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Rory's relationship with Paul had ended on a day much like those of this summer. It was sticky and sultry and they were both badtempered though, if Rory was being honest with herself, it had accumulated for months. Two weeks after she had gone to see Jess, one day at work, Rory bumped into Mark with a box of his things. They smiled and he patted her on the shoulder.

"I'll miss you, Rory."

"You too," Rory said sincerely. "All set for the move?"

"All my things from the office," Mark said, looking at the box in his arms. "Hey, I wanted to thank you."

"Me? What for?"

"I mean, I know you were first choice," Mark said, shifting the weight in his arms. "For the Philadelphia job. I wouldn't even have gone to Johnson if Paul hadn't said you weren't sure."

"What?" Rory asked dumbly and Mark explained,

"You know, he said you didn't know because you didn't want to leave New York. He said I'd be great for the position and if Johnson had sense she'd think the same."

"What did Johnson say?" Rory asked, her voice low. Mark, oblivious, said,

"She said she didn't know you were stressed about the position and if I wanted it, it was mine. She said if you still wanted it we could talk about it but you didn't say anything so I figured it all worked out. It did, right?"

Rory didn't answer. A curious kind of heat was spreading through her, along with a clammy coolness. She couldn't move but she couldn't stay there and her head snapped up as Mark said,

"Rory?"

"I have to go," Rory said, surprised she could speak. "Congratulations again, Mark. You deserve it."

"Rory, did I say something wrong?"

"No," Rory said, managing to step aside him before he could see her face fall. "Enjoy Philadelphia. It's a beautiful city."

Rory heard Mark make a sound of acknowledgement but she ignored it and, not even stopping to cool down, went straight to her boss's office, who stared as Rory entered.

"Rory, are you alright?" her manager exclaimed. "You look terrible."

"I have a migraine," Rory said, her voice trembling. "Can I go home?"

"Of course – can I get you anything? A glass of water?"

"I just want to lie down," Rory said. "I'm sorry to leave in the middle of things."

"Go and get better. I'll tell Paul to take over your work for today."

"He's good at that," Rory said quietly. "Thank you."

Rory went straight home, took a shower and changed into loose clothes, going to lie on the bed. Her head ached almost as badly as she had made out but Rory simply lay still, staring at the wall. She felt worse than when Mitchum Huntzberger had told her she'd never become a journalist and, from the way things had turned out, Paul had taken care of that. Rory closed her eyes and squeezed back tears, thinking back to her fight with Paul, her fight with Jess. She yearned to drive home and spill it all out to Lorelai but as she thought about picking up the phone Rory didn't think she could face the conversation. She did not want pity, not even from her mother and, suddenly weary, Rory closed her eyes and slipped into a feverish sleep.

Some time later there was a knock at the door and Rory, startled, sat up. Her head still ached and she winced as, bleary-eyed, she went to the door and opened it. It was Paul, with a bunch of flowers and smile on his face.

"Hey, sicko," he said, holding out the blooms. "Why didn't you tell me you were going home?"

"How did you get in?" Rory asked coldly, ignoring the bouquet and, frowning, Paul said,

"Your neighbour let me in – he knows who I am. I didn't think you'd mind me checking on you. What's wrong?"

"How could you?" Rory demanded, snatching the flowers and flinging them on a table. "How could you give my job to Mark?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't play dumb!" Rory snapped. "I talked to Mark. He told me you said I didn't want the job!"

"Rory –"

"So he went to Johnson! You practically pushed him there!"

Paul looked at her, starting to pale and Rory cried,

"How could you? God, I am such an idiot! I could be in Philadelphia right now! Why didn't I listen to Jess?"

"Who's Jess?"

"Who's Jess?" Rory exclaimed, half-sobbing. "What does that matter? This is what matters. I lost my job because of you and you didn't even care enough to tell me the truth. Fuck you."

"Rory, listen," Paul said, taking her arm. "I didn't tell Mark to take your job."

"Like hell you didn't! You're still lying to me!"

"Rory," Paul said, craning round to reach her eyes. "I told him you were thinking about it. I told him he'd be great for the job, if you didn't take it. I didn't know he was going to talk to Johnson."

"Well, you certainly nudged him to her office!"

Paul didn't answer and Rory straightened up, shaking off his arm and looking at him properly.

"And you didn't call to tell me that. You knew she was going to give the job to him if I didn't say anything and you didn't tell me. You must really have wanted me to lose that job."

"Rory, when Mark called me, he said it was already decided."

"And you still didn't tell me any of this was going on."

"Rory, I was mad at you," Paul said, upset. "I didn't know Mark was heading there – we'd spent half the night in a bar, after you left, and I stayed even later than him. I woke up late with a hell of a hangover and the first thing I saw, after your text, was Paul saying he'd gone to Johnson. When I called him he told me it was decided."

"You should have told me," Rory said, voice trembling. "You kept it to yourself and I wouldn't even know if Mark hadn't thanked me personally for so graciously letting him have it. He should be thanking you!"

"Rory –"

"Get out," Rory snapped. "I can't talk to you."

"Rory, I'm sorry. I didn't want to tell you because – look, I know I should've. I was just happy we'd made up and it all worked out. I didn't want to mess it up."

"It was already messed up," Rory said. "Everything is wrecked."

They looked at each other silently and Rory said,

"You need to leave. I can't see you anymore."

"You want to break up?" Paul asked incredulously. "Rory, I'm seeing you in the office tomorrow. We can't avoid each other."

"No, thanks to you," Rory said furiously. "But you aren't my boyfriend. Not after this."

"Rory –"

"Get out," Rory said, walking to the door and opening it for him. "I don't want you in my apartment."

Paul stopped, hesitated and then walked out, his head low. Rory waited until she heard his footsteps fade, the outer door close and she ran to the window to see him walking away. Only then did she walk back to the table where she picked up the flowers and tore off the petals, one by one. Rory dropped the stubs in the trash and sat limply in a chair. Who's Jess? She laughed bitterly and closed her eyes, thinking back to her argument with him. You wouldn't take it back. She couldn't call him now and Rory resigned herself to going back to the office tomorrow and trying to start over.

Rory's resolve didn't last long. As Paul had accurately predicted, they couldn't avoid each other. Daily, it seemed, they were thrown together, asked to put together a piece and work on a project. At first Rory tried to act as though they had never been together, talking to Paul coldly and professionally, but her tone would fade as he looked at each other and their skin brushed as they reached for the same pens. Paul had never lived with her but most nights he stayed over and Rory constantly found pieces of him there: an pair of boxers, an old shirt, forgotten DVDs and even after she thought she'd returned it all a new object would resurface and Rory was hurt all over again. Gradually, as the weeks passed, she thought more of how she missed her boyfriend than how he'd betrayed her and, one warm afternoon, as they unintentionally met at the photocopier, Paul put his hand on the machine and looked her squarely in the eye.

"Rory, I miss you."

"I need to use that," Rory said, trying to keep the detached tone. "You're in the way."

"Rory, I'm sorry," Paul said, ignoring her. "I love you. I know I was wrong. I know I shouldn't have told Mark about the position, I just didn't want to lose you. I'm sorry. I was scared and stupid and – look, can't we try and start over? I miss you. I miss you so much."

Rory tried to shake her head, say it was too late, but she couldn't get the words out.

"Paul..."

"I love you," he said again. "I was scared that if you moved away I'd lose you. I know I've said I'm sorry but I am, Rory. I'd take it back if I could, but I can't. I love you and that's all I can say. I love you, Rory."

Rory looked at him and then, without thinking about it, she was back in his arms and kissing him, breathing his familiar scent.

"Do you forgive me?"Paul asked gently. "Are we okay?"

"Yes," Rory whispered, the fierce relief overpowering the tug in her mind. "I forgive you. I love you."

For a while, they were okay. Rory settled into her old routine, staying over at Paul's and he at hers, waking late and laughing as they rushed to work. Rory relaxed and it was a relief not to have put on a front, trying to ignore him beyond necessary at work and being able to smile as they put together an article. This surrender was so sweet that Rory ignored the rage she had felt and defeat she'd sensed that afternoon not so long ago, which still hurt inside. It was so good to have Paul's arms around her again and assurance of his love. After all, she supposed, the wage she earned wasn't too much lower than the offer in Philadelphia and she enjoyed the job she already had. Perhaps it hadn't been such a loss after all. Still, Rory couldn't help recalling Jess's pointed remark, that this was what she did when she was scared. Rory bit her lip and would concentrate on her work, which she still had, after all, and Paul as well. She pushed Jess to the back of her mind.

One weekend morning Paul prodded Rory awake. She was still half-asleep and was irritable when Paul said,

"Rory!"

"What?" Rory asked groggily, opening her eyes but not sitting up. Paul was waving a paper in his hands.

"Wake up!"

"I am," Rory said, unwillingly pushing herself up and out of the last of sleep. "What?"

"Look!"

Rory rubbed her eyes and looked at the page Paul was thrusting at her. It was a page of listings.

"What's this?"

"Apartments!"

"I can see that," Rory said, still grumpy about being shaken awake. "What about them?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know," Rory said. "Nothing excites me before eleven AM."

"Get excited," Paul said simply. "Look, they're all apartments here in New York. Two bedroom apartments."

Rory stared at him helplessly for a moment and then realisation dawned.

"You want to get an apartment for us? You want to move in?"

"Attagirl!" Paul said, grinning and making the bed shake. "What do you think?"

"I..."

Rory was fully awake now. She stared at the page, parts of which Paul had circled and could only ask,

"What's made you decide this?"

"We've been together for a while now," Paul answered. "I love you. We spend half our time at each other's places, half the time we go straight there from the office. We're barely living in our own apartments. Why don't we try living together?"

Rory didn't know what to say. She looked at her boyfriend and when her mouth opened she found herself saying,

"I really like this apartment."

"What?" Paul asked, laughing. "Since when? Rory, the shower barely works. You're always complaining about how the water changes temperature halfway through."

Rory smiled weakly and he put his hands over hers.

"We can get a brand new apartment," he said earnestly. "Our own place. It might not be perfect but it'd be ours. What do you say?"

"I don't know," Rory said honestly. "You've kind of sprung this on me."

"Well, I was lying there last night," Paul said, "thinking about how dumb it is that I spend half the week in my apartment and you spend half the week at yours and most nights we sleep together anyway, so I went online. I looked up some places and this morning your paper came and I looked some places up." He patted her nose and said fondly, "I've always thought it's cute how you still order a paper."

"I like having one," Rory said dumbly and then, "we haven't discussed this."

"Don't you think it's time?"Paul asked. "We love each other, we got over –" he hesitated and said, "If it doesn't work out, it doesn't, but can't we give it a shot?"

He looked at her pleadingly and Rory slowly nodded.

"Okay. Let's give it a shot."

He laughed and kissed her, oblivious to Rory's doubts. The paper crushed between them.

They looked at apartment after apartment. That weekend and the weekend after that was spent touring the streets of New York, culminating in arguments. There was always something wrong with the apartment; the location, the design, the building and finally Paul shook his head.

"You don't want to move in with me."

"What?" Rory asked uneasily. "Of course I do. I've spent the whole week looking at apartments with you."

"And we can't agree on any. None are right for us."

Rory couldn't refute this and Paul looked at her, taking her arms.

"Is it not enough of a commitment?" he asked. "Do you want to get married? Do we have to get engaged to make it enough?"

"No," Rory said quietly. "I don't want to get married."

Paul met her eyes and let his hands drop.

"You still haven't forgiven me."

"It was months ago," Rory said but he shook his head.

"You still haven't forgiven me. I can see it."

Rory opened her mouth to argue but she knew he was right. The hurt was still there, the pain felt like yesterday and when Paul asked,

"How long is it going to take to make it right?" all she could do was shake her head. Rory knew she wouldn't forgive him, never could and never had. Paul stared and then said quietly,

"You don't love me anymore."

"I'm sorry." It was all Rory could say. They looked at each other and Paul let out a bark of laughter.

"It's good I didn't sign away my apartment."

"Paul –"

"Rory, it's over," Paul said, his voice heavy. "We can't try again."

"I'm sorry," Rory said again. "I wish I could - I wish it were different."

"It's not," Paul said simply. "No use in wasting words, right? Isn't that what we're told at the paper?"

"Paul –"

"Goodbye, Rory."

Rory nodded silently and watched as he picked up his bag and left. She silently sighed, closing her eyes, oddly feeling no urge to cry. The saddest thing, she knew, was that it didn't matter if Paul had talked to Mark or not. She had stopped loving him anyway.

Work was less hard than before. They still worked together but as the hope of reuniting had ceased there was no need to pretend. It still hurt, seeing Paul every day, but the sadness was mixed with relief, understanding that it was over. They worked quietly, talkingwhen necessary and one afternoon Paul stopped Rory in the corridor.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked in a low voice. Rory nodded, surprised. They hadn't had a private conversation in weeks and Paul led her into an alcove where a printer used to stand.

"I've got a new job offer," he told her. "In Ohio. I'm taking it. I wanted you to know first."

"Ohio?" Rory echoed and then, "Congratulations."

"It's not the most exciting place," Paul said. "But it's something new. I need – it's a good job."

"I know," Rory said, understanding him. "When do you leave?"

"Two weeks. I've already told Johnson but I wanted you to know before it got around the office."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

"Well," Paul said. "I just wanted you to know."

Rory nodded and he opened his mouth to add something, closed it and nodded as well. Rory watched him leave. She had never forgiven him but her anger had abated a little. Instead, she was disappointed, knowing there was nothing she could change. Paul left two weeks later and Rory didn't want to cry.

As the next few months Rory settled back into work. People's well-meaning questions about how she was ceased, much to her relief, as did their unwelcome comments that the office much be more comfortable now that her old boyfriend had left, which was why they never mixed business with pleasure. Rory took these remarks with gritted teeth and found herself even frustrated with Lorelai, who kept expecting her to cry it out, to wallow over the loss of her relationship. She was upset but couldn't tell her mother that the real reason was for how long it had lasted, how Jess had been right. She never told Lorelai about that night, nor did she plan to. She doubted on seeing Jess again and that was the thought which kept her from sleeping, rather than pondering about Paul.

Now Jess was back and Rory felt as unsure as when she'd been seventeen and he was new in town. She did not wish him away, out of sight but not out of mind, yet didn't know what to say to him. She enjoyed Jess's company, hearing his witty conversation and in many ways it was as though no time had passed at all. It was always that way with him. Another part of seeing Jess, Rory knew, was his uncomfortable way of getting to the nub of a problem and refusing to let it go. He'd look in her eyes, never looking away and Rory was as hesitant as a teenager. He knew her, he always had and all through work that week Rory couldn't shake him from her thoughts. It was almost a relief to leave the computer and the project she was halfheartedly working on and start home. Rory was halfway there when she almost collided with someone on the corner.

"Sorry," she said and stopped as she looked up. It was Jess.

"Hi," she said awkwardly and Jess held up a bag.

"I was getting some milk."

"All the way across town?"

"I was in the neighbourhood. Had a meeting at the bank."

Rory nodded and then nodded again as Jess asked,

"You just get off work?"

They looked at each other uncertainly and Jess said,

"This is suitably awkward."

"It's not –" Rory started to say and then shook her head. "No, it's very awkward."

"So," Jess said, putting his spare hand in his pocket and rocking on his heels, "what do we do about it?"

Rory shrugged. He didn't look away and finally she said,

"I didn't want to fight with you."

"Me neither."

"I wasn't mad at you."

"You were a little."

"Okay, a little," Rory agreed. "But I wasn't angry."

"I wasn't trying to put you on the spot," Jess said. "You know, asking about Paul."

"That's okay."

"Good. And it's okay with me too."

They smiled and Jess held up his bag.

"Do you mind if we go somewhere with a fridge?" he asked. "I feel kind of dumb standing here with a carton of milk."

"My place is right around the corner," Rory said. "I was just on my way home."

"It has a refrigerator?"

"And a freezer."

"How can I resist?"

They started to laugh and Rory led the way home. They climbed the long flight of steps and when Rory pushed open the door Jess exclaimed,

"Casa Rory!"

"It's not much."

Rory saw the room as he did; a cramped kitchen and minute living room, leading to a tiny walkway between the bathroom and bedroom. She blushed but Jess said,

"I like it better than the last place - your grandparents'."

"Yeah," Rory said. "I moved out after that."

"I know."

They glanced at each other and Rory quickly moved over and opened the refrigerator. Jess thanked her, putting in the milk, and Rory said,

"Do you want a coffee?"

"Absolutely."

She put on the percolator and as the coffee brewed Jess asked,

"So how was work?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Wow, I can feel the enthusiasm from here."

Rory laughed and poured out their drinks, handing him a cup.

"It's just been kind of monotonous, I guess. I feel like I'm writing the same article every week."

"Ever think about quitting?"

"And go where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere. Isn't that what you used to want?"

Rory shrugged uncomfortably. She got her own cup and sat on the sofa, saying,

"Take a seat."

Jess sat next to her and Rory wished she'd sat at the table instead; the cushions sagged in the centre and Jess's legs were almost brushing hers. He was wearing a suit but, as the weather was hot, he'd taken off the jacket and loosened the shirt. Rory concentrated on her coffee.

"Is it weird at work?"

"What?" Rory asked, blinking and Jess clarified,

"Working with that guy. You said you worked with him."

"Oh, no," Rory said. "He left. He's in Ohio now."

Jess nodded. There was another pointed silence until finally Rory said,

"It was a mistake."

"Being with him?" Jess asked and Rory nodded. She gulped her coffee, took a deep breath and told Jess the whole story. Jess listened patiently, not trying to ask anything and eventually Rory said,

"So now I don't see him. It should be easier but it still sucks."

"Not because you miss him."

"Because I want it to be different."

Rory looked up and blushed, not intending to have said so much. It felt good, however, to have told the story, even with omitting parts concerning her audience. She was deeply grateful he hadn't remarked that he'd known it would happen. Jess looked thoughtful and said,

"It sounds like you're tired of where you work."

"It's a good job. The people are nice."

"You want more than that."

"What do I want?" Rory challenged. "If you know so much?"

"I know you don't want to be stuck somewhere you've got everything out of. I thought you wanted to be a foreign correspondent."

"That was a long time ago."

"You wanted to see everything."

Rory looked into Jess's eyes. She'd been ready with an answer, prepared to say she had responsibilities and was older now but the words flew away. She hesitated and he looked at her intently. Rory tried to say something, anything, but they both jumped as a buzzing sound suddenly echoed around them. Jess reached into his pocket, looking embarrassed.

"It's my cellphone."

"And you always hated them," Rory said ruefully as he got it out and read his text.

"It's a message from Chris. He wants to check something about inventory."

"Oh," Rory said weakly as he tapped a message back, putting his phone away.

"Sorry."

"That's okay."

Jess was the one who seemed off-balance now, smiling awkwardly.

"I called Luke," he said eventually and Rory sat up straighter.

"You did?"

"Yeah, after you mentioned it. He's good."

"That's good," Rory said. "I'm glad he's good – I'm glad you called."

"You are?"

"Yes, I am," Rory said and Jess nodded, grinning.

"Good."

They sat silently for a moment, Rory reaching helplessly for something to say when Jess got up.

"I should go," he said. "I need to call Chris back, give him more advice."

"Oh. Okay."

Rory walked him to the door and then remembered,

"Hey, your milk!"

"Right," Jess said, going to it. "I totally forgot about it."

"Me too, and it was the point of you coming in the first place."

"Was it?" Jess asked vaguely. "See you, Rory."

"See you," Rory said, slightly confused. "You can come over again, if you want."

"I can?" Jess asked and, with a sudden boldness, Rory grinned.

"After all," she said, "you haven't seen my books yet."

Jess returned her smile and said,

"Now that's a necessity. Goodnight, Rory."

"Goodnight, Jess."