AN: Will you look at that I'm alive. And I come bearing a new chapter. I know it's been awhile, but I'm back. I wouldn't get too comfy though, new chapters are going to continue to be slow to come out. I hope you enjoy this one.

~QoS

"That's a nice suit."

Logan glanced up from his phone to look at the man sitting in the pew next to him just long enough to mutter an, "uumm, thanks," before turning back to the email from his VP of finance. It wasn't anything urgent but he didn't have anything else to do with his time while he was stuck here in Rory's podunk town, sitting in a church full of people he didn't know. Rory had been gone all day, helping Lane get ready—not that it would have mattered much if she were here, she'd barely said two words to him since she'd gotten home from brunch two weeks ago. She'd stormed into the apartment only a couple hours after she'd left.

"Thanks a lot." Logan turned off the Red Sox game. He hadn't really been watching anyway. He was fairly certain he'd never be able to concentrate on anything ever again while sitting on that couch. The only thing he'd ever be able to think about in its proximity was what had happened on it the night before. It didn't matter that he was on the complete opposite end of the extra-large sectional—that there was so much distance between him and the tarnished cushions that the entire starting lineup of the Red Sox could fit in it—the furniture was ruined.

"What'd I do now?" He'd thought they'd come to a truce this morning, but apparently she was still mad at him.

Rory dropped her purse on the console table—though drop might be too passive a word for the action. And what exactly did she have in that bag that made a thud so loud it echoed through the entire great room? "He broke up with me."

"Oh." He tried to force his face into something resembling disappointment.

"This is all your fault."

"Excuse me?"

"You..." She pointed her index finger menacingly in his direction. "Did this. He broke up with me because of you."

"How the hell do you figure that?"

"Oh please, don't play dumb."

"What? I told him it was fine! That we had an agreement. All I did was ask him to move it to the bedroom."

"It's not what you said, it's how you said it."

"And how'd I say it?"

"Like Judi Dench."

"Ouch."

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" she asked, waving her hands in the air. "I'm not you. I can't just go out to some club and find a random hook-up. I'm going to spend the next twenty months letting my vagina shrivel up like a prune. I'm going to spend so much time with Antonio, I'm going to start to develop an emotional attachment to him—start calling him my boyfriend and expecting him to buy me flowers only to be disappointed when he doesn't—like with a real boyfriend." Antonio? Who the hell was that? Brendon was out of the picture for thirty seconds and now there was an Antonio?

"Umm—who's Antonio?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"My shower wand—see, it's happening already, I've given him a name." Logan felt the desire to hit things with his fists dissipate and he let out a laugh. Naming her shower wand was such a Rory thing to do.

"Your vagina is not going to shrivel up." They really needed to stop talking about her vagina or he was going to say 'fuck it' to his last shred of decorum and test said vagina out for himself.

"I hate you." She grabbed her purse again and started to stomp towards her bedroom. Logan got up, following after her.

"Ace, come on. You can't seriously be blaming me for this. This isn't what I wanted." What he wanted was for Rory to break up with the professor's scruffy ass, not the other way around. Brendon was a bigger idiot than he thought if he was scared off from Rory so easily.

"Screw you, Logan."

She slammed the door behind her and he didn't see her again for three days. And when she wasn't able to completely avoid him, she was cold and aloof with him, answering his questions in monosyllables and grunts. The car ride to Stars Hollow last night had been the most uncomfortable hour and a half of his life—and he'd grown up with Mitchum Huntzberger as a father.

"Is it hemp?"

"Excuse me?" Logan looked up from his phone again, this time letting his eyes linger on the peculiar man sitting next to him.

"The suit?" he clarified. "Is it made out of hemp?"

Logan observed his seat mate with the curious eye of a scientist among the apes, but Logan was a businessman, not a primatologist, and he could make no sense of the words coming out of the man's mouth. "It's linen," he finally answered.

"Oh. Well, it's just, I've heard that hemp is quite the up-and-coming trend in new textiles. I was thinking of getting in on the ground floor and starting a hemp sock business. You know, good quality footwear for the professional. We'd have a variety of designs, of course—dogs wearing yarmulkes, kittens in suits, maybe a few fun sayings like 'nacho average banker.' I'm Kirk, by the way." Kirk held out his hand.

Logan narrowed his eyes in confusion but took the proffered hand. "Logan Huntzberger."

"Ah, Rory's husband."

"Yeah."

"I didn't know who you were because I wasn't invited to your wedding."

"Oh, um…" Logan looked over his shoulder, willing the doors to open and the ceremony to start. This interaction was even more awkward that when that dance teacher tried to grab his ass at the carnival. At least Rory had been by his side then to help him navigate the eccentricities of the Stars Hollow townies. "No, I guess not. We had a limited guest list." If you counted 500 people, most of whom he'd never met, as 'limited.'

"I'll remember that when Lulu and I get married. Lulu is my girlfriend. She's not here right now because she had to take Petal to the vet."

"Is that her dog?"

"Our pig."

Logan had no idea how to respond to that—who had a pet pig? Did it live inside their house? Was it even real or was it a figment of this guy's imagination like he suspected the supposed girlfriend was. Fortunately, Logan was saved from having to respond to this…interesting conversation as the organ started playing. The door to the church opened and Rory walked in.

He knew he probably should have focused his eyes on the bride behind her, but Rory was all he could pay attention to. She was dressed modestly in a royal blue dress that fell to her knees with a high neckline made of lace. Her hair was down, falling in gentle waves over her shoulders. But what he noticed most of all was how she seemed to glow, her blue eyes sparkling with happiness. He hadn't seen her this happy in weeks. Though, to be fair, he suspected she was reserving most of her scowls for when she was forced to be in his presence.

Of course Rory was happy today; her best friend was getting married. But Logan couldn't help but feel like it was more than that. This was how Rory was supposed to be. This was her in her element. This was the wedding she should have had.

He wondered if she was thinking about that too. About how this was the wedding she'd want when she got to do it for real. No banquet hall full of 500 strangers. No obscenely priced dress with a train that probably weighed more than she did. No eight-piece quartet playing songs that were popular 400 years ago. No one bugging her every five seconds so that the wedding could be perfect for everyone but her. Just a group of her favorite people, a man who was hopelessly in love with her, and of course—it was Rory after all—a ridiculously decadent cake for her to gorge herself on.

He tried not to think about who would be standing next to her at the altar the next time. Not stupid Brendon, at least. Not Logan either. Which was fine. Just because he was having uncontrollable lusty feelings, didn't mean he was suddenly looking for a forever with her. Besides, Rory deserved more. She deserved a man who could be fully devoted to her. Not one who always had to put work first because tens of thousands of people depended on him for employment, and 78 countries across the globe depended on him for their news. With Mitchum's death, and that stupid will stipulation, Logan had been forced to face his Huntzberger fate—he was married to his job. Literally. Marrying Rory was him committing to a forever as the president and CEO of Huntzberger Publishing Group. Once upon a time, he'd thought maybe he could have had more than that. But once Natalie chose CERN, a part of him knew. As mad as he was, as much as he wanted to blame her for not loving him enough, he didn't love her enough either. Not enough to leave HPG and follow her to Switzerland. He'd made a choice—and that choice was the company.

Just like Nat, Rory deserved more. And once their arrangement was over in a couple years, she'd go on to find actual love. He wanted that for her.

Really. He did.

As maid of honor, Rory felt like there was something she was supposed to be doing: running interference with crazy relatives, procuring food for the bride, helping hold Lane's train up while she went to the bathroom. Something.

But Mrs. Kim and all her religious relatives had already excused themselves for the evening. Dinner was over. And Lane's dress—one that Lorelai had altered from Mrs. Kim's old wedding dress and made into something surprisingly hip and stylish—had a removable skirt that had turned it from a formal frock into something totally rock and roll as soon as the party got started. Lane was an easy bride. Unlike Rory had been. Although, to be fair, none of that had been her choice.

"Can I get you a drink?" she asked Lane, nodding towards the bar set up across the town square, bustling with people. Twinkle lights and streamers were hung from every surface. The band was set up in the gazebo. She really needed something to do. Not just for Lane's sake but for her own. Otherwise she might have to go interact with her husband.

The bride shook her head. "I've already had two glasses of champagne. I don't want to drink too much tonight." Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she glanced over to where her new husband was talking to their old high school friend and bandmate, Brian. Lane's wedding may have been untraditional in a lot of ways—including the fact that Lane was a member of her own wedding band—but the wedding night, at least, was on track for some old-world tradition.

Rory wasn't at all jealous of her best friend. Not for Lane getting the wedding of her dreams to the man of her dreams. And definitely not for the fact that she was going to have sex with her husband that night.

Not that Rory wanted to have sex with her husband. She just wanted to have sex—period. She was getting so desperate she'd found herself eyeing up Kirk earlier (though her own three glasses of champagne may have had something to do with that). The really pitiful part was, even Kirk was getting more action than her. At least she assumed that Kirk and Lulu had a physical relationship. Though, knowing them, their idea of physical intimacy might have just been a game of fully clothed Twister. Rory wasn't entirely convinced Kirk wasn't part Ken doll.

"I'm actually kind of nervous," Lane said, her hands twisting anxiously.

"Dave loves you. You've got nothing to be nervous about," Rory told her.

Lane glanced at Dave and, seeing that he was still busy chatting away with Brian, continued on. "I've got everything to be nervous about. I'm married now. That means if it sucks, I'm stuck with bad sex forever."

It beat no sex, as far as Rory was concerned. Lane was about to lose her virginity and Rory was pretty sure she was about to regrow hers. And it was all Logan's fault.

"It's normal for it to suck the first time. Practice makes perfect," she assured her friend despite her own growing frustrations. God, she could kill Logan for screwing things up with Brendon for her. And Logan had probably gone out and gotten laid at least twice since then while Rory was stuck indefinitely in this involuntary born-again phase.

"But I don't want Dave to be my practice. I want him to be my perfect," Lane said dreamily. Rory fought the urge to gag. It wasn't Lane's fault Rory agreed to a sexless marriage with a man who screwed up the one chance she'd had at getting laid in almost a year.

"He can be both," Rory said. "Practice can be fun with the right person." Rory would take any person. Seriously: practice, perfect, it didn't matter to her. She was dying here. She'd thought she'd gotten used to the no-sex thing but that was before she'd been reminded of what it was like to be with a man. Why couldn't Logan have come home thirty minutes later that night. Or better yet, not at all like he was supposed to? Stupid Logan.

"Like your practice marriage?" Lane laughed. "Is Logan the right person for that?"

Rory's face must have given her away. Lane knew her too well.

"Ooh, trouble in fake paradise?" Lane asked. "Is that why you've spent all night trying to dote on me while leaving your husband to the wolves?" Lane pointed in the direction of a table where Logan sat nodding mechanically as Babette and Morey went on about what Rory could only assume was an inappropriate story from their younger days.

Whatever they were rambling on about—she hoped it was the one about the time they made out backstage at a Chick Corea concert—Logan deserved every minute of the torturous conversation.

Had she mentioned she was mad at him?

That was why she'd been avoiding him for weeks. It certainly had nothing to do with Brendon's ridiculous suggestion that Logan had been jealous. Jealous of what? Just the idea of it was ludicrous.

"I'm doting on you because it's your wedding and I'm your maid of honor. It's literally my job."

"But there is something going on with you and Logan, right?" she asked, lowering her voice and leaning in so close her veil, which was still perched atop her head like a crown, brushed Rory's face. "I mean, not going on going on. Because you're with Brendon, but you know what I mean."

"Actually…" Rory hesitated. "I'm not…with Brendon." She really didn't want to tell Lane that until after the wedding. She didn't want to be a bummer. This was Lane's big day—it was supposed to be perfect for her friend.

"What?" Lane asked. "What happened? I thought things were going good. He was down with the whole open marriage story. Things were heating up…"

"Apparently he wasn't so okay with it after all. At least not after being caught flagrante delicato by my fake husband."

"What?" Lane gasped. "When? How? How could you not tell me about this?" Rory's face went immediately bright red at the thought of having to tell anyone what happened that night, even Lane. So, maybe her failure to divulge wasn't entirely selfless. With a reluctant sigh, Rory told her friend the whole story.

"Wow." Lane gawped.

"Wow? That's it?" It was the most humiliating, rage inducing 24-hours of Rory's life and all Lane could say was 'wow'?

"Do you think it's true?"

"What?"

"That Logan was jealous."

Rory scoffed. "No. Logan is just a stuck-up ass who can't stand not getting his way and has to ruin everything for everyone else rather than accept that he's not the one everyone wants."

Lane cocked her head, looking Rory up and down appraisingly. "You're awfully defensive."

"I'm not defensive," Rory said defensively. "I'm frustrated. Sexually frustrated. Because I got half-way to happy town and then my stupid husband ruined it."

"Sounds like he'd be willing to make it up to you." Lane winked. "Take you all the way to happy town."

"Gross. He's Logan." It was gross. And didn't make her at all warm and tingly down below. Besides, even if it did, it wasn't because it was Logan. It was just her stupid, sex deprived body. Pastor Cho smiled at her earlier and she got warm and tingly down below.

"Yes, Logan. Your hot, rich, charming husband who was totally jealous."

"He totally wasn't. He sleeps with super models and is hung up on his ex." Not that she cared.

"I think thou doth protest too much."

"I think thou protests just enough."

"Wouldn't it be great if you two actually fell in love and lived happily ever after?" Lane gushed.

Rory scowled. "No."

"It would be just like the movies. I love a good marriage of convenience trope."

It figured that Lane's wedding would bring out her romantic, rock ballad side but Rory didn't have to be happy about it. "Logan and I are not falling in love."

"Fine. Then you should have no problem with partaking in the traditional couple's dance."

"You're not doing the traditional couple's dance. You're not doing any of the traditions except the church ceremony your mother made you have."

Lane shrugged. "I'm the bride. It's my prerogative to change my mind."

Before Rory could argue, any further, Lane was off. She grabbed Dave and started dragging him over towards the gazebo to talk to the band.

"Alright," Drew, the lead singer, announced. "I think it's time to get all those married couples out on the dance floor. This one's for you." The opening strings to Elvis' "I Can't Help Falling in Love" rang through the warm night air.

Rory gritted her teeth and walked over to the table Logan was sitting at. Babette and Morey were already making their way to the dance floor leaving Logan alone.

With a disgruntled sigh, she offered him her hand.

Logan looked at the silky, alabaster limb with confusion. Sure, the band had called all married couples out to the dance floor. But given the fact that Rory hadn't spent 30 seconds in his presence all day, he was pretty sure she'd find some excuse not to partake in this tradition.

Despite his surprise, Logan accepted the gesture and led her out to the center of the square just as the lead singer started in on vocals.

Logan put his hands on her hips and Rory wrapped hers around his neck, a sea of distance between them. They looked like a couple of middle school kids at their first boy-girl dance. His mother should request a refund on the ballroom dance classes she forced him to take when he was younger. But despite the fact that they looked ridiculous, Logan knew it was in his best interest not to get too close.

A few seconds passed with them tilting stiltedly back and forth. He couldn't do this. His years of training were too great. It was an affront to every gentlemanly instinct he'd had bred into him. Plus, he was fighting against muscle memory here. He ran a hand up her side, untangling her own arm from around his neck and taking it in his to spin her around. After her revolution she landed with a soft thud against his chest and he felt his temperature rise a couple of degrees at the contact. Her free hand came to rest on his shoulder and he slid his all the way around her waist to the small of her back.

They fell into an easy rhythm, a strange mixture of comfort and tension thrumming between them. They'd danced together dozens of times by now. And yet somehow, she felt different in his arms now. He couldn't think about that though. He just needed to go through the motions. Avoid eye contact. It was just a dance.

Her hand slid down to the lapel of his jacket, fingering the material absently. His thumb, obeying a master that was not his brain, started tracing idly up and down her spine. He felt her shiver against him despite the fact that it was 78 degrees outside.

How long had they been dancing? "Aren't they supposed to start kicking the newlyweds off the dance floor?" Logan felt the waiver in his own voice and he prayed it wasn't apparent to her. God, he hadn't been this stupid around a woman in forever. Of course, it had been forever since he'd wanted a woman he couldn't have. Shouldn't have. It was best for both of them that way.

Rory stepped back a little so that there was just a sliver of space between them. An action that left him simultaneously relieved and disappointed. "I don't think that's in Lane's plan."

"Right," he said, as though he knew what that meant. Another moment of awkward silence settled between them. "You're still mad at me," he finally managed. They had to talk about this eventually. They had to spend the entire weekend with his friends and family in the Hampton's next week for the 4th of July. There were going to be people there who were looking for any evidence that their marriage was a sham. They needed to figure their shit out before that. Plus, talking about it now had the added benefit of distracting him from the way her hips swayed.

"Yeah, well…" Rory wasn't even bothering to deny it. That didn't feel like a good sign. What was the best tactic here? Definitely not defensiveness, even though every bone in his body wanted to tell her it wasn't his god damn fault the professor was a moron and a coward. And that he wasn't the least bit sorry the guy was out of the picture, whether Logan himself had anything to do with it or not.

It also probably wasn't a good idea to do what his body was screaming at him to do, which was kiss her and then play it off as being for show. Mostly because his body also wanted to do other things that were completely inappropriate in front of a crowd. It didn't help that she smelled like a vanilla latte. Or that their dance had fallen into a perfectly synchronized rhythm. Or that she was soft in all the best places.

Sincerity. Sincerity was always the best way to deal with a woman. Or at least—bits of it. The whole truth was a minefield. But if you could choose the right path around the explosives, it would lead you to victory.

"I really am sorry about Brendon." Not a lie. He just wasn't sorry about the part she thought he was sorry about.

"Are you?" There was a flash in her eyes as she looked up at him. She clearly didn't believe him.

"Of course."

"What about him?"

"Huh?"

"What about Brendon, exactly, are you sorry about?"

Uh oh. He was dangerous close to setting off one of those bombs. And he'd only just begun. He could go for the easy answer—that he was sorry the guy broke up with her. But he could already see the trigger sticking out of the ground on that one. She blamed Logan for the breakup. Which meant he needed to take actual responsibility. Not that it was his fault the guy was clearly an idiot. But Logan needed to find the kernel of truth if he was going to patch things over here.

"I'm sorry for how I acted that night. I said some things out of…" Blind seething rage? Insane jealously? "Frustration," he finally settled on. "And I'm sorry." He might not be sorry for anything he said to Professor Plum, but he was sorry for what he'd said to her.

"You acted like an ass."

"I did." Finally, an easy admission.

Elvis ended and a new song Logan didn't recognize started. Other married couples made their way back to their seats, but Rory and Logan kept dancing.

"We had a deal," she harrumphed.

"I know." Nothing had changed. Logan never went back on a deal. No matter how badly he wanted to.

"Just because we're married doesn't mean you own me. I deserve to have my own life. You had no right to get all possessive like that."

"I know." Her face was starting to soften. He tamped down the feeling of triumph he felt bubbling up within his stomach. If there was one thing he'd learned from his work, it was never to celebrate victory too early. "I was just…caught off guard. I was in a bad mood and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

Her shoulders drooped, and with it, the feeling in his stomach. Never celebrate too early.

"It doesn't fix what happened, Logan. He's gone. I'm going to be alone forever."

He didn't know if he should feel bad, or he should laugh. She really was oblivious sometimes. "Ace, you are not going to be alone forever. Brendon was an idiot, but there are a million guys out there who would take you anyway they could get you. If it meant challenging me to a duel, they'd slap me with a pair of gloves." Against his better instincts, his hand went to her face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and tilting her head up to look at him. "Now, finding one who deserves you, that's a different story."

A weak smile pulled at the corner of her lips. "Really, Huntzberger? Those are the lines that get you laid?"

He smiled back down at her. "Well, to be fair, it helps to be rich and hot."

An unruly snort made its way out of her nose and she clamped her hand to her face to stifle it. "Sure, whatever you say." Rory shook her head, then laid it on his chest as the music continued around them.

"So, divorce averted?" he asked.

He could practically feel her eyes roll through the linen of his suit. "For now at least."

They danced for another few minutes in silence, but it was comfortable this time. Maybe a little too comfortable, but Logan could worry about that later. It was mind over matter. For now, he'd dance with his wife. It's not like he was in danger of doing anything stupid here on the dance floor in front of the entire town of Stars Hollow. And when they got home, he'd be slammed with work all week. Then next weekend they had a dozen parties and events to attend for the holiday weekend. He just needed to avoid being alone with her until he got his libido under control. That shouldn't be so hard to do.