"So what did she say then?" Lorelai asked her daughter, tucking the cell phone under her ear as she juggled her purse and her keys while opening the front door.
"Well, she said that they should be grateful she was there at all, and it wasn't her fault that their filing system harkens back to a time when the printed word was the newest innovation." Rory tried to have a daily Paris anecdote ready to relay to her mother. She pretended not to know that Lorelai called her as she headed home each day so that she wouldn't have to enter the still, lifeless house on her own.
For her part, Lorelai pretended to not even realize what time of day she was calling Rory. "Did she really use the word 'harken?'" she asked eagerly.
"It's Paris. What do you think?"
"Sorry. Forgot who we were talking about," Lorelai giggled. She flung her purse down on the table in the entryway and stepped out of her shoes as she headed for the couch in the living room. She lowered her weary body down thankfully, trying not to groan so loudly that Rory would hear.
Rory heard it anyway. "You OK there, Grandma?" she teased.
"Watch it," Lorelai warned her. She sighed as her body relaxed into a more horizontal position. "I'm just so tired. I can't ever remember being this tired. Davey brought home a flu bug and promptly passed it on to Martha, who in turn infected her father, who of course gave it to Sookie, who so kindly came to work the first day she felt crummy and stood next to Michel, and so then of course Michel had to catch it, too. So for the past two weeks I've been running around like crazy, trying to fill in everywhere, and I'm exhausted. Plus I feel like crap myself. I think I'm coming down with it, too."
"Poor mommy," Rory sympathized.
"That's better." She tried to get more comfortable, angling herself further down on the couch, while pushing her free hand down inside the waistband of her slacks. On top of everything she was retaining water and crankily waiting for her period to start. She could barely get the button on these pants fastened that morning.
"Are Sookie and Michel back now?"
"Yeah." Lorelai decided the hell with it and popped open the button on her waistband.
"Well, maybe you could take some time off then," Rory suggested. "Oh, I know! Come visit me!"
"I'd love to, Kid, but if I'm getting sick that wouldn't be smart," Lorelai said reluctantly.
Paris had found unpaid internships for herself and Rory at a small college library close to Philadelphia. A benefactor had recently bequeathed the college a huge amount of Civil War era correspondence and the girls were helping to catalog and digitize it, although Rory said they were more like go-fers for the experts overseeing the operation. Rory, of course, found it all to be fascinating, while Paris griped and tried to bully them into doing it her way.
"Come when you feel better, then," Rory urged.
"Sure," Lorelai agreed, not really giving it any thought. In the few weeks since Paul Anka's death, she'd found that living solely in the present was the best way to cope. She didn't worry about the future; she didn't agonize over the past; she concentrated wholly on what she was doing at that moment and that moment only. She lived with blinders on, doing her best to ignore anything that would remind her of Luke and the life they should be living.
"So…Mom," Rory ventured, obviously wanting to say something, but nervous.
"Hmm?" Lorelai asked as she shifted further down on the couch. She laid her head on the padded arm and closed her eyes. It would be so easy to fall asleep right here, she thought.
"I don't know if I should mention this or not."
"What?"
"It's about Dad." Rory paused. "And I know the face you're making right now, whether I can see you or not." With a sigh Rory continued. "He's taking G.G. to France for a while, so she can be with Sherry. He wanted me to know."
"My, how responsible of him," Lorelai sniped.
"He's planning on staying there, maybe for six months. He said he'd pay for me to fly over for a visit, if I wanted."
"You should go," Lorelai said grudgingly. "You could see Logan that way, too. Spend some time in London."
"I'll have to see if I have the time before school starts." Rory paused, waiting to see if her mother was going to add anything. When it became apparent she wasn't, Rory breathed deeply and plunged ahead. "So I guess the two of you had a rough conversation?"
"It wasn't rough. It was direct. It was succinct. It was necessary. I'd tried being nice but he refused to give up on his version of how the world should be. So I put it in terms he'd understand. That stupid night killed our friendship. It killed everything. Now it makes me sick to hear his voice, because all I can think of is the colossal mistake I made. And I know it's not all his fault, Rory," she rushed on. "I know it's my fault because I went to him that night. It's my fault that I thought he'd act like my friend. I should have known better. God, I"m an idiot. I mean, I should have known."
"I wasn't trying to upset you, Mom," Rory broke into Lorelai's self-reproach. "I just thought you might like to know he heard you. He's leaving. You don't have to worry about him being around."
At that moment Lorelai's stomach did that weird twisting thing that made her feel like throwing up. She sat up, pressing a hand to her midsection as she leaned her head back, taking a deep breath against the nausea. She tried to concentrate on talking to Rory, ignoring the rebellion brewing in her tummy.
"You know I don't want you to cut him out of your life, right?" As always, she did her best to play the impartial mother to Rory. "But I just can't stand to talk about him right now," she still felt the need to mutter.
"I'm not real happy with him either, you know," Rory said loyally. "He should have helped you that night. For once, he should have forgotten his own agenda."
Lorelai gulped down a breath of air and held it for a minute as her stomach once again threatened upheaval. "Hey, Rory, I'm really not feeling good here, Kid. I think I need to go." She rubbed her head tiredly.
"Go take some aspirin and lie down," Rory urged. "Call me tomorrow?"
"I'll try to fit you in my busy social calendar. Tell Paris hi, and don't let her near the laminating machine!" She tried to make her voice lighthearted, the way it used to sound, in spite of her physical ickiness.
After ending the call, Lorelai laid down on the couch, stretching out. She covered her eyes with her arm.
So tired, she thought. It was like weariness was oozing up out of the ground and sinking into her feet, traveling up her legs and anchoring her to a great pit of despair that sucked every bit of energy out of her. The weariness was bad enough, but combined with the yucky pre-flu symptoms and the normal PMS crap she couldn't believe how bad she felt. All she wanted was for the flu to start in earnest and for her period to start so she could tackle them and get over them, and go back to just being heartbroken.
How sad is it, she wondered, that I'm actually looking forward to…
Suddenly she was standing, her heart racing, in the midst of a full-blown panic attack.
"No," she said, voicing the word out loud with grim determination. "That's not possible. That's not possible!"
She sprinted to the foyer, grabbing her purse and dumping everything in it to the floor, crashing to her knees to paw through the contents. She found the little Day-Timer she was never without and frantically tore through the pages until she found the little mark above the date she was looking for. Then she counted. She counted again, and again, and again. And every time she ended on a date ten days prior to today.
"This isn't funny," she threatened the universe. "Oh, God, this can't be happening," she then whispered in despair.
Taking a deep, calming breath, she counted halfway, and her shaking finger hovered over June the third.
Her breathing stopped and she stared at the date for a moment. She nearly laughed, because, seriously, who wouldn't laugh at the being the butt of such a huge, cosmic joke? But she gained control, swept everything back into her bag, slid back into her shoes, grabbed her phone and was out the door before despair and self-pity could bog her down.
I could live here, Lorelai thought, looking around the pristine stall in the ladies' room at the new Burger King in Woodbury. The color scheme was soothing, all grays and aquas, and it was so new that nothing obscene had yet to be scratched into the stall door. She'd be able to get plenty to eat, and Rory'd come visit, right? And you heard all the time about these women who gave birth in some public restroom or other, who claimed they didn't even know they were pregnant. See? It was fine. She had a plan.
Lorelai looked down again at the plastic indicator she was clutching. If possible, the plus sign had appeared even faster than the first test she'd taken across town at McDonald's.
Fear crashed down on her without warning and she leaned her forehead against the door, breathing hard.
My God, she thought. I'm a soap opera. I belong on Jerry Springer.
She shoved the stick into her jacket pocket and opened the door, stumbling on shaky legs over to the sink.
A woman a head shorter than Lorelai and probably a decade older came to wash her hands at the sink next to her. The woman's salt-and-pepper hair softly curled around her kind face. She looked exactly like the motherly type of person you'd hope your child would go to if they got lost. The maternal instinct was practically radiating out from her.
Lorelai bit back some wild giggles as she imagined herself turning to this sweet woman and filling her in on the insane twists her life had suddenly developed.
She glanced down at the woman beside her again. She'd probably always been the room mother, Lorelai decided. She'd always baked the cookies for parties, always made the Halloween costumes, always gone on the field trips.
A wild snort of laughter did escape her this time as she realized she'd just described herself as well. Maybe she hadn't actually baked the cookies on her own, but still, she'd made sure there were cookies.
The woman cast her a nervous smile and took half a step away.
"I'm not crazy," Lorelai reassured her, as more crazy laughter erupted from her throat, somewhat negating her reassurance. "I'm may be pregnant, but I'm not crazy!"
At that, the woman gave her a much friendlier smile. "Oh, yes, I remember those days. All pregnant women are a little insane, I think. Here you are, with another person growing inside you, and you're just supposed to go on like normal?" She shook her head, grinning at Lorelai in the mirror. "Who comes up with this stuff?"
Lorelai wished desperately that just once her own mother had looked at her with such kind, non-judgmental eyes.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," she blurted out, unable to stop her impulse to tell this poor woman everything. "A couple of months ago this would have been the most amazing thing. But then my fiance' decided he didn't really want me, and I was hurting so bad, I mean, I was out of my mind, and I did something so hurtful, so self-destructive, and then my dog died, and he came over, and…" Here Lorelai made a quick motion towards her middle, summing up the situation. "But it wasn't supposed to be like this! I'm old enough to know better now. I have a daughter who's going to graduate from Yale in a year, for crying out loud! It wasn't supposed to happen like this again!"
The woman blinked a few times, taking it all in, but didn't go running for the door. Instead she looked appraisingly at Lorelai.
"You have a daughter at Yale?" she asked.
"Yes. Rory," Lorelai replied, her pride flowing out around her daughter's name the way it always did.
"Either you had her really young or you have really good genes," her restroom companion speculated.
"Sixteen," Lorelai stated, because she'd never sugarcoated that fact.
"That must have been hard," the woman said, still with no hint of judgment.
"It was and it wasn't," Lorelai shrugged. "But the hard part was all worth it. She's the best thing that ever happened to me."
The woman smiled at Lorelai wholeheartedly, her eyes lighting up and her hand involuntarily tugging at a locket at her throat. "You really love your daughter," she observed.
"So much," Lorelai sighed out shakily.
"And this baby, the one that's coming," she said, motioning towards Lorelai's middle. "Will you love it just as much?"
Until that second, Lorelai had been so focused on the drama of the situation that the fact that there was actually going to be a baby had escaped her. Her baby. Luke's baby.
Her hands instantly spread protectively over her stomach. "Oh, yes," she said tenderly. "Yes, this baby will be very much loved."
"Well, then," the woman shrugged. "That's all that matters, isn't it? I mean, everything else is just the details."
Lorelai nodded slowly, feeling the tension inside of her start to loosen.
The woman rubbed some gloss on her lips before heading to the door. "Oh, by the way," she called back, smiling. "Congratulations!"
"Thanks!" Lorelai called, watching the door swing shut.
Suddenly all she could think about was getting to Luke.
In the midst of months of crappy days, today had been the crappiest. Not one thing had gone right since Luke had climbed out of bed that morning. First, Kirk had dumped his never-changing bowl of oatmeal on the floor and it had taken Luke forever to get the disgusting gray splatters cleaned up. Every time he thought he was done he found another pocket of oatmeal resistance. Then Taylor had come in harping about changing the parking laws for the main street outside of the diner, which would allow cars to park on one side one week...blah, blah, blah. Typical Taylor. Take something easy and make it impossible for anyone to follow, then fine 'em if they didn't comply. Later in the day the health inspector had dropped by, and of course, today was the day that Caesar had to leave a bowl of experimental salsa out on the counter, uncovered, and they'd gotten written up for it. To top the day off, Luke had found that a bill had dropped out of sight behind his dad's old desk upstairs, so now he owed a penalty to the water company. All he wanted was to finish mopping and head upstairs. Hopefully there was enough beer in his refrigerator to erase the bad taste this day had given him.
A sudden rapping on the door brought his head jerking up. He sighed. Of course, this would be the night Lorelai would finally decide they needed to talk. He hadn't seen her at all for days. Of course. This would be the perfect ending to this crappy day.
He threw down the mop and stomped to the door, determined to tell her to go home. He just wasn't in the mood to rehash their drama tonight.
He glared at her through the glass but the angry words he was ready to let fly stuck in his throat. The phrase 'death warmed over' flew around his head as he twisted open the lock and threw the door open. He put his arm around her automatically, drawing her in. He yanked down a chair with his free arm and pushed her down into it.
"Just sit," he ordered. "I'll grab my keys and drive you to the emergency room. I'll just be a minute."
"No…Luke, wait," she said, wincing, trying to grab his arm to stop him. She wished she would have looked into a mirror first. If she looked as bad as she felt, no wonder Luke was freaking out. She'd left Woodbury buoyed up by the warm thought of the baby, but cold fear and apprehension had overtaken her the closer she got to Stars Hollow. She'd been driving around aimlessly for an extra hour, at least, too scared to drive the last five miles into town and face him. Fear had turned her stomach inside out, and she'd had to stop beside the road at one point to throw up, and she'd then sat in the Jeep for untold minutes, sobbing her heart out. She could only imagine how much mascara was swimming around her eyes and how wild her hair was.
"I'm not sick," she told him, as he turned to look at her.
He scanned her quickly, absorbing her defeated posture, her dull, red-rimmed eyes, her ashen complexion. "Right," he sniffed. "Let's just let the doctor decide that."
"I'm not…I'm not sick," she tried again, making her voice firmer. "I thought I was sick," she added, as he stopped walking to the stairs and turned to concentrate on her. The crazy laughter from back in the restroom bubbled out of her throat again, sounding totally out-of-place in the empty, sad diner. "I thought…I thought I had the flu." She tried hard to choke down the manic giggles before he had her committed. "But I don't," she ended, taking in a huge, shuddering breath.
Suddenly Luke was ten again, and it was the summer when everyone thought his mom had the flu, or a cold she just couldn't shake.
Of course, he thought, feeling the world collapse under him, of course I'll lose her, too.
Then he saw that she was handing something to him that she'd had in her jacket pocket. He reached to take the two Popsicle sticks from her, knowing it was insane that at this moment she wanted to throw away trash that she'd accumulated, but considering that this was Lorelai, it certainly wasn't the craziest thing he'd ever seen her do by a long shot.
"Lorelai, what are you―"
And just like that, he knew. It all clicked in his mind, even without the helpful 'pregnant' printed on the stick.
"Well, that's just great." He laughed harshly, bitterly, and Lorelai bit her lips in pain at the sound. "That's fantastic. You must be thrilled." She'd probably never heard him this angry. He took one last look at the plastic indicators before flinging them back down on the table in front of her.
He turned away, his shoulders heaving as he fought for control. He whipped back around to confront her.
"So, have you told him yet? Is he going to stick around this time and help you raise this one? Or does he figure there's no need, since you've got it all figured out? Man, I've got to hand it to you. You came up with a way to make sure he'd be in your life for another 20 years, didn't you?" He flung the cruel taunts at her as hard as he could, as the devastation from this most recent blow rubbed away whatever defenses he'd been able to use a shield.
Lorelai was reeling from his accusations, shaking from his anger and hurt. This was a mistake, she realized, coming here without planning first. He wasn't going to hear her tonight. She needed to get out of here and let him calm down. She'd try again later. Maybe she should try to write it down in a letter. She still had some Garfield stationary somewhere.
Oh yeah, she thought, because that worked so well before.
She used her arms to raise herself from the table. She slipped one of the sticks back into her pocket, then stepped cautiously to the door, trying not to wobble.
Luke was drinking in huge gulps of air, clenching his fists, striving hard to not lose it completely and start smashing chairs and tables. Part of his brain saw her start for the door, and his traitorous heart still wanted to cry out for her to stop, wait, they'd figure it all out, he'd raise this baby with her, it just didn't matter. But the rest of him, the part of him still smarting from her betrayal needed the last word.
"There's just one thing I don't get, Lorelai," he said with a devastating coldness he didn't even know he could muster. "What in the world made you come here and tell me this?" The pain in his heart overtook the anger and he stood there, panting, waiting for her answer.
She turned, clutching a rung on one of the upturned chairs for support. With great effort she kept her voice even and free from tears. "I know how much you regret everything you missed with April." She had to pause, swallowing hard. "I wanted to make sure that you were here from the very beginning with this baby." She deleted everything else she longed to say and once again stepped towards the door.
Her words swirled around him and at last they penetrated through his pain and fury, but they made no sense to him. It almost sounded like she meant…That she was telling him…
He got his legs to work and rushed to get between her and the door. He knocked her hand away from the doorknob, and looked deep into her glittering, hard blue eyes when she raised her head.
"Wait," he said, feeling like he was out of sync with the scene playing out before him. "Lorelai, I don't understand. What are you saying?"
Her eyes blazed out at him then, and she lifted her chin in defiance. "I'm saying that this baby was conceived on June the third. But you are absolutely right about one thing: I am perfectly capable of raising it on my own."
She forced herself past him then as he just stood there, shocked into stillness. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears so loudly she wasn't sure she could hear him, even if would call for her. Somehow she made it outside and crossed the street. Gratefully she leaned against the Jeep, unsure of how she'd managed to reach it. For a moment she was unable to remember how to open the door and climb inside.
Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe.
She drove home in a daze. She made herself stroll casually to her door in case Babette was watching, but once inside she tore up the steps, landing on her knees in front of the toilet just in time.
Exhausted, she leaned against the cool porcelain until she felt like her shaky legs would hold her up. She leaned over "her" side of the double sink, running water over her hands and splashing her face, taking handfuls of the water to rinse out her mouth. At last she wet a washcloth and pressed it to her face, breathing open-mouthed through the wet terrycloth in an effort to still the nausea still vibrating through her.
Clutching the washcloth, she worked her way into the bedroom, using her other hand to steady herself from the sink to the doorframe, then to the dresser, and finally to the bed. She shuffled out of her shoes and pulled off her jacket, letting it lay where it landed. The draining weariness came over her again and she collapsed onto the bed sideways, too tired to even aim her head at the pillow.
Luke watched her leave the diner, still too paralyzed with shock to even think about going after her. He saw her have trouble getting into the Jeep, and was relieved when she finally drove off safely. He turned away from the door and managed to plop down heavily onto the chair she'd been sitting in just moments before.
He needed time to process this. He needed to understand how the pieces fit together. He sat for uncounted minutes, just letting the words swirl aimlessly through his head as he traced the divots and scratches in the well-worn table with his fingers. Eventually some of the words started to stick.
Pregnant.
Lorelai was pregnant.
His baby.
June third.
He groaned at that. As if he didn't already feel slimy enough about his actions that night, now there would be a perpetual physical reminder. But still…
A baby.
They were going to have a baby.
He suddenly felt his mouth turning upwards in an instinctive smile, and excitement laced with anticipation was curling around his stomach, like a kid waiting for Christmas morning.
You're crazy, he told himself. Crazy if you think this is going to erase what she did.
He continued to sternly lecture himself, but visions of Little League games and a little blue-eyed ballerina alternated in his mind.
He saw that he'd absently picked up the test stick and had been moving it from hand-to-hand. He examined it more closely now.
She'd taken two tests, he realized. Probably because she'd wanted to be sure, but that way there was one for each of them.
I wanted to make sure that you were here from the very beginning with this baby. He heard her voice again, telling him that.
"OK, then," he said out loud, standing up decisively. He slipped the indicator into his shirt pocket as he hurried to the stairs. In no time he was back down again. He went straight out the door, not even sparing a glance at the mop still lying on the floor.
Luke walked to Lorelai's house briskly, only dimly aware of the soft night noises and the cooler temperature surrounding him. He found that once again her door was unlocked. He sighed, locking it firmly behind him. At the stairs he sat long enough to remove his boots.
Upstairs he found her sprawled across the bed, and his heart clenched at seeing her so vulnerable and washed out. Cautiously he eased the washcloth she was clutching out of her hand, and then managed to get his arm under her so that he could gently tug her to lay the right way on the bed. Finally he laid down beside her, gratified beyond measure when she snuggled up against him in her sleep.
By the time Lorelai forced her eyes open in the morning, bright sunshine was pouring into the room. Her eyes went wide as she saw Luke's face next to her own, his eyes already open and waiting on her. Before she could say anything her face paled and she panicked, launching herself out of the bed with an unaware push to Luke's stomach.
"Hey!" he protested, rubbing his stomach, but then he heard her gagging in the bathroom and he understood. He pushed himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed and waited.
Finally she emerged from the bathroom, shaky but minus the ghostly pallor. She'd washed her face and had attempted to tame her hair. She swept a curious glance his way as she cautiously lowered herself to the edge of the bed opposite of him, once again clutching a damp washcloth.
"So…That's morning sickness?" he ventured. Normally Luke would shy away from asking anything like that, but this was Lorelai and he was concerned. And curious. He really did want to share everything about this baby.
"Yep," she answered with a sigh.
Her looked at the washcloth and made the connection. "Were you sick last night when you came home, too?" he asked, his forehead crinkling with worry.
"Yep," she said again, not feeling up to longer answers.
"Is that normal?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"But I thought―You know, morning sickness," he emphasized, confused.
"Well, Luke, unfortunately the baby has no sense of time. Babies are like little Jimmy Buffets. They figure it's morning somewhere."
"Huh," he said, absorbing that information.
Lorelai suddenly snapped her fingers. "I'll need to get saltines."
"Saltines?"
"Yeah, crackers." She smiled softly. "That was the only thing that saved me with Rory. I'd put 'em beside my bed at night, and then in the morning before I'd even open my eyes, I'd reach over," she said, shutting her eyes and pantomiming the motions, "and grab a cracker and eat it. I'd go through half a sleeve until my stomach felt like it would behave, then I'd get out of bed. I'd keep those little packets you get in restaurants tucked in my purse and in my pockets for emergencies." She chuckled. "Mom was so mad at me. The maid was constantly pulling soggy cracker packets out of the wash."
Luke smiled back at her. They shared the camaraderie of the moment until Lorelai looked away, feeling flustered at his presence in their old bedroom, and noticed the bright daylight.
"What time is it?"
"Don't know." Luke glanced at his watch. "Almost 7:30."
"Shouldn't you be at the diner?"
"I slapped up the 'Gone Fishing' sign when I left last night. I called Lane and told her I'd be out of town for a few days, and if she and Zach wanted to set up a schedule with Caesar, that was up to them. You know what's the best thing about that kid? She doesn't ask a lot of unnecessary questions."
"Yeah," Lorelai agreed, absently, "she's great." She was thinking that she shouldn't be surprised that Luke was leaving. That had always been his way of dealing with new developments that threatened to upset his life. She wondered if he'd taken the time to 'go fishing' after learning about April if things would have turned out differently. Would he have let her in if he'd had time to process it first?
"Lorelai?"
"Hmmm? What?" She became aware that she'd missed something.
"I said, I think you should come with me," he repeated nervously.
"Fishing?" she asked, wrinkling her nose.
"No, just go somewhere so we can talk about this. Figure things out. If we stay here and anyone sees us, it'll be front page news. Especially if you keep throwing up," he added.
Lorelai was ashamed at how excited she instantly was at the thought of spending time with him again, even if was just to hammer out some sort of custody arrangement. You're pathetic, she chastised herself.
"You really think that's a good idea?" she hedged.
Luke nodded. "Just getting out of town would be good. How long's it been since you've had a day off?" he challenged.
"Uh…" Lorelai thought back and spoke without thinking. "Um, Valentine's Day, I guess."
Luke shot her a hurt look, and she made a motion with her hands that meant, 'forget I said that.'
He sighed, shrugging as if it didn't matter. "Well, call Sookie and tell her you need a few days off."
She rubbed at the back of her neck as she considered. "I am really tired," she conceded. "OK."
"Tell her you'll be back by Monday."
Lorelai's eyebrows rose. "That long?"
Luke shrugged. "Might as well make it worth our while. Can you be ready to go by 10:30?"
Lorelai looked blankly around the room. "Uh, sure, I guess."
"Meet me at Liz and T.J.'s," Luke said as he stood up. "They're on the renaissance circuit again, so I thought I'd stash my truck in their garage. And they're on the other side of town, so less chance of the gossips seeing us leave."
"Sounds like quite the plan," Lorelai commented, just a little suspiciously.
"Well, I've been awake for a while," he admitted.
Lorelai followed Luke as he left the room. She leaned against the bedroom door, watching him go down the stairs. Halfway down he stopped, looking back up at her.
"Listen, Lorelai," he started, sounding uncertain. "I love you," he said in a rush. "That hasn't changed, you know?"
She gave a slight jerk of her head, acknowledging she'd heard him, not that she believed him.
"I want to take care of you, and the baby," he continued. "But I'm still hurt. I'm still angry. I don't know when I'll really be able to trust you again."
Lorelai nodded in complete agreement. "I still love you, Luke. That never stopped, not even for a second, although I can imagine that's hard for you to believe. But I'm still angry with you, too, and I'm still hurt. And the trust thing is really going to take a while to come back for me."
Luke's mouth dropped open in shock, but before he could challenge her, her face went gray again and she ran for the bathroom.
Shaking his head at her crazy words, he continued on down the stairs, knowing that they'd definitely have to have a discussion about them later.
"She doesn't trust me," he scoffed, making sure to lock the door securely behind him as he left. "Yeah, right. I'm the one who can't be trusted."