Chapter 37

Rory didn't know how she'd ended up here.

Well, that's not true - she thought, as she glanced toward Emily Gilmore, who was currently leading the charge through Hartford's most exclusive department store. It had started with a simple invitation to brunch — French toast, fruit, coffee — but somehow, by the time Rory had taken her last sip, Emily had declared they were going shopping.

"You need something new," Emily had insisted.

Naturally, Rory had protested, still wiping maple syrup off Nora's hands.

Emily had responded with her signature, unimpressed expression - "You've embraced simplicity wonderfully, but there's no harm in indulging in a little refinement," she'd added. And that was that.

Now, Rory stood awkwardly in the middle of Hartfield & Co., a place where the faint smell of lavender permeated the air, and no one dared wrinkle their cashmere. Nora was nestled in her stroller, happily gnawing on a teething ring, while Emily floated from rack to rack, inspecting fabrics with the critical eye of a general inspecting troops.

"I'm not even sure what we're shopping for," Rory muttered under her breath, trailing behind Emily.

"Clothes, obviously," Emily replied, without looking up from a structured blazer she was examining. "You're the mother of a young child now. You'll need outfits that make you look put together, even when you aren't. And don't argue! I won't have my great granddaughter's mother running around town looking like she's just come from a student protest."

"Student protest?!" Rory mumbled to herself, unsure what decade her grandmother was channeling now.

Emily ignored her. "This navy is lovely. You could pair it with tailored slacks. I'll have the salesgirl fetch your size."

"I don't need slacks," Rory said, trying to steer her grandmother toward the reality of her life. "I'm mostly at home with Nora, working on the Gazette. Nobody's grading me on my wardrobe in Stars Hollow."

"Perhaps not," Emily conceded. "But that doesn't mean you should resign yourself to flannel and... sweatpants."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "Mom wears flannel."

Emily's lips pursed. "Yes, well, that's your mother's choice. It doesn't have to be yours."

As Emily handed off her blazer selection to the hovering sales assistant, Rory couldn't help but admire her grandmother's determination. Shopping trips with Emily had always been more of a sport than a leisure activity, and today was no exception. Still, there was something oddly comforting about Emily's bossiness.

"Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to shop?" Rory teased.

Emily turned, her expression softening ever so slightly. "I'm allowed to take an interest in your life, aren't I? And while I can't do much about... other things"—her voice tightened slightly—"at least I can ensure you're prepared for whatever comes next."

Rory looked away, suddenly overwhelmed by how much unsaid weight hung between them.

By the time Rory emerged from the dressing room, Nora had dozed off in her stroller, and Emily was seated on a sleek leather bench, flipping through a catalog with polite disinterest.

"Well?" Emily asked, looking up as Rory adjusted the cuffs on a chic burgundy cardigan.

"It's... fine," Rory said, glancing at herself in the mirror.

"Fine?" Emily echoed, rising to her feet. "That cardigan is perfect. Classic, flattering, and far better than that shapeless thing you were wearing before."

Rory laughed. "Thanks for the pep talk."

Emily gave her a once-over, her sharp gaze softening slightly. "You look lovely, Rory."

"Thanks, Grandma," Rory said sincerely.

She turned back to the mirror, smoothing the fabric over her waist, recognizing indeed a look she'd frequented years ago. Now it just looked foreign on her. She started to wonder in what situation and when she would get a chance to wear something like this next, besides next time she saw her grandmother, that is, when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She fished it out, expecting a text from Lorelai or possibly Lane. Instead, it was a message from Logan.

"Would it be okay if I come and see you guys?" - it said.

Rory stared at the screen for several seconds, her stomach flipping as she read the words again. She hadn't seen Logan since going to see Honor - and that had been nearly a month and a half ago. She hadn't heard from him in three weeks, since Odette had had the baby, if one didn't count Finn and Colin's little visit.

"Rory?" Emily's voice pulled her back to the moment. "Is everything all right?"

Rory hesitated, tucking the phone back into her pocket. "Yeah. Everything's fine."

But as she followed Emily toward the register, her thoughts were far from the racks of tailored blouses and wool coats. Each time, facing him was hard on her - emotionally loaded, complicated and bittersweet.

Rory wasn't sure what she'd been expecting when she opened the door that evening. Maybe Logan, polished and composed as usual, somehow out of place against the backdrop of her modest Stars Hollow apartment. But the man standing there now seemed more subdued, even tentative, as if he were treading carefully on unfamiliar ground.

"Hi," Logan said softly, his hands tucked into the pockets of a sleek but understated jacket. His hair was slightly tousled from the breeze, his stance casual but guarded.

Rory hesitated, shifting Nora on her hip. "Hi."

Logan's eyes moved to Nora, who was chewing her fist furiously, her cheeks pink and glossy eyes staring at him through a haze of exhaustion and discomfort. His expression softened immediately, but there was something else there, too—something weighted, unspoken. "Hey, Nora. Remember me?" he said gently.

Rory caught the flicker of a smile on his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. She knew he wasn't oblivious to how much time had passed—or how much had changed since their last meeting, or how much Nora had grown.

"She's had a rough week," Rory said, stepping aside to let him in. "First sinus infection, teething... she's basically a baby tornado right now."

"I can see that," Logan replied as he stepped inside, his tone gentle. He stood for a moment, clearly wanting to engage but unsure of how to begin. "I brought something for her," he added, pulling a small stuffed caterpillar from his jacket pocket.

Rory raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "A gift?"

Logan shrugged, his own smile faint. "Thought I should come bearing peace offerings."

Nora's wide eyes darted to the pastel-toned caterpillar. She reached out cautiously before pulling her hand back to chew her fist again, her gaze flicking between Logan and the toy. Logan crouched slightly, holding the caterpillar out toward her.

"No strings attached, kid," he said softly. "It's all yours."

That familiar charm was there again, the same tone that had always worked on Rory. But something about it now seemed softer, tinged with quiet regret, as if he were aware of the moments he'd already missed.

Nora blinked at him for a long moment, then reached out, snatching the toy from his hand and shoving one of its soft antennae into her mouth.

Logan exhaled softly, his shoulders dropping. "Well, that's one way to accept a gift."

"Better than a flat-out rejection," Rory said, her voice light.

Logan straightened, brushing his hands against his sides. He lingered for a moment, his gaze caught on Nora's small, chubby fingers gripping the toy. His lips parted slightly, as if he might say something, but he stayed quiet.

"Give her time," Rory said, stepping further into the apartment and gesturing for him to follow. "She's been fussy with everyone this week. It's not personal."

Logan nodded, following her into the living room, but Rory could see the flicker of something in his expression—sadness, maybe? Regret? She couldn't name it, but it stayed with her.

Logan followed Rory into the small living room, his gaze moving quietly across the scene. Baby toys were scattered across the floor, a stack of laundry sat half-folded on the couch, and the faint aroma of soup lingered in the air. He didn't comment, but Rory could see how his eyes lingered on the tiny signs of life—the breast pump parts drying by the sink, the teething toys on the coffee table.

He rubbed the back of his neck absently, as if uneasy.

"Can I get you something?" Rory asked, balancing Nora on her hip as she gestured vaguely toward the kitchen.

"I'm good, thanks," Logan replied, but his focus stayed on Nora. His gaze softened as he watched her grip the caterpillar tightly, her glossy eyes squinting up at him in curiosity.

"Would you like to hold her?" Rory asked, her voice careful, testing the waters.

Logan hesitated for only a moment before he nodded. "If she'll let me."

Rory stepped closer, gently transferring Nora into his arms. The baby squirmed briefly, testing the new arrangement, before settling with a soft whimper.

"Hey," Logan murmured, his voice quiet as he adjusted his grip. "It's okay. I've got you."

Rory watched him carefully, surprised by how natural he looked despite the moment's awkwardness. His hands were steady, but his expression wavered between concentration and something heavier—something Rory couldn't quite name. His thumb brushed against the soft fabric of Nora's sleeve, almost unconsciously, like he was memorizing the feel of her.

"She's heavier than I expected," Logan said, glancing up at Rory with a faint smile.

"She's growing fast," Rory replied, sitting on the couch. "And strong. She's already tried to climb out of the stroller once."

Logan chuckled, his gaze flicking back to Nora. "Overachiever. Wonder where she gets that from."

But there was a pause, a beat too long, as his gaze lingered on her small, round face. Rory saw it then—the flicker of grief in his eyes. He'd missed these moments, the small milestones, and there was nothing he could do to get them back.

When Nora began to fuss again, Logan handed her back to Rory without hesitation.

"She's probably ready for bed," Rory said, standing. "Let me get her settled."

"I'll wait," Logan said simply, though his eyes lingered on the ajar door, through which the edge of Nora's crib was visible.

When Rory returned, her shoulders visibly lighter now that Nora was finally asleep, Logan was sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. She perched on the armchair across from him, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face.

"How's life?" Rory asked gently, cutting through the silence.

Logan exhaled, leaning back. "I got a divorce lawyer. The process is underway."

Rory blinked. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

"It's not your fault," Logan replied. His voice was even, but the weight of his words hung between them. "But it's not going to be easy. Odette's refusing to accept the paternity results. She keeps insisting it's a mistake."

"That sucks," Rory said quietly.

"I had another test done. A third one. Independent. The results were the same." Logan paused, his throat working visibly. "He's not mine."

Rory's heart ached at the pain in his voice. She stayed quiet, letting him find the words.

"I picked his name," Logan said suddenly, his voice raw. "Hugo. I spent weeks thinking about it, making lists, wanting it to be perfect. And now…" He broke off, looking down at his hands. "Now it's just a name. No connection to me. Nothing."

Rory felt tears prick at her own eyes. "Logan…"

"I studied him," Logan continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "His little face, his hands. I memorized him, like I did with Nora. And now it's like... like she stole him from me."

"I'm so sorry," Rory said, her voice breaking.

"Yeah. Me too," Logan said, exhaling deeply. He looked at her, his eyes weary. "I want you to know—I'm not here to cry on your shoulder, or because I'm using Nora to mask the hurt. I get that they're two different babies. Nora... she's never been in any way less important for me... I know it hasn't always showed, maybe? And for that I'm sorry... But right now I'm just here because this felt like the only place I could...be," Logan said, not finding a better word for that ending.

"That you could... trust?" Rory offered gently.

"That too," Logan replied, though it was clear that wasn't the word he'd been searching for.

"Well, whatever it is… you're welcome," Rory said, her voice soft but sure.

Logan held her gaze, his eyes filled with gratitude and grief, and for the first time in a long while, a fragile kind of hope.