A.N. What a year. Has it really taken me almost an entire year to finish this chapter? It really has. I'm so sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long! But I finally finished it. I hope you enjoy reading it much more than I enjoyed writing it, haha! So many thanks to everyone who has left reviews in the meantime. It means so much to me to see your thoughts!
Rory closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the wind in her face as she stood on the deck of the ferry taking them to Nantucket Island. Richie gave a little squawk in her arms, unsure about the new feelings he was experiencing. Rory smiled down at him, where he was clinging to her shoulder like a wide-eyed little monkey.
"What do you think about all this, huh? That's the ocean out there! It's really huge! And then soon we'll see your Great Grandma! And Daddy," she sighed, her once-enthusiastic voice growing quieter and more subdued. "You'll get to see your Daddy, too. For real. That'll be nice, won't it?"
Logan still hadn't told his wife or his family about Richie, even though he still assured her that he would. They had regular video calls scheduled, but it's difficult to bond with a newborn over the internet. Swallowing down her frustration with the situation, Rory had reluctantly worked out a plan for Logan to spend some time with his son while the family was visiting Emily in Nantucket. Teeming with wealthy vacationers as the area was, Logan could easily find an acquaintance to visit on the island while he was in the States. From there, all he had to do was stop by the history museum on a whim, where, at the appointed time, Rory would also be stopping to see her grandmother, after which it would be perfectly natural for Emily to invite such an old family friend back to the house for lunch. It was a stratagem almost worthy of Lane Kim, but Rory felt ashamed to be taking part in it. Emily wasn't thrilled about the subterfuge either, but she wouldn't keep Logan from seeing his son, nor would she risk the families' reputations.
Lorelai and Luke, Rory and Richie soon found themselves standing at the front door of the cottage. A new door. The same old stalling.
"Ehhh, you ring the doorbell, Rory!" Lorelai prompted, cringing.
"Oh, for G-d's sake…" Luke muttered, rolling his eyes and reaching forward to do the job himself. But before he could ring it, the decision was literally taken out of their hands when the door was whipped open by Emily herself, a bright smile lighting up her face.
"There you are! I thought I heard a car pull up. And there's my great-grandson! Oh, aren't you a handsome boy!" she crooned, unceremoniously plucking the baby from Rory's arms and pulling him close. "Come in, come in! You can unpack your bags later; there's lemonade on the terrace." Having issued her greeting, she turned right around and disappeared into the house with Richie, leaving Rory sputtering and reaching after him futilely and her other visitors still standing awkwardly at the door. They looked at each other for a moment before Lorelai shrugged and stepped inside, Luke following after.
"Once more unto the breach, my friends…" Rory sighed, shutting the door behind them.
Rory smiled as she watched her grandmother's enthusiastic reenactment of the gruesome history of whaling at the Museum on Saturday morning. She seemed so happy here. They'd all been moorless, drifting after the death of Richard Gilmore, and it comforted Rory to see the way her grandmother had made a life for herself that she could find joy and fulfillment in. Perhaps there was hope for her, too.
"Well, fancy meeting you here, Ace," came a familiar, deep voice from behind her. She closed her eyes and felt her stomach tie itself in knots. Show time. She plastered a smile on her face and turned around.
"Logan? Oh my G-d! It's been forever! What are you doing here?" She hoped her surprise sounded convincing, but she'd never been a very good actress. And there he was, handsome as ever.
"The family's vacationing at the Vineyard this week and I felt like doing something a little different today," he smiled. "Is that Emily up there?"
Rory's smile relaxed a little when turning to watch her grandma. "Yes," she said fondly. "She's been working as a docent here on the weekends, and she seems to have found her calling. The children sometimes leave in tears, but a good show is guaranteed for all!"
"And who is this beautiful boy here?" Logan asked, an almost wistful tone sneaking into his voice as he smiled down at Richie. His son. And this was it.
Rory took a deep, steadying breath. "This," she said proudly, "is Richard Gilmore, the Younger. Or he would be if he were a Greek philosopher, but he's not, so we call him Richie for short. He's my son," she finished softly. It was the sort of thing she would have said to any stranger. She hated this.
Logan crouched down in front of the stroller. "Well, hello there! He's beautiful, Ace."
"Thank you. I couldn't agree more. So," she continued breezily, trying to keep up appearances even as her insides were twisted up in strange grief. This was all wrong. "How have you been, Logan? Are you still in London?"
"Still in London," he confirmed, continuing to smile at Richie.
"I heard you got married earlier this year?"
"I did."
"Well, congratulations!"
"Thank you!"
"And how's married life treating you?"
He looked up at her finally. "It's good, Ace," he said quietly. He was still smiling (was he always smiling?) and it seemed genuine, but he looked at her as if his mind was wandering down The Road Not Taken. As if, had the choice been his, he wouldn't have had to give up either of them. The thought frustrated her.
"I'm happy for you," she said, and she wanted to be sincere.
"Well, well! If it isn't Logan Huntzberger. How are you, Logan?" Emily broke in, the program having apparently concluded as they were talking. Rory sighed in relief.
"I'm doing well, Emily, thank you," Logan smiled charmingly. "You're looking beautiful; Nantucket seems to agree with you."
"Yes, I think it does," she replied brightly.
"I was just catching up with Rory here, and this beautiful boy. You must be very proud."
Rory thought she saw something flash in her grandmother's eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice had taken on that tone of icy politeness that never failed to send a chill down Rory's spine. "Yes. Well. I would think anyone would be. And how are your parents?"
"Oh, they're fine. They're-"
"Marvelous. Now Logan, I do hope you'll excuse me, but I shouldn't neglect the other museum patrons. But perhaps you'll join us for lunch at the house, unless you have plans? It would be so nice to catch up properly."
Logan appeared not to notice the change in the weather and continued on as jovially as before, "As it so happens, I don't have plans for lunch and have nothing better to do, so thank you for the invitation, Emily."
"Well," Emily replied drily, her voice dripping in cold condescension as she arched one perfectly-shaped brow, her smile never faltering. "If you're sure you have 'nothing better to do...' I suppose we'll see you. You'll give him directions, Rory?"
"Sure."
"Wonderful. Well, I must be going." And just like that, she was gone.
Logan turned smoothly on his heels to look at Rory in amusement, hands in his pockets, the picture of casual elegance.
"Well, that was a warm reception," he quipped, eyes twinkling. Always so damn amused. Rory had once found that irrepressible lightness of his charming, but now she found herself wishing he could just be serious for once.
"Oh, you know my grandma," she smiled tightly. "It could be anything. Is she feuding with Shira again, perhaps?" Or resenting her great-grandson's father for not acknowledging his son the way she feels he ought to? she added silently.
Logan raised his eyebrows as if considering this new piece of gossip. "Perhaps she is…" he said conspiratorially.
Rory suddenly felt very tired. "So. Are you ready for the address? Grandma said to give you directions, but we both know Google will be happy to do that for you…" she forced a laugh.
"What if we took in the rest of the museum first? I could hang out with you and your little guy a bit longer."
"Oh. Well, that would be fun, but we actually can't stay. Richie needs a nap and we need to get going. But we'll see you at lunch! I'm ready with that address whenever you are!" Rory said cheerfully, looking him straight in the eye.
Logan's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened, but that irrepressible smile wasn't down for long before he recovered, even if it was now a bit forced. "I see. Well, I guess we'll catch up later then. Now give me that address."
She read it off to him dutifully, knowing the entire thing was a charade. He already had it.
A few minutes later as she was buckling Richie into his car seat and wrestling the folding stroller into the trunk, Logan texted her from inside the museum.
What was that? I came all the way out here to spend time with my son.
She knew he'd been unhappy with her decision to leave. "Well that's just too damn bad, Logan," she muttered under her breath. She hated this, and she was irritated and why was it so hot?
I told you, he needs a nap, Logan.
Or would you prefer him to be overtired and fussy by the time you come to the house?
Because that's what happens to babies when they miss scheduled naptimes.
and besides, you were the one who wanted this meeting kept a secret, so I think you'd be safer interacting with Richie in private.
I did what you wanted, our alibis are established, this part of the play is done. End scene. End of act one. Curtains closed. I'll see you at the house in an hour as planned.
She furiously tapped out each message in quick succession, and then defiantly put her phone back in her bag and drove back to the cottage. When she arrived and checked her phone again, Logan had responded, Fine. I guess now I know what it's like to receive a Gilmore rant via text.
"We're having lunch on the terrace. It's such a lovely summer day. I thought we'd keep things casual! We're having shish kabobs. They're wonderful, really, so Mediterranean. I asked Luke to man the grill; G-d knows, he's a professional. You don't mind, do you, Luke? That I'm putting you to work on your vacation? Here you are in Nantucket, and I have you standing over a grill the way you do every single day in that diner of yours!"
Luke sighed. "It's fine, Emily. I'm… happy to do it," he said, forcing a smile.
"Luke runs a diner in Stars Hollow," Emily told Logan by way of explanation, with just enough faux-enthusiasm for plausible deniability. "Richard offered him the opportunity to turn it into a franchise and he turned it down, can you believe it? You're a businessman, Logan, does that sound like good business sense to you?"
Logan laughed disarmingly, "Well, I'm in the newspaper business, Emily, I'm no restauranteur. There can sometimes be a bit of caché in scarcity, though, so I'm sure the man knows what he's doing."
"You don't need to tell Logan about the diner, Mom," Lorelai said through a tight smile. "He and Luke met when he was dating Rory."
"Well, how was I to know that, Lorelai? The two of you broke up and got back together so many times, it's a wonder how you expect me to keep track of your 'on' periods..."
Remembering the role her grandmother had played in some of the "off" periods, Rory was unsurprised to see her mother open her mouth indignantly, and thought it best to intervene before the situation escalated. "So! Logan," she said, smiling breezily, "can we offer you anything to drink?"
He smiled at her knowingly. "Thank you, but maybe later, actually. I'd like to keep my hands free at the moment," Logan said, running a hand over Richie's fuzzy head in a gentle caress.
Rory's smile softened, reaching over to tug on her son's foot. "Good idea," she said. However she felt about Logan personally right now, she wanted this to work for Richie's sake.
Rory spent the next half-hour or so curled up into a corner of the couch and watched Logan stretch out on the floor beside their son, who was lying on his blanket and trying to fit his toes into his mouth. It made her heart ache to see him being sweet with him, but she was also glad for it. She wanted her son to have a loving relationship with his father. By the time lunch was almost ready, she was beginning to relax. It seemed like things were going really well, and she felt hopeful. The family group had ebbed and flowed between the living room and the patio, and conversation had been light and pleasant. Logan had always been good at getting along with everyone, when he wanted to.
Rory wanted to give Richie a diaper change before they started eating, and she was touched when Logan expressed a desire to learn how to do it himself. "Come on, I'll show you," she smiled, leading him down the hall to the room she was staying in. He was attentive and seemed eager to learn. They chatted idly, and it was all going well until Rory happened to mention something her therapist had said.
"Your therapist?" Logan repeated laughingly.
Rory immediately bristled at his tone. "Yes," she said defensively. "I've been seeing a therapist. A friend recommended it, and it's been really helpful to sort through some of my issues-"
"Issues? What sort of issues do you have?"
"Well, my habit of getting involved with unavailable men, for one…" she snapped.
Logan stared. "Excuse me?"
"Look," Rory sighed, trying to keep calm, "I was in a really bad place a couple years ago, and when I'm in a bad place, one of my unhealthy coping mechanisms is to want something comfortable and familiar. And then you came along, and-"
"And our relationship was an unhealthy coping mechanism? Well that's flattering, Rory!"
"Logan…"
"No, you're saying the fact that you slept with me means you need therapy? That wanting to be involved with me was a sign of mental illness?"
"That's not what I meant! Oh my G-d, you always do this! I hate it when you do this!"
"Oh, and what am I doing, exactly?" He threw his arms out in an open gesture that seemed to say hit me with your best shot.
"Making it all about you!" Rory exploded, years of resentment and frustration bursting to the surface. "I try to tell you that I'm not happy with my life and about the things I want to change, for me, and you act like it's a personal insult, like I'm blaming you for all my problems! Well, newsflash, Logan, not everything is about you!"
"Oh, that is crap, Rory! You were the one who made it about me! I asked you why you were in therapy and you cited our relationship as one of your 'issues!'"
"Fine," she conceded. "I could have picked a different issue to start with, but it was your tone, Logan! Like you were belittling me!"
"I was not belittling you!"
"Yes! You didn't just 'ask' me why I'm in therapy, you were laughing at me! Like the idea was ridiculous to you!"
"Fine!" he admitted. "I do think it's ridiculous! Therapy is for people like Finn or Paris, 'cause we all know there's a few screws loose upstairs… but you don't need therapy, Rory," he said soothingly. "There's nothing wrong with you."
"How do you know? I never shared any of that with you; I was with you so I could pretend to be someone else! And my G-d, Logan! We were having an affair! You think that's ok?"
"Hey, speak for yourself, Ace. Odette and I had an open relationship, so whatever you did outside 'Vegas' is on you."
Rory felt like he'd slapped her. "No. Don't try to pin this all on me. You told me it was an open relationship when we started. But you can't really expect me to believe nothing had changed by the time she moved in with you, do you? You seemed awfully intent on hiding me away..."
He looked at her grimly for a moment. "I wasn't ready to give you up yet, Ace," he said softly.
"Oh my G-d!"
"Millions of people have affairs every day, Rory! It doesn't make them crazy or in need of psychiatric help!"
"That is not what I said! G-d, why are you taking this so personally?! Why is the idea of me being unhappy with my life and wanting to change so offensive to you?!"
"Because you're blaming your so-called problems on me!" he yelled.
"That is not what I'm trying to say, Logan! AAARGH!" she screamed at him, stamping her foot in frustration. Richie, who had been steadily growing more upset, now started up a full-blown wail, frightened by all the noise. Rory groaned. "Now we're scaring the baby!" she snapped, scooping Richie up in her arms and clutching him to her, making shushing sounds soothingly.
Logan sighed wearily. He reached up to stroke the baby's head. "Sorry, Little Man," he murmured. "Mommy and Daddy need to act like grown-ups, huh?"
Rory glared bitterly at him over the top of Richie's head. "I don't know what to say to you, Logan," she said. "We need to keep this civil, for Richie's sake, and so far, it's not going very well."
"It was going just fine earlier," he shot back irritably.
"Yes, when we were in public!" Rory returned. She shook her head. "You know, it's funny, I thought…" she stopped abruptly, biting her lip.
"What?" Logan prompted, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
She had been going to say that she had expected they would need to keep their interactions public for another reason. She'd been afraid of herself, of getting sucked back into his orbit just like her mother had been with her dad nearly every time he popped back into their lives. But now she thought maybe it would be better to keep that to herself, or at least not share with Logan.
"Nevermind, it's not important," she sighed. "Maybe it's safer to stay with other people. Come on, let's go back out there."
She let Logan carry Richie back down the hall and then out into the sunshine, glaring at the back of his head the entire way. She hated that part of their relationship, the way he always spun her words around until she felt dizzy and disoriented, unsure of where she was and where she'd been going. Well, she exhaled, she didn't have to deal with that anymore. But she wanted Richie to have a father. She didn't like this clandestine arrangement and it had to change. Logan kept assuring her that it would, but how long was an acceptable time to give him?
Lunch was, by Emily Gilmore standards, a relaxed affair. There were the shish kabobs Luke had grilled to perfection, to be served with couscous and a green salad (Lorelai eyed the last two items warily), and there was a large pitcher of freshly-made sangria. The patio furniture was comfortably cushioned, and Emily had made sure the table was shaded by a large umbrella to protect Richie's delicate skin from the sun. Of course, for Emily Gilmore, relaxed could only go so far.
"Lorelai, what are you doing?" came the inevitable sharp question, a few minutes into the meal.
"Uh, I'm eating a kebab, Mom," came Lorelai's garbled reply, around a mouthful of steak and cherry tomato.
"You don't eat it off the stick like a caveman gnawing a bone. You use your fork to push the meat off the stick onto your plate, and then you use the fork to eat it. You should try it with the couscous; it's wonderful."
"Yeah, but then the meat will have little bits of couscous stuck to it."
"Oh, honestly, Lorelai! You eat like a toddler! Would you like a divided plate to make sure none of your food is touching?"
"Ah, no thanks, Mom. I'll just keep eating off the stick like a caveman. I'm on a paleo diet right now," Lorelai joked, looking around the table expectantly and snickering at her own joke.
Luke's cellphone buzzed suddenly and he took it out, frowning at the screen. "Huh," he said, "I'd better take this. Excuse me for a minute." He rose from his seat and went inside to take the call.
Emily's eyes followed Luke into the house over the rim of her wine glass. As soon as he was out of earshot, she set her glass on the table delicately and turned to Logan with a smile. "Now, Logan," she said. "I want to have a little discussion about your situation while we have you here. When do you plan to inform your family that you have a son?"
Logan shifted as the eyes of three generations of Gilmore women were suddenly fixed on him with interest. "Ah. Well, it's tricky. I'm sure you understand what a difficult situation this is..."
"Yes," Emily interrupted, still smiling, "I do understand what a difficult situation this is. But it seems to me that Rory has been left to shoulder most of the difficulty by herself thus far, while you have the luxury of deciding when it would inconvenience you the least."
Logan, for once, seemed at a loss for words. Lorelai was glancing back and forth between them with wide eyes, as if watching a particularly thrilling tennis match, and Rory took a sip of her sangria with serene deliberation. Logan was on his own this time, and she was very curious about where this was going to go.
"You were both uncommonly stupid to get yourselves into this predicament in the first place," Emily continued, "but it's done, and here you are, and I see no reason why my granddaughter should be the only one who has to pay for it."
"Emily, I can assure you, it was never my intention to leave Rory with all of the responsibility."
"Your intention!" Emily repeated sneeringly. "Intentions are nothing. You didn't intend to conceive my great-grandson either, but as I said, here you are. What are you going to do about it? I want a plan and I want an answer, Logan Huntzberger. My late husband was always going on about you important men with your important responsibilities that I couldn't possibly comprehend... and he would probably tell me that I should be patient and trust you to handle your own affairs. But I am tired of being patient, and if I thought you could handle your own affairs, we wouldn't be here in the first place. I was glad to see you making some sort of effort to do your duty by your son, which is why I agreed to facilitate this ridiculously clandestine arrangement in the first place… My G-d! It's like something out of an opera! But I will not have you treating my granddaughter like she's Madame Butterfly and I do not want you setting foot under this roof again until you can do so freely and openly, is that clear?"
Logan's lips were pressed together in a firm line as he smoothed Richie's hair, but he smiled tightly and looked Emily directly in the eye. "Perfectly," he replied cooly.
"Wonderful. So glad we understand one another. Do let me know whenever you've finally told them the happy news. I'd hate to let something slip to either of your parents before the proper time…"
"No, we wouldn't want that, would we," Logan said drily.
With impeccable timing, this was when Luke stepped back through the doors onto the patio.
"Hey! Is everything ok?" Lorelai asked her husband as he retook his seat.
"Yeah," Luke sighed, looking distracted. "Everything's… everything's fine," he said. His eyes went to Rory as he spoke, but he quickly glanced away when she met his gaze questioningly.
The rest of the meal proceeded rather uneventfully, except for the fact that Rory kept catching Luke staring at her as though he was trying to puzzle something out, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why. She was in the middle of enjoying some mango sorbet when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, and took it out to see a text from Jess. She smiled and opened it.
Can I call you? Need to talk to you about something.
She looked up, only to find Luke watching her intently, only this time, he didn't look away. It made her uneasy.
Sure, she responded to Jess, and a moment later, a call was incoming.
"Excuse me. I'll be right back," she said to the table before taking the phone into the house. "Hey," she said, once she'd shut the door behind her. "What's up?"
"Hey. I, uh… I got some news today."
He paused, and Rory waited a few moments before prompting, "Oh yeah? Good news or bad news?"
"Um… Don't know, exactly. Good, probably, I guess." He paused again.
"Well, what is it?" she asked laughingly.
"Ah… well, last year I applied for a writer's residency program in Buenos Aires. There's always more applicants than spaces, so I was on a waiting list."
"Oh! Buenos Aires is great, you'd love it there. More bookstores per capita than any other city in the world."
"Right."
"But you said you have news?"
"Yeah. Um, I guess somebody dropped out at the last minute, and my name came up, so… I could go now if I wanted to."
"Oh! Oh, wow, that's… that's amazing, Jess. I'm so happy for you."
"Yeah?"
"Of course I am. It would be such a great opportunity for you."
"So you think I should do it, then?"
"Well, I mean… yes? Why, are you having second thoughts?"
Jess sighed. "I don't know, maybe. I didn't think so at the time, but now it just seems like… a long time to be gone."
A long time to be gone. The words echoed in Rory's head as the significance of this finally set in. Jess would be leaving the country for an extended period of time. Some of these residencies lasted a year or even longer.
"Oh," she said haltingly. "How long would you be gone?"
"I mean, it could be worse. It's only four months, really. I'd be back by Christmas."
Which meant, away until Christmas. Rory's heart clenched. Compared with four years, four months should have felt like nothing, but it didn't. It didn't. The thought of not seeing him at all, of it not even being an accidental possibility until December was almost unbearable. Don't go, she wanted to tell him fiercely. She was immediately ashamed of herself for being so selfish. How could she ask him to give this up? It would be such a wonderful thing for him. And what right did she have to even think of asking him such things? She wasn't his girlfriend. She took a deep breath and tried to sound upbeat.
"Oh. That's… not too bad."
"Yeah… Yeah, I guess not. But I'd be… GONE gone that whole time. No spontaneous trips to Stars Hollow if… if Liz forgets another birthday party or… anyone… needs anything."
"You're worried about Doula," she guessed. She wondered if his recent involvement in helping Liz out of scrapes had less to do with his mother, and more to do with making sure his sister had a more stable childhood than he had.
"I… yeah… I guess that could be part of it."
"Jess, I promise you, if Doula ever needs anything while you're away, she'll have me, ok? I'll be your eyes and your ears in Stars Hollow. We've gotten to be great friends lately, she and I, and I promise I'll be looking out for her. Birthday parties, help with schoolwork, or just someone to talk to, anything, ok? She won't be alone, I swear to you."
There was a long pause, and then Jess sighed. "Thank you, Rory. It means a lot to me that you would offer to do that."
"Of course. What are friends for?" she added, shrugging helplessly.
"Right. Right. And you did make me promise to let you help me if I needed anything."
"That's true! I can start paying off that debt now."
"Rory..." he warned.
"I know, I know. No balance sheets. Right."
"No balance sheets," he repeated softly, a fond tone in his voice.
"So… Does this mean you're going?"
"You think I should?"
Rory took a deep breath. "Yes," she said firmly. "I think you should. This is a once in a lifetime experience, Jess. You shouldn't miss it."
"Well… ok, then. I guess I'm going."
"Good! Good. I'm so… I'm so excited for you."
"Thanks. Well… I guess we won't see each other for a while, then. I've gotten kind of used to seeing more of you lately."
"I know, right? It's been… really nice."
"It has," he agreed softly. "So, I'll see you when I get back. Right?"
"Right," her voice cracked on the single syllable, feeling like someone was squeezing her heart in a tight fist. "I mean, assuming you decide to come back at all…" she laughed anxiously, her worries starting to spill over the carefully constructed dam she'd built around the role of Supportive Friend. "Who knows? Maybe you'll really like it there, and-"
"Rory," he interrupted. "I'm coming back."
"Ok," she said meekly, feeling vulnerable. "Then… I'll see you when you get back."
"Richie will be huge by then…"
Rory laughed in relief. "I'm sure he will be. I hope you have a wonderful time... It sounds perfect for you. You've always loved South American writers… Marquez, Borgés…"
"Neruda…" he added. "Yeah."
"I can't wait to hear everything about it," she said cheerfully. "I expect a full report, as well as another finished novel," she teased.
Jess laughed. "We'll see," he said. "And what about you? Maybe you'll finally have your book finished by then, too."
She laughed too. "We'll see," she echoed back. "Well… goodbye, Jess." she said softly.
"Bye, Rory," he answered warmly, and as the call ended, Rory suddenly found herself sitting on a bus at the New York Port Authority, a young girl of seventeen watching Jess walk out of her life with a sidelong smile. She'd been saying goodbye to Jess for 16 years, for half of her life, and the thought made her tired and full of yearning. All she wanted was to keep him, couldn't she just keep him? But he could never, ever be kept. And yet, she remembered, he always came back, too.
Rory. I'm coming back.
He always came back. But this was the first time he'd ever said it, like it was a promise.
A.N. How are you doing? Don't hate me! Drastic measures had to be taken! They were getting far too cozy, and the only way to keep them from making out before they're supposed to was to literally put them on opposite sides of the globe for a while, hahaha! I don't know if this chapter is up to my usual standards, but it was time to be done. All reviews will be treasured forever, and will keep me motivated to keep going! Hopefully the next will not take nearly so long! Thank you for reading my story.