to his father was actually the real draining part.
At the end of the day, when he turned off his computer for the night, he found his two favorite people cuddled in his bed - Aiden's hand protectively resting on Rory's midsection.
The build entailed hours of online research conducted between back to back zoom sessions and a long string of e-mail exchanges with his sister's preferred interior designer. Six year old Aiden was the best accomplice. He loved the game of hiding secret packages around the house.
When Logan forwarded the list of required chemicals to purchase, Natalie asked if he was building a bomb.
And when he finally led a blindfolded Rory into the room - after pulling an all-nighter assembling IKEA shelves and setting it all up - to his shock, instead of jumping up and down with excitement, she burst out crying.
The next day, Logan summoned the family jet (despite Rory's protests) and moved them, for the rest of the pandemic, to the house Mitchum undercut Martha Stuart from buying in the forests of Maine.
They had a business thing fall through. Mitchum was pissed.
Logan felt a pang of longing for that long gone bubble. Early morning runs breathing in the crisp Maine air. Aiden's awe while watching the stages of a frog's life cycle in the shallow pools by the lake. Games of Scrabble in the wood paneled living room to practice Aiden's vocabulary during his lunch break.
Rory's experimental photography of the changes in light coming through the wide double glass windows overlooking the maple grove and the water. Her sketchbook perched on top of her growing baby bump while spring bloomed in the background. It must have been where Aiden mastered the ability to draw the signature comic image that now decorated the school's swimming pool wall.
They went to Maine as a family of three, and returned as four.
"Logan?" Rory's voice snapped him back to the present, a hint of impatience evident. Her gloves were off, and a series of Stars Hollow residents stared back at him in deep, contrasting colors. "Is there something you need?"
If he remembered correctly, her latest pet-project was something about 'people in places.'
"Um... I need the WiFi password."
"Buttface Miscreant."
"I'm sorry?" He blinked.
"ButtfaceMiscreant1018 is the password."
"Huh," Logan pulled his phone out, typing it in. It worked. Rory had turned from him, continuing to clean up her workstation.
"It only costs about 30 bucks; we can get it done if you want to," Logan piped up to her back.
She looked at him, trying to catch his drift.
"Obtaining a license only takes a few minutes; then we can squeeze in the ceremony in the next sixty days. There are available appointments at City Hall three days from now." Logan rubbed his neck. A little stressed by the apparent overbooking of his calendar, exhaling at the impossibility of squeezing a pin in, "I can ask Natalie to shift my schedule around for an extended lunch break. Or something."
Rory Gilmore blinked at the man scrolling through his calendar app. The disruptive blue glow from the device shone in stark contrast to the carefully manipulated exposure conditions created by the red light.
"I can't tell whether you're being serious or not." Was he proposing? What was with him and his random, lets-fix-it gestures of marriage?
"I am if you are."
The phone screen went dark, but the glint in his eyes didn't. The smirk in place. His facial features enhanced by the deep shadows casting off the red light. Rory itched to capture his nuanced expression in this setting. Instead, she settled for a mental image, knowing full well the moment wouldn't look as authentic on camera.
She had had her chances to photograph him in this setting. The various shades of red had a softening effect on his leaner, more pointed, mature facial features. The outcome was a terribly blurry, vulnerable, stripped-down, beautiful version of him no one else was allowed to see.
"Logan," She sighed breathily,
They had come close once, only to call it off on the steps leading up to City Hall. Forgetting their IDs felt like a sign. It felt more like catering to other people's whims. An obligation, more than anything else. They looked at each other and agreed: to hell with it.
"Don't be ridiculous."
Relief registered on his face, "So now that I know you're not overreacting over that comment…." Logan tossed his phone down next to him before leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together, "Do you want to talk about Chelsea?"
"No," Rory rebuffed his timid offer, "I don't want to talk about Chelsea. I have nothing to say about Chelsea."
Logan let out a skeptical 'tsk,' the way she pronounced the syllables of her name was telling him otherwise, but he knew better than to push the matter. Rory had eventually accepted his minor involvement with the Aaron Rosen Foundation gracefully, but Logan still made it a point to reassure her that things were strictly business.
"I just got off the phone with the headmaster." Logan shared, changing the subject to more pressing matters, "And the coach. We're being summoned. I asked Natalie to schedule it."
"Brilliant," Rory responded grimly.
"It's to be expected."
"I…" Rory dropped her hands in despair, mirroring her thought process, "What the hell was he thinking?! My phone is getting flooded by Instagram notifications because, for some reason, my son's little stunt went viral. I think my DM inbox has reached its limit."
Logan just listened. Rory's messy rambling flowed out, triggered by his mild reaction,
"Vinnie has been calling me nonstop requesting a comment. And I'm screening her calls because how the hell do I tell her that it's MY son - who thinks your addict ex-wife is cooler than me by the way - practicing his graffiti skills using a trademark icon that his mother owns?!"
Logan had the decency to wince. He hadn't thought of that, or the possible fallout, while in the moment.
"Vinnie will live," Logan commented dryly. The boy, since infancy, sure knew how to provoke the most outsized reaction out of Rory, "And he doesn't think that."
"He said it to my face." Rory shot back, trying to lure him into contradicting it, waiting for him to rebuff the words out of her son's mouth.
Which Logan resists, because it's nonsense and she knows it.
"The school is going to SUE us."
"Let them sue. We have money to spare." Logan had serious doubts about the school's intentions of ever suing them. The accumulation of donations, their connections and reputation, and his own youthful experiences with the private school system was enough to rely on.
"Logan -"
"Let them sue; honestly, I don't care about that." He responded, clasping his hands, "Are we dead-set on grounding him? Maybe we should ease up a little."
Because when he tells her the rest of the story, the punishment might grow disproportionately.
"No," she crossed her arms over her chest. "Do not make me out to be the bad guy here. He committed a felony. He got arrested." Rory added pointedly, "Of course he's grounded!"
They stared at each other for a moment, silently communicating their stance. Logan wasn't sure how much getting arrested versus other factors played in this rushed decision. Aiden refusing to join her in Stars Hollow, Aiden sneaking out, lying to her, calling Chelsea for bail… he really twisted the knife where it hurt.
"Fine." He dropped it.
Rory arched her eyebrow, suspicious at this uncharacteristic backing down.
Admittedly, Logan was never quick to play the 'dad card' with either of his children. For that alone, he had, on multiple occasions, endured Mitchum's take on his 'unconventional,' 'soft' parenting style. Followed by a frustrated rant about the undefined state of his and Rory's affairs.
"I don't think it'll do any good." He clarified. It certainly won't help the mother and son's already fragile relationship, but Logan has learned over the years to pick his battles. "But fine."
"And no bending the rules," Rory added.
Logan was known for manipulating situations to get his way, bending the rules just enough so they wouldn't be considered broken. And although one might think the power little girls had on their fathers was unmatched, it was undoubtedly Aiden who was Logan's absolute weak spot. The boy had him completely wrapped around his finger.
Rory was convinced it was due to Logan overcompensating for his daddy issues.
"Agreed." Logan didn't even bat an eyelash.
Rory's long exhale revealed the turbulence inside her, a chain reaction their son's youthful shenanigans set in motion: "What the hell was he doing reaching out to her in the first place…?"
Her tone told Logan everything he needed to know about how left out she felt.
"My understanding is that he was led to believe he'd be able to get away with it without us knowing." Logan started diplomatically, then added, "I'm not thrilled, but I choose to focus on the fact that even if he didn't call either of us, he called someone."
Rory didn't look bought into his line of thinking. But dwelling on it was just pointless. It was done.
"He's worried about getting kicked off the swimming team."
"How do you know that?" Her alarm was telling. Something was seriously wrong if Aiden was worried.
"He might have said something earlier today when we finished the mural." Logan carefully tried to keep shreds of the confidence Aiden entrusted him intact, side-stepping the more recent developments made known to him. "And coach..."
He will break it to her gently.
Rory's eyebrows arched at his unintentional slip, cutting him off, "You're not supposed to encourage trespassing and illegal escapades, Logan."
"It was a dare." Logan defended, followed by her sigh. Logan and his dares. "It got him talking, didn't it?"
Logan might have gotten him talking, but it turns out the boy had, like his father, chose to side-step the whole truth.
"Right." That was an argument she couldn't refute. It wasn't like she could get through to the boy. Another huff followed before Rory questioned her baby partner, "So what now?"
"I don't know. We meet and see." Logan reached out for her hand, "Come here."
Her long fingers curled into his, melting into the familiar mold of his palm. Their first physical contact since this morning, just before the kitchen went up in metaphorical flames. The gentle tug on her hand pulled her closer until she stood between his parted legs.
"You know I love you, right?" Logan asked boyishly as he looked up at her.
"Well…" Rory fluttered her eyelashes at him, her fingers playing with the still soft hairs at the nape of his neck, "Cher says there's only one way to tell."
Logan's smile sprang up in full, pulling her into his lap. Rory's hands instinctively grabbed the sides of his neck to steady herself, getting lost in the feverish kiss that melted the rest of the distance between them.
"And Cher is never wrong."
Xx
"I missed you." his words muffled in her hair as he breathed her in, his fist full of her brown locks. Rory could feel his swollen lips planting intimate kisses on the side of her neck.
Logan hated traveling. It was the first condition he had happily set upon returning to the company fold years ago. He cemented it when Aiden was born. And to a point, the pandemic had helped in his mission to cut down most trips. But now, as the one steering the ship, this tour of duty was necessary.
And he hated every minute of it.
"Mmm…" Rory purred low as she pressed flat against his body. She was addicted to this. The gentle waves of heat generated between their bodies and the little light touches left her in an eased state of mind. He always tasted sweeter when stolen away to their makeshift bubble.
Where they literally and figuratively shed their layers.
"Tell me more." Rory angled her face to indulge in another kiss, but her words shifted something in Logan - suddenly too distracted to follow through with what they had started. "What's wrong?"
Logan rolled onto his back, leaving her leaning on her side and fighting the loss of the fuzzy cover.
"Nothing," He tried to deflect her probing, deeming their current state of undress inappropriate for informing her of the full extent of their son's misconduct, "I hate letting people go. The last time I fired this many people, a pandemic was raging, and …"
'and he was still alive to take some of the heat,' Rory mentally finished his sentence.
"It's not the case this time. We're not in crisis mode, there's no real urgency… technology and competition just made them redundant for reporting news, and… we just… don't need them."
"Task it to Amelia." Rory suggested,tucking the fabric around her, "She'll be good at it."
"She'll be great at it," Logan let out a half frustrated, half-wishful sigh and voiced his logic, "She's too young and cutthroat; she'll enjoy the power trip and won't express empathy towards people's life circumstances…. Bad idea." Logan's fingers were combing through her hair in some therapeutic fixation he developed over the years, "Every time I talk business with her, she gets into this relentless mode. I swear sometimes it's like …."
'Talking to the dead', Rory didn't voice her silent interpretation. Amelia was sometimes Mitchum's carbon copy, reflecting some of his most unpleasant characteristics.
"There are moments it just sneaks up on you," Logan admits.
Rory stroked the side of his cheek, saying nothing but soaking up his vulnerability. Not entirely sure if this was Logan sharing this week's frustrations or some deeper grieving processes. Logan wetted his lips, his voice coming out hoarse:
"Perhaps he took Mitchum's death harder than we thought."
"Maybe." Rory wetted her lips as well. Sure Aiden was relatively close to Mitchum, but he was also fifteen. Maybe Logan, too, took it harder than he let on.
She had witnessed encounters when people came up to him, offering their condolences, speaking highly of Mitchum's achievements and legacy. Logan graced them with a tight-lipped smile in response. Rory wasn't at all surprised at his well suppressed grief. But she knew Logan well enough to know there was a volcano of unresolved, bottled-up feelings brewing underneath.
She wasn't sure if Logan noticed his constant avoidance of the word 'dad.' But she refrained from commenting.
"I'm fine." As if reading her mind, he repeated the exact words he said to her in the aftermath of Mitchum's funeral. Adding, as if he felt the need to double down and reassure her: "I love you."
"I know," She traced a finger over the ridge of his eyebrow, down to his cheek, "you built me a darkroom."
"That made you cry." He chuckled, his cheek pressed into her palm.
"I was pregnant!" She's still a little resentful of his unwitting timing, "You knocked me up and then supplied me with a dark room full of chemicals I couldn't use! That was a real shit move."
He laughed, his hand running through her brunette locks and down to her bare back.
"And you still don't want to get married?" He teased jokingly, changing the subject, laughter lines showing at the corner of his eyes, his mouth twitching upward at her little snort and rueful head-shake, "Just checking."
"Last time, trying to marry you was too much of a hassle. I don't even want to imagine how impossible marrying Logan Huntzberger will be now." Rory laughed, nestling her head in the crook of his neck, entwining their hands together, "You're the string to my kite, Logan. I like how we are."
Logan kissed the top of her head, savoring her love. "I like how we are too."
He'll tell her tomorrow.
~W~
Rory had long settled into bed, her back curled towards him in the spooning position she had fallen asleep in. But Logan's mind kept mulling over the information he had yet to disclose to his partner. The restlessness of his brain sent him to the medicine cabinet in search of relief.
Unscrewing the cap of his sleeping pills container, he let two roll into his palm. For the first time in years, this routine action made Logan Huntzberger stop. Instead of popping them in his mouth, he reached for the other bottle containing his Ritalin medication.
He stared at the innocent looking pill bottle in his hand. Half clear plastic, topped with a solid white cap. He couldn't see if something was amiss with the naked eye. But Logan had a nagging suspicion that if he counted the pills and the ones in the Tic Tac box in his carry on - the tally wouldn't add up.
xx
Logan isn't entirely sure how long he has been sitting here in the darkened room, under the artificial cosmic night sky, watching their chests rise and fall, listening to the light whistles of their breathing. His blonde hair, next to her flowing brown locks, both wrapped in the blanket. The pink stuffed elephant guarding them from the corner of the bed.
It was not the sight he expected to find when pushing his son's bedroom door ajar.
Logan might be there in body, as he sits, but his mind is elsewhere. On a bench in Central Park, the memory of his father sitting next to him, munching on a hotdog:
"You know, Logan," The media mogul said between bites of street food, a touch of mustard smeared on the corner of his mouth. "The right woman to have kids with doesn't necessarily have to be the love of your life."
Logan finally understands. Perhaps some part of him had always known. Mitchum wasn't talking about his chosen partner.
Aiden and Cameron are the loves of his life. God knows he loves them - that snuggling pair. A heart-bursting, all-consuming, pure love. The very top of the short list of his favorite things. A half ironic smile pushed at the corner of his mouth, remembering how passionately Mitchum hated that song. He loves them, even when they are the reason he's sleep deprived. When they're holding out a metaphorical mirror to his face, challenging him to face his shortcomings. Or talking his ear off about Disney princesses.
Aiden is the love of his life, even if hours ago he was blatantly lying to his face.
"Aiden," Logan's voice instructed, with a gentle shake of the sleeping boy's shoulder, "Get up."
"No," Aiden mumbled, his eyes opening just a crack.
He was tired, having stayed up stewing in his misery and gazing at the ensemble of stars on his ceiling long after his sister fell asleep. It was nice and toasty under the covers, and he was effectively grounded, so what was the point of rising anyways?
"C'mon," Logan nudged his sleepy son again, "We have someplace to be."
Someplace? Where? Aiden opened his eyes again with curiosity, only to find his dad gone, leaving him no choice but to reluctantly push back the covers to find out.
The chilly air made him shiver. Damn it, it was still dark.
Xx
Aiden rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them up, fighting against the cold air. Why didn't he think of taking his gloves? It was early. Very early. So early that even birds weren't active, and the car windows were covered in frost.
"Shouldn't you have brought flowers?" Aiden finally questioned once his dad straightened up from brushing the dirty snow off Mitchum's tombstone. It was strange to watch his dad, dressed in his expensive black overcoat, bending down on the muddy ground of the Hartford cemetery.
"Coach called," Logan said, his hands brushing off the snow before tucking them into his overcoat pockets. "Headmaster too."
"Oh," Aiden froze, pulled his beanie hat further down his ears and shoved his hands into his pockets, not quite knowing what to say. He truly didn't understand why they couldn't do this at home. It was freezing out. "Right. What now?"
Honestly, Logan didn't know. He thought he had more time. More time for everything.
But one call from the headmaster, and boom. It feels like Aiden turned fifteen overnight. Embarking on all the experimental things Logan used to indulge in. And that terrifies him - because Logan is less than a perfect role model.
He hasn't even told Rory yet, anticipating her royal freak out. Logan wasn't looking forward at all to the moment when they'd have to sit and talk about Aiden's alleged substance abuse.
"I think my dad was one step away from an aneurysm every time whatever-school-I was-in called." Logan shared, perhaps foreshadowing, "His anger and the dressing down was often worse than the actual punishment. Disproportionate too."
He really thought he had more time.
Aiden cast a careful glance at his dad. It was such an odd place to have this conversation. Logan was looking at the stone Mitchum Huntzberger laid underneath, wearing a strange expression on his face.
All this talk was making him nervous, "Dad -"
"My future was all planned out. Everything was decided. He decided. There was one door, and I was being pushed through it. Because it's what he did and what his father did before him, and that's the Huntzberger way."
'The Huntzberger way' was one of Mitchum's favorite phrases. One that had Honor rolling her eyes and Logan's irritation flaring up, over festive dinner tables year after year. It always ended with an argument.
"All I could control was the in between."
That sounded sad. He sounded sad.
"I didn't want that for you." Logan licked his lips, noting how this new topic seemed to throw his son off. "You can go into journalism, go into politics, be a doctor, be a clown, do whatever you want. You can go to whatever college you like. Nothing is pre-set; nothing is preordained. I gave you a clean slate."
Aiden remained silent for a beat. Unsure where this is going. Or what was an appropriate response, if there was any.
"USC has a good swim team," Aiden stated tersely.
"Do they?" For a minute, Logan looked reflective, "California is pretty far."
"I guess."
Logan commented cryptically, "The weather is great."
Aiden already pieced together his dad had lived in California with Chelsea. He'd done his digging, and Chelsea confirmed it too, although the details and timelines were still fuzzy. Aiden could feel his nose starting to freeze. Great weather is the total opposite of how he'd describe the freezing Hartford cemetery.
"Dad," Aiden pursed his lips, digging a hole in the dirty snow with his heel. Trying to defuse the heaviness of this moment, and shift the focus. For a minute, he wondered if his grandfather's proximity made him bolder with his questions, "Did you love Chelsea more than mom?"
Logan, caught off guard, furrowed his brow at his son's question, waiting out for him to elaborate.
"You didn't marry mom."
Logan inwardly sighed. Something about that fact made Aiden cling to the topic like a dog to a bone.
"So you did?" The investigative streak in him throbbed with urgency at his dad's loaded sigh. "I mean, was it an epic kind of love?"
A pause. A shuffle of his dad's loafers in the snow, as if he was weighing his words.
"It didn't last long enough to be epic. I had this same conversation with your mom, once." Perhaps it was just a conversation that he needed to get over with. The look on Logan's face is a mix of gentle warmth and reflection. Regardless he tried to shut down the upcoming inquisition, "Chelsea was my first shot at everything. But we were kids. And there are many reasons why it didn't last."
Logan didn't want to get into the practical details of how their childhood friendship turned into romance. He wasn't about to delve into all the gory drug-induced habits involved, all the ill-advised decisions, or the heartbreak associated with that unflattering public fallout in the middle of the Hartford cemetery.
"Because she cheated on you?" Aiden was unrelenting about piecing the puzzle together.
The unexpected question jolted his dad, causing him to turn his head sharply, "How do you know about that?"
"Google," Aiden revealed shamefully. Googling your dad was such an uncool thing to do.
Logan wasn't sure what information Aiden had dug up, but he was definitely going to check how much of it was actually still documented.
"So, did you?" Aiden returned to his original question.
So much like Rory, Logan thought.
"I married Chelsea to piss off my father," Logan revealed; by now realizing the topic could not be entirely avoided. "I was forced to move to London, fresh out of college, away from my friends and girlfriend. There were a lot of obligations associated with the Huntzberger name I didn't want at the time. A lot of expectations. I didn't want to be under my father's thumb. I didn't want that one door. Chelsea was my out."
Aiden glanced at the headstone showing Mitchum's name. Chelsea also mentioned something about his dad's path. Not that he could fully comprehend it. In the end, his dad was now the name and face of the family business. It was fact.
Logan could tell his son was already queuing up a series of questions. But, instead, he asks about Mitchum.
"Was he pissed?"
"Very. He didn't like a lot of things that I did." Logan admitted, though still giving the man credit even if a little resentful, "But in the end, he was there when things fell apart. In the only, pushy way he knew how to."
It almost, for a moment, sounded like he missed him.
"Your grandfather told me more than once that the right woman to have kids with doesn't necessarily have to be the love of your life." Logan reminisces, "I understand now what he was trying to say."
Aiden was still confused, "What was he trying to say?"
"That some loves are more intense than others," Logan said enigmatically.
Aiden bit his lip, processing, unable to decide whether to probe further or let it rest. Despite the additional details, he still doesn't understand at all. Why one and not the other. It seemed like his dad picked up on that:
"Chelsea was my wife, and I loved her. In a way, I will always care about her." Logan continues, hoping to preempt further questions and settle the topic for good. "I share far more meaningful things with your mom than history, growing pains, and a stack of wedding pictures. I don't need a piece of paper for her to know that. Or to prove anything to anyone."
Aiden felt flooded with honesty. His dad was never this talkative and although he doesn't quite understand it all, it feels romantic.
"Because she's mine. She didn't have to, but she chose to be mine." Aiden doesn't fail to miss that slip of vulnerability. "And that's how I leave her untainted."
"Untainted?"
"Being a Huntzberger is my birthright, and it brings a lot of privilege, but it also encompasses a lot of obligations I don't want your mom to be subjected to," Logan confessed, shedding a little more light on his parents' status. "I don't want her to be a Huntzberger. Just mine."
The Huntzberger name was loaded with expectations. It wasn't as if Aiden was unaware people treated him differently because of it. Or hinted at it. Logan paused, Aiden could tell he was nearing the end of this impromptu heart-to-heart.
"For what it's worth," Logan said, hoping to sum it up, "I never understood my parents' relationship either."
Aiden blinked at the spot-on statement. His dad's signature touch.
"Mom's upset." Aiden shuffled the snow with his foot, uncomfortable with the current state of affairs. His ankle still hurts a little.
"Sometimes, your mom is too busy staring down the camera and fine-tuning the focus; she misses out on the bigger picture," Logan spoke metaphorically; Aiden's frustrated expression indicated his long battle with the same issue. "Speaking of which, when we get back, you are going to apologize."
The teenager clenched his jaw in a familiar expression.
"Then, maybe, you can get your phone back."
A glimmer of hope appeared in the boy's eye — a wave of appreciation laced in brown orbs. Technically, he was grounded. Yet here he was, out of the house. And he was pretty sure his mom knew nothing about this.
"Am I still grounded?"
Logan shook his head, attempting to disguise his amused eye roll at his son's attempt to renegotiate his terms. He was not all Rory after all. "Don't push it."
Aiden shoved his hands deep into his pockets. They didn't talk for a few moments, father and son, eyes on the polished black marble headstone, each in their own thoughts.
"Aiden," Logan spoke his name softly, making Aiden look up, "You know I have to tell mom about the stimulants."
A pregnant pause followed. His son was as silent and still as the dead. Aiden's brown eyes started to well up as his father held his gaze. Cracking under the silent disappointment his father tries to suppress, but Aiden can clearly see. His lower lip quivered, and not from the cold:
"It was only one pill."