Chapter 7

"So when do you think you'll be back?" Xavier asked, sprawled out on his couch.

Gigi had collapsed on top of him as they caught their breath and let their heart rates return to normal. She was here, in his city, for work.

"Are you a mirage?" he'd asked when he saw her earlier that day when he got off work and saw her sitting on a bench, waiting.

"No," she answered. "I thought about calling. But then I thought I could just . . ." She glanced behind him, the company's colorful name displayed on the building. "Google you."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "You can Google me anytime. What brings here?"

"Work. I'm on a business trip. A company we insure had a fire in their warehouse."

"That's terrible," he said, grinning.

She nodded over to the co-workers he'd exited with. "Were you in the middle of something?"

"Oh, no. We were just going over to Amazon to see if we could find any of the employees crying in their cars. But I can do that any time."

He'd taken her out to dinner, where she regaled him with her duties as an adjuster. She'd already been to Dallas and Chicago earlier that year. He explained computer programming. They skipped the movie tonight, instead going straight to his place.

"I don't know," she answered. "People don't usually plan their accidents. That's kind of the point. But I'm going to Portland next month to check out a playground their Junior League chapter built. We're going to build one in Hartford."

A pause. "You're in the Junior League?"

She nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"That was a preppy life choice." He pulled a blanket off the back of the couch to cover them up.

"Well I did graduate from Princeton a few months ago. It seemed like the logical next step."

"I'll come down, if you want."

"Portland isn't too far?"

He shook his head. "Not too far."

She snuggled into him. "Okay."

"Here, we can still see a movie," Xavier said, stretched his arm out toward a small remote on his coffee table. "Can you reach that?"

Gigi stuck her arm out without real effort. "No," she answered.

Xavier adjusted so he could reach it and he turned on the TV and went to his digitally stored movies. Her eyes wandered around his living room, now that she had a chance. He had a great view of the city from the large window. There were tall bookcases on both sides of the television, many of the titles being biographies.

"You're really into old dead guys," she commented. Her book collection consisted of some of the classics she'd held onto and some erotic romance novels. Rory didn't know what she was missing.

He glanced to where she was looking. "Well, once you start with the founding fathers, you kind of have to keep going to see how it turns out. One generation's problems don't magically go away, and the character crossover appeals to me," he said. "Plus, one story's side character is another story's hero. It's all in the point of view. No one thinks they're the bad guy." He glanced at Gigi. "Usually."

She firmly press her lips against his, catching him off guard.

Dazed and befuddled, he asked, "What was that for?"

"Just, because."

He handed over the remote. She accepted it and started browsing. "Do you own every superhero movie ever made?" she asked, passing over The Hulk and Iron Man, sequels included.

"No. I've always been more of a Marvel man," Xavier said. "The Justice League is okay. But Superman really rubs me the wrong way."

"Why?"

"He's too perfect to be interesting. He has no flaws or weaknesses—Kryptonite hardly counts. He has so many over the top superpowers that he'll never lose a fight." Just getting started, Xavier went on with his monologue, "The guy's an alien, so he has the potential to be complex, but he isn't. There's nothing personal motivating him to do what he does—he's good, so he does what's good. That's it. He never learns a lesson or has an arc where he overcomes an obstacle or conflict. He never needed to, he was already perfect. It's okay if Lois gets killed, he'll just rotate the earth to turn back time." Xavier finished, "No one can relate to that. I don't give a crap about that hollow steel automaton."

Gigi kissed him again, to which he blinked rapidly, like before, surprised but not unpleasantly so. After a pause to look at him, her lips crashed into his again, for a longer and deeper kiss.

"I don't even know what I'm doing right," he said. "If you like my Superman soliloquy, wait till you hear how much I do relate to Iron Man. He's a techno genius philanderer billionaire playboy. We're a lot alike."

She smiled and giggled. "Sure."

He switched over to Netflix and found 13 Going on 30. "When it's over I'll explain why Mark Ruffalo is the best Hulk."

"Okay." She kissed him again.

His hands found her hips and she maneuvered to straddle him once more. "But the movie can wait."

XXX

Work sent her back the following spring. She was there for three days for business, and since it was the end of the week, she extended her stay over the weekend.

The country between them actually served as the perfect buffer. Xavier would never have to know she was terrible at relationships.

She woke up in his bed Saturday morning, though he wasn't beside her. She stretched her limbs and curled back up, snuggling with the blanket around her. Xavier was in the corner of the room, standing at a whiteboard on an easel, on which he was writing out a long algorithm. He'd pause now and then, picking up a legal pad and frowning back and forth between it and the whiteboard. He tossed the pad back on the dresser and used a cloth to erase one of his lines of work.

"Oh, thank God you finally noticed that," Gigi said. "It was bothering me."

He froze to glance over at her with a smirk. He laughed lightly before turning back to his work. "Don't get any ideas about leaking this to Apple." He fixed his error and stood back again to take another look. "Better?" he asked.

She pondered the fresh ink for a moment, as though she understood what it all meant. "Much." At the sound of a meow, she reached for her phone on the floor next to the bed.

"That must be your cat."

Gigi grinned. "I hope he wasn't driving." It was her dad, wanting to know if she was available to hang out. Now that she was an adult, they could be pals. She used to be more cynical, assuming his only motivation was to replicate the bond Lorelai and Rory had. Maybe he did wish they could be like that, or maybe he just didn't have many friends and just wanted someone to hang out with.

She replied that she was out of town and could get together for dinner Sunday night when she got back. She tossed the phone down and asked Xavier, "Are you ready for your dog, or are you having second thoughts?"

He shook his head. "I'm ready."

"It's a big step, to be responsible for another living thing." He was getting an Italian greyhound. He missed having a dog.

"You have a cat," he reminded her.

"Yeah, but he's pretty self-sufficient. I just have to fill his food bowls and keep his litter box fresh," she said. "I've been gone for three days, and I can guarantee he does not care."

Xavier smiled. "Well my dog is going to be so happy when I get home from work every day. I'm going to name him the marquis de Lafayette," he said. "George Washington had greyhound-like dogs and Lafayette was puppyish, so it makes a lot of sense in my head." He stopped to eye her. "That is, unless you still hate all things French. In which case, I'm also partial to Hercules Mulligan."

She considered him a second. "I won't hate your dog's French name. I'm not that petty."

He raised a brow. "Your bag of Estée Lauder products suggests otherwise."

"That's different. My mom didn't leave me for France, so much as she left and remains there for cosmetics companies that happen to be Paris based. It makes a lot of sense in my head."

He liked to take her to Seattle specific sights while she was in town. Today they went to Top Pot Doughnuts. The shop smelled like pastry and coffee when they walked in. Even she knew this must be Gilmore heaven. When it was their turn at the counter, Gigi was overwhelmed by all the options, there were over 40. "I'll have a ring with raspberry glaze."

She found a table by the window while Xavier paid. He took the spot opposite her, sliding her plate over to her and picking up his own bar with chocolate icing. He also had a cup.

"Coffee?"

He nodded curtly. "I'm going for it."

She took a bite of doughnut and watched him take a sip. "Well?"

"It's not the worst thing I've ever had to drink."

"What was?"

He took another drink and grimaced. "Nothing is coming to mind. I don't understand why I don't like it. I live in Seattle. I'm an adult."

She licked some raspberry filling from her lip. "Why don't we say man-child and call it a compromise?"

He sipped again. "It's just, ugh. I'm going to drink this whole cup. Maybe I'll acquire the taste by the time I finish."

"I'm not going to place any bets," she said. "I think it's endearing that you're the only one in the city to not like coffee."

He sat down the cup and went back to his doughnut.

Gigi looked around the shop and sighed heavily. "I'll be right back." She went back to the counter and asked for a box and started naming off doughnuts to add—glazed, sugar, colorful sprinkles, pink coconut, chocolate old fashioned with glaze and without, and a couple cake doughnuts for good measure.

Xavier watched her with a curious frown when she brought the box back to the table. "I checked today's schedule, and we don't have time for you to lose a foot and go into a coma."

"They aren't for me. I'm going to ship them to Rory and Lorelai."

"Your sister."

"And her mom," Gigi confirmed. She wondered which Gilmore girl to send them to. Whoever got them in the mail would probably devour them before the other got there. She had intended for them to share. She shook her head, this wasn't going to work. She went back to double the order and had a couple bags of coffee beans thrown in.

"We're going to have to go somewhere to have these shipped," she said when she sat back down.

"I didn't think you were very close to them."

"I'm not. But I know they would love this place and it would make them happy to get doughnuts in the mail. If I don't send them some, I'll feel guilty and just a little spiteful," she said. "Although, I'd love to see the results of their wellness screening."

He considered her for a moment. "She's lucky to have you for a sister."

Gigi tried to remember if anyone had ever said that to her before. The words were said, many times, but never in that order.

While they ate their doughnuts, Xavier asked, "When were you en pointe?"

Raising a brow, she asked, "How do you know about en pointe?"

"I stumbled across a documentary about Misty Copeland," he said. "Ballerinas are athletes. En pointe came up. Isn't like a rite of passage?"

"Yes," she said. "I was 11. I wanted to be the first one in the class, but I was second. It's the goal for all little ballerinas." She remembered how happy she was to declare to her dad that they needed to go to the special en pointe shoe store. She also recalled how eagerly she'd told her mom about the accomplishment, getting her hopes up for something that wouldn't happen.

She felt stupid just thinking about it and changed the subject, "We found some land in Hartford that will be a good place to build a playground. We're going to put in a bid."

XXX

"He likes you," Xavier said later, his new dog in Gigi's lap, licking her face.

"I probably smell like cat, what's not to like?"

It was a rescue dog, not a puppy, though he had explained that they mature slowly. And the dog was so small, he may as well have been a puppy.

"He's definitely a Lafayette." Xavier rubbed the dog's head affectionately. "Hey, next time you're hanging out with my mom, you should ask her to rap Lafayette's part in 'Guns and Ships.' She'll nail it. But then she'll do all of Jefferson's parts too. Worst case scenario, she might suggest a rap battle with the DAR."

"She sounds like you after you've been drinking," Gigi said. "Does her rapping devolve into a diatribe about how Aaron Burr wasn't a villain, even though he was a pompous Princeton guy? Or is that just you?"

He grinned. "Aaron Burr was a pompous Princeton guy. Google it."

They went back to Xavier's apartment and let the dog loose. The newly christened Lafayette ran from room to room, checking out his new home.

"Where do you think he's going to make first?" she asked. "Is your closet open? Five bucks says it's going to be in one of your shoes."

"My closet is shut." Then he thought about it for a second, his lips pressed together in a line. "I'll go check." He came back a moment later. "It was shut."

Gigi picked up the bag of dog food. "You have to put this where he can't get it, or he'll eat it all and get sick."

"I've had a dog before," he said dryly.

"I know, I just wanted to remind you that dogs aren't as sophisticated as cats. My cat only eats when he's hungry and knows when he's full."

"I bet he doesn't know any tricks though."

Lafayette trotted back into the room and barked once at his new master, apparently feeling left out of the conversation.

"What's that trick called?" she asked.

"Canis interruptus, I thought that was obvious." He picked up the dog. "Iggies don't bark much, you'll probably never hear that again. Unless I get serious about that canis interruptus trick." He put the dog back down. Then he asked, "Ready for your surprise?"

"A surprise for me?"

"Yes," he said, going to a kitchen drawer and taking out two tickets and sliding them over to her on the counter.

"What's this?" she asked, picking them up and reading Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet. "Ballet tickets?" She looked up at him, a near scowl on her face.

"Yeah, I thought you might like to go."

"Why?" she asked, flatly. She thought about earlier, the memories of being a naive kid with a dumb idea fresh in her mind.

Sensing that the sky had suddenly darkened, casting a shadow over them, Xavier reticently said, "Since you were dancing again, at school."

"Not ballet."

"I know, but I thought you were, you know, over it."

"Over what?" she asked rhetorically. "That I spent 11 years dancing, like some idiot, to get my mom to come back just to fail spectacularly? Thanks for reminding me." Gigi could see the panic in Xavier's eyes. "I only did it because she wanted a perfect little ballerina." She could hear how crazy she sounded, but couldn't make the anger go away. Before she knew what she was doing, she was heading for the door.

She was sure she heard him mutter, "You need therapy." It stung, not wanting it to be true.

Gigi went back to her hotel room, where she fumed for a while. Then she broke down and cried a little. She was still mad—mad at her mom for leaving, mad at herself for trying to get her back. And unfairly mad at Xavier for making her remember how angry she still was. Her ballerina days were a long drawn out act of desperation. It was embarrassing. Who tries that long to get the attention of someone who doesn't want you? And why did she tell him about it? She should have keep it private.

She swallowed hard and dried her eyes, telling herself to buck up. She pulled out her briefcase and flipped through the paperwork. She'd already handled all the work she came to do by Friday at five. She worked efficiently when she was in the Pacific Northwest, to maximize play time with Xavier. She couldn't believe he bought ballet tickets. What kind of guy voluntarily went to the ballet?

A good guy. A good weird guy who had finally figured out why she was on an extended relationship hiatus.

She did miss dancing after she quit, though she had denied it. Sports took discipline too, and was definitely cathartic. But it wasn't the same.

She missed going to the Nutcracker before Christmas every year with her dad and grandma. It was their holiday tradition, until it wasn't anymore.

She thought about looking for something on TV when there was a knock at the door. She glanced through the peephole and saw Xavier standing on the other side. Surprised that he had come after her, she opened the door.

"You forgot your stuff at my place," he said as greeting.

"Oh," she said. He hadn't come for her. He didn't want her junk sitting around his apartment. Her heart sank. She looked around him. "Where is it?"

"I just said, my place." He sounded like he was putting effort into staying patient, while agitated by her irrational tantrum. "You're only here until tomorrow, so can you come back? We can stay in and you can still be mad at me. Just be mad in the same room."

He still wanted her around? Why? She blinked a few times. "I'm sorry I got mad," she said. "I guess I still have some residual bitterness there, bubbling under the surface. I'll go to the ballet."

"We don't have to."

"No, really, let's go. It's been a long time since I've gone, and I want you to see Romeo and Juliet. It's a good one."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

He gestured toward the room. "Get the rest of your stuff, you can check out."

XXX

Gigi collapsed on her couch when she got back to her Hartford apartment Sunday afternoon. She needed to unpack her suitcase and get ready for work tomorrow. But she remembered she was having dinner with her dad.

Her cat was lying on the floor next to the loveseat. "Hey kitty," she said.

The nameless cat looked at her slowly and blinked in acknowledgement. Why did she have a cat? She already had a mother and sister who happily ignored her existence, why had she picked a pet with the same disposition?

"Maybe I should get a dog instead." The cat's ears perked up. "Yeah, you heard that, didn't you?" She took her phone out of her pocket, texting her dad that she just got in.

Gigi sat her phone on the lamp table and looked down at her cat, who had walked over and was rubbing up against her legs. "I know you're just marking your territory," she said flatly, picking him up and petting him. "You must be smelling the very friendly dog I met this weekend."

The cat purred.

"Oh, so you're hungry. Come on, let's see if we have tuna." She got up and went to the kitchen, the cat trotting along. With a glance at the food and water bowls on the floor, she saw the levels were getting low. She opened a can of tuna, and before she could turn around, the cat was concentrating on the countertop, getting into a pounce position. "Don't do it."

The cat jumped up on the counter.

"You know you aren't allowed up here. Can you just be patient?" She scooped him up and placed him back on the floor before dumping the contents of the can into his food bowl, where he chowed down contentedly.

She went to answer the door when her dad rang the bell a short while later. "Hey Gi'g," he greeted warmly with a wide smile. "I brought you something." He had a plastic cup with a light brown iced beverage in each hand.

"What is it?"

"A chai latte. I figured you were the only one in Seattle who didn't want coffee, so I thought you might like this as an alternative." He handed her one. "Here, try it."

She took a sip. It was spicy and sweet and creamy. She took another sip. "It's good." She sipped again. "I think I like it."

Chris smiled. "I can't believe you've never had one. I used to drink them all the time when I lived in Boston."

"With Mom?"

"Yeah."

She was about to ask if Sherry drank chai lattes too, but stopped. Would that mean Gigi couldn't like them too? It didn't matter what her mom did or didn't like. It was pointless to go in the opposite direction. It was immature. It was stupid. And she was in her mid-twenties now, not her mid-teens. The only person she was hurting was herself with this behavior.

She contemplatively drank some more. The ballet Xavier took her to had been beautiful, breathtaking. That's what the difference was, she figured out. Ballerinas might be athletes, but ballet was an art. Words couldn't express the beauty of Romeo and Juliet. She hadn't taken enough time to appreciate it for what it was in all those years she danced. It was just a means to an end.

Maybe quitting dance because she was mad at her mom was just as stupid as doing for her in the first place.

"So what's for dinner?" Chris asked.

"Oh, I thought you were coming to cook for me," she said with a small smile.

"Do you have some of that nutritional yeast? I feel like some vegan mac and cheese." He'd been a good sport when she cut all animal products out of her diet, even though he wasn't thrilled at first.

"No. We can use real cheese." She went to her pantry and pulled out a box of elbow noodles.

"What's this?" Chris said, tapping printouts on the refrigerator.

"Grocery lists and meal plans," she said. "I'm going to do a clean eating challenge."

"Clean eating?"

"Yeah, I'm going to start it next Saturday. It's two weeks, but I'm going to do it twice and make it last a month."

"I don't know where you get your discipline from," he said.

She pulled a pot out from the cabinet and eyed him. "Me neither." She received a rye look but no protest. "Why don't you do it with me?" she asked. "Not just when you eat with me, but for every meal. No cheating."

"Two weeks?"

"Yes."

He looked at the meals. "You get to eat meat?"

She nodded. "And lots of vegetables." She added, "You have to cook all your meals. We can go grocery shopping together next week."

"All right," he said. "I'm in."

"Good," she said with a smile.