Dinner had come and gone, but the weight of Logan's announcement lingered in the air like a storm cloud no one could quite disperse. Everyone had moved to the living room, where coffee sat untouched on the table; scotch, however, had felt more like a necessity than a luxury for enduring even a fraction of the tension.
The conversation continued to be strained but polite, circling harmless topics like the holiday travel madness, the gingerbread house competition in town and, of course the topic safest of all - the cuteness of Nora in her red velvet Christmas dress.
While Lorelai and Rory cooed over which headband suited Nora better, the little girl having gotten an early Christmas present, Emily sat ramrod straight in her armchair, her fingers curled tightly around the armrests as if letting go might cause her to lose control entirely. Her sharp gaze was fixed on Logan. It was like waiting for a timebomb to go off.
"Rory's cheeks were different when she was little. Nora must get that from you," Lorelai said suddenly, finally being able to point out the difference publicly, breaking the silence as she gestured toward Nora.
Logan blinked, clearly startled by the comment, before his lips curved into a faint smile. "You think?" he reflected, feeling a hint of mutual relief. At least Lorelai seemed to be ready to put the announcement behind them.
"How can you possibly tell? She's tiny," Luke interjected, his tone laced with a healthy dose of skepticism.
"She has Rory's nose, though," Logan said softly, his gaze lingering on Nora's drowsy face.
"Oh, sure," Lorelai agreed, smirking, ignoring Luke's earlier comment. "But don't let her cuteness fool you. This kid's gonna be a handful. She's got your mischievous streak written all over her."
"I sure hope not," Logan said dryly, his tone carrying a hint of humor that softened the tension. He'd never really thought that having a girl with his characteristics might be like - all those stunts, all that partying... it would make any father sigh. But of course, there was no guarantee she'd take after him instead of Rory, or herself entirely.
Rory rolled her eyes. "She's six months old. She doesn't have a mischievous streak."
"Oh you just wait. I bet she would if she could," Lorelai countered, raising an eyebrow.
"She did throw her pumpkin puree at me once," Logan said, revealing also how he was not only in Nora's life, visiting, but had been spending a lot of time with her, doing simple everyday things with her.
"That's called motor development," Rory shot back, briefly glancing towards her grandmother who continued to sit silently.
"Right. Motor development," Lorelai said with mock seriousness. "Let me know how that explanation works out when she's two and refusing to eat anything except goldfish crackers and jelly worms."
Luke chuckled quietly into his drink, but Emily didn't so much as crack a smile.
"She's a beautiful baby," Emily said abruptly, her voice sharp enough to cut through the room. Her eyes were on Logan now, cold and unflinching. "It's just a shame the circumstances weren't... different."
The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Rory felt her stomach tighten. It almost sounded like Emily had been more content knowing the father wasn't in the picture, rather than it being Logan.
"Mom," Lorelai warned, though her voice was more amused than scolding.
"What!?" Emily said, her tone rising slightly. "Am I not allowed to comment the situation? Or to be upset about the fact that I'm the last person to know!?"
"Emily..." Logan started, his voice charming as ever, like he could get away with murder. But Emily cut him off with a wave of her hand.
"No, don't you 'Emily' me!" she snapped as if suddenly they were no longer on first-name basis, her composure cracking just slightly.
"I apologize," Logan managed, but just barely before Emily continued.
"This is absolutely ridiculous! The two of you — you should've done this the right way. Instead, I'm supposed to sit here and act like this is normal? Like it's perfectly acceptable for me to find out on Christmas Eve, of all nights, that my granddaughter — my only granddaughter — has a child, oh no, not just out of wedlock, but with a man who was involved, no, wait - married to someone else at the time?" she emphasized, revealing she knew a whole lot more about the ongoings in the Hunzberger clan and was real quick to do the math.
Rory's face flushed. "Grandma, it's not —"
"It's not what?" Emily interrupted, her voice sharp. "It's not bullshit!? It's not scandalous? Because, frankly, Rory—it is. And I don't care how progressive or modern you think you are — this is not how things are done," she continued. For a second she sounded like the broken record she had been about Lorelai's own circumstances. But this time — there was more to it.
Rory looked down, feeling like a little kid.
"Did you even think about what Nora will feel like when she'll think back to the circumstance of her birth?" As she spoke, her voice remained firm and reprimanding, yet carefully hushed to avoid waking the baby.
That cut deep. Both for Logan and Rory. That was something neither of them was ever going to be able to take back and protect Nora from. No matter how well they co-parented. There was still taint around the circumstances of her conception, even if not to her, assuming she'd be very forward-thinking, but by others in society who might think otherwise.
"Emily, you're being unfair," Lorelai said, though there was a note of reluctant agreement in her voice.
"Unfair?" Emily scoffed, turning her attention to Lorelai. "Don't you dare lecture me on fairness, Lorelai. You of all people should understand how humiliating this is! I adored Logan. He was perfect for Rory. And yet somehow, the two of them managed to ruin this in the most spectacular way possible!"
"Ruin?" Rory repeated, her voice rising now. "Is that what you think this - she - is? A ruin?" she exclaimed, but Emily decided to ignore her.
"Don't be ridiculous, Rory. Of course I don't think she has any blame in this! I didn't think so in your case, and I would never in a million years think that about Nora," Emily hissed, reminding Rory about a certain conversation they'd had after a truly awful Friday night dinner with Straub and Francine once.
"Then...," Rory began, but not strongly enough. There was some part of her that just felt like a teenager right now, knowing she needed to stand up for herself no matter what. But the sensible part of her did see that she had a point. It was just that coming from her grandmother, internally, she'd always sort of prepared herself for having to defend this situaton - when she'd first found out she was pregnant, when she'd first told her grandmother about it but not spoken about Logan and so forth. But right now she hadn't had a moment to really think things through in their present form.
Emily's sharp gaze didn't waver as she leaned forward slightly. "Do Shira and Mitchum know about this?" she asked pointedly, directing the question at Logan, her voice firm and unrelenting, leaving no room for evasion.
Logan stiffened, glancing down at his hands for a moment before answering.
"No, just my sister," he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. "And I don't want them involved." His mind raced with all the reasons he'd kept them in the dark: the judgment, the expectations, the inevitable interference and drama that woul follow. Protecting Rory and Nora meant keeping his old world and his parent's world — and all its complications — as far away as possible. "It's better this way," he added, more to convince himself than anyone else.
Emily's lips thinned, and she leaned forward slightly, her eyes blazing as she directed her attention back to Logan. "Not involved?" she repeated incredulously. "Logan, grandparents are always involved. Even if it's just by exclusion, believe me, they're involved. Just like great-grandparents for that matter," she muttered, sighing then dramatically.
"We were always going to tell you... tonight was just unexpected," Rory began to apologize.
Emily shook her head, her frustration evident. "You can't just erase their role in this, Logan. Whether you admit it or not, their heritage, their name—even if Nora is a Gilmore — it matters. If not now, then later in her life," Emily continued.
Logan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said tersely.
Emily shook her head, dissapprovingly.
"That doesn't matter now. It is what it is! But do you see, Rory, how you could've done this the right way? Do you? You had the chance... You could've had a beautiful wedding, a proper family. Instead — these bits and pieces. Like broken gold leaf china," Emily exhaled, dissapointedly.
Rory cast an apologetic glance towards Logan. Mostly for her grandmother dragging this old thing up again. But Logan, pretending to let the words pass him by, just opted to gathering up Nora's things, knowing she'd be heading to bed soon.
Rory could've said - if this had happened in any other way, it wouldn't be the baby that was in her arms now. Or she could've delved right into that whole monologue about how it just hadn't felt right at the time or the dozens of small reasons that had led her to tell him 'no'. But they hadn't even fully had that conversation amongs themselves yet. Just the cliffnotes that had allowed them to be so liberal about their relationship. But in this moment, Rory just couldnt' say anything.
"Let by-gones, be by-gones, mom. Unless you have a time machine somewhere...," Lorelai saved the moment, playfully glancing around the back of the couch. "What's the point!?" she added.
Emily simply sighed deeply.
Nora stirred in Rory's arms, letting out a soft whimper.
"Shh, it's okay," Rory murmured, rocking her gently.
The tension in the room shifted immediately.
"I'll take her upstairs," Rory said quietly, standing and adjusting Nora in her arms.
The room fell silent as she left, her footsteps soft against the stairs. Rory felt a wave of relief in excusing herself, though it was accompanied by a flicker of lingering anger — towards Logan for derailing the night so drastically, and towards her grandmother for her inability to grasp the nuances of their situation. None of it had been easy— turning down Logan's proposal all those years ago, seeing him again, nor for using him as her escape for many years, desperately trying to ignore the moral implications of it all. She knew she wasn't faultless in this. But surely, there was no point being mad at her, or Nora, now? Relief dominated her emotions for now, tinged with guilt for leaving Logan to bear the weight of the aftermath. Still, she reasoned, perhaps that was the fair consequence of his abrupt announcement. He could've at least talked to her first. But then again, this was classic Logan— she really shouldn't have been that surprised.
Some minutes later, unable to sit in this tension any longer, feeling like he'd overstayed his welcome, Logan climbed the stairs, following her, his footsteps slow against the creaking wood. He'd excused himself to go and say goodnight before leaving. At the second door on the left, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. The door was slightly ajar, and a faint glow spilled into the hallway from the nightlight inside.
He pushed the door open quietly, stepping inside.
The room wasn't just Nora's — it was Rory's, too. That much was immediately clear. A suitcase sat open near the closet, a tangle of clothes spilling out onto the floor. A pair of leggings was draped over the arm of a chair, and a soft, worn sweatshirt had been tossed onto the bed, as if she'd changed in a hurry.
On the dresser, Nora's things were tucked alongside Rory's: a stack of pastel onesies folded neatly next to an open notebook, a couple of pens, and a mug with coffee rings faintly staining the rim. It felt lived-in. Personal. Yet even in its temporary form - completely Rory.
Logan heard the faucet turn on in the one-suite, explaining Rory's temporary absence.
His gaze shifted to the crib in the corner, where Nora lay bundled under a soft pink blanket, her tiny hand clutching the edge as she breathed steadily. He crouched down by the crib, resting his arms on the edge as he looked at her.
"Hey, Bug," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Nora stirred slightly but didn't wake, her tiny hand twitching under the blanket before settling again. Logan smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair back from her forehead.
"Sweet dreams," he whispered, his voice softer now, almost reverent, and bent down to gently kiss her forehead.
It was then Rory emerged, momentarily jolting at the sight of a mysterious dark figure standing over her daughter's crib. But she recognized him in a fraction of a second.
"Oh, god. You scared me," Rory whispered.
"Sorry," Logan hummed, and Rory stepped closer to the crib, putting away a couple of cloth napkins so they'd be handily available by the changing table in the morning.
They stood there silently for a moment, looking at the sleeping baby.
Logan chuckled, looking back at Nora. "She's incredible."
"She is," Rory said softly, adjusting the blanket around Nora's hand.
"I'm sorry about tonight," Logan said as the moment streched seconds too long.
His tone was soft, almost tentative, and while it helped, it wasn't enough to dissolve Rory's frustration. Her pep talk in the bathroom had been less about forgiveness and more about calming the adrenaline that still coursed through her veins.
"You're lucky she's asleep," Rory warned, her voice sharp but hushed. "Because if she wasn't, I'd be yelling loud enough for Emily to hear." She crossed her arms, leveling him with a stern glare. "What were you thinking!? You should've talked to me first before dropping a bomb like that on my grandmother!" Rory both yelled and whispered at the same time.
Logan exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
"You're right," he admitted, his voice low. "But I just couldn't...," he added, in an almost infuriating way.
"Enough! We should let her sleep. I'm too tired to do this tonight," Rory promised, still fuming inside, leaving Logan, for the first time, seriously concerned whether he'd indeed maginificantly ruined this.