Thanks for the kind reviews! It's been fun to see familiar names pop back up and hear back from those of you who have shared such kind reviews in the past. Even though we only exist together in the fictional world, I feel as though we know each other, and it's fun to reconnect. As for those of you who are new, thank you and I look forward to getting to getting to "know" you and hearing your thoughts :)

LORELAI POV

"I'm coming, hold your horses!" I yell out when a second knock erupts impatiently from the front door.

I take my time to carefully shuffle down the stairs, thoroughly drained from such an emotionally fraught day, and make my way through the living room to the foyer and finally swing open the door. And then, without a second thought, I do my best to fling it back closed as fast as possible. But I'm too slow. A black boot extends, wedging itself snugly between the partial open door and the second stationary door I never open.

"Go away, Luke," I call out in full panic. I reach out my hands and push against the door to keep him from being able to enter.

The very last thing I expected was for Luke to follow me home after our little diner scene, especially considering how late in the night it is and the fact that he had company. When my eyes begin to burn in memory of what I had walked in on, I squeeze them together tightly to stop them from forming. That was not what I was expecting to find, and furthermore, the last thing I expected was for my heart to not only sink but drown in its own blood at the sight of Luke with another woman. I left him. I left him. I left him. It shouldn't hurt to see him with another woman. But it does. That fierce flash of jealousy that ran through me? That shouldn't exist either, but then again, it has always existed when it comes to Luke and any other woman.

Of course, I didn't go there to get back together, I went there to . . .

In an attempt to keep us apart and our new little reality a secret for as long as possible, I lean my upper half against the door. The truth is, Luke is ten times stronger than I am, and honestly, me leaning against this door to keep him out is no more of a challenge for him than if I were a two year naively trying to keep her parents from entering her room. I rest my head against the door and close my eyes when the burning in my eyes threaten to form into angry, frustrated tears. "Luke, go home."

"We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about! I shouldn't have come to the diner, my pod defaulted, I was having a moment and now it's over. False alarm. Go home. Don't worry, you've done your duty in checking in on me. Your stand up Boy Scout guy impersona is still in tack. You can go."

"Lorelai-"

"Go back to your girlfriend, she can't be happy with you leaving her high and dry."

Oh god, could I sound any more jealous?

He mutters something to himself before exhaling loudly. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Fine, your hook up-"

"Lorelai!" he huffs impatiently. "She's nothing, she was just a distraction. Right before you showed up I was about to stop and send her hom-"

"Yeah, cause you holding up a half naked woman against a wall while you both sucked face looked like you were sending her home!"

"Please, just let me in-"

"No!"

I can hear him inhale impatiently, even though the heavy solid door, and full on panic the moment his stupid flannel arm extends through the crack that's propped open by his boot. He's not really going to force his way in, is he? Yes, I know, I said he could easily get in, but he respects me more than that. Doesn't he? But he's not forcing his way in. Instead, his hand extends through the gap, holding out a single piece of paper. My heart, as if it hasn't gone through enough today, flip flops, skips and comes to a full stop the moment my eyes land on the piece of paper I took to the diner to show him. The one my blood results are typed out on.

Oh. My. God.

So that's what fell to the floor?!

In a furry of motion, I yank the paper from his fingers and when he hisses sharply, and raises his finger immediately to his mouth (I can see his silhouette through the window in the door), I know I gave him a paper cut. I turn around so my back is against the door and push harder against it, not caring one iota if I'm crushing the foot he refuses to move.

I can't do this.

We can't do this.

This needs to stop now.

I angrily push my hair behind my ears. "Go away!"

"Come on," he whispers so softly and intimately that I want to curl up into a ball and die. He saw it. He knows what it is. I'm no longer the only one who knows. "You can't avoid me forever."

"Are you for real, right now? Have you never met me? Does it really only take a couple weeks for you to forget me?" I ask incredulously, turning my head toward the crack in the door so he can hear me. I wince, bite my bottom lip into my mouth and glance down at my blood results. I can't believe I left it in the diner. I can't believe he knows. I still can't believe the printed black words that stare up at me. Every time I look down on them, and believe me, I've spent a lot of time looking at them, I expect the letters to disappear magically one by one as if the Weasley twins cast a spell on the paper as a prank. As if this isn't real at all. "Call me the Great Avoider! I've gone years without seeing my parents, years living in a potting shed with barely any plumbing, years with my head down working my way up the corporate ladder. I can do anything if I put my mind to it. Shoot, throw me off a boat onto a deserted island and give me a volleyball and see just how well Wilson and I get along on our own!"

"That was you years ago," he says patiently. "You've matured past all of that."

"No I haven't and this moment proves that - just ask my mother! I'm sure she'd happily agree!"

Am I panicking? Yes, yes I am. Is Luke being cool, trying to help me through this? Of course. And I hate him for it. This is why we were so good together. He grounded me.

But then, he abandoned me.

He sighs softly on his side of the door, not pushing against it or me, but keeping it propped open with his boot and ultimately keeping me rooted in place for fear that if I were to move, he'd actually come into the house and I'd have to face reality.

I'd have to face him.

I'd have to face our breakup and I've been doing oh so well at not doing that.

And I'm so tired. I'm so damn tired.

I lean my head back against the door and close my eyes. Maybe if I'm lucky I can transport myself to that island, away from him and this situation. My talking abilities are so far advanced, I could easily have a full blown conversation with a volleyball for months with no problem, I'd be fine. As long as I learned how to harvest the mighty coffee bean.

There's a quiet shuffle from his side of the door and then he's whispering, quietly, "You're pregnant?" A long pause. "Did I read the results correctly?"

Shocked to hear the words spoken aloud for the second time today, I squeeze my eyes together tightly as new tears begin to flood my eyes. When my knees give a little, I lean further against the door, making sure to not slide down it. A silent sob lodges itself painfully in my chest. Even with the two of us separated by the door, the moment has turned intimate. It's dark and only the lamp on the desk on the opposite side of the wall glows faintly.

This wasn't how I was supposed to tell him he was going to be a father. This wasn't how I was supposed to welcome another life into this world. I was supposed to be his wife. I was supposed to have him by my side the entire time. We were supposed to do this together. I wasn't supposed to be a screw up again.

Everything's all wrong.

Why can't I ever do things right?

I don't answer him. I can't, for fear that if I say the words out loud, they'll be true.

"Is it mine? Is that why you came to the diner?"

And just like that, all the heartache within me is replaced with anger. Instantly, I want to smack him. Hard. Painfully. I want his skin to blotch a violent blood red and shame to fill his eyes for even questioning if he's the father.

"I'm three months along, what do you think, Sherloc-" Unfortunately for me, I don't have enough time to finished my sentence. Deep within me, my stomach violently somersaults, lurches, and rivals that of a storming sea. Abandoning my post, I rush to the bathroom. My knees hit the hard, cold tile, I fist my hair in a hand, and throw my head into the bowl just in time to heave everything, which isn't much, within my stomach up and out.

They say after the first trimester, morning sickness should come to an end, but it doesn't seem to be tampering away at all.

After my stomach settles, I rise to my feet wearily, do a quick rinse of my mouth and turn around slowly knowing what I'll find behind me.

Or rather, who.

The tears I've been holding in all night begin to fall from my eyes the moment I look up into his concerned face. It's only been two weeks since I've been this close to him. How crazy is that? How crazy is it that my ultimate safe place is now the place that brings me more anxiety than I know what to do with? I drop my gaze and stare at the collar of his flannel where it meets his neck. The pulsing desire to press the side of my face there is almost too much. I fit there perfectly, like a damn puzzle piece. I used to curl into that spot and wrap my arms around his waist. God it felt good. Like coming home after a long trip. His strong arms would automatically wrap around my shoulders, pull me tightly to him, and his lips would press against my temple sweetly. We'd stay that way for a few seconds before I'd slide my arms up between his chest and my body and wrap them around his neck. Then he'd hold me to him and everything bad in this world would just fade away in that spot.

My safe spot.

That's where I want to be.

But I can't.

I won't.

And worse? I no longer recognize the man standing in front of me. It's impossible to ignore how Luke's once kind eyes are now dulled and heavily accented by dark rings. His usual strong and tall demeanor is slightly bent over, as if the weight of the world has been weighing down on his shoulders for far too long. A stupid, menacing black hat replaces the blue one I gave him and sits atop his head, barely hiding the screaming red wound on the side of his head.

I can see the physical effect our breakup has had on him, and then I know, the moment he was having with that woman truly was nothing to him.

For the first time ever, I have no words. I don't want to talk about the life growing within me. I don't want to talk about how much it pained me to see him with another woman or the hickey on the side of his neck that I know for a fact he is unaware of because if he did, he'd be embarrassed and trying to hide it. All I want to do is curl up on my couch, fall asleep for hours, and wake up in a completely altered universe where Luke Danes and I never got together and he remained one of my best friends.

His concerned eyes fall to my stomach. During the day, it's easy to keep my secret concealed by cute, flowy shirts. Tonight it's hidden beneath a large t-shirt.

For now, it's impossible to tell I'm pregnant. Take a good look at me now, Bucko! This is the smallest and most agile I'll be for the next six months.

Ugh.

I wipe at my eyes and when our eyes meet, we both open our mouths to say something, but we're interrupted by the shrill ringing of the telephone. We stand frozen as my recorded message rattles through the living room informing the caller that I'm unavailable. Once upon a time, as in yesterday, or even this morning before I left for the doctor, I found the message clever and witty and fun. In light of recent news, it sounds immature. There's a click and then another voice calls out.

"Hey, Lor, it's me," Christopher's voice echoes through the house.

Oh god, oh no! Am I living in a stupid soap opera or what?! My eyes fly to Luke just in time to witness him tense up, his jaw locking so hard I'm worried it may pop out of its socket and resemble a wind up jaw toy that once let go will bounce across the table haphazardly. He looks toward the living room where the answering machine is doing its job. I follow his gaze, looking away from the man in front of me.

"I just wanted to know how your doctor's appointment went this morning. I thought you would have called me by now. I'm worried, you know? The last time I saw you this sick was when you were eight and you got salmonella at the Gilmore's Fourth of July pool party, remember?" There's a pause and then a chuckle. "Oh, wait. That was fake, wasn't it? That was you getting out of having to sing The Star Spangled Banner in front of everyone," Another chuckle reverberates through the house. "You were that good at faking stomach pains at that age, you should have gone into acting. You could have been the next Audrey Hepburn. Anyway, I guess you've never been this sick. I mean seriously, not craving donuts or cake or Red Vines or coffee?! Obviously there's something very wrong with you. Not that we need a doctor to confirm that, unless you're just growing up. They say your taste buds change every seven years. Maybe that's it. Anyway, let me know. See you tomorrow, I have a surprise date planned. You're going to love it. Although you not eating like you might put a little damper on part of it. You still like popcorn, right? I hope so. Anyway, no more about that. See you tomorrow night."

I look over at Luke apprehensively. Even from the six feet we're standing apart, it's impossible to miss how his chest is heaving with shallow breaths. He swallows thickly and inhales sharply through his nose before blinking and putting up a facade of indifference. He's pretending. Pretending that Christopher leaving me a message to check in on me and to remind me he's taking me out on a date isn't bothering him.

That's good.

I can pretend.

I'm a master pretender.

Luke is not. But for the sake of all this pretending that we're doing, I'll let him pretend he is. Just like he's letting me pretend that I'm not jealous about what I walked in on tonight.

"I went the doctor this morning and just found out about the. . ." I begin to explain, trailing off and throwing a hand down to my stomach to indicate 'baby'. Feeling claustrophobic in the half bath, I carefully walk past Luke, making sure not any part of me touches any part of him, into the living room. I click on the lamp next to the couch. Wanting to make sure to not see the look on his face when he realizes I've gotten rid of absolutely everything that we bought together to decorate what was supposed to be our home after the renovation, I flop down on the couch, rest my elbows on my knees and lean my head into my hands so I don't have to look at him. "I've been feeling sick for months. I thought it had to do with us breaking up. I've been on the move and working and not stopping long enough to even consider something else was up. I thought I had a new disease that hadn't been invented yet or something that would take the world by storm."

"You didn't notice you missed your period?"

"No," I admit with a laugh that rivals that of a scoff. "The first month, I was so upset about the chasm that was growing between the two of us, I never noticed I missed it. Besides the panic, everything felt normal. The second month, I was distracted by the thought of us breaking up that I thought I was making myself feel sick. And now," I sigh, opening my eyes and looking down at my Betty Boop slippers. "Just a few days ago is when I realized something was up. I'm exhausted all the time. I have killer headaches. I yell at everyone and then suddenly, I lost my appetite and everything became disgusting and I couldn't keep it down despite the fact that I was growing larger and larger. My doctor asked for blood work to be done to see if it was my thyroid but instead, they discovered I was pregnant."

"You look exactly the same."

"I do not!" I exclaim, my head popping up, finding him sitting on the ottoman in front of the chair next to the staircase.

His eyes trail gingerly over my body, obviously inspecting it before he shrugs his shoulders guiltily. His insistence that I look exactly the same annoys the crap out of me. Insanely so. In fact, his entire collected and calm demeanor is irritating. It's like he isn't even processing the fact that I'm pregnant with his baby and that he and I are in an awful place with one another.

I pop up from the couch, desperate to get him on the same panic-ridden train alongside me, and grab the hem of my shirt. Unceremoniously, I yank it up to expose the small, secret baby bump hidden beneath. Honestly, I don't have a clue as to how I was so oblivious to what was happening to my body. It's so obvious now, I wonder how everyone else doesn't know.

That does the trick.

Luke's eyes widen in genuine surprise and perhaps. . . no! There's no way a part of him could be slightly happy and awed by this news, is there? His lips part as he takes in the sight of my once flat stomach now beginning to round in appearance.

"There! Does that look the same?!"

He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and stands. When he steps forward to make his way toward me, I drop my shirt and rush behind the couch.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Lorelai-" He steps toward me.

"No!"

I honestly have no clue what I'm 'no'ing, but he certainly doesn't need to be close to me and I hate how non-freaking out he is! Mr. I-Hate-Changes-And-Surprises isn't panicking. Not one iota! Why in the hell is he not panicking? He panicked for months when he found out about April! For all I know, he's still freaking out about her! But with this? He's calm. He's solid. He's strong.

"Lorelai," He hesitates only for a moment more, before practically jumping the couch to get to me, but I'm already moving away to the other side. Honestly, if he says my name one more time, like somehow calling me by name will get me to calm down . . . well, then he's an absolute idiot. He grows irritated. "Lorelai, please, just stand sti-"

"If you think this gives you an excuse to waltz back into my life, you're wrong!" I cry out indignantly, discovering that's half of what has me totally freaked out. I had plans to avoid him for the rest of my life. This is only tying us back together. "This changes nothing! We're done! We're through!"

"I'm not trying to get back together, I'm just tryin-" He takes three large strides toward me.

I scurry away. "Then stop trying to get to me!"

He freezes in his spot, earnest blue eyes morphing to hurt as he meets mine with defeat. The entire house falls unusually quiet. Which is good, with hardly anything in the room, our words echo through the house.

"I don't know what to do," he admits quietly. "Tell me how I can fix this."

"Nothing. There's nothing you can d-"

"There has to be some way I can fi-."

"Not everything is fixable, Luke," I snap annoyed by Mr. Responsible. "There's nothing you can do to fix what happened happened between the two of us and there's nothing you can do to fix what's going on now and there's no way for you to fix what we now have to do separately."

"We're not doing this separately-"

"Yes! Yes we are! I'll have the baby and if you want to be a part of its life-"

"Lorelai, you know I will be a part of this child's life. You know me-"

"I don't know you!" I insist bitterly. "I haven't known you for months Luke. Because the Luke I knew, would never hide the news of a secret child from me. He'd never cast me out of his life like an unwanted pair of shoes that have gone out of style." His eyes flash hotly. "So don't stand here and make me feel like an idiot for not knowing if you'll be here for our child. You want to be a part of its life? Fine. I'll pass it on to you on Wednesday and every other weekend for the next eighteen years of its life and pray on the lead singer of The Bangles' life that no new surprise that you're unable to deal with causes you to break our child's heart too!"

I may as well have smacked him across the face.

When my words reach my intended target, he turns away from me, a hand raising to cover the bottom half of his face as he rubs it in a hard motion. Apparently me hiding my face earlier to not witness him take in all the ways I've erased him from my life was done prematurely. I watch his back grow tight with tension as he looks around and takes in the empty room.

I can see the moment the finality of my words reach his heart. I see it all. He swallows thickly and when he looks back to me, his eyes are glossy and overflowing with tears.

I've never seen him this way.

I look away, and blink back my own as he sniffs and clears his throat to regain control of his senses.

"You know, I'm not the only one who messed us up," he says soundly. I close my eyes at his words, frustrated that he's decided to confront all this with calm maturity instead of meeting my immature insults with sharp, biting words of his own that would only build my wall against him all that much taller. "I know ninety-nine percent of it was my fault, I do, and I'm sorry. If there was a way for me to undo what I did and fix all of this, I would, but there's not. I don't want to keep hurting you and I don't want to leave you alone to do this on your own. Lorelai, you can claim you don't know me all you want. But you do. You already know I will be here to help you and that I will be an active father to our kid every single day of his or her life, not just Wednesdays and every other weekend." I open my eyes to find him looking at me closely. "And I'm no deadbeat father who's only going to visit his kid when I can be bothered to get around to it or when it'll benefit me." His eyes flash hotly and though he hasn't said anything offending, I know what point he's making. "So just tell me what you need, and I'll do it."

I can't do this anymore. Having him here and hearing these words from him only threatens to bring the pain of our breakup to the forefront of my mind and I locked that up the moment I laid down in Chris' bed. I didn't want it then and I don't want it now. I'd never be able to get up again if I were to give into the heartache.

I need him out of my house.

"I need you to go." I nod my head toward the front door while crossing my arms across my chest.

He nods once, looks down at his boots, clearly thinking, before sighing in defeat and making his way toward the door. With one hand on the doorknob, he freezes to turn and glance at me. "Get me all your doctor appointments, I'll make sure Caesar can cover the diner so I can be there."