Rory's desk was already covered in papers, sticky notes clinging to the edges of her laptop screen, and her coffee sat half-finished, now lukewarm, on the corner. She glanced at the clock. Not even noon.
She'd been in the office since before the sun was up, tweaking key points for Donnan's next stump speech while fielding questions about last-minute changes to the campaign's social media schedule. At some point, she was pretty sure she'd promised to draft a newsletter update and find a contact for the local news outlet covering next week's ribbon-cutting event.
Her phone buzzed next to her laptop, and she glanced down to see Jess's name flash across the screen. It had been a while since they'd hung out, their last interactions having happened during Thanksgiving dinner at mom and Luke's.
"Can you take a look at something? Just 60 pages. I am drowning here," Jess typed, throwing in a begging emoji for effect.
Rory exhaled, already chewing the inside of her cheek as she stared at the message. This wasn't about his own work—at least not directly. It was something he'd promised to help push off his own table, and she'd eagerly offered her services back then.
That version of Rory—the one who had time, patience, and a craving for structure—had jumped at the idea. She'd been desperate to stay connected to the publishing world, to feel relevant even if she was working behind the scenes.
But things were different now.
She missed editing—missed the calm focus it required, the sense of order she felt arranging words until they fell into place. She missed feeling like herself—the version Jess always seemed to reflect back to her.
But that version felt further away these days.
It wasn't like she hated her job, not even close. It was just... different. Fast-paced, high-stakes, and temporarily overwhelming. But it also made her feel useful, like her presence mattered in a way freelance editing never quite had. Freelance had always felt like keeping one foot out the door—like not fully committing.
This job demanded all of her.
"Not today. Work's insane. And Nora's still bouncing back from being sick," Rory replied, her fingers hesitating briefly before hitting send. She already regretted it, knowing Jess's next text would ask whether she could at least take a look after Nora went to bed. She often did. She liked these little tasks. But they weren't necessarily always good for her.
A moment later, her phone buzzed again.
"I hope she'll be back to her usual cheery self and let you rest more," Jess replied.
The gentleness of his reply softened some of her guilt, but not all of it.
"Fingers crossed," Rory typed back quickly, hoping to move the conversation along before Jess — being Jess — decided to check in further.
And of course, he did.
"I just saw your mom. You didn't have to take N to daycare, did you? I hear they pick up all kinds of bugs there this time of year," Jess replied. Rory knew he was speaking from his most recent experience dating a woman with kids of her own back in Philly before life brought him back to Stars Hollow.
Rory groaned internally. She didn't want to be annoyed — he meant well. But work was already waiting, and guilt was creeping in from all sides.
"Um, she's actually with her dad," Rory replied, her fingers hovering for a split second before hitting send. It wasn't a lie, and from the brief mentions of Logan during these past months Rory knew it usually served as a natural conversation-ender.
She hadn't meant it as a defense mechanism exactly, but maybe it had come out that way. Part of her was genuinely happy that Nora now had a dad around and that they could spend time together—also helping Rory out in the process. And considering how few people knew, part of her wanted to share the excitement of it.
It was kind of twisted, really—wanting to find some angle in this to feel happy about, despite all the hurt and drama that had unfolded until now, and show it.
The dots appeared—then disappeared. Then appeared again.
"Right. Good, I guess?" Jess replied. Rory could just imagined how it must've taken some effort to get those words out.
Rory stared at the screen, her stomach twisting. She appreciated Jess's tact, but the awkward edge in his response made her chest tighten.
"Uh-huh," Rory replied quickly.
Short and simple. Hopefully, it would be enough to end the conversation for now.
A longer pause this time and Rory was just about to start typing the e-mail she'd been in the middle of before. Then from the corner of her eye, Rory noted the little dots appearing again.
"If you need a moment to yourself—or to read the aforementioned pages or to just write… or whatever — I'm happy to look after her, too, you know," Jess suggested, unexpectedly. Sure, for a while he had indeed been one of Rory's go-to people to keep her sane throughout the endless babyminding, but recently their lives had pulled them in different directions.
Rory stared at the message, her thumb hovering.
There was a hint of self-serving-ness in Jess's offer, sure — an easy babysitting trade-off in exchange for editing help. But she also knew it wasn't just that. There was that slight push to not forget about her own writing. And even an undertone of disrespect towards Logan, half-assuming he was in it for himself and wasn't looking out for Rory's well-being.
Her first instinct was to brush him off—to say it wasn't necessary. But another part of her, the part that was still wrestling with the chaos of her new job, felt something else. Gratitude.
"Thanks," she typed finally. "I'll keep that in mind."
Jess didn't need to say that he hoped she wouldn't stop writing her own things. And even wordlessly, it felt like letting him down. In some way it wasn't just him she felt like she was disappointing though. Writing had been good, therapeutic even. But getting stuck second-guessing herself every now and then she wasn't sure if it had truly ever been more than that. It was something else, too—an escape. Because writing her book had given her space to sort through the messy emotions she hadn't been ready to face in real life. Logan. Nora. How she'd ended up where she had… She felt oddly naked, thinking it had been Jess who had read it, even if for so-called 'editing purposes'. But the train of thought planted a small seed in her, wishing and wondering that someday she would dare to offer it to Logan, too, to read. The last serious conversation that they'd had about them had been a while ago, but the way Logan had shown for the first time but he too had hurt, it still sometimes lingered in her mind, helping her see him in a different light. She was nowhere near that level of confidence yet, however.
She stared thoughtfully at her computer screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard before she began to type again, drawing herself back to reality.
The day moved fast after that. Press drafts blurred into social media captions, and by the time Rory left the office, she wasn't entirely sure if she'd actually eaten lunch or just powered through on caffeine, sugar and adrenaline.
As Rory arrived to pick Nora up, Logan opened the door before she could knock, every sound in this fairly secluded property being too unmistakable, holding Nora against his chest with one arm and balancing a bottle in the other.
"Perfect timing. She just finished," Logan said, stepping back to let Rory in.
Rory dropped her bag and reached for Nora immediately, grinning when the baby squirmed and reached for her. "Hi, sweet girl! Were you good?" she asked, having truly missed her.
"She was great," Logan said, closing the door behind her. "No major meltdowns. Napped twice. Ate like a champ."
Rory raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," Logan assured.
Rory exhaled, letting some of the tension in her shoulders go. "Okay. I'm impressed. But don't get cocky."
Logan smirked - "Me? Never."
Rory settled onto the couch, ready to burp, change and then dress Nora for their journey home. But for a moment she just bounced Nora lightly on her knee as she glanced up at him. "Thanks for doing this. I know it's not exactly how you pictured your day."
Rory had only decided to suggest this late last night, not wanting to push this on him too much. Partly to spare him - so he would not be scared off by how hard this could be sometimes, so he would stick around even beyond his initial guilt. She just didn't dare to hope it wouldn't. And in part to continue to be independent in this, not daring to get used to leaning on him too much.
"Honestly?" Logan sat across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I didn't mind. It's... nice. A real change of pace," he explained.
Rory looked at him carefully, noting the way his smile softened when he glanced at Nora. He wasn't trying to charm the baby anymore — not with toys, cooing or anything else exciting — not this time. He no longer needed to.
Seeing him like this made it harder to keep the wall up.
Five minutes passed, Nora got burped, then changed and Rory was about half-way through changing her into the onesie they used for car rides.
Unexpectedly, as she did all that, Rory found herself talking.
About work. About how she'd spent the morning drafting language that was supposed to sound both bold and approachable, like Donnan could unite a town without alienating half of it. About how she still couldn't figure out if the focus group tonight was a brilliant idea or a recipe for disaster.
She didn't even realize she'd been leaning into Logan's advice until he tilted his head, giving her that look — the one that wordlessly said "you know what you're doing, but you don't trust yourself."
"Well just see how it goes. I'm sure your gut feeling is worth trusting," Logan said, casually.
"I know, but…," Rory argued, lightly, wanting to add something or other about her grandmother helping her get the job and the numerous self-doubts she'd felt throughout the day.
"I've seen you work under pressure. Donnan's lucky to have you," Logan said, supportingly.
The compliment hit harder than it should've. Maybe because it wasn't just about the campaign — it was about everything. Logan saw her as capable, even when she wasn't sure she saw it herself. That was the problem, wasn't it? He was good at this. Too good. He knew exactly how to slip into the spaces where she felt uncertain and prop her up just enough to make her feel steady again.
And she liked it. She had become addicted to it more than once. That scared her most of all.
Rory shifted Nora as she zipped her onesie up, looking up at her instead of Logan. "I just don't want to get... comfortable," she added.
Logan frowned. "Comfortable how? You just started in a new field—or at least one you haven't been in for a while. I'd say there's no risk of getting comfortable anytime soon. And that's not because I have any doubts about how you'll do. I don't," he added.
Suddenly, this didn't feel like just venting about work anymore.
"With this," she said, gesturing vaguely between them. Her tone shifted, softening as she added, "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I shouldn't have unloaded like this."
"What?" Logan sounded confused.
"I don't think it's good for me to unload on you like this. It just… reminded me of how we were… How we got to… here," Rory explained. "You just show up in my life again and I just get drawn back to talking to you about this… my work, my insecurities… whatever. That's not who I want to be anymore," Rory exhaled, rising from her seat with Nora in her arms and sighed.
Logan leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful and maybe even a little offended.
"You can talk to me," Logan said.
"I don't think I can. I don't think I should…," Rory replied and exhaled deeply - "I better get going."
"But Rory... you don't have to do, or be, everything alone. It's okay to lean on people sometimes," Logan said, his words carrying a soothing calmness.
Rory didn't answer right away. She wasn't sure she could reply with anything right now. Not without admitting how much she wanted to lean on him again—and how terrified she was that it wouldn't be any different this time.
Logan's gaze lingered on her, and for a second, she thought he was going to say something else, but instead, he shifted back and cleared his throat, and stepped out of the way as Rory made her exit.