A/N: Sorry! When I said it was going to be a few days, I honestly thought it would be and then I had a complete block and ended up rewriting large portions of this chapter.

You guys are amazing and your reviews make my day, thank you.

Chapter title from '23' by Jimmy Eat World.

Part 10

no one else will have me like you do

He's working late at the office again a few weeks later when his cell phone rings. The hours he's been putting in lately would put even his father to shame.

The fallout from breaking the engagement has been … interesting. There's been a lot more silent treatment and not as much yelling as he was anticipating. His parents aren't happy, that much he knows. His mother is concerned about the personal ramifications ("you're 34 years old Logan, how do you think it looks for you to be unwilling to commit to marriage?!"), whilst his father is more preoccupied with the impact on the company (if the European market is compromised because of this, you'll still be working to make up the shortfall in hell.").

He's spoken to Odette a couple of times and she seems fine enough; they've vowed to remain friends but he's not sure how honest they're being with each other. How do you maintain a friendship after almost submitting to marrying someone?

Her father on the other hand is as enraged as she had warned Logan he would be. That hasn't stopped him continuing the negotiations for HPG's takeover though. He might claim to be indignant over his daughter's 'broken heart' but business is business after all; and though reputation is important, money is paramount.

So after all his rationalisation that the engagement was necessary for his job, the business, his future; it turned out that it just wasn't. At all. There was never a gun to his head, he was never going to have to get married.

And truthfully, he knew it all along.

He just hid behind it as an easy and cowardly excuse to justify his casual arrangement with Rory. (And if he's really honest, to make him look and feel a little less pathetic about accepting the role of her piece on the side.)

The cold shoulder from his parents and the solitude in his now empty home has allowed him to wallow in his own misery though, so that's been cathartic.

He's moving on. Or he's starting to. Trying to. He's planning for moving on.

He's working on setting up his deputy, Michael, to take over the London-based side of things, for a while at least. He figures Hong Kong, or perhaps Sydney (HPG having offices in need of his digital expertise in both) to be far enough away from Connecticut for him to really start getting over Rory and on with his life.

At least he still has his work - by some ironic twist of fate, he's actually good at that. But he can't keep on just having work; it's been way too long since he's been up a mountain or down a canyon. He's got to get back out there. Literally. He misses the world outside central London. He misses extreme sports. He misses adventure.

He misses Rory.

But seeing as that's over and, as he keeps trying to convince himself every time he picks up the phone to call her, it's for the best - extreme sports and adventure will have to do.

He registers the caller ID and stands to answer the phone.

"Why are you such a complete and utter moron?!"

Logan flinches as his sister's voice echoes down the phone line.

"Well you seem thrilled with me. I said that I was sorry about Mom, I thought she'd started to calm down?"

Logan had already sent his sister a sizeable flower arrangement and a pair of antique earrings by way of apology for Honor having to put up with Shira's histrionics over his defunct engagement.

"Well, after the last call we had when she wouldn't stop going on about whether or not there was something 'fundamentally unmarry-able' about you, and I suggested that it might have something to do with the prospect of having her as a mother-in-law; she hasn't spoken to me."

Honor chuckles softly in self-satisfaction before returning to her previous levels of ire.

"But that's not what I'm talking about you absolute idiot!"

Logan began to pace his office, he had already had a very long day and apparently it was about to get longer.

"So what's the problem?"

"I've just had a rather interesting conversation with – well, I could say a little birdie but we'll both know it's an inebriated kangaroo."

Honor pauses for breath.

"What the hell have you been thinking?!"

Logan groans, he might be his best friend but even he had to admit that very little good ever came out of speaking to Finn.

"What have I done?"

"Rory, Logan. What the hell have you been playing at with Rory?!" Honor snaps.

"Oh fuck, that. I can't believe Finn told you!"

"He assumed I knew. I can't believe you didn't tell me. He said that Dad knows as well!"

"Dad thinks he knows, he knows nothing, like always."

Mitchum had been predictably insufferable when he told them the wedding was off, making thinly veiled digs about 'friendly lunches' when Shira had demanded to know if there was someone else.

"Well …?" Honor challenges.

He takes a seat and some deep breaths and tells his sister the whole sorry tale. Well, the abridged version. He starts in Hamburg and ends in New Hampshire, and fudges some of the more explicit details in the middle.

He's quiet for a few moments before Honor sighs heavily.

"You're my brother and I love you, but sometimes I forget that you're such a guy – you follow your dick with very little regard for the consequences."

"It wasn't like that." He cringes at having to defend himself like this to his sister.

"Oh yeah, sure, I believe you. You just held hands and walked through meadows."

"It wasn't just about that." He concedes.

"You do realise that this was a monumentally bad idea?"

"That does seem to have been the general consensus, yes."

"Do you not remember what happened last time?"

"Of course I do."

"Because I remember a lot of drunken crying down the phone to me after you left for California."

"Thank you for bringing up that humiliation. You swore you wouldn't say anything."

"It's just us here. I haven't told a soul and don't plan to."

"What is it that you want from me?"

"I would like you to remove your head from your ass, preferably without me having to fly over there and do it for you."

"And how exactly would you like me to do that?"

"Well, despite the fact that she broke your heart and nearly destroyed you …"

Logan tuts loudly and shakes his head. "She did not destroy me."

His older sister does have a flair for the dramatics but he has always been grateful for her protective streak. They certainly didn't receive much sheltering from their parents so they provide it for each other.

And he did share (maybe even over share) a lot with her after he and Rory broke up years before. He was an open wound haemorrhaging and without having Honor as an outlet, he doesn't know how he would have coped.

"Don't interrupt me," she warns. "As I was saying … despite that, I'm assuming that you wouldn't have been seeing her if it didn't mean something to you."

She takes Logan's silence as admission.

"I thought so. So why did you end the engagement but not go to Rory?"

This time, Logan's silence indicates that he doesn't want to answer.

"I take it that you want to be with her?"

"It's not as simple as that. She doesn't … the feeling isn't mutual."

"You sure?"

"She knows how I feel."

"She does? You're absolutely certain of that?"

Logan thinks on that for a minute. He's never said the words exactly, but it's been obvious right? She must know.

"Yes."

"Well then good riddance, she's a bitch."

"Honor!"

"What? If she knows that you love her and want to be with her and she's been stringing you along all this time anyway, making you feel like you're still not good enough. Then, yeah, that pretty much makes her a bitch."

"Don't talk about her like that. It's not her fault. We both agreed for things to be how they were and we weren't exactly very open with each other beyond that."

"What do you mean? Did you say the words - 'Rory, I love you and I want to be with you' - or not?"

Logan fidgets in his seat, his head in his hand.

"It was … implied." He justifies quietly.

He can practically hear his sister rolling her eyes through the phone.

"You are so unbelievably, moronically, idiotically, stupid!"

"Thank you. This is really helping." He sneers.

"Why haven't you told her?"

"It hasn't come up." Even he knows that's a weak defence.

"In 2 years, all the while you've been screwing around behind closed doors and playing house when no one's looking, your feelings for each other haven't come up? Doubtful."

"She just wanted things to be casual."

"If she really wanted casual, she shouldn't have slept with you." Honor explains bluntly.

Logan sighs. He feels pitiful bringing out the same worn-out, feeble excuse that's permanently engrained in his mind.

"She doesn't want to marry me."

"That was nearly 10 years ago. Have you asked her recently?"

"She called it off. She doesn't want to see me anymore."

Honor takes a breath. "I am not advocating you hassling her. If this is really something that she doesn't want, and she says that to you, using actual words, then accept it, and move to the other side of the world if you really want to.

"But … seeing as you haven't exactly been upfront with each other, maybe a little honesty from you would go a long way?"

Logan says nothing; he never imagined that being honest would be a problem for him. Being honest to a fault is something he's been accused of more than once.

And now … his audacity is a shadow of it's former self. He didn't even have the balls to end things with Odette without her initiating it.

"If you carry on like this, holding on to her as 'the one who got away' and never really seeking closure, no one's ever going to match up to how you feel with her. You won't ever move on. And no amount of miles will be far enough.

"I'm not judging. I know it's scary, and she might say 'no', and that will hurt but … if there's even a chance, wouldn't you rather know?"

Does he want to know?

He remembers how he felt when he saw her in Hamburg – apprehensive, knowing that entangling his heart with hers again was a risky venture; excited, just being around her made him feel more alive, more like himself; certain, that regardless of any rhyme or reason, he was always going to take any chance he could with Rory Gilmore.

But he doesn't know if he can keep putting himself through this (seemingly inevitable) pain.

He thought it was the right thing, the safest thing, to let her set the boundaries between them, but relationships should be a two-way street - and theirs used to be. They were equals. But that was way back when.

Honor waits patiently as he runs through his mental pro/con list (just one of those habits he attributes to Rory).

"I don't even know how I would … what I should do. I used to know, but I don't know anything anymore … It sounds naïve when you say it out loud but I thought that if we just carried on that eventually we were going to end up together; that we were meant to be together. Fuck, I sound like a teenage girl."

"Most teenage girls have more maturity and insight than you do." Honor chides him. "And no one just ends up together, you have to actually, you know do something.

"But, keep it simple. Do not try to recreate 'Across the Universe' again or take her out to tango. That was a dumb idea."

"How much exactly did Finn share with you?"

"More than was strictly necessary. As is standard with Finn."

Logan grumbles. At some point he was going to have to confront his friend about his long-lasting inappropriate affection towards his sister and it's impact on his loyalties.

"Don't be mad at him. He's worried about you. So am I. You haven't been yourself lately … and now I know why.

"There's a reason that my son's middle name is Logan. You're the best guy I know … which probably says a lot about the company I keep."

Logan smiles at her mocking. She might be giving him a pep talk, but she is still his big sister – taunting is part of the job description.

"I believe in you and I want you to be happy" Honor expresses earnestly. "If she's the one, then go get her."

On the whole, things are looking up, Rory affirms.

She's made up with her mom, though things still feel a little awkward, which Rory puts down to her mother's immersion in wedding planning and inn buying.

She's mostly back living at home, though she's looking for potential apartments (and jobs) in New York, and, when she just needs a little time to herself, she retreats to her grandparents' house under the guise of 'focusing on the book'.

Ah, yes, the book. It's progressing, slowly but surely. (No one else needs to know that since her lightening-speed formation of the first three chapters, she's not been able to write much else. After all, she needs to wait and see how her mom feels about it first.)

She's also managing to resist contacting Logan, and though she still allows herself the odd moment to become engrossed in sadness, the heartbreak is definitely close to easing up now.

I'm back on track, she convinces herself. Or at least, track adjacent.

It's Lorelai's bachelorette party, and Rory decides; this will be the point where she stops thinking about Logan, stops wallowing, and moves on.

She helps Lorelai get ready and they travel to a bar outside of Woodbury where all her favourite women are gathered in the same place. This is for her mom and Luke's wedding. It's finally happening, and she couldn't be happier for them both.

She's going to forget about her own messes for a while and focus solely on celebrating with and being there for her mom.

But then Babette hands her a martini and she remembers the last night she was drinking martinis whilst riding in vintage cars, wearing steampunk costume and saying goodbye to the love of her life.

She downs the offending cocktail and follows it up with a vodka chaser (not Scotch, she's not sure she can ever drink that again).

She unwinds a little, even dances (poorly) and starts to forget again.

Then the fun (and the bachelorette games) begins.

There's 'Never Have I Ever' and revelations about her grandparents' time in the mile high club and Liz and TJ's marijuana induced escapades that she wishes she could un-hear, but in spite of herself she's laughing (and drinking).

But then she's too relaxed, letting her guard down, drunkenly admitting to partaking in body shots, and sex in a hot tub and being naked at sea ("that's what you were doing on that god forsaken boat?!" Her mother admonishes while the others laugh.)

And she realises that nearly all her fun (her really, really good fun) has been with him.

Vodka's not going to do it. Time for tequila.

Wait, no, not tequila. Won't be drinking that again either.

Someone's pouring champagne and before she can finish debating whether or not she can drink this (from the jump to the dressing room to the proposal to the tango club, it's yet another thing irreversibly tied up in memories of Logan.), she's already polished off a glass.

As the games taper off there's tipsy and emotional ramblings (from her mother, and Sookie, then her grandmother, and even Paris) about soul mates and finding 'the one', no one else coming close, and it being worth it in the end.

Fuck it. She heads for the bar and orders a Macallan, neat.

In for a penny ...

Maybe if she can drink like Logan, then she can forget like Logan. He hasn't contacted her, he must be moving on.

(With Odette, the woman who is going to be his wife and have his children, she thinks to herself.)

She bites her lip to rein in her emotions, doubles up her order and retreats away from the group.

She's nursing her second Scotch on the terrace when Paris comes to find her.

"Spill it Gilmore, why all the misery? We're at your mother's bachelorette party, the first night off we've had together in God knows how long, you're knocking back drinks like my mother before noon and you look like Trump just killed your puppy."

Rory shrugs lazily, she was past the point of drunk now and knew that she would wake up tomorrow with the mother of all hangovers.

"I broke up with Logan."

"What? Well that's a delayed overreaction if I've ever witnessed one … Holy shit, there is no Deedee in London is there?!" she deduced.

Rory shakes her head glumly.

"You've been banging Huntzberger all this time?"

"Just the last couple of years." Rory slurs slightly.

"What about Mr Forgettable?"

"Yeah, him too. Occasionally." Rory winces. She hasn't spoken to Paul in forever, maybe he's finally had enough and made her decision for her.

"Classy. So every time you go to London …?"

Rory nods in response. "Yep, pretty much."

"Bravo, becoming international fuck buddies seems like a healthy life choice for both of you." Paris retorts sarcastically.

"I always thought it seemed like a set-up with him and France's Paris Hilton; so are they actually together, you know when he's not too busy screwing you?"

Rory sighs and downs the remainder of her drink.

"I don't know. I assume they're actually together now."

"So what happened?"

Rory shrugs again.

"Wait a minute, I'm sure I can guess … you saw him or he saw you, doesn't really matter, bonus points if it was across a noir-style crowded newsroom though - you fluttered your eyelashes and gave him the baby blues, he said something like 'Hey, wanna come do it with me in a helicopter?' And you thought that all your Lois and Clark dreams were coming true.

"You carried on in your delusions for a while, … until reality came knocking and it turns out that he still wants to get married and buy a house in Greenwich with some kids and a dog; and you're still pretending that you're happy playing intrepid globe-trotting reporter.

"'Oh no, we can never be together, we're star-crossed lovers! Let's just be miserable instead.' End scene." Paris finishes her imaginary re-enactment with a dramatic hand flourish.

"It's like you were there." Rory tries to go along with the joke but her voice breaks and she chokes back a sob.

Paris surveys her with a concerned look.

"I was just kidding."

"Funny." Rory smiles sadly.

"So is this the reason why you've been an absolute hot mess lately? … And before you say anything, the validity of that statement is not up for discussion."

Rory exhales in ragged breaths. "There's a lot of reasons why I've messed everything up lately."

Paris hails a woman who Rory's not entirely sure actually works at the bar and orders her to bring them two large Scotches.

"Are we at the tough love portion of the conversation now?"

At what point was this not tough love? Rory thinks but isn't foolish enough to say. Instead, she simply nods.

"For a start, you have to get back to the city and get your career back on track."

"I'm already planning on that; besides, I do have the book to work on too."

"The book is bullshit Rory." Paris states matter-of-factly.

Rory gasps and is left open-mouthed in offense.

"Don't get me started on you claiming that running this small town paper for no salary is a real job either."

"Hey! The Gazette is a part of my childhood and the book is … was … really flowing. I've never written anything as easy as this."

"Of course it's flowing, it's called memory! Why on earth do you want to write what's easy anyway?

"You are too talented to give up on writing about real issues. You're a Yale educated journalist for God's sakes! You covered the Obama presidential campaign while the ink on your degree was still drying.

"Have you completely forgotten that the most fundamental election of our lifetimes is occurring next week? Write something about that. What happened to the only girl at Chilton other than me who was rooting for Hillary before anyone else was?"

Paris continues her tirade as Lane arrives on the terrace and pulls up a chair to sit with them.

"Get your shit together Rory and write. Write anything, but write constantly. Most of it will be terrible if you're out of practice but that shouldn't stop you. Find your voice again. Be the girl who staged a coup to overthrow me from the Yale Daily News."

"That's not what happened!"

Paris ignores her and presses on.

"Then, once you've rescued your career from the hell hole you've left it in, you can get yourself some thrice weekly therapy to stop pining over your trust fund pretty boy that you can't seem to let go of. Either that, or accept your fate and marry him already. I don't really care which."

"Finally, you know! Does this mean we can actually talk about Logan now?" Lane exclaims in relief.

Paris frowns and points towards Lane accusingly. "How long has she known?"

"A while."

"Don't feel left out, she's hardly told me a thing." Lane grumbles.

"What do you want to know?" Rory groans.

"How's the sex?" Lane asks candidly.

"Lane!"

"Please …" Paris rolls her eyes, "She wouldn't be flying trans-atlantically for it if he didn't deliver the goods. And there's nothing quite like a torrid secret and the whole your-mother-hates-him and his-mother-hates-you parental disapproval bonus to keep it hot.

"Besides, we shared a bedroom wall in college, and he used to make her squeal like a piglet."

"Paris!" Rory snaps loudly, her cheeks flushing crimson, waiting for the ground to swallow her up. "What is wrong with you?!"

"Give me a break Gilmore, I think you lost the right to act the ingénue after your firstmarried ex-boyfriend."

Lane can't contain her snort and Rory glares at the both of them.

"So who else knows?"

"No one really. Just you guys, Colin, Finn-"

"Dumb and Dumber are in the loop before me, naturally." Paris gripes.

Rory rolls her eyes. " … and my mom …"

Paris raises an eyebrow. "I bet she had some thoughts."

"Oh yeah. They had a massive fight about it." Lane grimaces.

"What?! No, the fight was about the book." Rory reasons.

"I thought it was a little bit about Logan too. I never bought that she was just cool with you admitting that you'd kept a secret from her for so long."

"Well, she wasn't thrilled, that's for sure. I think she's just always been wary of Logan because she thinks he's like my dad or something."

"Well that's ridiculous." Paris interjects.

"I know-"

"If anything, he's the male version of your mother."

"What?!" Rory exclaims incredulously.

"Spoilt, beautiful, charming, wants what they want and makes no apologies for it, rebels against their parents at every opportunity … any of this ringing a bell?" Paris checks off the characteristics on her fingers.

"Don't get me wrong, Lorelai pulls it off in a far less obnoxious way than Logan and I love her for that, but there's no denying the similarities."

"There is. I'mdenying it." Rory argues.

"You know … I've never really thought about it but that makes a lot of sense." Lane nods in agreement with Paris.

"Will you both stop it?! It's creepy." Rory cringes.

"Choosing a partner who emulates one or both parents is a common trait, and usually isn't indicative of a severe psychological disorder, if that makes you feel any better." Paris states forthrightly.

"That helps, thanks."

"So has it just been about the familiar comfort sex or does he still make your heart beat in time to Jimmy Eat World songs?"

Rory groans at Paris' relentless inquisition and begins to rub her temples. Those last couple of drinks had been her undoing and she was in desperate need of coffee.

"Oh, of course, why do I even need to ask?" Paris nods knowingly. "So what's been holding you back? Because I imagine that he still has the heart eye emojis for you too."

Rory raises her head but avoids the gaze of her two friends.

"My career has been stalling lately, longer than just lately, actually … and I really need to prioritise that."

"I'm not disagreeing with you but I still don't understand why you can't focus on working and be with Logan. He doesn't seem like the type to want to hold you back. He's sort of a journalist too right?" Lane speaks up.

"I'm not supposed to be just a journalist, I'm supposed to be a great journalist. I was supposed to utilise all my opportunities and get a great job. And then … it would have been worth it."

"Worth what?"

"Worth everything I gave up … when I turned him down."

"Why can't you just tell him that? You seem to tell him everything else."

"What am I supposed to say to him? 'Yeah, sorry I turned down your proposal so that I could write a lot of puff pieces and blow my shot at Condé Nast'."

"You've done so much more than that. Don't sell yourself short." Paris reassures.

"Maybe. The writing and travelling has been unimaginable at times. And I don't regret the choices I've made, well most of them. But I didn't do all of this for an average career and it's not been worth not being with him … God, I am such a bad feminist." She shakes her head as she berates herself.

"Well get in line – because I do have an incredible career … but I still want Doyle. It's not that I need him, because I don't. But I miss him, he doesn't complete me or any of that Hallmark crap, but he makes my life …"

"Richer." Rory provides.

"Yeah." Paris nods. "So if you think that that makes me un-feminist somehow then that's your prerogative but last time I checked, feminism means being able to make the same choices as men. No one ever tells them that they can't have work and a relationship."

"You should talk to Doyle." Rory says. "You deserve to be happy."

"You ready to take that advice yourself?"

"So you think I should be with Logan?"

"If that's what you want. Mostly, I think you should see if you still feel the same way once the alcohol wears off. That is, if you even remember any of this conversation tomorrow."

The sun streams in through the open drapes and Rory immediately begins to experience flashing behind her closed eyes. She has to move, to get out of the bright light but she knows that the second she does, the nausea in the pit of her stomach is going to get a whole lot more physical.

The previous night starts to relay in her mind – the party; her mother's excitement; the bachelorette themed buffet; the drinking games.

Oh … the drinking.

Something's gotta give, she rolls over to escape the glare through the window and the sweet relief lasts approximately 10 seconds. Then she's up and out of bed and running to the bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach. And she doesn't leave the room for 3 hours.

Lorelai offers Rory coffee and a side of mockery when she stumbles into the kitchen and it's when she can't even stand the smell of her beloved drink, that she really knows how badly she's abused her liver.

It's mid-morning the following day when she thinks she's finally safe and indulges in a greasy plate of bacon and eggs.

Nope, not safe yet. Rory and the bathroom floor become reacquainted again.

Dear lord, this is the hangover to end all hangovers.

She heads back to Hartford the next day to pick up some things, and to try to get some writing done before she's got to be back in Stars Hollow to help with wedding preparations.

She's looking through old photographs that still need to be boxed up when she begins to feel nauseous again; and the vaguest possibility of this being more than the result of 5 hours of binge drinking hits her.

No.

No.

No.

This is not what's happening.

There is no chance of this.

Granted, a quick bit of period math adds fuel to the theory but she hasn't been completely regular in years, the frequent cross-continental travel has made sure of that, and her implant has yet to fail her. It's a 99% safe method right? That's why she hasn't always felt the need to back it up with condoms (with Logan at least).

Sure, she's due a new one sometime soon but she gets reminders from her gynaecologist so she can't have missed an appointment. She definitely told them about her address change. And her different cell numbers … right?

But as she's lying wide awake that night, still not feeling quite normal, she heads to an all night convenience store.

After utilising a twin pack of at-home pregnancy tests and not allowing herself to believe the outcome of them, she sits in an almost catatonic state for she doesn't know how long on the one remaining armchair in her grandfather's study.

She starts to daydream about more trivial matters – replacing her watch battery; whether to have pancakes or eggs for breakfast; being fitted for her bridesmaid dress. She fixates on the last idea, imagining walking down the aisle, the delicate layers of silk and tulle stretching as her belly expands beneath the ivory gown, until she's left exposed as heavily pregnant in front of the entire wedding party.

The semi-conscious nightmare snaps her out of her trance.

The image of two definitive lines (x2, four definitive lines) flash behind her eyes and all the very real outcomes of what they represent flood her consciousness.

She can't decide whether this happening now, but never before in all the years they've been having sex is some cruel, unfathomable joke; or that conceiving a baby the night they said goodbye (for good this time) is the universe giving them a sign – that it's not over, that it will never be over.

Either way, the universe can be a bitch.

She, Rory Gilmore, is pregnant.

She's going to have Logan's baby.

She briefly considers that she doesn't have to have Logan's baby, this is 2016 after all and the choice is ultimately hers. No one would even have to know if she didn't want them to.

But … she knows, even now, only a matter of minutes after the fact that there's no way this doesn't end with her having Logan's baby.

Her phone is in her hand before she even realises what she's doing.

She needs to hear his voice, needs to vent, needs to talk things through. She's ready to dial … and she has to stop herself.

She wants to talk to him (or more accurately, talk at him), like she always does. He'll be her listening ear, he'll help her, soothe her worries.

Except, she can't do that this time. As what she wants to tell him will irrevocably change his life too and she's not sure how she can do that. Not after everything that's happened. Everything that hasn't happened.

Everything she hasn't told him. Everything she hasn't let him tell her. She knows that he's wanted more from her and she's given him nothing. Maybe not nothing, but not enough.

So instead she calls Lane and rambles at her for a solid 2 minutes about how she just needs her to come meet her now and not ask any questions and not tell anyone that she's coming.

It occurs to her after she hangs up, that Lane has a family, and a job (actually, more than one) and she shouldn't be calling her before sunrise. She also shouldn't have been descending on her home as frequently and unexpectedly as she has been this past year.

What planet has she been living on lately?!

Focus on one existential crisis at a time.

Does impending motherhood take precedence over her recent self-centred decision-making?

Of course it does Rory, she chastises herself, it supersedes everything.

When the doorbell goes 40 minutes later, she flings open the door of her grandparents' house and doesn't even let Lane across the threshold before she breaks down in tears.

"I'm not hung-over. I'm pregnant."