Xix

"I still don't see why Lorelai had to arrange her honeymoon to arrive home on a Saturday," Emily said. She had been saying it on a loop every time Rory had spoken to her since the wedding, but this particular Friday night, one day before Lorelai returned, she seemed to have become stuck on repeat.

Rory chose to say nothing, mirroring her grandfather in taking another bite of her Waldorf salad. It was always best not to provoke her grandmother when she was in this type of mood.

"It is only one day, and we only see the pair of you once a week. We won't see you next week because you have that interview in New York, and then we have that party with Luke's family, although we will probably only get to see the pair of you for a few minutes before everyone arrives…"

"With who?" Rory asked, regretting it immediately.

"Luke's family, the Renaissance people," Emily sniffed. "We arranged it all at the wedding reception, before I had spoken to them properly. Now I'm not sure if I want them in the house."

"They're nice enough people," Rory argued. "Plus, Luke will be with them."

"Well," Emily sniffed again. "At least I was able to put my foot down about them bringing that terrible hooligan. I won't have him sitting across from me at this table one more time, I'll tell you that!"

"I don't know," Richard spoke up, surprising them both. "I liked him well enough. Although, he needs to work on his symbolism."

Rory dropped her fork to her plate in shock. Thankfully she caught it just in time, before her grandmother, horrified, had realised what she had done.

"You read his book?" Emily asked her husband. Her tone indicated that simply touching the book could cause one to catch a highly infectious disease. "Why?"

"Luke lent it to me, and I confess I rather liked it. It was a bit too….experimental for my taste, I must admit, but there was something about it. I'd like to discuss it further with him, as a matter of fact."

"He won't discuss the book," Rory said glumly. "He's opposed to the concept. Likes the book to speak for itself. What's for dessert?"

"That is a shame. Understandable, in a sense. Clearly he never majored in English Literature, where they teach students to pick apart every word and symbolic motif!" He chuckled to himself, and Emily took the opportunity to regain some ground.

"He didn't major in anything, Richard. He never even finished high school, if I remember correctly. Isn't that right, Rory?"

"I don't want to talk about Jess," Rory mumbled, and Emily beamed in victory.

xx

Babette had been in charge of the flowers, and there was no denying that she had done an excellent job. The church looked fresh and beautiful, and they felt as if they had been transported to another world, one filled with love and light and happiness. Liz was delighted, and TJ pronounced it cool in a fruity kind of a way. Jess said nothing, unsurprisingly, but also didn't complain incessantly, and with a son like Jess, that was the best you could hope for sometimes.

Jess at that moment was digging his finger into the side of his neck, pulling his shirt collar away, and giving his trachea room to breathe.

"Stop that," Liz admonished him, dragging his hand away. "It took me ages to starch that collar."

Jess merely grunted in response.

"Why are you so antsy?" TJ asked him. "You're not the one getting hitched here. It's a two minute job!"

"I need a smoke," Jess said, and went outside. He wasn't actually going to smoke, having made a concerted effort to quit in the last few years, but he relished the chance for some fresh air. When he returned five minutes later, hoping the break had given him the patience to deal with Liz and TJ for another while, they were still not ready to start the ceremony.

"You missed Rory, she was just here," Liz said, innocently. She dug her elbow suddenly and quite painfully into Jess' ribcage. "She looked good, didn't she, TJ?"

"Sure," TJ agreed, a little haltingly. He was a little cautious of being too complimentary of any woman, but he also was not going to get into trouble for insulting one either. "Classy broad."

"That's the word!" Liz clicked her fingers happily, as if she had solved a particularly taxing riddle. "She's classy. Graceful."

"You'd know they come from money," TJ said. "Not like us New Yorkers, eh Jess?" He wrapped an arm around Jess' tense shoulders, but Jess quickly shrugged him off and hastened to the top of the church, where Luke appeared to be getting increasingly nervous.

"Way to prove me wrong, kid," TJ said under his breath. "Miss Manners he ain't."

Jess had rushed to Luke at the right moment – he was beginning to panic. "She's not coming," he told Jess as he appeared at his side. His expression and tone were flat and utterly sincere. "She has me standing up here like an idiot in this suit and all of these people, and she's halfway to Bermuda by now."

"First," Jess said, holding up a finger, "she has us both here in these idiotic suits. Second, she is here. She's in the little room in the back, doing whatever women do."

"She'll sneak out the window," Luke said. He was very red in the face, and close to a signature Luke Danes attack. He was really only a few minutes away from pointing and shouting.

Jess knew the signs, and he tried to subtly move Luke so that he did not make eye contact with Taylor, or any other townie who would incite immediate rage. Once upon a time he would have been pulling them over, for the laugh, but he had matured now. At the very least he had decided he only wanted an easy life. Little rebellions took so much effort (He did not know that a young Luke had once made a similar decision, and had for many years now had been seeking a simple and undramatic life. He did not know that he was going down a path that may well one day lead to flannel shirts and sports memorabilia and an aversion to cell phones and shouting at innocent patrons. One can only hope for divine intervention).

"Shut up," Jess said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Everything is fine."

"They're taking so long!"

"Listen," Jess said, and then inspiration stuck him. "You are closing yourself off to love, right now. You need to keep the communication channels open, and not isolate yourself from the emotional opportunities of the situation."

Luke closed his eyes briefly.

"I have a friend," Jess continued, "Judy. Judy was afraid of committing herself to the moment, and ended up never getting the benefit of living in the present."

"Judy was supposed to be my friend," Luke mumbled.

"Fine, Betty. Whatever. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"

"You're speaking in therapist talk to remind me to enjoy the day?"

"Nope."

"You're trying to recreate the only successful conversations we've ever had?"

Jess shook his head.

"You're trying to freak me out by acting emotional?"

"No," Jess grinned, and stepped to the left. Behind him was Lorelai, at the other end of the aisle, preparing to walk. "I was mostly just trying to distract you."

He slapped Luke on the back familiarly and moved to his designated spot just as the music started up.

"Son of a bitch," Luke said, but that was mostly directly at Lorelai, who looked excellent.

xxi

Luke squeezed Lorelai's hand. "You okay?" he whispered conspiratorially to her.

Lorelai smiled at him. "Pretty good, yeah. You?"

"Had worse days," he shrugged. That made her smile brighter.

"Just a few stragglers left, I think," she pointed out.

"Thank God, I need a drink. I sent Jess to get me a beer two hours ago."

"It was no more than twenty minutes ago, you big drama queen. And he has probably made it to Hartford at least by now with a trunk full of my champagne."

"Luke! Lorelai! I'm so happy for you guys! I'm sure you guys can't wait to get on the road for your honeymoon. And of course the wedding night, if you know what I'm saying."

"Babette, there is no-one in this Inn who does not know what you are saying. Next!"

"Luke!" Lorelai admonished. "Babette just gave us a lovely card and a nice chunk of cash, so be a little nicer."

"I have been nice. I've been nice for hours and hours. Who's next in this never-ending queue? Oh, it's you. What's this, a picture of my own diner?"

"It's to hang on your wall, in case you miss the old place."

"Why? I'm not retiring, I-" he caught sight of Lorelai's expression and sighed. "Thanks, Kirk. Hey, Liz! How are ya?"

"Good, big bro. How are you more importantly? You did good up there. I was very proud. And Lorelai, you look stunning! I don't know how you do it, I really don't."

"Thanks," Lorelai blushed prettily. "The dress is doing most of the work though."

"Now I know that isn't true. You look like a queen, darling."

"Thanks, Patty."

"Here. Thirty-five dollar discount on pre-revolutionary war furniture."

"Very kind of you, Mrs. Kim."

"Do they have any pre-revolutionary furniture at her shop? Did they have furniture pre the revolution?"

"That's a stupid question, Lorelai. They were able to build a boat to get here, weren't they? I think they could construct a chair."

"Good point. I think this champagne is going to my head. One place it definitely is not going to is my feet, which are only getting more painful."

"Good, then we can sit down. OKAY, ALL OF YOU LISTEN UP. WE'RE DONE, WE'RE HUNGRY, AND WE'RE STOPPING NOW. Don't make that noise. We're not going to disappear off the face of the earth after today. C'mon!"

"My big, strong husband, shouting down all our admirers. This must be what it's like to be Brad and Angelina!"

Luke grunted in response and steered her towards the entrance to the Inn, where Rory was sitting on the steps.

"Nice day," she commented, leaning back to catch as many of the sun's rays as possible. "I hear there's a wedding on."

"Not a wedding," Luke complained. "A circus freak convention. We need to find a place to sit down. A quiet place," he emphasised.

Rory seemed to understand. "Well, everywhere seems pretty busy, though most people are outside because of the good weather. Why don't you just go up to your suite?"

"Are we allowed go there this early?" Lorelai asked.

"Lorelai, it's your Inn," Luke pointed out. "We can go anywhere we damn please. Let's go take a nap."

"I'll run decoy," Rory offered.

"I knew there was a reason we let you come today." Lorelai patted her daughter on the cheek as she passed her, and Rory smiled.

"I thought I was here to model the Lorelai Gilmore fashion collection for Spring/Summer?"

"That too, and don't forget it."

Rory and April's dresses had turned out very pretty, bright and flowy without being too traditionally big or tacky. No bows or taffeta in sight, to the girls' relief. The fuchsia colour was very pretty as well. It gave both girls a nice flush to the cheeks. Their hair and make-up was similarly modern, with loose glossy curls and soft lipstick.

"I see Bootsy cutting a path towards you," Rory pointed out, not overly fussed.

"Crap," Luke complained and grabbed Lorelai's hand. "We'll be back in an hour, tops."

"Have fun," Rory waved them off. If she had been someone else (her mother, Jess, Miss Patty, TJ) she would have made a dirty joke, but she wasn't. She sat back again, relishing the heat of the sun on her skin. She did not open them again for several minutes, until she felt a chill when a shadow fell over her, blocking the sun. She cracked open an eye, to see Lane with a struggling toddler in her arms.

"I'd give him to you, but he'll only ruin your pretty dress."

"It's not the most practical material," Rory agreed, smoothing down the creases in her silky gown. "Have a seat," she started to say, but Lane had already sat down beside her.

"So…" she said finally. "Who would have thought we would get here some day?"

"They're finally married," Rory sighed, and they both laughed.

"I was remembering we once tried to set them up, when we were about nine, do you remember?"

"Was this when we decided that I wanted Luke to live with us so that I could have waffles whenever I wanted?"

"I think so. After Lorelai tried to master breakfast food, and failed miserably."

"That was a disaster," Rory remembered. "As were our Parent Trap-style interferences. We might have set them back years."

"What didn't set them back?" Lane countered, good-naturedly. "I'm just glad they're happy now. He's a lot more pleasant to work with. And what about you? Tell me about this guy in Boston?"

"Oh, that kind of fizzled out," Rory said, picking at a stray thread on her dress. "He was kind of a dud."

"Bummer. In what way was he a dud?"

"My grandparents would have loved him…"

"I see."

"I hadn't gotten to the point yet!"

"Okay, sorry," Lane said. "Go on."

"Well, he was rich and privileged, I guess like Logan. But he was too…lazy, I suppose. He had even less ambition than Logan, and expected everything to fall in his lap. Plus he was rude to the waiter."

"I hate him," Lane the waitress proclaimed. "Glad you kicked him to the curb."

"Me too," Rory agreed.

"Any other boys?"

"No," Rory sighed.

Steve grabbed a lock of her hair and pulled it painfully. She tried to extricate him politely.

"I don't know if you know, but Jess is back in town." Lane was grinning, knowing full well he had been staying at her house for several days.

"I'm aware."

"We had a long chat about Neil Young. He seems…more pleasant these days. Like he's more comfortable in himself, or something. Do you know what I mean?"

"I do," Rory agreed. She declined to elaborate further, to Lane's obvious irritation.

"Well?"

"What?"

"Don't act so clueless, Gilmore. Your ex-boyfriend is in town, all mature and cool-headed, and sleeping on your couch. You must have some strong feelings about that."

"I have very strong feelings," Rory agreed. "I just don't quite know what they are. It's all very confusing."

"Confused counts as a feeling," Lane pointed out. "I'll accept it as an answer for now."

Rory gave Steve her keys to play with. He responded by putting her keychain in his mouth.

"Why did you argue about Neil Young?"

"It wasn't an argument," Lane huffed. "Much. It was more about his stock. Like how all of those legends from the '60s and '70s are still producing better music than the majority of popular music today."

"Examples, please," Rory said, tickling Steve's chin to get him to laugh and release her keys.

"Oh, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, even Dolly Parton."

"I don't think that's an indictment on today's popular culture," Rory reasoned. "They were all legends in their own time, too."

Lane nodded, shifting Steve slightly, causing him to drop the keys. Rory snatched them up quickly.

"That's what I said."

"When did you even get the chance to talk about this? We've been so busy with wedding planning."

"He writes in Luke's old apartment in the mornings. I drop up there every few hours and refill his coffee."

"I didn't even realise," Rory frowned.

"He's pretty intense about it. He let me have a look at some of his new stuff a few days ago, though. Looks pretty cool."

"He did?" A bust of jealousy shot through Rory. It made her feel disgusted at herself.

"He was a bit stuck, wanted a second opinion," Lane shrugged, as it was nothing. "I gave him a few impressions, he said it was helpful. Maybe he'll put my name in the acknowledgements!" She brightened up only to become worried. "Zack wouldn't like me being someone else's muse. He probably wouldn't put me in the acknowledgements anyway, I'm sure writers get loads of people to look over their work, right? Rory?"

"Right," Rory said distantly, staring into the middle distance.

Lane frowned, unsure what she said to upset Rory. "Do you want a drink? My mother will take the kids soon, so I'm free for the night."

"Sure," Rory answered, still deep in thought.

"Right," Lane said, awkwardly. "I'll get us some wine then."

She stood up and pulled Steve to her hip. "Lots of wine," Lane muttered to herself.

Xxii

"Rory? What are you doing here?" Paris' tone would sound harsh to someone who didn't know her, but Rory knew that Paris was not upset. She was leaning against the door frame, only her face peeking out the door. Rory had heard at least five locks being turned before the door had opened at all.

"Nice to see you too, Paris. I'm here to visit you!"

"It's customary to call first."

"I brought Chinese food."

Paris regarded her carefully, then shut the door. Rory heard the chain lock being unfastened, and finally Paris opened the door fully and ushered her in.

"I haven't seen you in nearly a year," Paris said. If it were Lane, they would have hugged, but that wasn't Paris' way.

"We talk all the time," Rory pointed out, making herself comfortable and opening the takeout boxes.

"I could have been working," Paris pointed out. "How did you know I would be home?"

"I took a chance."

"If I wasn't here, you would have had a table of Chinese food to go to waste."

"It wouldn't be the most I've ever eaten in one day," Rory said innocently. "How's Doyle?"

"Fine," Paris sighed, her arms still crossed. "He's not happy about the hours I'm working, but that's what interns have to do. I'll never be a good doctor if I only work 9-5."

"I'm sure he's just adjusting. What should we watch?"

Paris narrowed her eyes at Rory, taking in her wide eyes, bright smile, and awkward fidgeting.

"BBC America has Blackadder repeats all day," Paris relented, sitting down beside Rory finally. "Is that lemon chicken?"

Rory grinned and passed her the food and the remote.

A few hours later, they hadn't moved far. They had talked about the wedding, and Rory's career prospects, and Paris' Attending, who she hated.

Paris wasn't stupid though, and she knew Rory as well as Rory knew her, after so many years together.

"Well, Gilmore, spit it out," Paris said finally, and quite unexpectedly.

"My malomar?" Rory asked, mouth full.

"That's disgusting. I meant that I know you're hiding something. You're all blinky."

"No, I'm not."

"Seven blinks in one sentence, that's gotta be a record."

"Oh, fine," Rory relented, and set aside her candy. "I did something stupid."

"Did you steal another boat?"

"No!" she sighed. "I slept with Jess."

"Jess? Your ex-boyfriend? That Jess?"

"Yes, that Jess!" Rory rolled her eyes. "At the wedding."

"Are you back together?"

"No. I realised how stupid it was and tried to leave but he caught me sneaking out. He's hardly said a word to me since."

"So it's like Philadelphia all over again," Paris surmised, and Rory squirmed in her seat. "I only have one question: why did you do it?"

"Because…I don't know really!" Rory burst out. "Because he was there, and he was grown up and mature but still Jess, and he had a suit on and we were laughing and…"

"Rory, why did you do it?"

"I wanted to."

"There we go," Paris said, sitting back happily. "Now we're getting to it. You wanted to, so you did. It's not a crime."

"I hurt him," Rory sighed. "And I think I hurt myself too. He's gone back to Philadelphia and I don't know what to do."

"Do what you want to do," Paris shrugged. "Do you want to get back together?"

"I keep going back to my ex-boyfriends," Rory cried. "I can't keep being that girl."

"Oh, forget about them. Forget about everyone. Do you want to be with Jess?"

"I don't know. I really don't. Maybe." She sighed heavily, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I don't know if we will ever be able to get over everything that has happened between us."

"That's not something I can help you with," Paris told her. "That's between the two of you. But you know what I say: if you want something, go and get it."

"Thanks, Paris," Rory sniffled, drying her face with her sleeve. "I haven't told anyone yet, even my Mom. I needed someone non-judgemental and non-biased."

"I might be a little biased," Paris admitted. "He was the only one of your boyfriends I could stand to have a conversation with for more than a few minutes. Even if his book was hyperbolic beatnik idealism. Plus you're not seeing anyone better at the moment, and he beats that fool Doyle set you up with hands down."

"Can I stay?" Rory asked, still a little tearstained. "I was planning to drive home tonight but…"

"Okay, but I'm working at 5 so you'll be on the road early."