July 12

5 Months, 1 Week, 4 Days

LUKE POV

After the tour of the house, Lorelai and I weren't sure what to do with our new living arrangements. Sure, there was a moment in the guest room where we actually laughed and smiled together, but things went right back to being awkward and strained once the smiles faded.

I'm not sure who was more relieved when I excused myself to the backyard, but I spent the next hour there. I gave Rory a quick call to update her on Lorelai and then started in on the backyard. It's nearly tamed and that hour did it good. When I came in, Lorelai was on the couch flipping through a magazine, and when I mentioned making dinner after I took a shower - she could have cared less. Which, if you know Lorelai, is completely out of character.

Lorelai's nonchalance about food along with the realization that she literally hasn't been able to eat in so long, only gave me brain fodder as I scrubbed myself down in the shower. She has to eat and by some freak of nature thought process, I get it in my head that if I can somehow feed her and she can keep the food down, she'll turn back into the Lorelai I once knew.

And so, after my shower, I made my way downstairs and practically ran to the kitchen and then out back to the grill. Typically, when it's just me, I'll whip up something easy and light. But with Lorelai not eating regularly, I decide to go a different route. I figure if typical pregnant women crave junk food, maybe Lorelai, the junk food queen, will perhaps crave healthy food. I don't know, not really, but I'm willing to give it a try.

And so here we are. Once I remove the chicken and corn on the cob from the grill, I make my way back into the kitchen to pull the backed potatoes from the oven. When I look up to discover Lorelai standing at the doorway looking from toward me and then toward the food curiously, I have high hopes that she will be able to keep what I've prepared down. There's an appetite there.

Without saying a word to her, I grab a fork and knife, cut off a small piece of chicken and stab it with my fork. I extend the offering toward her across the kitchen, silently encouraging her to try the food.

She wrinkles up her nose at my offering and shakes her head.

I never thought I'd see the day.

"Come on, Lorelai, you have to eat. Let's find out what you can eat and what you can't eat."

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one throwing everything up!"

Annoyed by her stubbornness, I stalk my way across the room. Her blue eyes widen as I step closer to her, but when I lift the fork to her mouth, she reluctantly opens and takes the food. She chews it hesitantly for a few seconds before her eyes widen in shock.

"Oh my god!"

I step back, instantly worried she's going to hurl all over me, but instead, she's yanking the fork from my hand and rushing to the platter on the counter. The knife next to it is lifted and she's busy cutting away at the chicken and shoving it in her mouth as if she's been trapped on a deserted island for months on end without food.

Success.

"Slow down or you're going to choke."

"Luke," she mumbles my name around a mouthful of food, already more Lorelai-like than I've seen her in weeks. "I'm starving and this is the first food in months that hasn't made me want to hurl my insides out!"

Despite wanting to be guarded around her, I stand frozen watching her, smiling at the familiar sight of her shoving her mouth full of food.

Nothing has ever felt quite as normal.

"I don't get it," I pull out a plate and place her piece of chicken on it before dropping a corn on the cob and a potato next to it. "Your parents and Sookie all make good, healthy food, why is it you're unable to keep that down?"

"It's too fancy," She takes the plate and makes her way to the table in the breakfast nook as I make up my own plate. "Typically, everything at Mom and Dad's is made for a king and smothered in a red wine sauce and is too exotic or too rich. Unless it's pot roast, I struggle getting anything from their house down even when I'm not pregnant. And considering the fact that I'm never, ever going back to the mandatory, torturous Friday Night Dinner, that point is moot."

Grabbing the rolls, butter, a notepad and a pen, I make my way over to the table and take a seat next to her. She's busy preparing her potato and corn and I'm lost in a world of curiosity, wondering what happened to cause this new stubborn streak between her and her parents. But before I can ask anything, she's back to talking, "Sookie's food is good and the majority of the time I can keep it down, but she's been experimenting, trying to catch the eye of some new food critic in Hartford, and I'm not here for it. Once a month, she wants to offer Stars Hollow a 'fine dining experience' with tiny little portions of beautifully plated food that wouldn't keep Bugs Bunny full."

"And costing an arm and a leg undoubtedly."

"Actually, no," Lorelai shrugs. "She just wants to play with food like Jose Andre to bring people back into the dining room at the inn. She has no plans to overcharge. I think she may be just a smidgen jealous that I'm focusing all my attention on Michel."

I take a bite of my food and look at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I've been meeting with Mike Armstrong again," She takes a forkful of potato, and pauses to see how her body will react. In her brief pause, my heart begins to pound against my chest at the thought of her away from Stars Hollow, traveling around the world. But then, when she sees her body will accept it, she calms, swallows and continues, "He and I are trading services. The Durham Group purchased a small Inn in Hartford, but it's not doing well. I'm going to help consult and he's going to help me find the ideal location here in town for an annex for The Dragonfly."

"For what?"

"For a spa on the main floor and a couple high end guest rooms with minibars and Jacuzzi tubs upstairs." I must have given her a strange look because she goes on to explain, "Michel's request." She takes another bite, nods enthustically and points to her plate of food appreciatively with her fork. "Really, the best food is just regular home cooked comfort food. Don't tell Sookie, but I really do prefer your food." I can't help the smile that plays across my face as she continues, "Anyway, everything is in its early stages. With the way Michel has stuck with us, even with his Garfield sour mood, I thought it might be good for us to honor his idea by looking into it. Plus it would be nice to be able to pay someone less at the front desk. We'll see."

"Well, that sounds good."

"Yeah."

I nod several times to myself in understanding, take another bite of my own dinner, and flip open the notebook I grabbed on my way over to the table. Grabbing my pen, I begin making two columns. Lorelai's sitting right next to me, I didn't want to sit across from her where I'd have to face her, and she's so happy about the food she can eat that she's leaning over to see what I'm writing. She glances at the notebook where I've begun to make two columns, one for what she can eat and one for what she can't.

I add the food she's currently eating to the 'can eat' column.

She freezes next to me and when I look up at her, I find her looking at me thoughtfully. I stare back for a moment, overwhelmed by her proximity, before clearing my throat and motioning to her plate. "Try the corn, let's see how that goes."

"I don't really like corn on a good day."

"I know, but you don't like what you normally like so I thought you might like what you normally don't like."

"You're doing reverse psychology on my taste buds?"

"Well, so far it's worked."

"I like chicken," She points out. "And I like potatoes."

"Yeah, like you'd ever come to the diner and order chicken. And you usually like your potatoes cut up into strips, fried, and smothered with chili."

She laughs at my words with a nod as she lifts the corn and takes a hesitant bite.

Success.

And then, her mouth is moving a mile a minute, as she tells me the few foods she can keep down and the long list she can not keep down (mostly processed food) as we write them in the correct column.

"What in the world caused you to buy this house? I mean, obviously your grandpa built it, but buying a house is a big deal," she says once I push the notebook to the side.

"Taylor was going to have the place bulldozed."

"Because it looks like a haunted house from the outside?"

"It's pretty rough, isn't it?"

"Throw on a Michael Myers mask and charge five dollars a ticket during Halloween and you got yourself a haunted house! I was doubtful the porch would hold up when we came in the front door. It's one of those contrasts, you know? Never judge the inside by the outside. Where the outside is awful, but the inside is absolutely gorgeous."

"You like it?" I ask genuinely curious.

"I love it." Her eyes, for the first time in a long time, spark and I take her like for the house to heart. "When I walked in the front door I thought I was on one of those home makeover shows that wasn't quite ready for the reveal. It's not what I was expecting. Was it like this when you bought it?"

"Nah, it was pretty bad, but I'd come over everyday after work and do what I could before letting Tom and the crew take over. They'll be here tomorrow to start on the outside."

"Ah, Tom and the Crew!" she sing-songs with a huge fond grin. "Tomorrow we buy them pizza!"

"We are not buying them pizza!" I lean toward her, watching as she watches me, completely preparing for a rant, her fork lifted over her plate in silent anticipation. "They're here to do a job that I pay them good money to do. They do not need pizza or muffins or cinnamon brown sugar Pop Tarts or any other crazy thing you decide they need!" She smirks knowingly as I go on, "And I'll install a lock on your bedroom door tomorrow."

"Why?"

"So you can lock the door and pull the curtains when you take a shower."

"Ah, no peep show, got it!" she chuckles, snapping her fingers into a handgun before taking another bite of potatoes. "Do you pay TJ extra to be your fak-"

"No!" I laugh loudly and shake my head. "He's not on the crew and we're not going to go find him and hire him just because you're here and you think it's adorable."

"He is your family."

"Don't remind me."

She smiles as she focuses on eating again, our moment of easy banter fading away along with our smiles. Damn. I did not expect to fall back into this ease with her, especially this fast, not with everything that has been said between the two of us. Effortlessly, we've fallen right back to where we've always been.

"Do you have pictures?" she asks uneasily after taking her last bite. "Of the house, I mean, before you started working on it? I'd love to see what it looked like before all the work."

"Yeah, I have a camera upstairs in my room," I stand to go get it, eager with the excuse to get away from her and the time to build up my walls once again, but she waves a hand at me.

"Actually, now that I've eaten, I really want to change my clothes. Can we look after?" she stands to her feet, seemingly more eager to get away from me than I am of her. "I can grab the camera on my way back down?"

"Sure. It's on the dresser." She nods once to herself as she pulls at her too small shirt uncomfortably. "You're welcome to grab one of my shirts if you need something bigger."

"Really?"

"Yeah, help yourself." I stand and grab our plates, making my way to the sink. "Mi casa es su casa."

Ten minutes later, I'm busy in the kitchen, just about done cleaning up, when Lorelai reappears with my camera in hand. Just the simple act of eating and changing has her looking better, a lot better, though she still looks exhausted and dark rings outline her eyes. The moment I really glance at her, I inhale deeply at the sight of my clothes draped back over her. It's not my blue flannel, I'm assuming that's been burned or shoved in the box she had delivered to me after our break up (I haven't been able to open it). It's just one of my plain white t-shirts and a pair of gray sweats. Even so, it's as if I'm no longer being pulled off her, but delicately placed back upon her. For the first time in a long time, she looks really comfortable.

When our eyes meet the other, it doesn't take much to see that there's still a lot of tension between the two of us.

Even so, we do what we've always done - we ignore the real things. The real conversations get pushed to the side. Nothing important is said. Instead, we distract ourselves by sitting together at the table as I show her the chaos the house had been before I got a hold of it. But even so, as time marches forward and our arms brush against one another accidentally, we begin to scroll through the pictures faster and faster, nearly fast enough to turn the pictures into a flip book, eager to get away from each other.

Sometime in the dark hours between July 12th & 13th where the secret desires of our hearts are no longer willing to be hidden and ignored.

LORELAI POV

I wake to the melodious melody of a chickadee just a few feet away. Reluctantly, I pry my eyes open slowly, unsure if I'm ready to welcome a new day. It's a little chilly for a summer morning and the dew is heavy. My hair is going to rival that of an eighties super star if it's not already. When I commit to opening my eyes fully, I find I'm completely alone. I lean up onto an elbow, my long hair trailing down to my pillow, and look around the tent only to discover the other side of the bed is empty and the two small sleeping bags to my right are empty and abandoned.

I plop down onto my back and watch as the sun dapples through the top of the tent, shadows of leaves and branches swinging back and forth in the breeze. Quiet sweet voices rise and fall outside the tent accommodated by the gentle swoosh of a hammock. The aroma of coffee begins to swirl through the air, silently beckoning me to wake up and greet the day.

If two days ago you told me that I'd ever enjoy camping, I'd laugh in your face loudly and tell you the closest I ever wanted to get to camping was watching it from the comfort of my own home on TV. We'd banter all the classics: The Great Outdoors, Heavyweights, Meatballs and we'd end with me insisting that Meryl Streep in The River Wild is the best of them all, because, well, she's the Meryl Streep, and she does her own stunts.

But I do enjoy camping.

Sort of.

You know, when Luke has purchased the highest quality blow up mattress and the spiders aren't inside the tent and a rock isn't sticking into my back and the Sasquatch is off on vacation in Hawaii scaring surfer dudettes and not New England women. Then, and only then, is it kind of okay.

Don't tell Luke. I love teasing him about how much I hate it out here - even though I don't. I don't think. At least not completely.

I crawl out of the bed, finally ready to face the day, unzip the tent, step out and smile at the sight I'm greeted with. The twins are swinging together in the hammock, still lounging in their pajamas, a notebook consuming their attention as they pass a pencil back and forth, surely writing and illustrating a wackadoo story they'll work on all day and read us tonight in the tent by flashlight before bed. They smile and giggle and talk to one another, inseparable.

But the sight to steal my attention is Luke standing by the fire. He's holding a long stick, prodding the embers into an angry glow, the kettle heating up above it, a cast iron pan resting beside it, warming up for breakfast. His back is to me and there's nothing I can do to stop myself from stepping toward him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek against the warm soft flannel of his back.

"Oh! Hey! You're up!" He twists his torso so one arm can raise and wrap around my shoulders, pulling me tightly into his side.

"Hey Tom Sawyer," I sigh contently, leaning up and kissing his stubble cheek before looking at the campfire. The silver outdoor kettle rests on a grate directly above the embers, steam just beginning to erupt from the spout. "Is the coffee ready yet?"

"You think Tom Sawyer made coffee?" He raises an eyebrow. "And what makes you think that's coffee? That kettle is also used for water."

I look up at him and smirk. "Luke."

"Not everything's about you, you know," he grumbles teasingly. His eyes are bright and alert as he smirks and prods his stick at the fire with his free hand. "I could be heating water for tea or oatm-"

"If I remember correctly, morning coffee was a part of the deal for me being shanghaied into this whole camping thing. You can't renege, you'll lose major points and have to watch Love Story with me every night for a month!"

"The blow up mattress fully made with sheets, blankets, and pillows isn't enough? Had I known you were going to be this big of a pain in the ass I would have left you home."

"Ah, darn! If I had only known!" I feign disappointment. "I promise to do better next time."

"I'm sure you will."

"I'm nothing if not a self-starter."

"You sleeping in a sleeping bag on the ground," He pokes at the fire. "Yeah right. I'll believe that when I see it."

"That's not what I meant," I laugh leaning in closer to him. "I meant I'll make sure you'll know what a pain in the ass I'll be so I can stay home."

He smirks before kissing my temple sweetly, and prodding the fire. "Nah, you gave in and now you have to come camping with me and the kids. I'll even work on getting Rory and April to come along next time too. For now, that blow up mattress is just going to have to be enough."

If he only knew that just being tucked under his arm with our kids giggling in a hammock a few feet away was more than enough for me. It's more than I ever thought I'd get and it's one hundred times more wonderful than I had anticipated. But he is right, if we could get Rory and April here too, I'd be in heaven.

I lean up on my bare tiptoes, soft pine needles crunching under my red tipped toes, as I press my lips against the side of his mouth softly, my lips meeting the scruff along his cheek. His fingers flex into my side and when I pull back, he trails after me, turning his head and placing little kisses on my lips.

"Ew!" A young girl calls out.

"Stop it! No more kisses!" her brother echoes as the hammock swishes once again. "Gross!"

Luke's lips curl into a smile against mine as he pulls back. Our twins, a boy and a girl, stand directly to the side of the two of us. Luke lowers his stick carefully to the ground, his arm falling from around my body, only to reach out and take a hold of the two kids, lifting one in each arm.

They giggle manically, a lost tooth here and there leaving a void in their little mouths, their blue eyes ablaze with joy as their dad nuzzles each one carefully with his five o' clock shadow and they pretend to hate it.

But they don't.

They adore their father, he adores them, and I adore the sight.

Of course, I'd adore the whole scene a whole lot more with a cup of coffee in hand, but you know… camping.

July 13, 2007

5 Months, 1 Week, 5 Days

LORELAI POV

I jerk awake to the melodious melody of a chickadee.

With a groan, I throw out my left arm for Luke, but I'm met with nothing but a sheet. When I open my eyes, I'm no longer looking at the top of a canvas tent, instead I find myself in a strange room.

Leaning one hand on the mattress, I lift myself and look around in confusion. To my left, the sun is shining warmly through the windows and a summer breeze whispers through the open window. I'm instantly taken by the idea of what a beautiful addition sheer curtains would be to the windows. They would dance in greeting as the morning breeze gallops in through the screen. It would be beautiful.

It takes me a few seconds to remember where I am.

I squint in confusion as my dream from last night comes rushing back. I can still feel Luke's arm wrapped around my shoulders so much so that I can still smell him. Or, well, maybe it's just that the sheets wrapped around me still smell like him. Or his clothes on my body. Or maybe it's the fuzzy memory of his arms wrapped around me as he carried me to bed last night.

Yeah. The man carried me to bed. We ended the night in front of the TV with some random movie playing. For the first time, probably in my entire life, I didn't say one word during the movie. And because of that, I must have dozed off.

I wasn't aware I fell asleep until I groggily awoke in Luke's arms. I had muttered something about carrying me while he still could, and without missing a beat, he was teasing me back, loosening his arms under my legs, insisting that if I was awake I could walk myself. Instead of allowing myself to be dropped to the ground, I wrapped my arms around his neck, curled into his chest and told him I was sleep talking. And I swear, on Bono's life, that's just how serious I am, I swear he pressed his lips to my hair and kissed my head.

But that shouldn't be surprising, should it? He's made his feelings known.

I sit up straight and pull my legs into a crisscross position as I frown, recalling how quickly everything escalated between us yesterday. I nearly begged him to crawl into bed with me when he laid me in his bed, but thought better of it and stopped myself.

And then there's the dream…

I'd be more prone to accepting my dream about Luke if it didn't include the twins. During the day, I've been able to push him from my mind by working extra hard or by being with Chris, but at night, ever since our breakup, I've still been his girl. Maybe that's why I was so hellbent on forgetting about him during the day and throwing myself at Chris.

No, it's that I'm now dreaming about him and me together with our kids.

I know what caused it.

Last night, when I went into his room to grab some clothes and his fancy new camera (who knew Luke would purchase a DSLR camera?) I stumbled upon a book. It was on the top of the dresser with the fun house mirror. He had obviously stacked his belongings there when he found out I was going to be coming to stay with him.

But it wasn't just any book.

It was 'What to Expect When You're Expecting'. I stood there, shocked, staring at the book. Any sane person would have left it alone, but we all know that word doesn't exactly describe me. With one last glance back over my shoulder, I pulled the book from the stack and flipped it open. Not only had he purchased the book, he had been reading it. It was highlighted and dogeared and his bookmark rested directly where it should for where I am in my pregnancy. How do I know? Because I have the same exact book.

He's preparing.

He isn't going to leave me to do this all alone.

He really is going to step up as a dad and help me raise our kids.

This realization hit me so hard, I had to take a seat for a moment to catch my breath. It was so Lukelike and I knew if I mentioned it to him, he'd be embarrassed and try to chase the topic off, insisting it's no big deal.

But it is.

Christopher hadn't been there for Rory and my Dad forgot me in a steamer trunk when we played hide-and-seek when I was a girl. The only good memory I have of my dad is from when he found me heartbroken in the mall instead of in school and took me out to the movies. And, well, maybe that one time he let me sneak out my window on that Friday Night Dinner when Mom set me up on that creepy blind date.

But Luke? He's going to have millions of great memories with his kids. I can tell.

Apparently between his touch and smell and thoughtfulness, it made me dream about the two of us raising our kids together. Raising a hand, I run it through my hair as images of our children flash before me.

They were beyond adorable and sweet. Nostalgia settles upon me. I want them, I suppose I've wanted them since Rory went off to D.C. in high school, but this new rush of affection is overwhelming. I press my hand against my abdomen and smile at the realization that I am getting my dream of having twins with Luke.

"Morning, Thing One and Thing Two," I whisper greet them, smiling down at my stomach and talking to them for the first time. I rub a hand there affectionately. "Thanks for letting me eat and sleep."

And all things good, don't you know it - I kept everything down and that seemed to extend to my sleeping. I haven't slept a full night for just as long as I've been getting sick. All it took was for Luke to feed me and carry me to bed.

I glance at the clock.

10:32 am.

Oh my god! In a blind panic, I kick the comforter off the bed, and step directly on Paul Anka. He yelps, jumping to his feet and looking at me wearily.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" I mutter lifting my feet, before dropping them carefully, and crouching next to my pooch. I pet him affectionately and grab blindly for my phone on the nightstand to call Sookie.

A paper flitters to the ground next to the dog.

I lift it to place it back on the nightstand but when the familiar block handwriting catches my eyes, I read a note from Luke: I called Sookie to tell her you'd be late this morning. You were out. Come by the diner before you go to work - I'll feed you.

I stare at the words and then turn over the paper to find one last word: Please.

Oh boy.

Living with Luke is going to be torture.

Realizing Sookie knows I'm going to be late, I relax, lift myself from the floor, sit back onto the bed and play with the hem of Luke's t-shirt I threw on last night. I shouldn't, I really shouldn't, but I do. I pull at the neckline of the shirt, lower my nose and inhale deeply. Instantly, my senses are overloaded with Luke's familiar scent. Bad, bad idea! I drop the shirt as Paul Anka jumps up on the bed with me, sprawling out directly in front of me, doing that dog trick where his medium size doggy frame takes up ninety-nine percent of the bed and leaves me with just one percent as I pet him and call Sookie to fill her in.

"So you're at Luke's?" Instantly I can hear the smile in her voice.

I squeeze my eyes together, knowing exactly where this conversation is leading. "Well it was here or my parents' house so-"

"So you chose Luke's! I'm so glad you slept. Take your time this morning, Hon, I have the entire place under control," she cheerily sing-songs from her side of the receiver. "In fact, I really don't need you to come in at all today."

"You mean, I have the entire place under control," Michel's voice snaps through the line. I roll my eyes and begin a good belly rub on Paul Anka as the two continue to argue. My eyes drift around the room, taking it in and then landing on the small vase of daisy flowers on the nightstand that was not there yesterday. I'm guessing it showed up with the note. "You're just hiding here in the kitchen, while I am the one exposed at the front desk dealing with all the customers all alone."

"Oh you mean all ten of them that need something from you at different times of the day? Can it!" Sookie scolds. "It's your job! You're acting like it's too much work to do what you do everyday."

"Sookie," I stand to my feet and when she doesn't respond because she's still arguing with Michel, I make my way to my bag to pull out a shirt. I lift it, and give it a weary eye because I'm not sure it'll fit around me. "Hey, Sookie, just give me half an hour I'll be in-"

And suddenly she's back with me. "No! Take your time. You have to eat. Let Luke make you a big delicious breakfast. I heard he fed you last night successfully. Have him drop you off when he goes into the diner."

I narrow my eyes at her words. I think in her head, Luke and I are here alone together in this house and she believes that me staying with Luke will result into some kind of romcom make-up story that we'll tell our children and then grandchildren one day when we're gray and old and married.

"Sookie, Luke is at the diner and my name isn't Miss Daisy. I'm still more than capable of driving myself around. I couldn't be physically closer to the Inn without moving in. I'm just right around the corner."

"Oh yeah," she giggles. "Well, then go into the diner. Everyone's been talking about how weird it is for you to not be there. Everyone misses you, hon."

I stop rummaging through the bag and look down at my hand. I haven't been to the diner in what feels like forever. I haven't seen everyone in so long.

It'd be good to see everyone.

I miss the town.

And going to the diner would rectify that instantly. But I'm not hungry. I don't need breakfast. I ate dinner and that was ten times more than I've had in the last week.

Plus, not seeing Luke would be really great.

I may have been weak yesterday, letting myself think Luke was cute and letting him feed me and bantering with him over dinner and wearing his clothes and letting him carry me to bed and dreaming about our little family, but I won't be weak again.

I'll start over today.

I'll go right back to avoiding and being upset with him. Maybe I'll even work late at the inn tonight. Inventory needs to be taken. That can take a while and everyone hates the chore. Especially Michel. It'd be a win-win. Maybe Luke will even have early morning deliveries and be asleep by the time I get home.

Or, well, that was the plan, until my stomach growled so loudly, my best friend was able to hear it on the other end.

"I'll see you after your breakfast at Luke's."