The air inside the car was getting stuffy, a trapped blend of baby wipes, faint lavender lotion, and Rory's own nervous energy. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel of the car and glanced at the rearview mirror. In the backseat, Nora's tiny face scrunched with the kind of mounting discontent that was both predictable and terrifying, it having already been a long drive for her.
"Okay, kiddo, we're almost there," Rory said, her voice artificially bright. She adjusted the rearview mirror to get a clearer look. Nora kicked her legs restlessly, the soft fabric of her perfectly coordinated outfit bunching at her thighs. Rory had spent way too much time dressing them both.
Nora's pale orange romper was mercifully stain-free for now, but Rory's own carefully chosen blouse felt stifling, the pre-pregnancy jeans she used to wear only around the holidays already digging into her waist. The pregnancy had been kind to her, but there was still some baby weight to be shed. She'd stood in front of her mirror that morning, rejecting outfit after outfit, all of them screaming "new mom who's trying too hard." But this was Logan's family, and though it wasn't his overbearing parents, the Huntzbergers were still people who were used to living very different lives. Ones with an abundance of help, designer outfits, and the kind of privilege that made most problems disappear with a well-placed phone call. Ones with the kind of money that came with generations of privilege and impeccable taste. It wasn't that Rory wasn't used to this - she'd lived it, even if briefly - it was just that during this past year - she'd lived a much simpler life. Intentionally so. And had never really expected to revisit it any time soon.
"God, I should've just worn the leggings," Rory muttered to herself, shifting in her seat as the seam of her jeans bit into her hip. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the road, but Nora's soft grumbles were gaining volume.
Rory glanced at the dashboard. Twelve more minutes, according to Google Maps. Thirty minutes through unfamiliar roads, and she was feeling the tension twist tighter in her chest. She was worried about a lot of things—how she looked, how Nora looked, how this whole encounter with Honor and Logan would go—but another type of anxiety prickled at the edges of her thoughts. Nora's whimpers were escalating into full-on fussing, the prelude to a meltdown.
"Please don't cry, please don't cry," Rory whispered, feeling tiny sweat beads at her temples. "You can't possibly be hungry - you just ate? Did you lose your shaker? Or are you just tired of being in this car seat prison?" Her voice was edged with desperation as she peeked into the back again. Or maybe it was the AC - too hot, or maybe just a tad too cold?
Nora's little hands flailed, her face turning a deeper shade of pink. Rory's stomach knotted. She imagined the worst-case scenarios: a diaper blowout of epic proportions, or Nora spitting up all over her perfect, Emily-Gilmore-approved romper and the backseat. Or both. She shuddered.
"Don't worry, baby, I'm right here," Rory said. She reached back blindly at a stop sign, fumbling for Nora's pacifier and managing to nudge it toward her mouth. For a brief, miraculous moment, Nora accepted it and settled into a lull.
Rory exhaled from relief and refocused on the road. The Google Maps voice instructed her to take a right, and she blinked hard, trying to push away the fog of exhaustion clouding her mind. She couldn't afford a wrong turn, not here, not now. The neighborhood they were approaching was no place to make a scene.
The scenery shifted as she followed the winding road. The houses, the few that were visible to the road - that is, grew larger, more stately. White clapboard homes with black shutters, red brick mansions with ivy-draped walls, each one set far back from the road behind meticulously manicured hedges. The driveways weren't driveways so much as statements, with high-end cars parked casually in front, like gleaming artifacts on display.
Rory's Prius felt like a toy car in a land of luxury SUVs and sleek sedans. She swallowed, feeling a fresh wave of inadequacy crash over her. She hadn't expected anything modest, but this was a whole different level, making her feel like she was failing.
Just as she was considering whether Google Maps had betrayed her, Rory spotted a young woman leading a horse across a narrow gravel path toward a sprawling stable. The Hanoverian's coat shimmered in the sunlight, a deep brindle with graceful, powerful muscles.
Rory's palms felt clammy on the steering wheel. "This can't be the right place," she murmured. But the GPS chirped insistently - "You have arrived."
A long driveway led up to an elegant white mansion with black shutters and a wraparound porch. Flowerbeds exploded with hydrangeas and roses in controlled chaos, a burst of color against the pristine white.
Rory pulled in slowly, her tires crunching on the gravel. Her heart pounded as she parked behind a sleek, dark-blue Mercedes that probably cost more than she cared to imagine. She should've expected this, she'd just forgotten how stark the contrast was.
In the backseat, Nora's discontent was simmering again, the pacifier now a forgotten casualty somewhere in her car seat. Rory's hands shook as she turned off the engine. She closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath.
"You can do this," she whispered to herself. "You are doing this."
She turned to look at Nora, whose face was scrunched in frustration. "Okay, baby girl. Let's go meet some new people," she tried to sound chipper.
Rory lifted Nora out of the car seat, careful not to wrinkle the romper she'd fussed over that morning. Nora squirmed, her tiny fists waving in protest. The summer air was warm and thick, and Rory felt a bead of sweat slide down her spine. She adjusted her blouse, hoping it wasn't sticking to her back, and hoisted the diaper bag onto her shoulder.
Walking up to the house felt like a test she hadn't studied for. The gravel crunched loudly under her feet, each step an announcement. By the time she reached the porch steps, her confidence was hanging by a thread. Maybe this was a mistake? Was Logan even here yet?
The front door swung open before she could knock, and there was Logan, looking effortlessly chic in a pair of linen trousers and a casual button-up shirt. His skin looked tanned, like he and his wife must've just spent weeks on some Mediterranean holiday, soaking up the last of the summer sun. But Rory was just assuming, having stayed well clear of his social media.
"You made it!" Logan exclaimed, happily.
"Um, yeah, sorry… we keep struggling to get out of the house on time," Rory apologized, not anyone had been meticulous about the six minutes they were late.
"Come in. Honor just popped in the shower real quick… she'll be down in a few minutes," Logan explained.
"Alright," Rory exhaled, holding firmly onto Nora. Nora seemed to be sensing her tension and clung onto her just the same.
"Here, let me help you. I can get the bag...," Logan suggested, and Rory relented, letting the diaper bag drop off her shoulder into his hand.
"This place is… something," Rory commented, feeling the need for small-talk.
"Yeah, I guess. I actually kind of like it here. Less formal, airy…," Logan described.
"Yeah, I guess," Rory reflected, nervously.
"You want to take a seat or… can I get you something to drink?" Logan asked, looking like he felt at least a little helpless.
"Some water would be great. I'm parched," Rory admitted, and reached her free hand around her back to make sure the back of her shirt wasn't visibly soaked.
"Coming right up," Logan said, and led her towards the open-plan kitchen.
"Is, um… anyone else here? Besides Honor, I mean?" Rory began, after taking a sip of the glass of ice-water Logan had handed her.
"Just the help," Logan replied.
"Right," Rory narrowed her mouth, not wanting to pick on how snobbish that sounded.
"So, how are you - you two?" Logan asked, taking a seat on a booth chair close to the two of them, wanting to observe Nora as close as he could.
"Oh, she's good. She was a little fussy on the drive over, but she seems to have calmed down now that she's out of that awful car seat," Rory said, her tone soft and sweet as she spoke to Nora. Then, almost seamlessly, she shifted her attention to Logan, her voice taking on the conspiratorial tone of someone speaking as if the baby couldn't understand. "She's not a fan."
"Oh? Anything I…?" Logan began, and Rory could just sense where this was going.
"No, Logan. We don't need another car seat. The one we have is fine… she's just not that used to long drives, or driving while awake," Rory snapped.
"I was just…," Logan began to defend himself but stopped at his tracks. "Sorry. I just feel so useless…," he admitted.
"I'm sorry, too… I didn't mean to snap like that. I'm grateful for everything you've gotten us… they've been great," Rory explained. "It's just a bit much, coming here… It was just hard coming here, okay?" she confessed.
"You should've said… I wouldn't have forced you to," Logan began.
"I'm trying to meet you halfway here. But I will say that I think we need to sit down some time and really talk about things… boundaries, expectations, discuss possible conflict situations… I just need… clarity," Rory managed to say, a lot coming flooding out of her.
Logan opened his mouth, ready to respond, but he didn't get the chance. As if right on cue, Nora let out a deep burp—immediately followed by most of her liquid lunch.
"Oh, god, Nora!" Rory groaned, disappointedly. She wasn't even mad - this happened at least a few times every day. It was just the romper, and her own blouse that were now covered in spit-up. "Great," she mumbled, beginning to look around for something to wipe it off.
Logan handed her some paper towels.
"Is she okay?" Logan asked, worriedly.
"Uh? Yes? This happens…," Rory replied, now realizing Logan really didn't know what was normal and what was not. Not first had at least.
"Oh, okay," Logan said.
"But someone's gonna need a change of clothes," Rory continued to speak to Nora in a softened tone.
It was then Honor Huntzberger, looking effortlessly elegant in tailored white pants and a soft green silk blouse arrived in the kitchen. Her hair was swept back in a casual updo that probably took less than ten minutes.
"Rory!" Honor's face lit up with genuine warmth. "You made it!"
"Hey, Honor," Rory said, smiling a bit too widely. She shifted Nora in her arms. "We have a little bit of a situation here, is there someplace I can go clean up?" Rory inquired, apologetically, continuing to wipe off the milk residue from her blouse.
Honor laughed. "Now that's a welcome. Oh, wow…there she is! Nora, hello!" she cooed at the baby, not caring about a little spit-up.
"Maybe I can help?" Logan now offered. "I can try to change her, while you go get cleaned up?" he added.
Rory looked at Honor and then at Logan, looking a little hesitant. But then she realized that a part of coming here was also about trusting the two of them with her daughter. Both about knowing about her, and to let them be with her.
"I'm not sure how she'll take it, but you can try. There should be a change of clothes and some diapers in the bag," Rory said, her tone half-instructive, half-distracted. It suddenly hit her that she really needed to use the bathroom herself. The stain on her blouse, once a pressing concern, now seemed like a distant second priority.
Rory handed Nora over to Logan, stepping in close—closer than she'd intended. For a brief moment, that familiar buzz sparked between them, but she didn't let herself linger in it. Instead, she pulled back quickly and headed off to find the bathroom Honor had directed her to.
Logan had held her before. Just once though, at the hospital, when she'd been less than a day old. The weight of her now, the difference, was mind blowing, making Logan realize sharper than ever how much he'd already missed. Everyone said how babies just ate, slept and pooped those first weeks… but still. If it wasn't for the same features, that look in her eyes… he would've hardly recognized her. Logan pushed down the swelling in her throat, deciding to put on a brave face.
"Okay, why don't we go look at what we can find in that bag of yours?" Logan continued, feeling completely inexperienced with her. He was all nervous inside, rightfully so. But for the first time, he was getting a feel of what this was really like. To not just hold her like some fictional object, but to feel her move, watch her expressions and try to predict what she would do the next second.
Nora's little fingers clung onto Logan's ear, the sensation of her incredibly soft hands against his ear feeling so unexpected. Logan could just feel his eyes turning red at the rush of emotions, being able to barely push through the moment, knowing she needed to make good use of the time or he would get mocked mercilessly by his sister if he wasn't capable of changing his daughter's outfit by himself. That was the least he could do.