November 19
9 Months, 3 Week, 1 Day
Size: Canary Melon
LUKE POV
Lorelai's stretch of pregnancy has been nothing short of eventful.
To begin, Lorelai started going back to Friday Night Dinner with me and April the night after our surprise baby shower. It was fine once Rory showed up. Later that night in bed, I foolishly tried to point out that I didn't need to go along to every dinner, but that didn't fly with my fast-thinking fiancé. Unbothered by my suggestion, she once again pointed out how she shouldn't make the drive to Hartford alone when she's this far along in her pregnancy. Valid point. I tried to counter by saying I could stop going to every dinner once the twins were born to which she smartly pointed out that she'd need my help hauling two babies around. Fine. And before I could open my mouth to counter her point once again, just like Lorelai, she yammered on pointing out that by the time our kids were old enough for her to take alone, I'd be used to going anyway and William and Lilly would want their daddy to go too.
My heart skipped at the word 'daddy', and regrettably for me, I wasn't able to hide the profound effect the word had on me. Now, as if the hair flip, the jeans, the black flippy skirt and those blue eyes weren't all enough, this new word has now been added to Lorelai's kryptonite stash to use against me.
Is everything perfect between Lorelai and the Gilmores? Don't be ridiculous - of course not. Everything is still wound up so tightly between Lorelai and Emily that I spend the majority of our dinners in Hartford waiting for the rubber band to snap under the tension. In response to this, Lorelai has assured me that once they have their big blow up, everything will unwind and be better. Apparently that includes a dinner with loud voices volleying back and forth that will closely resemble the first dinner they all had after Rory moved out of the pool house - whatever the hell that means. In any case, Lorelai, already protective of Lilly and Will, doesn't want to subject our babies to that kind of yelling, even if there's zero chance it'll mean anything to them. Plus, as she openly and blatantly shared with me, she wants to be able to have at least one drink in her stomach and a martini in hand when it happens.
As for me and the Gilmores? With the engagement, upcoming birth of Lilly and William, and our confrontation at the bistro, Emily and I have come to a sort of unspoken understanding. We tolerate each other. She's not warm, she never will be, but she's cordial enough. Richard, upon witnessing just how committed Lorelai and I are to each other, has warmed to the two of us and I have found that I don't mind him so much as long as we're not talking about stocks or franchising.
With Lorelai's due date rapidly approaching, we decided it was time to fully finish the nursery. Thanks to the generous gifts of the town, I am happy to report it is completely stocked and ready. The only thing left to add are the twins.
The biggest activity was moving Lorelai into our home. Just as you'd expect, it wasn't a walk in the park. Lorelai cried the entire time, and though she blamed the tears on pregnancy hormones, I know the sentimental woman was experiencing a deep loss with each item boxed up. Despite me reassuring her I'd be perfectly fine moving into her house, she insisted she loved our home and that it was still the right move for our family. By the time we finished packing and I moved all her belongings into our house across town, her tears had evaporated like rain on asphalt on a scorching summer day and she was a completely different woman. Whether this had to do with her insane out of control nesting mode or if it had her settling into a new phase, I don't have a clue. But she was happy again, and that was all that mattered to me.
As for her house, we've decided to not keep it as a paint studio, record studio or a safe house. Instead, we're going to rent it out in the hopes that one day when we're gray, old and empty nesters, we'll finish our days in that sweet little house. Granted, we probably won't be able to hobble up the stairs to use the shower, but I suppose we can hire elderly Tom and his crew to build an add-on for a full downstairs bathroom. Maybe by then he'll have passed on the business to a trusted young man. Either way, that'll make our biggest construction crew supporters happy, no matter if they're gray and old themselves. At least we have a plan.
Our first major pregnancy "scare" led to Lorelai being placed on bedrest a week ago. In true Lorelai fashion, she's been making the best of it. Instead of complaining and moping around, she's been busy spending her days nagging me about what other secrets I may have about the house since learning the truth about the paint colors.
"Common, Luke! You have to tell me!"
I lean back into my chair smugly while balancing a beer on my thigh, tired from a long day of work, but happy to come home to the woman on the couch. "I don't have to tell you anything."
"Excuse me? When I asked you about the paint colors you vaguely claimed that you went to get your color fan and these colors just fell in your lap."
"That's exactly what happened."
"And then you insisted that I had a decision in the paint colors." Her eyes are wide, flaming and growing impatient. "Some common, fill me in! How can those two things both be true?"
Seeing the time to confess the entire truth has finally come, I rise to my feet, make my way to the closet in my office and pull out a golden yellow clasp manila envelope labeled 'Family Home Colors'. I return to the living room to drop it on the plush couch cushion.
Recognition sparks and explodes into understanding, and with it, a huge, ginormous smile lights up Lorelai's face as she looks up at me. "These were the color samples I put together when we were trying to pick out paint colors for my house during the renovation."
"Yeah." I take a seat next to her on the edge of the couch and shake my head. "You were so damn annoying with that paint fan. Instead of picking out paint for your house, so the painters could paint, you painted the entire town with your color suggestions. You had a major problem."
"I did not have a problem, I had a gift!" she teases happily, taking the envelope and dumping the paint sample chips onto the couch cushion between the two of us. They match the walls perfectly and compliment Lorelai's decorating touch on the house, just as she told me they would during all those excruciating days she dragged me around shopping. Her disbelieving eyes lift to mine. "I can't believe you did this. This is the color scheme I put together for our future family home in case we ever had to move someplace bigger."
"I know." I nod, taking a hold of a few samples and looking them over. "You went on and on about how great of a color scheme this was but claimed your house wasn't big enough for all of them."
"It wasn't," she laughs, looking around at the walls with a new appreciation. "If I had tried cramming all of these into the Crap Shack it would have ended up looking like a mature carnival tent. I love that you used them here."
"Yeah, well, when I went to get the paint fan to pick out colors for this house, this envelope fell right off the shelf," I explain. "When I looked through them I knew they'd be perfect."
"They are perfect." She looks up at me affectionately. "But admit it, you wanted a part of me here with you, even when we weren't together."
"I always want you here with me, Crazy Lady."
When Lorelai isn't busy talking my ear off, watching movies or curled up on the couch yapping on and on with Rory on the other end of the phone line, she's busy planning our wedding. After deciding we didn't want to rush the wedding or push it off for nine ridiculous years, we agreed to tie the knot sometime within a year of our engagement after the babies are born.
And now, as we impatiently await the birth of our children, Richard and Emily join us for the very first time in our home for Friday Night Dinner.
"Well, I must say, this house is quite impressive," Richard comments as we end the tour in the home office. He soaks in the woodwork detail appreciatively, and not for the first time, I wonder how Richard and I got separated from Rory and Emily on the tour. Not that I'm complaining. "You said your grandfather built this house with his own two hands?"
"Yes, sir," I confirm. "He built it for my grandma and then later my parents moved in and raised me and my sister here."
"And now you're going to raise your family here," he states matter-of-factly while turning to look at me with a proud smile on his face. "There's nothing more important than family, Luke. And I can clearly see that you feel the same." I nod once in agreement. "I admire how much this home means to you. There is little more satisfying to a man than providing for his family. You have obviously done very well," he pauses to look at me quizzically, both hands rising so both sets of his fingertips meet in a pyramid in front of his chest. "Tell me, how is the insurance on this house?"
I pull the typed out contract from my desk and hand it over. "Lorelai said you'd want to read through it."
"Ah, indeed," he says, voice low as he begins to leaf through the insurance policy. His eyes snag on a phrase and his brow furrows in response. "Do you mind if I take this with me so I can give it the proper attention it deserves? This house is obviously structurally sound and safe with no asbestos or mold or mildew, just as you said in the hospital, but I would like to make sure your policy is set up with your family's best interests at hand."
"I'd appreciate that."
"I may be able to set up a better plan for the two of you," He looks up at me over his glasses, slightly hesitantly. "If that would be okay with you?"
"That'd be fine, thank you."
He nods, clutching the papers tightly as he looks around the room one more time before clearing his throat and looking back at me. "Luke, I know I am unseasonably late in discussing this with you, but as a father, I believe it is my duty to articulate that if you hurt my daughter once agai-"
"I won't," I interrupt, not needing to hear the rest of the threat. "At least not intentionally. I love her and I just want to see her happy. I learned my lesson the hard way and I can assure you I won't make the same mistake again."
At my words, Mr. Gilmore raises the stack of papers and taps them against my shoulder. With his eyes still off me, he asks, "I have to ask, Luke, have you thought any more about franchising your diner? I am confident it would do well in Hartford, the other small towns around here, and especially in college towns. Rory raves of your burgers. You could build your own small empire."
It takes everything, and I do mean everything, to keep myself from deflating and rolling my eyes.
"Yeah, listen," I rub a hand over my shaved chin and glance quickly back over my shoulder. "I don't hear Lorelai and we left her in the kitchen with our dinner on the stove, do you mind if we head back that way? Lorelai has an unmatched superpower for burning things that are on simmer. I learned the hard way to not leave her too long in the kitchen if I'm hoping to have a real dinner that didn't come from the frozen food section."
The Elder Gilmore chuckles good-naturedly at my words before tipping his head toward the door. "We can discuss the franchising business just as easily in the kitchen as we can here."
Well, that didn't work, but at least I won't be alone in talking to Mr. Gilmore about franchising.
But I don't need to worry about talks of franchising, because the moment we step into the kitchen and I spot Lorelai with her head down with one hand leaning heavily against the counter and one hand on her bump - I know.
"Lorelai?"
Lorelai's blue eyes rise to meet mine, and though, clearly in pain, she flashes me a smile and confirms what I already suspected. "My water just broke."
Epilogue
Six Years Later
LUKE POV
"Can I go get Mommy so we can finally show her?" Will asks, looking up at me with big excited blue eyes.
"You think it's time?"
"Yeah!"
I cringe at the string of back-and-forth with my son as a deep Deja vu begins to flood and swell inside me.
Even though it's been years since I had that nightmare that knocked me right out of bed, it easily rushes back to me at this moment, as if I had the dream last night. This right here, in my dream, is exactly where my six year old son runs into the house and never comes back out. This is where I rush up the wooden stairs of the tree house and find little Lilly Bug smiling and setting up a picnic blanket for us to lounge around on and have dinner, only to disappear when I turn my back to open the windows. This is where Lorelai is no longer my wife.
But that was just a nightmare, and this isn't a dream.
"Go on then," I say, lowering my boy to the ground and watching as he runs as fast as his little legs will take him into the house.
Just like the dream, I make my way to the stairs, taking them two at a time, up to the tree house. Reaching over an aged snoozing Paul Anka, who's sprawled out outside the front door, I knock on the door politely. When the door swings open to reveal a delicately pink-faced Lilly on the other side, I smile affectionately at the flowerchild. Her feet are bare and tipped with her mother's red nail polish. A girly, pink summer dress hangs off her fair skinned shoulders, and her usually wild dark curly hair is braided into two thick pigtails though loose strands have escaped to curl around her face and at the nape of her neck.
"Hey you, are we ready for dinner? Will is getting Mom."
"Yep!" she smiles, eyes twinkling. "Come on in! Welcome to Lilly's!" She throws out her arms wide.
This time I don't give her a funny look and she doesn't have to explain that she named her restaurant Lilly's just like I named mine Luke's.
"Thank you," I say instead, reaching out and wiggling my fingers against her soft stomach. She giggles, eyes aglow with innocent joy, and steps back into the tree house, making room for me to enter. "You have a really nice place."
I step into what could only be described as a sauna. Despite the soul crushing heat, I smile at the sight of our red and white checkered picnic blanket spread out carefully on the floor. Take-out containers are placed around the tablecloth with a place card for where everyone is to sit written in Lilly's large block kid handwriting with two extra spots set for her older sisters who are making their way home for the grand reveal. A simple clay pinch vase Lilly made in school is resting in the center of the table cloth filled with her grandmother' daisies she no doubt cut all on her own from our garden though we've asked that she ask before sneaking the scissors out of the junk drawer (she cut her own hair at four). She may be a little feminist, but she insisted on getting the food ready for our initiation of the tree house all on her own. I swing open the two windows, one on each side of the room, to allow a breeze to flow through the structure, making it bearable.
"You did a really good job, Lil-" I stop with the compliment when I find myself all alone.
What the actual hell!
I whip around, full on panicking when I discover she isn't in the tree house, but then I stop, because I don't have to worry.
Outside, on the platform, my six year old Lilly is standing at the lookout, hands on the rail, bouncing on the balls of her feet with unrestrained joy. "They're coming, Daddy!"
"Oh yeah?" I ask, joining her just in time to watch as Will guides Lorelai by hand out the back door. I take in Lorelai's relaxed but happy stride, the bounce of her long, dark wavy hair, the way her jeans hug her just right and the way her black shirt makes her eyes pop even bluer. As usual, a large yellow coffee mug with the phrase 'happy wife, happy life' is clutched in her free hand. Her dancing eyes meet mine as she and Will near the stairs.
"Wow!" Lorelai exclaims with playful excitement that reaches down right into our two kids' souls and lights them aflame with pride and joy. "Look at this! It's amazing!"
"Do you like it?" Will asks eagerly as he guides her to the stairs.
"Do I like it? That's like asking if Nemo wants to go back to his coral reef." She strokes the back of his hat covered head affectionately as she looks up at the tree house from below, drinking it in. "I love it! It's like we're like the Swiss Family Robinson!"
Lilly, now with her head against her folded arms against the rail, turns her resting head toward me, brows curled and blue eyes curious. "Daddy, what is she talking about now?"
"A story of adventure," I answer simply, playing right along with my wife's carefully premedicated plan.
"Ah, we've been remiss!" Lorelai sighs dramatically as she and Will make their way up to the two of us. She lowers her voice into storytelling mode and explains, "It's a story of a shipwrecked family who built a treehouse to live in and fought off pirates. It's full of wild animals and adventure."
Lilly stands upright, already immersed and catapulted into another world. "Can we watch the movie tonight?"
"Who said it was a movie?" Lorelai quips back smartly, her eyes fixated on Lilly with a slight upturn to the corners of her lips. "First we read the book and then we'll watch the movie."
Lilly's face falls into a frown at the mention of reading. Yeah, like my dream, this kiddo doesn't willingly dive into books like every other one of her siblings, but that doesn't change the excitement that crosses her face the moment Lorelai pulls the book out of the bag slung around her shoulder. At the sight of the exciting cover, the two dark-haired kids pull the book eagerly from Lorelai's hands and rush into the treehouse together to explore the pages.
Now, just the two of us, Lorelai's eyes land on mine and I'm not sure if Lorelai is more excited about the tree house for my sake or for the kids'. From the very beginning, the twins wanted to keep our project a surprise for Lorelai. To do this, they colored pictures, taped them up on the kitchen windows on the back of the house and forbade her from entering the backyard while it was being built.
Sauntering up to me, Lorelai wraps her free arm around my neck while clutching her ever present death poison with an unfaltering grip. I pull her slender frame close to mine, holding her against me. Her eyes spark. "How's the nightmare, Daddy?"
"What nightmare?" I ask, raising my head and looking at her right on before leaning forward, and kissing her softly, thankful that the dream from all those years ago wasn't real.
Marriage isn't perfect, and ours is far from it, but our passion for one another still rages just as strongly as it always has. I don't know how long we stand kissing, but we only stop when the twins peek their heads out of the tree house and very vocally, they are Lorelai's children after all, express their complete and utter disgust at our PDA.
Five minutes later, Rory and April show up.
Ten minutes later, we're all sitting together as a family in the tree house enjoying dinner. Will, a mama's boy, is happily sitting in Lorelai's lap while the girls are all gathered together between me and Lorelai, chattering away. All this doesn't stop Lorelai's eyes from filling with mischief and putting on a show for me as she lowers her now empty coffee mug and lifts her big, fat juicy burger and takes a big bite. Long gone are her days of clean eating, and honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.
I love that woman, quirks and all.
We did it - we made it to the end! Thanks for reading and all of your kind words and encouragement. I appreciate you all. This was fun ride, but I am so thankful to have made it all the way to the end!
An unexpected part of this path (pun intended) was making a great friend in boxerz32. What started off as simply beta-ing her story became a great friendship where she started beta-ing my work as well. I would not have made it through this whole story without her. She has been working on a fantastic new story, and trust me when I tell you, you will become just as obsessed with it as I currently am. If you're not following her, go follow her or keep an eye out for her new work. She has a fantastic L&L story coming your way sometime in the future.
Thanks again. :)