enjoy xoxo
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Jess has trouble sleeping that night and gets out of bed after lying next to a softly snoozing Rory for an hour. They went to bed after one Christmas movie and two spoonfuls of cookie dough due to Rory having a stomachache. He was worried maybe he hurt her after all, but she quickly reminded him of all the junk food she ate in the last 24 hours, and he felt slightly better. She passed out shortly after hitting the bed. He kisses her as gently as possible on the forehead, not wanting to wake her from restful sleep. He leaves the bedroom, with the door open a crack so she knows that he's still in the house with her in case she wakes up. He grabs her laptop from the kitchen table and takes a seat on the couch in the living room.
He looks around at the colorfully lit Christmas tree, and various holiday trinkets spread around the room. It makes him smile knowing that Lorelai, and probably Luke, still went through the trouble of decorating even though they are away for the holidays. He thinks Lorelai was hoping maybe Rory would come home, and it's a warming thought that it came true. He thinks back to a month ago, to Rory's scared puppy dog eyes when she told him about the miscarriage. And to now, though she still has things to fix, she has come a long way quicker than he expected. And she hasn't pushed him away at all; she's denied him conversations that he's wanted to have, but she has never pushed him away. In fact, she's done the opposite. She moved close to him. She's discussed things with him that he didn't imagine they would discuss in a context outside of her book; her history with Dean and Logan, her feelings of unworthiness. A few of their own relationship issues. The deep feelings of grief she's been facing alone. He didn't expect her to lean on him the way that she has, and that realization fires up hope inside him. He hurriedly opens the laptop to get to work on finishing her gift to him.
He is surprised at how he comes off in what she wrote. He had felt the villain in their relationship for a long time and assumed the she had felt that way about him too. And maybe she did at first, but the way that she writes about their past is graceful, almost wistful. It makes him feel like maybe he's accomplished something that he set out to do when he got serious about his life and wrote his book. He has wanted to give her enough safe, positive experiences with him that could hopefully overshadow the scary, gutting ones from their past. He's wanted to get her to understand that he has changed, for both of them. His self-worth is light years ahead of what it was when they first met, even when they dated. He knows he fooled most people with his cocky and confident demeanor, but he in truth felt like he was a worthless waste of time to Rory, Luke, his mother, himself. It took him painfully delving into those negative feelings by keeping journals that would eventually turn into books for him to start to give himself some grace and kindness. And it made a world of difference. He thinks of his past and current self as if they were side by side portraits; the past would be a blurry mess of leather, no detectable features except the fading outline of a scowl. His current self-portrait would be clear; his body calm and stoic. All features distinguishable. Maybe even a hint of a smile.
He appreciates her effort to distinguish him from Dean, and other people in her life, without directly comparing them. It's a frame of mind he knows she must have worked hard to unlearn. It was one of the most challenging aspects of their relationship. Not that he would have been any better of a boyfriend to her if she didn't compare him to her ex. He regrets not calling her more, spending more time with her. He wanted her to be his girlfriend so badly and then he practically wasted the precious opportunity. But it was hard for him to be around adults with her, like her mom and even Luke. They watched him with judgment in their eyes, and Lorelai had written him off before his relationship with Rory even truly began. And the town, well it was like being surrounded by hundreds of Lorelais. He desired to give Rory everything she wanted from him, but he couldn't do it at the cost of his own comfort and dignity. He was the only person he had, and he had to protect himself.
He is just starting to read her words about their physical relationship as teenagers, smirking at the adjectives of 'powerful', 'rough', 'intensely compatible', when he hears a loud "Damnit!' come from the direction of Rory's old bedroom. He deftly moves the laptop from his legs to the coffee table, standing up to go check on her. At the same time, she walks out of the room with bed sheets crumpled in her hands. She looks up and he sees her face is red, and eyes watery. His face drops.
"What's wrong?" he asks gently, stepping closer to her. She shakes her head, but tears start to escape her eyes. He pulls her into his arms, and she lets them fall against his warm chest. She drops the sheets on the floor and puts her arms around him. They stand wrapped up for a few quiet minutes until Jess tries again, "What happened?"
"You know how my stomach hurt when we went to bed?" she mumbles against him.
"Yes. Did you get sick?" he pushes her just far enough away from him that he can look at her face for signs of illness. She shakes her head slowly, and she points down to the floor at the beige sheets. He looks down and sees it then: a deep red blood stain.
He panics and looks back at her face, "Rory, is that from sex? Did I hurt you?!"
She grimaces and shakes her head rapidly, "No! No. It's my period."
Jess relaxes, closing his eyes momentarily and taking a breath, then opening them to give her a sympathetic look.
"I guess it was cramps and not a stomachache."
He nods and runs a soothing hand down her arm.
"I just woke up and felt a pain in my back, and a crampy feeling in my belly. I turned the light on to get up and get some Advil or something, and then I saw the blood on my shorts and on the bed. And I just…it's the first one since…"
"I know," he says to not force her into finishing her sentence, and he leans forward and kisses her head.
"It feels weird and sad. Like this is really the end, but it already really was the end because I bled out in a hospital so it doesn't make sense that I would feel this way. It's been over, this means nothing! I've been doing so much better." She chastises herself, looking away from him.
"Rory," Jess starts, trying to get her to look at him. But she's staring down at the sheets on the floor and won't pry her eyes away, even as he massages her shoulders with his hands.
"Baby," he tries, moving a finger under her chin. It works and she looks up curiously at the name usually reserved for the bedroom.
"It's okay to feel that way. I don't know what it feels like, but I can understand why it would be hard. You were pregnant over a month ago and now your body has already gone through an entire cycle. That juxtaposition I'm sure is…disconcerting."
Rory's lower lip pouts out slightly more and she sniffles. He runs his thumbs under her eyes.
"You know…you say really smart stuff when I'm sad about my body. It's interesting."
A smile tugs gently at his lips, "As opposed to my usual moronic chatter?"
It elicits a small laugh from her mouth, and he lets his smile grow.
"No, just…like sciency, big words. It's kind of like talking to a gentler version of Paris."
Now he laughs, "Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"
She nods, "Yes, take it. It's a compliment," she insists, and then more quietly says, "You know how to put me at ease."
His smile turns soft, and he leans forward to kiss her forehead, nose, cheeks and then lips.
"Go take care of yourself, I will handle the sheets. Where do you guys keep clean ones?"
Rory's body relaxes, "There should be some in my closet. Thank you."
He nods and releases her from his arms, nodding towards the stairs.
"Go ahead, I'll be here and awake when you're done."
She kisses him briskly, and then heads upstairs to clean up.
He goes to work, hastily getting the stained sheets in the wash so the blood comes out. Once that's done, he finds clean bedding in Rory's closet. Of course, the backup sheets are old hello kitty sheets, probably from around the time they met. It brings a smile to his face as he takes just a moment to internalize that information. He's been a part of this woman's life in some way for over fifteen years. And it all started in this room, and even though they haven't put a label on this part of their journey yet; it's new territory and it's happening here too. He stares at the window entranced for a moment, remembering how he tried to talk her into escaping through with him that first time. He had never had a girl laugh off any offer he made them before. It was usually either met with anger or compliance. He then shifts his gaze to her twin sized bed. He assumes it's the very same that was in here that day too. But now he's thinking about the last two days here, not just the sex but the grown up conversations they have had. The adult situations they have dealt with, together, and discussed in this room. The contrast of events from then and now feels striking, and it makes a mix of warm and nostalgic emotions heave in his chest. He shakes his head and starts remaking her bed, grateful that he could be here to support her with this. She desperately wants to make less of the situation, he could tell by her manic rambling, but it is a heavy one. He wonders if she feels embarrassed at all, and hopes the answer is no. He thinks back fleetingly to the time he was a teenager working in the diner and couldn't handle seeing a woman nurse a baby. He rolls his eyes at his young self, and his hormonal teenage brain that deemed breasts only allowed to be seen in a sexual context. He was an idiot, and he sure hopes Rory has forgotten about that. And he hopes he's proven himself as matured and sensitive towards her needs. He learned a long time ago, from life and dating and even Luke, that to properly care for a woman is to have respect for all parts of her.
He finishes making the bed, and hears the water shut off upstairs. He looks around the kitchen for supplies. He finds her Advil and mallomars, and he heats up a kettle of water to make her peppermint tea for her cramps. He goes back to living room and gets her laptop to continue reading at the kitchen table. The kettle whistles and he is pouring her tea just as she comes back down the stairs.
"I forgot about my shorts, I guess I should trash them?" She holds them in her hand, looking at Jess. She then notices the supplies he left out for her and to his dismay her eyes water again.
"Oh Jess," she drops her shorts on the floor and hugs him tightly. He returns it and kisses her head.
"Not supposed to make you cry."
"I know, I'm just feeling emotional tonight. Sorry. I love this so much thank you for the supplies."
"I just grabbed stuff from cabinets."
She laughs and steps away from him, rubbing the residual tears from her eyes.
"Now you sound like Luke," she eats a mallomar and opens the Advil.
"I just started the wash, I'll throw your shorts in."
"I can do it - "
"Can't hear you," he talks over her, picking them up off the floor and quickly walking to the laundry room. He throws them in and meets her back in kitchen. She's sipping her tea and leaning over to look at the notes he has left so far on his chapter.
"Hey, you'll see those when I'm done," he states, pulling the laptop from her view. She pouts.
"You're holding my own writing from me?"
"It's mine now. You gave it to me, remember?"
"I suppose that's true," she concedes, and noticing the time she adds, "Merry Christmas, by the way. It's after midnight."
He smiles softly and takes her hand in his.
"Merry Christmas. I'll save your gift for tomorrow, so you have something to open Christmas morning."
"That's so thoughtful but now I'm going to be thinking about it all night. I hope it's a new book you've secretly been writing."
He shakes his head, "now, now. No guessing, or you get coal."
"How about a spanking instead?" She suggests with a raised eyebrow.
He scoffs, "Dirty girl," he leans closer to her, "I'll let you in on a secret. You don't have to be bad for me to spank you."
It makes her blush, and he smirks in return. She focuses on sipping her tea until her body calms down.
"I saw your note about the description of our teenage makeout sessions," Rory looks at him over her mug of tea.
"And?"
"Yes, of course those feelings still apply. I just added electrifying to the tally today."
He grins, "Good. Just making sure."
"I would edit it a little. I would say you're both rough and gentle. Sometimes both in one session and sometimes one or the other. Gentle was not something I thought you would be when I was a teenager."
His eyebrows raise slightly with his lips, "I'm happy to surprise you. I would have been gentle then too, you know."
She gives him a look, "Really? Need I remind you of walking us into traffic?"
He laughs, "Yes really. I know it felt a little dangerous, but I cared about you. I wouldn't have been a savage beast the first time. Now after that…"
She hits his arm playfully, but she turns serious as she says, "I do wish I had sex for the first time with you. I hate that it happened the way it did."
Jess replies softly, "it wouldn't have changed anything. I still would have left. And that would leave me with way less of a chance of having this time with you now."
"I guess you're right."
"But, I do regret everything about that stupid party."
"It's okay," Rory insists, "I was more worried about you than anything. I had never seen you so…unsettled."
"No, it's not okay. I pressured you. I know I did."
"You didn't, we were kissing, and you tried to escalate it is all."
"Rory, I'm trying to apologize here. Indulge me, please," he begs, imploring her with his sorrowful, dark eyes, "I know I'm going to read about that night in some form in the chapter you wrote me, and I need to say this now."
She relents, body relaxing with a nod.
"I'm sorry. Deeply sorry."
She takes his hand and responds simply, but without room for argument, "It's forgiven."
"I don't deserve that, but thank you," he kisses her hand.
"What about you? What adjectives would you use to describe our sex life now?" she gives him a catlike smile.
He exhales in thought, "I don't know if the right word exists."
"That's a cop out!" Rory protests but he shakes his head.
"It's really not."
"Come on!"
"How about I keep thinking about it, and I'll write it in the chapter notes for you to read when it comes to me."
She huffs but it's cut off by a yawn.
"Ready to go back to bed?" he asks sweetly, running his fingers softly down her leg.
She nods twice as she finishes yawning for a second time, "Will you come with me? You don't have to stay if you can't sleep but maybe lay with me a little?"
"You mean until you fall asleep?" he asks knowingly, as he stands up to put away the candy and Advil, dropping her tea mug in the sink.
"Well, I don't want to sound selfish but…"
He chuckles and walks to the bedroom door, waving her in, "Come on."
He pulls back the blankets on her freshly made bed, and they both climb in. Rory reaches over and turns off the light. Jess turns on his side, he puts a hand on her hip urging her to spoon against him. He places kisses on her neck as she cuddles into him, she presses the back of her leg between his and he opens up to let it in, then closes his legs around her. Their hips align, her bottom pressed up against his crotch and even though there's no sexual energy in the air at the moment, his member jumps at the contact. Rory takes it as a compliment and settles herself further into his warm embrace.
"Thank you for making the bed. And everything else," she whispers in the dark. He wraps his arm tighter around her and kisses her head again in response. A calm silence falls between them for some time, and Jess thinks maybe Rory has fallen asleep already until he hears her small, lulling voice again.
"This thing is feeling pretty serious now, isn't it?"
"Why? Because I've made you bleed twice?" Jess responds though it doesn't come out as comical as he intended it to be.
"Not that, but the way we deal with those things together now. Like we've never done it any other way before."
He understands, and he places a warm hand under her shirt and on her lower abdomen to show her that.
"That feels good," she murmurs, and he feels her body relax more against him.
"That's why I put it there," he mumbles in her ear, "go to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."
...
He wakes up as the sun hits his eyes the next morning, he blinks a few times and breathes in deeply. He looks at the clock to see it's a little after seven. He's surprised he slept, guessing he must have fallen asleep right after Rory. She is still asleep beside him, laying on her back now but his hand is still on her stomach, and he strokes it gently with his thumb. She looks angelic most of the time, but with the way the light is casting across her face, flitting against her delicate eyelashes and lighting up her parted lush lips; so serene she could inspire a Botticelli painting. Something about this line of thought makes him get up out of bed, carefully so Rory can stay asleep, and sit down with her laptop at the kitchen table. It's already on the page he wants, and he makes his note for her:
Being with you: the celestial energy, the supple warmth of your body inside and out, the ethereal looks and sounds of you feels like catching something elusive. I had a hard time letting the light in, especially yours. My world was dark for so long that it became all I knew. It wasn't safe but it was comfortable. You tried to show me a way out, or at least a well-lit refuge. I resisted it, was almost afraid of it - it was so unfamiliar to me. But being with you now…it feels like finally letting the light in, all of it built up over time and flowing throughout me with every touch and every kiss.
If someone else wrote that, if he were editing a novel for work, he would find it cheesy and over the top and cross it out. But it's too accurate of a description, it resonates so deeply with how he feels when they touch, that he doesn't change a thing about it. Except he decides to put a second note:
To put it a slightly less cheesy: It feels like a sunny spring day after a long, dark winter. And we're eating ice cream. In cones.
He leaves it for her to read when he's done, as promised. Hopeful that she won't mock him.
Since it's early and he's sure Rory will want to sleep for a few more hours, he decides to spend some time editing manuscripts. He has a lot of work to do, and hasn't had much time, or discipline really, to get to it. He's been preoccupied with the Liz situation, then spending time with his sister. And of course, Rory - it hurts to think about spending time doing work when he knows she's around and he can be with her instead. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows it's because he won't have this kind of time with her forever. Even if they do get serious, she's going to interview with the New York Times next week for an international correspondent position. She is not going to be this available once she gets this job. And he is confident she will get it. So, he's grasping on to these days that despite the grave issues he's dealing with, there is an undercurrent of burning bliss. Living temporarily in a shared space with Rory, he knows it's essentially playing house but that doesn't take away from the warmth it brings to his chest.
After spending a few hours on work, he takes a break and decides to start on a dessert for Liz's. He looks through the cabinets, expecting them to be bare knowing the Gilmore girls, but is pleasantly surprised to find supplies. Luke lives here now he remembers with a small smile. He takes out a brownie mix, a tub of frosting and candy canes. He preheats the oven (checking first for any non-cooking paraphernalia) and takes his time following the instructions until he has a pan full of brownie batter. He places it in the oven and glances at the clock; they will be done in 45 minutes. He looks at how many pages he has left from Rory and realizes he will probably be done by the time the brownies are ready. Anxiety suddenly floods him. She has alluded to them having an important conversation after he finishes, like she's hidden a surprise in there for him to find. Even though it seems like it will be something positive, he feels apprehensive. He takes a breath and decides to make the frosting now to delay a little bit longer. He stands at the counter and crushes up the candy canes as quietly as possible. He puts them in a bowl, adds in the frosting and mixes it all together. He searches the cabinets and manages to find mint extract, and he adds a drop to the frosting as well and mixes it more. Then he's done. Should have made it from scratch, he chastises himself.
He leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. The file on that computer holds some sort of message about his future. But it also holds reminders of that past. Ah, he realizes, that's the apprehension. He's afraid to read her words about his disappearance, and what it did to her. He's nervous to read about the party, even though she seems to have absolved him of any wrong doing. It's going to be difficult, it's going to bring up horrible feelings of regret and self-loathing. She faced it for you, she was on the receiving end of your bullshit, and she dug in to write this and give it to you. He has to finish. He slowly strides back to the table and sits down to face his teenage self.
As he reads, he is once again surprised and grateful for the way she's told their story. Never at any point does he look like the monster he felt himself to be for so long. It looks like a story of two teenagers who loved each other deeply but didn't have the skills yet to nurture that love. He comes off as a boy that needed to survive and did what he felt was necessary to do that. And that he did what he did because he thought staying would hurt her more. And she writes herself, accurately, as a naïve girl that had limited experience with harsher realities than her own. A girl who didn't quite understand the complexities of serious relationships yet. Because he knows that's what they were, and that it's also where they are heading: something serious. He leaves a note in the margin telling her as much.
He gets close to the end, and he realizes that originally maybe this is where she intended to end the chapter when she first wrote it. Because separated from an analysis of lessons she's taken from their time together as teenagers is the sentence: Sometimes love is not enough.
And it's the first time he has considered burying himself alive while reading this thing. Mostly because it's the brutal, painful truth. It's not a takeaway he wanted her to have from their teenage love, but she is right on fucking point. No matter how much he thought she might love him at that age, it would never have been enough to stop the series of events that unfolded. And he knows the amount of love he felt for her. So, she's right: the power of their love wasn't enough to change anything.
Before he allows himself to read more, he stands up from the table and takes a deep breath. He tugs at his hair a few times and covers his face with his hands. Trying to calm the hurtful thoughts in his head. You made a mistake. You wrecked something amazing. Think of where you two would be now if you had just fucking stayed and talked to her. Maybe she would have been pregnant with your child, and maybe maybe maybe…he groans. The sound of his own voice startles him, and he realizes Rory's still asleep in the next room. He reminds himself again: the woman he is ripping himself to shreds over for hurting is in the next room. Sleeping off a night of incredible sex, after spending a day by his side, supporting him with his family issues.
Everything is okay.
He breathes in again, and exhales; the tiniest smile of gratitude on his lips. He looks at the clock and the brownies are done, so he takes them out. He decides to start a pot of coffee while he's up, so it's ready for whenever she wakes up. He stands waiting for it to brew, wondering how she ends his chapter. If her book was chronological, it would have made sense to end it where he just finished reading. But he knows she has added to it specifically for this gift. He pours himself a cup of coffee and places the carafe back to keep it warm. He sits back down at the table and continues this journey. His heart swells immediately as he starts reading the last page:
Sometimes love is not enough.
But now I'm learning that it's a great place to start. It's a foundation that something beautiful can be built on; it deserves a second chance, and maybe every chance it needs until it's right. Because in the time apart, if it's true love, it will mature and grow stronger completely unbeknownst to you. And when you find it again, you're going to want to question it, to interrogate and overthink it. Because it can't be that easy, right? But it can be.
And I know the love we have is true because it's the type of love only he has ever given me: unconditional. He gave me the wonderful feeling of being loved and cared for who I am, not ever wanting me to be anyone else. Even at times insisting that I was straying away from myself, demanding I take a hard look and find who I am again, despite that it meant possibly pushing me away. It didn't matter as much to him as my happiness.
True love makes you better and stronger. It supports you endlessly. It helps you flourish, and it's there to catch and hold you when you don't.
He has told me in many ways since he met me to stop being afraid of my feelings. He's right, and I'm finally at the point where I can see that.
It's love and it's okay to allow myself to feel it.
I hope that he feels the same way. And that he will want me for long enough that he is no longer just a chapter in my story, but a main character. An inseparable piece of all my future narratives. I dream of him by my side for every wonderful and horrible thing I will endure. And I want to be there for all of his exciting and scary moments too.
We are meant to be together. He was right.
The feelings coursing through him are so intense they are debilitating. He's amazed that she put herself out there to him like this. He had hoped, he had encouraged her to face her feelings and figure out what she wants. But he didn't expect this. He's so grateful for her honesty he can hardly breathe. And reading her deep interpretations of their love causes a buzzing through him; he feels it under his skin, in his veins and his bones. It urges him to do something with this information that he's been waiting a month for. No, more like that he's been waiting years for. He did say they were meant to be together. And it's not a belief he has ever gone back on.
He wants to laugh at himself as he looks at the clock to see if it's an okay time to wake her up. As if he wouldn't wake her up at any odd hour to make sure she knows he loves her. Luckily, it's after eleven so he won't need to feel bad about interrupting her sleep. He stands up from the table, jittery with energy and anticipation. He can feel every beat of his heart in his chest, and he rubs his hand across it as he walks to the bedroom door to calm himself. He opens the door slowly and stands in its frame for a moment surveying the woman that has his heart racing. Her soft lips are parted as she breathes softly in her sleep. The apple of her cheeks are tinted red, her hair mussed. He's never noticed it with other women, because he hasn't had something as intimate as this with any other women, but there is a different and special aura about her right now. He doesn't know if it's a side effect from reading her words, or if it can be attributed to her cycle; all the hormones in her body showing at the surface. She reminds him of a sleepy kitten, taking all the rest it needs to be able to play again. Her skin was hot all over when he woke up next to her this morning, like her body was working hard internally to keep a fire ignited within her. The essence of her is so sweet and feminine, like she's from a fairy tale, and he thinks he truly doesn't want to wake her. But he has to tell her.
Just as he steps closer to the bed, his phone begins vibrating harshly against the table on the side of the bed he slept on. His eyes flicker to it and then back to Rory; he couldn't care less about answering it. Her eyes open slowly at the sound, and she turns from her side to her back with a small stretch. He smiles down at her as she meets his eyes with her sleepy blues.
"Hi," she exhales, "What time is it? I feel like I slept for days." He smiles softly at her and leans down to kiss the lips he was staring at only moments ago.
"Wait, I need to brush my teeth," she turns her head at the last second, and he chuckles against her cheek.
"I don't care," he puts his hand on the side of her face and turns it towards him. He presses his lips to hers firmly, his fingers petting her warm cheek.
"You're crazy," she says as he pulls away, but she's smiling so he knows she loves it. His phone starts buzzing again, and without looking at it he reaches over and presses the volume button to calm it.
"You're beautiful," he replies sincerely. Her cheeks redden more.
"I'm sure I look like a mess. I slept for like twelve hours!"
He shakes his head, "No. You look like something mythological."
"Like Medusa?"
"No, crazy. Like Chloris. Or Persephone."
She smiles, "Well, you're nothing like Hades so I guess I'll be Chloris."
He nods and runs his hand slowly from the top of her head, down her cheek, jaw and neck, "You are as beautiful, soft and delicate as a flower. And you put a smile on everyone's face too."
"Someone's feeling romantic this morning," she whispers, unsure if she should call attention to it, her eyes drifting over his face curiously. His phone begins buzzing again, but as he goes to silence it, Rory leans up and kisses him lovingly.
"Answer it. Someone clearly needs to talk to you."
"I don't want to talk to anyone else."
"I feel like we've had this conversation before, maybe fourteen or fifteen years ago?" she jokes and grabs his phone for him. Jess rolls his eyes but a smile tugs at his lips.
"I haven't changed that much. You're still the only person I want to talk to."
She bites her lip to curb her growing smile and puts the phone in his face.
"It's your mom. You should answer. She's probably wondering where we are because you let me sleep in so late."
He scoffs playfully, taking the phone from her, "So sorry for letting your fatigued body get the rest it needs. I've been really putting it to work you know."
She breathes in, pulling her body up into a seated position to lean against the headboard. She needs some space or she's going to make him put her body to work some more, and that will be a literal mess.
"Oh, I know. Answer your phone, I'm going to get some of that coffee that you clearly brewed for me," she smiles as she wiggles out from his position on top of her. She hears him answer his phone with a huff as she walks into the kitchen for coffee. She grins at the brownies sitting on the stove, smelling freshly baked and delicious. As she sips her coffee and tries to strategize how to take out one brownie without making it look like its missing, she hears Jess toss his phone at the carpeted floor of her bedroom, exclaiming expletives. She puts her coffee down and finds him on her bed with his head in his hands.
"Jess, what's wrong?" she stands in the doorway, giving him some room for his frustration.
"My mother." he grumbles into his hands, then he pulls away from them to look at her, "That was Doula. She said Liz already ruined a few things we were supposed to eat today, and the house is a mess and smells like smoke. They want to come over here to eat instead. Is that okay?"
"Of course," Rory replies easily, "but we don't have any food here for them."
He shrugs and stands up, walking over to his suitcase to get clothes, "I'll just go to Luke's and see what I can take from there. I'm sure I can find something more edible than whatever the fuck Liz tried to make."
She hears the deep aggravation in his voice, and although it is mostly expected, the authenticity of it strikes her. Usually he's like Luke; he acts like he's annoyed but really wants to help. This doesn't feel that way.
"Are you okay?" she asks gently, hazarding a couple of steps closer to him. He looks up at her from his position on the floor, and for a moment he looks like a little boy. And she realizes that maybe is how he feels; like a child that has to take care of his mom again. Something he should never have had to do. She quickly follows up her question, "I'm sorry. I know you're not okay. This isn't the normal Christmas you imagined. But she's been good every other year since Doula was born, right?"
He smiles softly in appreciation of her trying to understand. But he's actually not frustrated with the situation in that way. He's frustrated that he can't have the conversation with Rory that he planned to have, that he has to wait now even longer to tell her that he loves her. He doesn't want to bring it up without being able to finish their conversation. Instead, he stands up and takes her hand. He leans forward and kisses her on the forehead.
"I'm alright. Just not how I planned to spend what's left of our morning."
She smiles sympathetically and runs a soothing thumb over his hand in hers.
"Is there anything I can do to help? I mean I will clean up and set the table while you run to Luke's, but anything else?"
"You don't even have to do that," he shakes his head, "we were invited there and now you're doing them a favor by having them over your mom's house. I don't want you to feel like you have any other responsibility with this. Enjoy your Christmas. Call your mom. Whatever makes you happy. But don't lift a finger to help."
She chuckles quietly and shakes her head, "And I thought I was stubborn. It will make me happy to help, Jess. And don't argue with me on that. Go get food from Luke's and I'll take care of stuff here."
He gives in with a sigh and captures her lips for a short kiss.
"You're perfect."
Rory looks at him with a peculiar smile on her face, "You're extra sweet today. Is it because it's Christmas? Is my Christmas present you admitting to being a hopeless romantic?!"
He laughs and rolls his eyes, "You're crazy, I'll see you in a bit. Bye."
"That's not how a prince would say goodbye to his princess! Or how Christian would say goodbye to Satine!" Rory calls after him as she follows him to the door. He smirks and turns back around to face her. He bows and takes her hand to kiss it, "Goodbye, Aurora."
She giggles as he stands up and leaves, "Your kiss didn't wake me up though."
"It would have," he replies with a wink, and then shuts the door behind him as he leaves. Rory bites her bottom lip and sighs, then turns back to the house to clean up for their last minute guests.
"I'll get it," Rory offers upon hearing knocking at the front door. Jess places a salad on the table that Rory set while he was gone earlier. He places a hand on her arm before she can walk away.
"No. You've done enough."
She rolls her eyes, "I set the table and frosted the brownies you made. It was nothing. And neither is answering the door."
"You also cleaned, and somehow made this house feel even more Christmas-y with music and candles, and I swear it smells like cinnamon in every single room. How did you do that?"
They hear knocking again, and she tries to walk away, "Jess, your family is waiting. Let me go."
"Wait, let me finish," he insists, putting a hand on her other arm and standing her directly in front of him, "On top of all that, you also somehow managed to shower and put makeup on this beautiful face. Your hair smells like vanilla," he kisses her on the head, then lifts her hand to his face and kisses it, "your skin tastes like candy," he kisses her on the lips, "your mouth is sticky and tastes like mint, and I can't say enough amazing things about this tight little red dress you slipped into," his eyes drink her whole body in now, looking her up and down.
She blushes at his words, running her free hand down the sweater dress she put on.
"What's going on with you today?" she inquires, but her face betrays that she is perfectly pleased with all of the extra kindness he's showing her.
He shrugs, "I don't know. Maybe your pheromones are going to my head."
She gasps as realization dawns on her, "did you finish your chapter?" She whispers the question, afraid that saying it out loud will cause some sort of emotional avalanche. His face and body still, he stares into her eyes, and she doesn't even need him to confirm it. Her heart soars and an excited anxiousness courses through her.
"You did."
He bites his lip and then slowly nods.
to be continued...:)
PS you will only have to read a scene directly containing liz one more time promise. thank you for indulging me.
PSS fyi the way this story is planned in my head i think we have less than ten chapters left. though i do love writing these two so who knows i might drag it out