"It's a simple party," her grandmother, Emily Gilmore, reassured, her voice brimming with sincerity. "There's no ulterior motive behind it, I promise." Yet deep down, Rory couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story. Sensing her unease, her grandmother tenderly adjusted the crown perched on Rory's head, replacing the one that truly belonged to her.
Normally, Friday dinners at the Gilmore's were an established tradition, but on this particular evening, there was a peculiar request for Rory to arrive ahead of time and her mother was excused from the night. Following her grandmother's instructions, she slipped into a sleek black dress before Emily adorned her with elegant jewelry. Rory didn't want to fight, enjoying that her grandparents were talking and in the same room again, even though she knew they were up to something.
It's an hour into the party, and Rory was over it, over everything. It didn't feel like a party, to Rory it felt like a meat market. Besides the mothers and grandparents to the young men, she was the only woman here. Rory glanced around the room, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over her. It was clear that her family had other intentions for the night, and Rory couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed.
As she made her way through the room, sipping her glass of champagne, Rory tried to avoid the prying eyes of her grandmother's friends and their children. They were all well-meaning, and she knew they were simply eager to see her settled down, but she wasn't ready for that kind of commitment yet. She was in college, learning to live by herself and for herself.
Escaping the crowd for a moment, Rory found solace on the patio. She leaned against the railing, looking out into the night sky. Thinking about the future, thinking about the pressure to find a suitable partner. Her thoughts go to the man who she met in Boston and how she wished that he was here to help pass the time.
As Rory pondered her next steps, a stranger suddenly appeared, cornering her against the patio railing. The door to the outside clicked shut behind him, blocking any chance of escape. Rory's eyes darted to her grandmother, who stood in the background, engaged in hushed conversation with another woman. Their eyes met briefly before her grandmother discreetly glanced in Rory's direction. She had a feeling that her grandmother sent him out here.
As Rory grappled with curiosity tinged with apprehension, she fought to keep her composure while the stranger initiated conversation. "I couldn't help but notice that your glass seemed empty. Allow me to refill it," he smoothly interjected, offering her a drink. "Parker Williams." Tentatively accepting the glass, Rory examined its contents, unsure if she was in the mood for anything other than champagne. It didn't resemble the bubbly she had been sipping earlier.
The stranger's words dripped with a subtle charm, his voice smothering any chance for Rory to interject. "So, your grandmother mentioned you're pursuing a journalism career," he began, not allowing her a moment to respond. "Quite the bold move in this day and age, with the printed word losing its footing." His remark sent a shiver down Rory's spine. She had chosen her path with conviction, believing in the power of storytelling and journalistic integrity. Yet, hearing his pessimistic tone, she felt a pang of doubt seep in.
Determined not to let his words undermine her passion, she mustered her courage. Suppressing the urge to retort, Rory steadied herself. She yearned to stand up for her beliefs, to counter his skepticism with unwavering determination. Before the words could come out of her mouth, the door opened again. "There you are."
The voice brought her comfort, she didn't know he was here but she was over the moon he found her. She doesn't hear herself whisper, "Logan."
The slight smile on his face grows wider hearing her whisper his name. He comes closer to her, slipping the glass the other man gave her out his hand and handing it back to him. He replaced it with a glass of wine, filled with something red. "Thank you for keeping my girl company, otherwise she would know how late I am and it would have gotten me in real trouble."
"The wine is cold,
Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street,
Cat and mouse for a month or two or three…."
Parker grumbled, "You have a boyfriend." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"Going on a year," Logan declared, sliding his arm around her and drawing her closer. "She's amazing, isn't she?" Rory feels her heartbeat a little faster at Logan's words.
The other man let out a sigh. "Then why the hell am I here?" With an angry expression, he stormed off, leaving the two alone to their own devices.
Rory couldn't contain her joyful laughter as the door closed behind him. "Thank you for that," she said to Logan, genuine appreciation shining in her eyes. It's been a month and half since the two of them were alone together.
"You looked like you needed saving." Logan replied, his arm still draped around her. The warmth of her presence next to him was incredibly comforting, a feeling he wanted to embrace on a much deeper level. "By the way, you enjoy Cabernet Sauvignon, don't you?"
Rory's smile widened, and she nodded in agreement. "You remembered? Even the two ice cubes. You have quite the memory."
"Only for someone as extraordinary as you," Logan confessed, his voice dripping with sincerity. His mind goes to the slight conversation in Boston about wine, it was only a few minutes, but he recalled how she enjoyed wine more when it was chilled with ice cubes instead of going right out of the bottle. "I have a confession to make to you."
"A confession…." Rory questions.