CHAPTER 4 – Keys to the Kingdom
"Caesar, you got that order ready?!"
His face glistening with sweat, Caesar popped his head in the kitchen window. "Can ya be more specific, Boss!" he yelled, scanning the overflowing ticket carousel.
"Burger with extra-chili, chili fries and a grilled chicken salad, to-go!" Luke yelled over his shoulder, tossing his olive-green duffel bag on the counter near the register.
"Oh, this order," Caesar replied, snagging a single ticket from the carousel. "Coming right up."
Luke stood with a hand on each hip, taking in the full scope of the bustling diner. "Are you sure you and Caesar can handle this place tonight?" Luke asked as Zack jotted down an order on a pad. "It's like the entire population of this crazy town just collectively decided to have a snack attack at precisely the same moment."
"Who knew we were all such synchronized eaters, huh?" Zack replied, tearing off the top sheet and placing it in the kitchen window. "Relax, Dude, we got it covered." He tucked his pencil behind his ear, grinning at the sight of his boss's capless head, hair still damp from the shower. "Don't worry about this place. Go have fun on your date."
"I'm not going on a date," he insisted as Zack snatched the pot of decaf from the warmer and headed straight for the dining room. Luke's gaze then shifted to Kirk, perched on the stool near the register, giving his bag a rather peculiar once-over. "Kirk, what the hell are you doing? You're freaking my bag out."
"I think I like this bag better than the one you sold me last year."
"What's wrong with the bag I sold you last year? It was a perfectly fine bag. I only used it once."
"Well, it's leather. I'm not sure if you know this, Luke, but leather comes from the skin of an animal."
"Well, you're not wrong, Kirk, but you're also not exactly breaking any new ground there."
"Research indicates that the leather and meat industries significantly contribute to global environmental damage, primarily through large-scale deforestation and substantial greenhouse gas emissions. I've seen an Inconvenient Truth, Luke, I intend to be a force for change, not a hindrance."
"Would you like a refill on your glass of global-warming milk to wash down your climate-changing meatloaf?" he replied, nodding to Kirk's dinner plate.
"But Luke, this bag has more zippers and pouches."
"I'm not selling you my bag, Kirk."
"Fine," Kirk replied with a sigh. "I guess you need all of those compartments and pouches more than I do. You know, since you'll be sleeping over at Lorelai's a lot now that the two of you are back together."
"What?! No! Lorelai and I …we aren't -"
"But you and Lorelai kissed in front of the diner last night. You even opened the diner early this morning for her and Rory. Plus, Babette told Patty, who told Andrew, who told Gypsy, and I overheard Gypsy mention it to Ole Miss Tucker over on Hemlock Road while I was trimming her neighbor's hedges, that you spent the entire day at Lorelai's house." Kirk's eyes then swiftly traced the diner owner's brown plaid shirt, neatly tucked into his jeans, before his gaze flicked to the bag. "And by the looks of it, you and Lorelai have a sleepover date planned for tonight."
"Ah geez, there's no date! Lorelai and I are not going on a date!"
"Okay, I get it. The two of you are going down the discrete road. Very classy. I'd prefer it if the two of you wait until after May thirty-first to make it official, anyhow."
"What's May thirty-first?"
Just then, Caesar's voice echoed from the kitchen, "Order up, Luke!" as the diner owner's perplexed eyes lingered on the suddenly silent town-eccentric. "Thanks, Caesar," Luke finally said, retrieving the takeout bag from the kitchen window.
"No problem, Boss! Have fun on your date tonight," Caesar said, his grinning face emerging from the window, as he added, "I put a double order of apple pie with extra whip cream in the bag for Lorelai. I figured it could only help your chances for a successful end to the date, if you know what I mean." He winked. "You can thank me tomorrow for that."
With takeout bag in hand, Luke scowled as he slung his duffel over his shoulder. "I swear, my life is like that stupid reality show on MTV and I never even signed up for it," he grumbled, passing Zack while rounding the counter on the way to the exit.
"Come on Dude!" Zack shouted from behind the counter. "Every musician knows, if you want to keep things with your lady on the down-low, maybe, like, don't make out with her in the middle of the stage during a sold-out show!"
With one foot out the door, Luke stopped dead in his tracks as Zack's comment echoed through the diner. Face flushing with embarrassment, he could practically feel every customers' eyes fixed on the back of his head. Focusing on the path ahead of him, Luke yelled out, "Hey Rockstar, if you wanna keep your gig, maybe, like, turn down that mic so the boss doesn't fire you before the world tour begins," before exiting the diner for the evening.
For the second time that day Luke found himself lingering on Lorelai's front porch. This time, serenaded by a chorus of crickets, he stood transfixed, staring at the stark white doors as a contrasting dark blue glow pervaded the twilight sky behind him. What was once such a natural movement, unlocking her door and stepping into her home now felt oddly intrusive as well as a monumental moment.
With his duffel slung over a shoulder and the takeout bag in hand, Luke finally mustered enough courage and dug into the front pocket of his jeans to fish out a ring of keys. The flickering porch light barely illuminated his hands as he searched through his keys, mentally adding a bulb replacement to his to-do list.
One by one, he fumbled through the ring, hunting for that once familiar key to unlock what, to him, was like Lorelai's kingdom. Her castle changed his life - all for the better. He was embraced here, welcomed like a member of her family. He spent years maintaining it. He was even invited to reside there. Hell, the crown to the kingdom was his for the taking, but he chose to relinquish it before his reign even began.
A whole year passed as he attempted to bury the painful truth of his deliberate abdication. A year of stifling his loyalty to the queen. A year convincing himself that she was just another piece on the royal chessboard. A year internalizing the notion that a mere peasant would never be fit to share the throne.
Yet, the key remained fixed to the ring.
Through steadfast patience, the key withstood the test of a year's time, anticipating this exact moment …the knight's triumphant return. And with a simple turn of that key, the bolt clicked and gave way, unlocking the entrance and granting Lancelot access to the kingdom.
Lit only by the faint glow of the streetlights piercing through the living room windows, Luke stepped into the seemingly deserted dwelling. After stumbling over a lone sandal near the front door, he set about illuminating the house, flicking on a string of lights stretching from the living room to the kitchen.
He tossed both bags onto the kitchen table and began rummaging through the duffel. Eventually, he pulled out a small can filled with coffee grounds of his signature house blend. Wasting little time, he filled her Mr. Coffee beside the stove with water and proceeded to brew a pot.
As the coffee percolated, Luke stood leaned against the countertop, arms crossed over his chest as he mapped out a strategy to make the trek upstairs to find Lorelai. But before his plan came to fruition, a rhythmic movement coming from the shadowy bedroom adjacent to the kitchen, drew his attention. It was then that Luke registered the furry tail wagging at the foot of Rory's bed.
Luke silently watched, leaning casually against the doorframe of Rory's bedroom, taking in the scene before him. Snuggled deep in Rory's pink comforter, Lorelai slept, mouth wide open, clutching Colonel Clucker in her arms. Her vibrant vitality lit up every space she entered, yet the tranquility of her sleep always captivated him. As Luke's eyes lingered on her sleeping form, it struck him how it was everyday moments like this that he had missed the most about her over the last year.
The caress of fingertips brushing her curls from her brow stirred Lorelai from her deep slumber. Eyes fluttering open, she yawned, "Hey."
"Hey."
"What time is it?"
"About eight-thirty."
Lorelai unfurled her limbs with a lazy stretch. "I feel like I could sleep for twelve more hours," she groaned before her nose was met with a familiar, nutty aroma, deep with caramel undertones. A sleepy smile broke across her face. "That's your coffee brewing in my pot."
"It's whatever crap you had in the fridge."
"Oh please, I could be swimming in a sea of lattes, and I could still find my way back to your coffee."
A hint of a smile grazed his lips as he rose his feet. "Come eat your dinner. We can skip the movie …call it an early night. I gotta open in the morning anyway."
Twisting her long curls into a messy bun, Lorelai padded barefoot into the kitchen sporting a pink tank top and a pair of leggings. She beelined it for the coffee maker and filled her Charlie's Angels mug while Luke opened their takeout containers and arranged their dinner on the kitchen table. It was then Lorelai noticed the duffel perched on the table's edge.
"New bag?" she asked, a hesitant inflection in her voice as she recounted the internal meltdown his previous bag had caused her.
"Oh yea, that." His eyes flashed toward it and right back to his salad as he took a seat at the table. "It, um …has more zippers and pouches. There's a shirt in there for you. It's wrapped in plastic so the stench of last week's meatloaf special didn't get on my clean clothes."
With a zip of the duffel, Lorelai retrieved a plastic bag containing a green and gray plaid shirt. Holding the heavily creased button-down up to her nose, her eyes drifted shut as a deep inhale painted a serene smile on her lips. "Mmmm, smells heavenly …coffee and sausage complete with a grape jelly stain. It's perfect, thank you."
"You're welcome." He tilted his head toward the empty chair across from him. "Sit."
Pulling his flannel shirt over her shoulders, a mischievous twinkle danced in Lorelai's eyes when she noticed him wearing a crisp, tucked-in shirt. "I'm sorry, were you expecting a hot date out on the town tonight?"
"Not you too," he grumbled. "Geez, is it really such a big deal that I tucked my shirt in?"
"We were gonna watch a movie on the couch. Did you think the popcorn was going to be served on a silver platter, or were you planning on giving the couch a financial audit with your bank clothes on?" she asked, fishing her phone from the pocket of her leggings and plopping herself down into her chair.
"No, I figured that you'd be tired. I just thought that I'd …" He paused, distracted by her futile attempt to curtail her giggles while thumbing the buttons on her phone. "What's so funny?"
"I'm just texting Rory to tell her that you're having a full-blown Vogue moment tonight."
"Go ahead and savor it. This will be the last time that I'm ever accused of being overdressed and …" Once again, he stopped mid-sentence as Lorelai's demeanor quickly turned from that of amusement to frustration. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothing really. I'm just learning to navigate this texting world. It seems like it may be our primary way of communicating for the foreseeable future, but I'm not completely sold on it yet. Too much work for too few words, and in case you didn't get the memo, I tend to be a little wordy."
"You do have a gift for using ten words where one would do just fine."
"This from the guy who's vocabulary seems to be limited to 'uh-huh' and 'hmm' with a side of grumbles."
"That's because your verbal diarrhea requires a steady stream of silence to counteract it."
Dismissing his comment with a shake of her head, Lorelai continued, "Well, Rory's trying to talk me into getting one of those new iPhones that are coming out this summer. They look really cool and the reviews say that the camera is amazing. Plus, they have a full keyboard so it's easier to text."
"So, is everything gonna have an 'i' in front of it now? iPhone, iPod, iDog, iHome, iCar?"
"The iFuture is here, Hun."
"And it's pretty underwhelming."
"I would think that walking mufflers like yourself would probably love texting. Digital communication could be your gateway to the quiet life you've always longed for."
"Oh, I will not be going along on the iRide." He scoffed, barely pausing to swallow a bite of his salad. "April was bugging me about getting her an iPod when she was here last month. She says that all of her friends in New Mexico have one."
"Oh," Lorelai's voice hitched, a sudden chill of fear creeping through her at the mention of April's name. A quick squinty-smile flickered across her face as she tossed a chili fry in her mouth and pushed on, "Kids do love their gadgets. So, what are your thoughts on pineapple as a pizza topping? I'm considering adding more fruit to my diet."
As if a vice had clenched down on it, Luke's jaw tightened at the sight of Lorelai's forced smile. "Alright." He dropped his fork in the takeout container and reached for his glass of water. "You can't make that face and change the subject whenever I bring up April."
"What face?"
"That face, Lorelai. That flinchy-smile that you do whenever you're trying to pretend that you're happy but you're really disappointed or uncomfortable about something."
"What?! You're crazy! I do not have a flinchy-smile."
"Ever since you started coming back to the diner, whenever I mention April, you flinchy-smile and then change the subject. She's my kid, Lorelai. If this …" He motioned his hand between them. "Has any chance at all of working, April cannot be a sore spot between us."
"I wasn't the one who made her the sore spot in the first place!" Lorelai erupted. "And as far as this so-called 'flinchy-smile', if it bothers you so damn much, then why the hell didn't you notice last year when I needed you to see it?!"
"I did," he murmured in admission. "I told you before, I'm pretty sure that I was compartmentalizing. I think I used it as a defense mechanism to avoid cognitive dissonance. At the time, it just seemed easier to group my life into all these little boxes."
"You only had two boxes, Luke. One was a gigantic refrigerator box that contained your whole entire life. The other was the tiny ring box that you shoved me in with only a pretty diamond keeping me company."
"I wasn't thinking about how April being in my life impacted you. I'm sorry about that and I'm sorry that I let it get so bad."
"Bad?" she scoffed. "That's like calling a nuclear explosion 'a bit of a spark'."
"Well, I may have ignored the mushroom cloud, but I sure as hell felt the after effects," he snarled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. Unwilling to meet her eyes, Luke's gaze drifted across the table, landing on the bag positioned at the table's edge. "You wanna know the real reason I got rid of that stupid bag that Anna gave me?"
"Because navy blue leather is about as passe as bell-bottoms?"
"Because every time I saw that damn thing hanging in my closet it reminded me of that flinchy-smile you had on your face when you first saw it. You know, the day when you single-handedly earned that bag a weapon of mass destruction designation."
"You're just lucky that I didn't Carrie Underwood your pretty little souped up four-wheel drive."
"I don't ever wanna see that look on your face again, Lorelai, and I sure as hell don't wanna see it whenever my daughter is brought up in conversation."
"I don't blame April," she breathed out. "She's just a kid. It wasn't her fault."
"No, that was my fault. But you should have said something."
"Would you have listened if I had? Because I seem to recall being compared to a cartoon character when I asked if I could help you plan her birthday party. You would have thought that I had asked Gollum for The One Ring."
"I admit that I was pretty stuck in my own head back then. But, come on, I just found out that I'd had this kid and -"
"Just found out?!" Lorelai snapped. "Luke, you were throwing her a birthday party!"
Luke slumped forward, his chin nearly touching his chest, as a heavy silence filled the room. After a moment, he sucked in a breath and, with focused determination, rested his elbows on the table and stared across it. "Listen, you said that you're not ready to talk about all this stuff yet and, I don't know, maybe I'm not ready either …at least not tonight. So, I'm gonna tell you what I do know, and we're gonna leave it at that for now, okay?"
"Well, I guess that depends on what you think you know. Because if it doesn't line up with what I know, I'll undoubtedly feel the need to provide you with a crash course in 'Why You Might Be Wrong'."
"What I know is, you and I …we're here now and we're gonna fix this. I made the topic of April weird between us, so somehow, I'll figure out a way to make it not weird anymore."
"Hun, April's your kid, and I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable when you talk about her. It's just when you mention her, I'm suddenly reminded of a really, really bad time in my life …probably the worst time, if we're being honest. When I hear you say her name, I kinda feel like Christopher Walken in The Deer Hunter when he had those flashbacks to playing Russian Roulette back in Vietnam. But, you know …" She reached out and laid her hand on his. "Maybe the more you talk about April, the easier it'll get. I really would like to know more about her."
"You will," he insisted, locking eyes with her briefly before letting his gaze drift to the half-finished meals before them. "Finished with your burger?"
"Yea, apparently my appetite is a drama queen and bailed when the emotions hit."
"We should get some sleep. It's been a long day for both of us."
"Okay, I can take care of this," she replied, gathering up their takeout containers.
Luke rose to his feet. "I'll take Paul Anka out. Is the leash still in the desk drawer?"
"Yea, he likes the pink one with the rhinestones." She tossed their silverware into the sink. "You want me to take your bag upstairs with me?"
"Sure, thanks," he answered, clipping the bedazzled leash to Paul Anka's collar. "Does he still have the hang-up with the porch steps?"
"Hun, his quirks are as permanent as his DNA."
"You two are practically a matched set of mental unbalance."
"Hey …" She glanced over her shoulder while putting the leftovers in the fridge. "Keep an eye out for Babette creeping around out there. Ever since seeing the Travelocity commercials, she's been worried that her gnomes may acquire an overwhelming desire for travel and adventure."
"You'd think the Twilight Zone was being filmed on this street, but no, this is just normal, everyday weirdness for this town."
"Yet you choose to live amongst us. What's that say about you?"
"That crazy is contagious," he mumbled, swinging open the front door and ushering Paul Anka outside.
In her bed, Lorelai sat nestled amidst a fluffy, white sea of blankets and sheets, a mountain of pillows as her backrest. With the warm glow of the bedside lamps flanking her, she fixed her gaze on the shut bathroom door. A blend of trepidation and eager anticipation twisted in her stomach as her ears hyper-focused on the imminent silence of the flowing tap water.
At last, the knob gave way, and Luke appeared in the doorway clad in his go-to nighttime combo of a green tee and sweatpants. With unrestrained curiosity, Lorelai watched as he tossed his jeans and shirt onto the chair before circling the bed and sliding between the sheets.
Luke glanced at the woman next to him out of the corner of his eyes. Her bedroom, once a sanctuary, now felt like a stage, and she was the audience, silently observing his every move with an almost teasing smile. "What?" he asked, a sharpness in his tone as he pointed a raised brow toward the gawker.
"You're in my bed."
"Gee, thanks for that earth-shattering insight." He dimmed the lamp beside him, then laid back, resting his head on the palms of his interlaced hands.
"Oh, come on Luke, this is monumental. One for the history books. I mean, if you had told me yesterday afternoon that we'd be lying in bed together tonight I'd probably call you Pinocchio because your nose would be the length of a carrot. Not one of the cute little baby carrots either, we're taking a full sized carrot, big enough to satisfy even the largest of Easter Bunnies."
"Yea, well …" He let out a sigh. "Here I am."
Lorelai switched off her bedside light and nestled deeper into her comforter cocoon as a tense stillness fell over them. Flat on her back, she stared at the shadows on the ceiling. "Mattress comfortable?" she finally asked, desperate to put an end to the uneasy silence.
"It's fine."
"Do you have enough pillows?"
"What's it matter? You'll have them all stolen by morning anyway."
Trapped in an awkward quiet punctuated only by the faintest sound of their breaths, Luke and Lorelai both remained still, their gazes fixed to the blank ceiling.
Lorelai, clearly frustrated, finally piped up, "This is weird."
"A little," Luke sighed.
"What can we do to make it not weird?"
"You know, there's this concept called 'sleep' - wanna give it a shot? Could be the solution to our problem."
Lorelai shifted to her side. Resting her cheek in the crook of her elbow, she focused her eyes directly on Luke. "You know, we could try playing one of those 'break the ice' games that they do at business seminars."
"Sounds like the recipe for a full-blown introvert meltdown."
"But, Luke, they're a fantastic way to organically prompt strangers to get to know each other."
"News flash, Walter Cronkite, we already know each other."
"Yea, but there's a whole year that's gone by where we only know the major highlights …or in some cases lowlights, of each other's lives. I went through a hasty marriage and divorce and you survived a nasty custody battle. Those things fundamentally change a person. So, it just makes sense to try to get to know each other again."
"What kinda ice-breaking game do you have in mind?" he groaned, reluctantly giving in as he glanced her way. "Remember that I can, and will, hit the 'Nope' button if I don't like it."
"Okay, how about this? Every night we ask each other one question pertaining to the last year. You can ask anything, no matter how big or small. This is a 'judgement-free zone', Baby, just like Planet Fitness, but without all of the useless fitness equipment. But we both have to promise to answer honestly and to the best of our ability, no matter how difficult it is to answer."
"I thought that we were steering clear of the heavy stuff for a while."
"Sure, but aren't there plenty of other questions about our lost year that you're dying to know the answers to? Like, what did Santa Claus bring Paul Anka for Christmas?"
"What the hell do you buy a dog for Christmas? Their thought processes are about as deep as a puddle."
"Santa Claus …" she chided. "Brought Paul Anka a sparkly tiara. Don't ruin the magic of Christmas for him, Hun. He's still a believer."
"Okay, there you go, I asked a ridiculous question and received an even more ridiculous answer. Now ask me something so I can go to sleep."
"Luke …please," she begged, switching her lamp back on and nestling against the pillows lining the headboard.
With a sigh, Luke turned his body to directly face her, and leaned on his elbow. "Any question I want?"
"Yep …just not the tough stuff. We can cross that burning bridge later."
The question that had been gnawing at Luke the most over the past few weeks immediately sprang to the forefront of his mind. "So, that night at K.C.'s. That song. Did it, um, …mean anything?"
Lorelai's eyes popped wide open as the chilling realization of this game's dangerous implications smacked her across the face. "Well, that was not a question that I was expecting," she admitted before promptly deflecting, "Are you sure that you wouldn't rather hear about how, after watching an episode of Frasier, my taste buds discovered the culinary equivalent of a unicorn riding a rollercoaster - BBQ chips dipped in chocolate pudding. Who knew such a decadent monstrosity existed?"
"Lorelai," he groaned. "Just answer the question or zip it, so I can go to sleep."
"Fine," she huffed, drawing the duvet up to her chin. "It was all supposed to be a joke. Rory was upset about not getting that internship at the New York Times and she thought that Mommy making a spectacular fool of herself would cheer her up. So, I drank a pail of tequila and proceeded to do just that."
"So, it didn't mean anything."
"It didn't. I mean …" She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "No, it wasn't supposed to, but then you walked in."
"Trying to understand you is like trying to navigate a maze blindfolded while juggling kittens."
"Oh Hun, honestly, that night was kind of a blur. I remember being on stage and seeing you walk in. It was like I had horse blinders on. You know, those parade contraptions they use to keep the horses focused on the path ahead of them. Not sure if you noticed, but my eyes were practically glued to you the entire song."
"Not a single person in the bar seemed to miss that glaring detail."
"Then all of these emotions bubbled to the surface and I couldn't figure out if they were old feelings or new feelings. Of course the town was of no help, but I guess that's what I get for publicly serenading my ex-fiance."
Luke paused as her last sentence replayed in his head. "So, it was a serenade," he surmised, a hint of a smile twitching the corners of his lips.
"I guess you could say it was a 'happy accident' of a serenade. Just a little impromptu vocal exhibition, not meant to be a full-blown love song, unless …" Her eyes locked on his. "You wanted it to be."
"I did."
A wave of pink washed over her, and she quickly averted her eyes from his intense stare. "Well, I'm not gonna lie, I'm impressed at how well that backfired," she said before an image from the past surged into her consciousness, instantly drawing her eyes back to his. "Wait a minute, I thought that you were upset at me for embarrassing you."
"Well, I could've done without every set of eyes at the bar staring at me when you pulled an Elvis and left the building, but I wasn't embarrassed. Not by the song anyway."
"Really? Because that classic Luke Danes cold shoulder that you gave me afterwards was so frigid, even Frosty would have needed a scarf."
"You told Patty and Babette that the song didn't mean anything."
"Well, of course I did, you dummy!" She swatted his shoulder. "Luke, that song was my emotional autobiography and Patty and Babette were salivating for the sequel like a pair of Nosferatu at a blood bank. Did you really think that I was going to let them pry my feelings out of me without talking to you about it first?"
"I was gonna ask you out to dinner, maybe give you that necklace. Then I overheard you say that, and …well, you know the rest."
"So, we both got our feelings bruised over a whole lot of nothing, huh?"
"Seems that way."
"God Luke, we have got to be better about this whole communication thing. It's like we're constantly doing the Abbott and Costello, Who's On First bit."
"We'll get better about it," he told her, his eyes darting back to hers with a meaningful gaze as he smoothly shifted gears. "Your turn, karaoke queen. Spit out your question already, because my eyelids are starting to feel like lead weights."
A peculiar comment he'd dropped earlier that night, lept to the forefront of Lorelai's thoughts. "So, I noticed a few months back in that hay bale maze, you not only told me that you were sorry, but it sounded like you had analyzed your …I don't know what to call it …" She flipped her wrist in the air. "Wrongdoing, maybe. Tonight, you did it again and used these very unLuke-like words like 'compartmentalization', and 'defense mechanism', and 'cognitive dissonance'. Geez Luke, you practically wrote your own diagnosis. So, where did this random bout of self awareness come from? Because you seem to really be channeling your inner Freud."
"Ugh," he groaned, chin falling to his chest as he began sputtering, "Ah geez, I, ah …I don't, um, know how to -"
"Are you seeing a shrink?"
"No!" Luke snapped. "I'm not seeing anyone."
"There's no shame in seeing a therapist, Hun. I'm basically a walking case study for the abnormal behavior chapter of a psychology textbook."
"After seeing you, a therapist would probably need to lie down on the couch themselves."
As he tried to dodge the question, Lorelai's eyebrow arched skeptically. "So, are you gonna gimme an answer or are you going to continue protecting your desired self-image by practicing this avoidance behavior through deflection and vagueness?" With a smirk, she took in his wide-eyed reaction. "What? I can shrink too."
"I'm not seeing a shrink, okay? But, I may have bought some books to try to figure out where this all went wrong between us and why I am the way I am in relationships. In case you haven't heard, I'm not exactly the poster child for relationship success stories." Avoiding her eyes, he tipped his chin toward the ceiling. "Go ahead, let the mocking commence. I can take it."
"Hey, remember, no judgement-zone here. I think it's commendable that you took the time to figure things out."
"Yea?"
"Yea. God knows, if I had attempted something along those lines, maybe my year of major miscalculations could have been drastically different."
With a touch of shyness, Luke's gaze dropped to his fingertips as they traced the duvet's hem. "Well, you know, I had to do something. I had a lot of free time on my hands."
"Did you start your descent down the rabbit hole of self-help literature right after we broke up?"
"Nah, I stayed angry for about six months. Convinced myself that my mistakes didn't matter because this thing between us was never meant to be in the first place."
"Ah, yes, I do believe that I met your 'anger and bargaining' stage of grief when we ran into each other at that grocery store. Which, by the way, was probably the single most awkward encounter of our entire relationship."
"Yea, it was about as comfortable as wearing wet socks on a hot day. Anyway …" he continued explaining, "it wasn't until April had her appendicitis and you showed up at the hospital …" He shot her a sharp, sideways glance. "Married, that I figured out that I was the one who blew it."
"Dirty." A tiny giggle bubbled up from her, met by a barely perceptible huff of laughter from Luke. "So, can you elaborate on your logic that led you to that conclusion, Dr. Phil? Because from my vantage point, it seems like we both had our own unique brand of 'epic fail' on this one."
"Lorelai, I waited for you for eight years. But you -"
"Eh, eh." Her forefinger landed in his direction. "You didn't wait. You dated. You were married. Let's call it what it was, Luke …you pined for me for eight years and you never made a move."
An exasperated sigh rolled from Luke's chest. "Call it whatever you want. I liked you for eight years …" He gave his head a shake. "Loved you. But, you were the one who proposed. You begged me to marry you. The whole damn kingdom was mine for the taking, but instead I …flaked. So, I bought some books to try to figure out why I kept you and April apart, and why the hell I treated the woman that I love the way that I did."
"Wow. That was a very detailed answer for a guy who's mouth probably thinks that it's a decorative accessory."
"You asked me a question. I answered the question."
Despite a mind buzzing with even more questions, Lorelai fought back a yawn. "Alright, I'm not sure my brain can handle another layer of complexity right now. I'm running on fumes, and they're about to run out," she said, closing her eyes and pointing her puckered lips in Luke's direction.
A beat passed, and with no kiss received, Lorelai's eyes snapped open to the sight of Luke's teasing grin, his lips hovering near hers. "What? Do you need a sign that says 'Kiss Me' before you take the hint?"
"Still figuring out where the 'Do Not Cross' line is."
"We'll discuss that tomorrow, but for tonight consider my lip line a suggestion, not a rule."
"Just making sure the lights stay on," he said before leaning in and meeting her in a soft kiss that seemed to stretch on forever. Eventually, he pulled away, his lips still grazing hers as he whispered, "Goodnight."
"Mmm, goodnight," she purred, a wave of pleasure washing over her as she caressed her lips with her tongue, savoring the aftertaste of his kiss.
Then, with a flick of the switch, Lorelai dimmed the light, creating a hushed darkness that embraced them as they snuggled into the bed. Their bodies nearly touching, the rhythm of their breaths synced as they drifted into a deep, serene sleep. The sort of slumber that had evaded them both for well over a year.