Chapter 22
"I can't believe Luke only bid thirty bucks for my basket. Thirty! He's such a cheapskate sometimes," Lorelai complained, dramatically, to Rory who was standing next to her. They both tugged up their coat collars in unison as a soft spring breeze reminded them it was still just barely spring, and they'd have to brave the cold a little longer to bask in the brief ray of sunlight that traveled across the town square.
Rory's coat was half-open, no longer quite able to close over her belly, but she was determined to stretch her winter wardrobe just a little longer. With a few chunky sweaters she'd picked up at a vintage shop in Hartford, she was channeling her old, slightly awkward teenage self—and, she had to admit, her recent days weren't too far off from those old routines either. When she wasn't working or frantically nesting, her days mostly involved reading, hanging out with Lane or Jess. She found herself helping Jess with Doula, too, finding comfort in feeling useful. It was like being sixteen all over again, minus the angst and plus a baby on the way.
"He buys it every single year, mom. Don't you think it must've added up to a fairly decent amount by now?" Rory shot back, amused.
"Ah..," Lorelai waved her off, clearly not in the mood for logic. This was about the principle of it all—meaning, her principle of complaining, which Rory fully understood.
"Plus he knows he's going to have to do all the cooking himself anyways. The 'seven-layer salad' you made isn't any more edible than you the first time he bought it," Rory added, raising her eyebrow.
"Yes, but it gets more colorful every year," Lorelai protested cheerfully, just as Luke returned and dropped a quick kiss on her lips.
Rory looked at them, feeling both endeared and, she had to admit, slightly envious. Their togetherness was adorable, the kind of constant she sometimes missed in her own life. But at least her baby would have loving grandparents. That was a good feeling—strange to imagine herself as a mother, but comforting to know the town would embrace the baby, just like they had her. A whole village, Rory thought with a smile.
"Next up, is a lovely little basket!" Ms Patty's voice rang out, describing the basket with honey-colored wicker and a few daisies on wove in.
"Hey, that's yours!" Lorelai whispered excitedly, eyes sparkling.
"What? Mine? What do you mean?!" Rory protested, feeling utterly confused. She didn't recognize the basket in question either. "I didn't enter anything!" she added.
"Oh, but I did," Lorelai added with a Chesire-cat grin.
"Mom!?" Rory exclaimed, horrified. "We agreed I wasn't going this! I'm not exactly trying to advertise myself at the moment, you know?"
"It's just lunch. Just have fun, honey!" Lorelai encouraged with a nudge.
"Just lunch," Rory snorted, sarcastically, knowing damn well how it could turn into a lot more. And in her current moment she just didn't need the drama.
Rory sighed, scanning the crowd—and then she began to spot familiar faces in the audience. Each one made her pause, her heart skipping a beat as the bids for her "basket" began.
"Let's start the bidding at 10 dollars shall we?" Ms. Patty purred into the microphone, scanning the crowd with that mischievous gleam in her eye.
"Ten dollars!" a deep, familiar voice called out.
Rory's eyes darted through the crowd until they landed on Dean, grinning broadly as he raised his hand to say 'hi'. But unlike the last time he'd bid on her basket, this was just a playful gesture; he wasn't serious. His wife, Genevieve, was leaning into his side, a newborn strapped to her chest in a baby carrier, looking incredible for someone who had just recently given birth. Their other three kids were playing around them, forming a picture of chaotic but perfectly happy family life.
Dean waved at Rory, his smile warm and easy. Then he glanced down at Genevieve, checking for approval. She rolled her eyes affectionately and gave him a quick peck, as if granting her blessing.
Watching them, Rory felt a strange pull, a bittersweet undertone that tugged at her memories. Her last interaction with Dean had been nostalgic, almost healing—a reminder of the good guy he'd always been, even if their timing and choices had been... complicated. Dean was the picture of a great dad now, and it looked like he'd become a good husband, too. Sure, his first marriage had been a classic case of "too young, too soon, wrong reasons," but with Genevieve, he'd found his stride. And Rory couldn't deny a small pang of envy at the simple, easy way they seemed to fit together.
"Fifteen dollars," came a new voice.
It took Rory a few seconds to pinpoint the face to a name, having only seen his adult self on her computer screen. Sean, the guy she'd briefly been attracted to on that one time she'd tried out spring break, stood in the front row by the gazebo, hands tucked into his pockets, glancing back a clever grin to her direction.
Andrew shifted from his spot, making Rory visible to Sean. Rory could almost read his thoughts as his face fell, his eyes meeting her belly, that telltale drop giving away more than he might have intended.
"I'd like to withdraw that, please," Sean requested urgently.
"I beg your pardon!?" Taylor replied, his voice laced with disapproval as he leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at Sean.
"Just, uh, ignore that last bid, will you? I made a mistake," Sean stammered, which only managed to deepen the wave of embarrassment already crashing over Rory.
"Sir," Taylor said, puffing up in that trademark, Stars Hollow-stickler way of his. "I'm not sure how you do things wherever you're from, but here in Stars Hollow, we don't retract bids."
Rory resisted the urge to sink down into the earth, fighting a mix of sympathy and mortification. The crowd was watching now, Taylor's righteous indignation on full display, as if Sean had just broken an age-old town rule written in ink on parchment somewhere in the town hall attic.
"Besides," Ms. Patty cooed into the microphone, trying to smooth over the awkward moment, "I'm sure someone will outbid you in no time. Rory's our shining jewel—guys will be lining up for her, you just wait and see."
"Can we just get on with it?" Rory called out, her cheeks burning. She wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground, or better yet, flee. But it was as if her feet were glued to the grass, holding her firmly in place for every excruciating second.
"Alright," Taylor announced, regaining his usual auctioneer composure, "fifteen dollars, going once…"
"Twenty bucks and a full collection of Allende's best work," Tucker called out, pausing dramatically. "That is, of course, if she'll consider giving the baby up for adoption."
A stunned silence fell over the crowd. Rory's jaw dropped, and the entire town square seemed to collectively gasp before erupting into a low murmur of shocked whispers and sideways glances in her direction. Everyone had something to say about it, and Rory could feel each opinion swirling through the crowd like a gust of wind.
And then there was Jess. "Twenty-five," he said, his voice low and casual as he leaned against a lamp post in the back, arms crossed in that classic bad-boy stance. His leather jacket was a little more worn now, but it somehow suited him even better than it had back in high school. He met Rory's eyes for a brief moment, a faint smirk teasing his lips before he looked away.
But this wasn't like the old bidding war with Dean; Rory could feel it. His gaze drifted past her, settling on Elodie, who was near Doose's Market, fussing with her own kids. Rory's heart gave a tiny, uncomfortable lurch. It wasn't like she hadn't convinced herself that Jess was just a friend. But seeing him looking at someone else like that—it felt strangely like a betrayal, even if she knew it made no sense.
"Thirty-five, and I'll throw in a free consultation," came Tristan's unmistakably smooth voice. Rory craned her neck, trying to spot him, but he was just out of view. She had nothing to go on but his familiar tinge of arrogance.
"Alright, fine," Taylor sighed, clearly unimpressed. "Thirty-five and a consultation, going once…"
"One hundred dollars," came a sudden, firm voice from right beside her. Rory's heart skipped a beat as she turned to find Paul, his expression as intense as ever. She hadn't even realized he was standing there. Somehow, he'd appeared just in time for another one of his grand gestures. Eager—too eager. He'd always been like that, and now his persistence felt more unsettling than endearing.
It was then that Rory started to realize this wasn't reality—just another of her wild pregnancy dreams. Ever since she'd gotten pregnant, her imagination had gone into overdrive, conjuring up all sorts of bizarre scenarios when she slept. But breaking free from this particular dream, which seemed bent on making her feel self-conscious, embarrassed, and oddly needy for the approval of all the guys that had held a place in her life to start a bidding war over her, was easier said than done.
She could feel herself wanting to wake up, to shake off the surreal mix of faces from her past and the strange, competitive energy in the town square. But the dream held on tight, keeping her rooted to that spot in Stars Hollow, watching as the imaginary scene unfolded around her, each bid growing more ridiculous than the last.
"One hundred and five," Jess called again from the back, this time with a cigarette dangling from his lips. Rory frowned—Jess had quit years ago. But her mind was pulling in random bits from the past, blending them with the present in this strange, unpredictable dreamscape.
Deep down, Rory had been waiting for someone specific to step up. Secretly hoping, in that hazy, illogical dream way, that a certain someone would make a grand, sweeping bid—not because she cared about the money, but because she wanted to feel wanted, needed, remembered - not forgotten. She found herself craving his validation the most, as if her worth could be measured in these absurd dollar amounts.
"One hundred and five dollars going once," Taylor intoned, his voice stretching out with exaggerated patience as he scanned the crowd.
"One hundred and ten!" Paul countered instantly, his tone laced with that eager insistence that made Rory cringe.
"Do we have one hundred and twenty, perhaps?" Taylor encouraged, looking around, clearly relishing the role of auctioneer. And that's when the unmistakable hum of a sleek black limo filled the square, tires screeching as it came to a dramatic halt right in the no-parking zone. The entire crowd turned, eyes widening, while Taylor's face twisted into a look of pure annoyance, his inner hall monitor ready to spring into action.
Rory's heart pounded faster, hope, relief and anticipation mixing together.
"Five thousand," Logan said, his eyes meeting Rory's. There was depth in them, sadness too. But even when they'd avoided defining themselves, there had always been a sense of something deeper, and longing for it.
Rory's chest felt warm, desperately craving for his approval - even if it was just for the sake of the baby. That was what she kept telling herself, at least.
"Five thousand dollars! Anyone else?" Taylor huffed, clearly torn between enforcing the town rules and not missing a beat in this increasingly absurd bidding war.
Suddenly a woman appeared from the limo, walking over to Logan in her killer heels, despite the bump she was carrying, and tugged him from his sleeve, as if reprimanding him.
"No-no-non," the woman, who seemed to be Odette, called out - "Wait! Hold the bidding" to the auctioneer.
She continued to whisper into Logan's ear.
Rory had never knowingly seen Odette, but maybe she had - and was just now, unconsciously piecing the information together. She was pretty, but that was expected, and Rory tried her hardest to not study every inch of her.
"I don't know how things are done where you're..." Taylor began, finger wagging with all the pomp of a magistrate in a town meeting.
"Ten thousand dollars, and she'll live in our pool house and help with the baby. She'll be our au pair," Odette declared, with the poise of someone completely oblivious to how mortifying this was for Rory.
"Well, that's… that's a bit unusual," Ms. Patty murmured, eyeing the scene with a worry only Ms. Patty could pull off.
"Something to settle amongst yourselves, I'd say," Taylor interjected, already sounding like an auctioneer. "Ten thousand dollars going once!" He rapped the gavel with a vigor that hinted at some budget he desperately needed to fill.
"What about my baby?!" Rory blurted, half in protest, half in that surreal way you do when you realize this must all be a dream.
"You mean 'our babies'?" Odette replied, stroking her belly with an eerie calm, one eyebrow raised like she was holding onto a secret darker than the baby she was carrying.
"No! I object!" Rory called, her voice laced with panic.
"Ten thousand going twice!" Taylor barked, as though he could expedite reality itself with that gavel.
"Hey, maybe it won't be this bad?" Lorelai chimed in, terrifyingly chipper. "Think of it—a real roof over your head, no more beanbag futons, and au pairing is kind of like extreme babysitting with a fancy title. It certainly pays better than Taylor," she added.
"Mom, no!" Rory shot her a desperate look. "Taylor, no!" She lunged toward him, ready to snatch the gavel from his hands if that's what it took. But her feet were stuck in the grass.
"I wonder if she's good at scrubbing bathrooms, too?" Odette mused, one finger thoughtfully on her chin.
Logan just stood there, mute, looking down like he'd been stripped of every last ounce of his boldness. Rory had always seen him as dashing and strong, but now he seemed helpless, as though he'd been duct-taped into submission.
"Sold! To the lovely couple in the back!" Taylor announced, waving his gavel triumphantly. "And if you wouldn't mind moving your vehicle," he added, gesturing towards the limo, businesslike as ever.
Rory felt tears slipping down her cheeks, her breaths quickening. And just then, a jolt—a sharp kick from the baby. Dream or not, she wasn't sure. But she blinked herself awake, salty tears blurring her vision as she took in the familiar sight of the living room. Only the faint glow of the TV was left.
She remembered where she was—Jess and Doula's house. Jess had taken off for Philly for a couple of days, partly for work, partly for that life he still had tucked away in the city while she'd promised to keep an eye on her. They'd had a movie night, the Indian food containers in front of her being proof of it.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Rory jolted upright, hastily brushing away the last of her tears.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you," Jess said softly as he stepped in, his concerned face already hinting he could tell she'd been crying.
"You didn't. I just had... one of those dreams. Emotional, surreal, you know?" Rory replied, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to shake off the lingering haze of the dream.
"Yeah, I know," Jess said, having heard Rory talk about them before, settling down next to her on the couch. He reached out and gently brushed his hand against her shoulder, a small gesture that felt like it held more weight than either of them wanted to admit. "You okay now?"
"I ought to be," she murmured, letting out a shaky laugh. "Maybe it's the full moon or something, stirring up all the weirdness." New Age jokes had also become sort of their things, being surrounded by Liz's things this much.
Jess chuckled, but it was a laugh laced with something heavier, something he was clearly carrying but trying to hide. Rory picked up on it immediately—she was able to read Jess better than she ever had before, having grown to know him as his present self. "How was it?" she asked, deciding to nudge a little. "Philly, I mean."
He exhaled, looking like he was about to shrug it off with his usual "oh well," but something inside him seemed to loosen instead. His voice was low, almost a whisper. "We broke up."
The words seemed to hang in the air, heavier than she'd expected. Rory watched as his eyes turned red, a vulnerable shimmer breaking through the quiet composure he usually wore so easily.
"Oh, Jess," she said, her voice soft, reaching out to pull him into a hug. It wasn't the usual quick squeeze they used to brush things off—it was an embrace that acknowledged, even if silently, the weight of their shared ache.
She wrapped her arms around him, holding on as if she wasn't sure he could stand on his own at that moment.
"Yeah," he said, barely more than a breath. She felt him shudder slightly, and she was surprised to realize how strange it felt to see Jess this open, this raw over something as messy as love. Love for someone other than herself.
They pulled back just a bit, still close enough to sense each other's warmth. She smiled, sniffling through the last of her tears. She could only feel thankful that the dream she'd had was slipping away now by the second. She didn't want to remember it.
"Had anyone told me we'd end up here, two friends crying on each other's shoulders about our disastrous personal lives, I would've laughed them out of the room." Rory said.
"Right?" Jess chuckled, rubbing his face. "I'd probably give them my best eye-roll. But here we are. One breakup, one weird dream…"
"One thirty-something pregnant single-mom-to-be," Rory noted, sarcastically, leaving out 'crying about her married ex and how little self worth she felt,' not wanting to dwell on any more negative emotions.
"Two emotional train wrecks," Jess added, raising the corner of his mouth slightly.
They sat there, leaning into each other as the weight of the moment settled into something softer, something oddly peaceful. It wasn't the closure either of them might have imagined, but in the quiet comfort of the night, it felt like enough.
AN: Thanks for your patience. Hope you enjoyed it.
Also, not gonna lie - I've started to use ChatGPT for editing (but just editing/grammar), story is my own.