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Rory gazes adoringly at the gold plaque sitting in the seat across from her. The pride she feels for herself, and her work fills her to the brim with delight. She feels Jess nudge her arm in the seat next to her, and she turns to him with a smile. He holds out the open bottle of champagne to her and she accepts it gladly, despite the already hazy feeling in her head from the mix of martinis and champagne she had at the event. Her eyes move back to the award as she tilts the bottle to take a sip.
"It's not going anywhere you know," she feels Jess whisper the words near her ear, which is bare to him due to her hair styled in an elegant updo, "especially since you put a seatbelt on it."
She laughs and turns to him, "I didn't want it falling on the floor! Tom is not a very cautious driver."
He rolls his eyes playfully.
"He is quite literally a professional driver. Hence, the limo he is driving us to The Plaza in."
Her smile widens into a gleeful crescent.
"A limo, the plaza, you in a suit and me in this incredibly gorgeous dress! Don't we sound fancy? I feel like a Gotti."
"A Gotti? No, you wouldn't make it in the mob. How about…a Rockefeller?"
"Fine, a Rockefeller," she giggles, "anyway, it was so nice of the times to book this limo. And for my mom and Luke booking us a room at the freaking Plaza!"
His eyes follow every expression her face and body portray with enthralled joy. He leans over and kisses her quickly on the mouth.
"You deserve a limo. And you deserve the Plaza. And you especially deserve," he turns his head in the direction of the item, "that award."
"There were lots of other impressive contenders I'm sure," she argues with a half-smile.
He shakes his head, "Your piece on global food insecurity during the pandemic was phenomenal. I know you worked incredibly hard on it and had to travel to a lot in a short amount of time, all the while trying to keep yourself safe from getting sick. And it ended up inspiring some community fresh food initiatives in the city. You're just…incredible. I'm so proud of you."
She preens under his praise and haphazardly moves herself to his lap, open bottle of champagne still in her hand. She kisses him, mouth fuzzy and cold from the bubbles of the alcohol. Jess places both hands on her face and kisses her deeper. He feels something wet on his leg and pulls away to look down and see the champagne bottle in a horizontal position next to him. Rory breaks into drunken giggles.
"Oops, sorry! I'll pay for the cleaning."
He chuckles and takes the champagne from her, "it won't stain, no big deal. But I think this is a sign to finish this bottle asap."
She nods emphatically in agreement, "Yes! Maybe we should use the nice flutes they provided?"
Jess looks over at the glasses, sitting pristinely in a bucket. He shrugs and sloshes the bottle to show her there isn't much left.
"Why be proper now?"
She smirks and takes the bottle from him to take a big sip then hands it back to him.
"They did a good job with social distancing. And keeping the place warm despite being on a yacht in New York in February."
He nods, "it was nice. Thank you for taking me."
"Why wouldn't I? You're my partner, my man! My guy. The love of my life," she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes while placing a wet kiss on his cheek. He laughs.
"I know, and I know we talked about this already, but…Lorelai. She's been there from the start."
Rory grins softly and runs a hand through his hair.
"Yes she has, she did give me life after all. But you're a big reason I'm at the Times. And you've been supporting me fiercely since I took the job. I wouldn't be where I am without you."
She pulls back to look at his face and his smile is sweet for her; his free hand finds her face again and he runs his thumb across her cheek.
"Maybe not, but I have no doubt you would be doing something just as great."
"We'll never know, and I don't want to. Because this…has been the perfect day. And life is just so great right now. I love every part of it."
He leans in and kisses her softly on the lips.
"Good. You deserve to feel that way."
"What about you? Did you feel like today was the perfect day?"
"Well, of course. You won one of a million awards that you deserve," he says with a smile, but it turns into a grimace as he says, "I wish I didn't have to meet that doofus."
She laughs loudly, "Mitchum? That's a tame word for such a pompous man."
"Asshole. Total asshole. I mean, even if I didn't know about your past with him, he came off as a supreme douche. Full of himself and grasping at unrelated facts for any claim to your fame. Plus, how many times did he mention the Huntzberger 'heir'? The kid is like three. I know he's not doing anything impressive yet, and knowing Logan he probably never will."
"Jess!" Rory elbows him lightly, "don't hate on the kid. It's not his fault the family he was born into. Also, my grandmother told me she heard he's an absolute terror."
"That checks out."
"But you're right, there was nothing subtle about the way Mitchum tried to credit himself and Logan for my work. 'We always believed in you, and I'm glad my son put in a good word for you at the Times'. Barf," the limo comes to a jolting stop and Rory holds her stomach, "oh now I think I might actually do that."
Jess holds the bottle to her, "try finishing this. I'm sure the bubbles will soothe you."
"Can't argue with that logic," she replies, taking the bottle and finishing it. The car door across from them opens. The limo driver leans in.
"We're here, Miss Gilmore and Mr. Mariano."
"Tom, call us Jess and Rory, please," she insists, reaching across her to unbuckle her award.
"That's not really how I operate, Miss Gilmore."
"Let the man do his job, Ror," Jess winks at her as she rolls her eyes.
"Alright, Tom. It's been great traveling with you today. Thanks for getting us place to place in one piece, while still keeping the ride exciting."
"Any time," he responds, missing or ignoring her needling him about his driving. He holds his hand out to her in the limo and she takes it and steps out into the chilly winter air. Jess gets out behind her and quickly covers her in the wool coat she left in the vehicle. He turns and slips the limo driver a tip. Tom nods to them both, "thank you. Enjoy your evening."
They return his words and make their way into the hotel, sighing in delight as the warmth of the lobby hits them. Jess wraps an arm around Rory's shoulders and kisses the side of her head, leading her to the hotel elevators. They checked in earlier that day to get ready before the event, including a quickie similar to the sex they had in Paris but looking out over Central Park. The elevator ride is shared with other hotel guests, so they keep their hands to themselves aside from small pinches and nudges. When they get to their floor they walk to their room, messily as Jess still holds her close to him.
"Who has the key?" Rory asks in a tipsy mumble. Jess laughs and points to the small clutch in her hand beside her award.
"Oh! Right. Here, hold Humphrey."
"It already has a name?" he asks incredulously, taking the plaque from her hands. She nods and fishes for the room key in her purse.
"Speaking of Sabrina, how do you think she's doing?"
"Huh?"
"Humphrey. As in Bogart."
"Oh, right. I forgot she's Sabrina Fairchild and not the witch. I'm sure she's fine. We left her with plenty of food and water, and we'll be back in the morning."
"Have I told you how happy I am that we adopted her?"
"Only a thousand times. And I've probably told you at least half as many times that it was pure luck that the family that was supposed to take her found out their kid is allergic to cats," he replies, voice also edging on inebriated, "you need some help there? You're not seeing double are you?"
"Hm," she holds up one finger in front of her face, then goes back to searching for the room key, "nope not yet! It's a shame, I would love to have two of you."
"Dirty girl."
"That's not how I meant it!"
"Uh huh. Oh good, you found it. We can get at least a wink of sleep now."
She rolls her eyes but laughs as she opens the door, "don't be so dramatic."
They step into the room and Rory gasps when she is greeted by a tray with champagne and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries. She walks up to it and picks up the card.
"Jess! Did you know about this? It's from Matt and Chris! That's so sweet."
He shakes his head and smiles, "I didn't know, but I'm not surprised. Matt called me to 'catch up' yesterday and asked me about our plans."
"That's so nice. Well, I guess I'll be seeing double soon," she jokes, as she pops open the bottle of Moet.
"We could have saved it you know."
"No way, they sent it to us to enjoy today. So we will do that!" she proclaims, pouring them each a glass. She hands it to him and they cheers.
"To you, my journalism superstar."
She grins and shrugs, "Okay, to me! Cheers!"
They both take large sips.
"Phew, I'm lightheaded already."
"What do you mean already? This is our third bottle of champagne today. Not to mention the two martinis you had at the event."
"And you had two old fashions. Are you dizzy?"
"I've been dizzy since we got off the elevator."
"Oh boy. We are getting older, aren't we?"
"Are you trying to tell me that 21 year old Rory wouldn't be drunk already off of all that alcohol?"
"Touche," she concedes, sipping her drink until it's gone, and she pours another, "it also didn't help that the food was so tiny. It's a good thing we ate burgers beforehand."
"I figured it would be tiny. I've been to a couple of award events before for other artists. It's always small and questionable."
"Mm, when I took that time off from Yale, I organized events for the DAR. I still don't understand the obsession with tiny food," she pops a strawberry into her mouth, "and I never will."
Jess watches her, hypnotized suddenly by all parts of her. Her lips around the sweet fruit, the way her velvet burgundy dress hugs her body and makes her skin look tantalizingly pearly. The perfectly pretty French manicure on her hands, and the platinum necklace around her neck that he gifted her as a congratulations for her award. It stops at the middle of her chest, where a small pear shaped ruby falls into the line of her cleavage, matching beautifully with her dress (as he had planned). Her black wool coat sits in a pile at her feet, near the nude heels that she kicked off moments ago. He steps closer to her, and she notices the look on his face. Before she can say a word, his arms are around her and his mouth is on hers. She melts against him, but in her hands she still holds a glass of champagne and the strawberry so that's all she can do. He begins to walk them to the bed, which is behind Rory. Just as they are about to reach it, they both stumble on one of her shoes and fall in a heap to the floor. They look at each other, the strawberry smashed between Rory's hand and the carpet from trying to break her fall, and the glass of champagne still in an upright position; a clear indication of her priorities.
The two burst into fits of laughter, and Rory asks, "Are we drunk?"
"Maybe," Jess replies, standing up carefully from the floor. He looks down, "Not too drunk to have sex though, according to my dick."
Rory's face turns red as she takes in the bulge that now stands above her, tenting his suit pants, and she laughs harder. He holds out a hand to her and she drops the strawberry on the floor to take it. He pulls her up and into him. He nods in the direction of her other hand.
"You're either going to have to finish that or put it down. Or both."
"You're saying don't bring it to bed?" she bites her lip.
"Not unless you want to be covered in champagne, and, potentially, broken glass. I'm definitely not going to be going slow enough for that to stay in your hand."
Her lips quirk into an entertained smirk, and she turns around so her back is to him.
"Can you unzip my dress?"
"Gladly," he murmurs as his fingers graze over her bare back and then to the zipper. He pulls it down and then places his hands on the straps at her shoulders, pushing them off and then stepping forward to kiss her neck. His lips rest just below the clasp of her necklace. She shakes slightly at the feeling. He continues pushing her dress off her body while kissing along her shoulder and upper back, until it pools on the floor. He moves away and lets her step out of it. She kicks it across the room, and then gives Jess an impish look that makes him smirk in anticipation. He is about to step up to her again, when she lifts her champagne glass. Instead of sipping from it, she lifts it up over her open mouth; the liquid falls in streams from her lips, down her neck and over her bare breasts. His smirk is quelled by wild desire, and his erection twitches against his pants. He hastily removes them along with his suit jacket, throwing them somewhere behind him. As soon as Rory places the glass down, he is on her. He turns her to fall back on the bed, and she clumsily pushes herself backwards until her head rests against the pillows. He follows her movements like a predator after his prey and stops once his face is aligned with hers.
"So sexy," he mumbles before covering her mouth sloppily with his. She moans into their kiss, but it doesn't last long as he pulls away to redirect his attention to her chest. His tongue circles her left nipple and then her right, licking up the drops of champagne that fell there.
She pushes her chest into him and mutters, "more."
He listens immediately and encloses a perky nipple in his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it while his fingers pinch the other. She gasps and hums in pleasure; the feeling makes her start to throb between her legs, and so she brings a leg up to wrap around one of his, urging him closer. He moves his mouth to her other nipple to repeat his actions, while one of his hands moves down her torso and into the front of her lacy thong. He places his hand over her hot center, placing two fingers between her lips. He smirks against her chest at the slickness he finds there, and he begins to move his fingers teasingly up and down her slit. She groans loudly, one of her hands grasps him hard on his shoulder and the other tangles in his hair. He pulls back for a moment to look at her face.
"You're wet all over tonight, huh baby?"
She looks back at him, eyes dark and body aching for more pleasure, and nods.
"Soaking," she responds breathily, and he feels that twitch between his legs again.
His hands both swiftly move to her hips, pulling at her thong. She lifts her hips, and he steps off the bed to tug it all the way off. He removes his underwear too, and crawls back on the bed. His head stopping between her thighs. He kisses her from the bottom to the top, where he then laps and sucks at her swollen clit. She moans his name, bringing one hand again to his hair and the other to her chest. He tries to unbutton his collared shirt with one hand, but it proves cumbersome, and he gives up and puts both hands at the inside of each of her thighs, spreading her further apart. He takes a breath and then dives back in, breaking out all of her favorite moves with his tongue until she's coming, pulling at his hair and legs pushing back against where his hands hold them. As the trembling of her body slows, he sits up and inches forward until his erection is nudging at her entrance. She looks up at him, face pink and hot, and smiles.
"Jess, come closer."
He does as she says, leaning his body forward until he's above her. Her hands move to his shirt, and she pushes her hips towards him to let him know she wants him inside her. In a second, he's filled her, and he grunts at the feeling around him. She moans, but in drunken concentration, focuses on unbuttoning his shirt.
"Just rip it off, baby, I don't care," he grumbles, pushing deep inside her until she gasps. She shakes her head.
"This is a nice shirt, I'm almost done," she promises, and she quickly undoes the last button and pushes it down his thick arms, "besides, you might need it again for another award show."
"You're right, you are a superstar," he shakes the shirt off and quickly pulls of his cotton undershirt too. Finally, his beautiful form is bare to her, and she bites at her lip hungrily.
"Or you," she murmurs, "you're amazing. There will be awards for you too."
He slows his movements and grins down at her. Her eyes are raking over him, all shiny blue from drinking and pleasure. He leans down and kisses her pout, faint smudges of lipstick framing her mouth. As he pulls back, he sees lust all over her face and decides to give her what she's waiting for. His body shifts backwards until he's crouched on his knees between her legs. She lifts them and wraps them around his hips, bringing him even closer. His hands find her thighs as he at first rocks slowly in and out of her. His member is throbbing, begging for more speed. But he waits until she asks for more, not wanting to accidentally hurt her; being that they're both drunk and bordering on reckless. After minutes of these slow gyrations, she whines and catches his eyes.
"Jess," she pleads his name, and already he's picking up speed; earning him a relieved sounding and drawn out, "yes!"
His hands move up her thighs, over her hips until they're at her waist. He grips her there; palms perfectly fitted to her curves and thumbs pushing above her bellybutton. Then, he holds tight, and tears into her. He pumps powerfully in and out, finding the elusive deepest spots inside of her, while moving her body with him to help in this endeavor. An avalanche of noises come out of her mouth; mixtures of moans, curses and other things he can't make out, but finds incredibly sexy anyway. He's working hard and breathing heavily but mutters her name repeatedly. Her hands are grasped tightly to his forearms, but as she realizes that he's got her completely, she moves one of them to rub her once again pulsating clit as he pounds into her.
"Fuck, yes baby," Jess groans, "don't stop, I want to feel you come."
She whimpers again and rubs faster; Jess's grip on her waist increases the closer he gets to his own orgasm, and the squeezing feeling leaves her pleasurably breathless.
"Rory, fuck. You feel so good," his words are marked by ragged breaths, mixed with the slapping sounds their bodies make each time they meet, "I want to fuck you forever. For fucking ever, but I'm gonna come soon."
"Me too," she squeaks out, unable to catch her breath between touching herself and Jess's tight clasp around her middle. But then, he moves one hand from her waist to her hair. He pulls at the now tousled bun on her head, and between this new sensation and the ability to breathe again, she goes over the edge and plummets into delirious pleasure.
"Oh, fuck me. Yes, Rory," Jess exclaims at the feeling surrounding his dick, and he looks down between them, "yes, baby. Oh, you're so wet. Your body is doing amazing things for me, shit."
She quivers beneath him, hips pushing off the bed and finger nails digging into his arms, riding out a seemingly endless orgasm. He drives into her still, enjoying the choking clench her walls have on him. He looks down at her body under him and it unlocks a primal sounding groan; the way the necklace he bought her hits against her chest every time he enters her, the way her face is puckered up in pleasure, the trust she has in him to not hurt her as he pulls at her lustrous hair and squeezes her body. It all brings him to a roaring end moments later. And the once elegant hairstyle she had becomes a messy nest on her head as he releases it from his hand. The hand at her waist finds the mattress to hold himself up as the last few tremors roll through his body. With a heaving sigh, he looks down at Rory. She looks as wonderfully worn out as him, with a half-smile and sleepy eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asks sweetly, moving a hand to run soothing circles on her leg. She nods.
"I'm so good."
He smirks, "Me too."
"But I feel like the definition of hot mess," she giggles, fumbling with the loose hairs in her face.
"You're definitely hot."
"And messy. My hair, my face, my body. And I'm definitely drunk," her eyebrows furrow, "and why does it feel like the bed is wet?"
He pulls out of her to look between them, and his smirk widens, "because it is. Your body was doing something magical tonight, I'm telling you."
"Oh god," she puts her hands on her face, "how are we going to sleep here?"
He tugs her hands away and kisses her, "It's not that bad. We'll let it dry while we're in the shower. Come on."
He stands up from the bed and holds his hand to her. She takes it and stumbles out of bed and towards the shower with him.
"Do you think they will charge us for the bed or for the strawberry I accidentally smashed on the floor?"
Jess chuckles as he turns on the shower, "baby, I think they're professionals at cleaning up after people fucking in their rooms."
"I feel bad though!"
"About what? We'll leave a nice tip for housekeeping."
"Like a hundred dollars?"
He gapes, "Jesus, it's not like we installed a sex swing or something."
"Jess! Fifty?"
He looks at her in disbelief and is met with her powerful pout along with those big blue eyes. He sighs and relents.
"Fine. We'll leave them fifty."
She smiles and claps, "good! It's what they deserve."
"Yeah, but we're going to have sex all over this damn room between tonight and tomorrow to make it worth it."
Rory opens her mouth but shrugs, "I take no issue with that."
"That's my sex kitten," he winks and steps into the shower, holding the glass door open for her, "watch your step. You are drunk and this thing is slippery."
She carefully steps into the shower and into Jess's arms, the hot water jetting down her hair and back. He kisses her head and holds her tight.
"You've had quite the day," he mumbles near her ear, "how do you feel?"
She takes a breath, "Good. And accomplished. A little sad it will all be over tomorrow."
"Mmm," he hums in understanding, and kisses her head again.
"Most of all, happy you were part of it all. And that I get to end the day in your arms."
Touched, he smiles gently and pulls back to look at her face. There are black streaks of mascara under her eyes, remnants of pink lipstick smudged into her skin around her mouth, and the mixture of water and powder face products has created a cakey look. She puts a hand on her cheek.
"A hot mess. I told you."
He shakes his head and says with nothing but honesty, "you're beautiful. Gloriously beautiful."
Her hand drops from her face, and she smiles. He replaces it with his own and watches as his thumb swipes away the black residue. She suddenly frowns, and then so does he.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't feel so good."
She wakes up in a cold sweat, eyes darting around her dark hotel room. Her heart is racing, and she fumbles to find a light. She has dreamed about that night after the awards two days in a row now. And this time, she thinks she realizes why. She remembers throwing up in the shower that night, and then Jess tucking her into bed. She was fine then and fell asleep. But not the following day. She threw up all day, to the point where there was only bile coming up. She couldn't eat until dinner that night, and she could only stomach hot soup and half a piece of toast.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she mutters to herself, "come on, Ireland. Why switch the way the light switch works? Up should be on!"
She exclaims to no one, finally remembering to flip the light switch down to turn it on. The lamp by her bed lights up. She throws the blankets off of her and starts searching her room for her purse. Once she finds it hanging from the desk chair, she freezes and just stares at it. In her head, she is trying to talk herself out of the possibility. Maybe she's wrong, maybe she didn't start taking them yet…maybe she still has another week. Her stomach turns, and she moves closer to the bag trepidatiously. She unzips it and carefully moves stuff around, taking her time now because she isn't sure she wants to actually find what she's looking for. But, it's a small bag and her fingers have already landed on the familiar plastic packaging. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Then, like a band aid, she rips it out and looks at what pill she is on. She gulps and blinks, fingers tightening on the package until the sound of crushing foil jolts her out of her trance.
Her heart is racing again along with her mind, trying to decide what to do with this information. Her first instinct is to just figure it out on her own, and not get anyone else involved until she knows something for sure. But, as she looks around her hotel room, she's reminded she's already incredibly alone - on an island in the UK, in a mostly empty hotel because it still isn't allowed to book to complete capacity. Her eyes start to water, and she decides to sit down at her desk and open her computer. Before pressing the button to call him, she squeezes her eyes shut to try and push back the tears. Eventually, she shakes herself out of panic and presses the video button.
He answers after three rings, and she's greeted by his comforting face. Smile in place for her surrounded by a scruffy dusting of a beard. He's in his office at Truncheon, she can see the white walls and a small bookcase sitting behind him.
"Hey, you should be asleep. You have an early flight tomorrow, you know," he teases, though his smile doesn't drop because he's always happy to talk to her. But she can't bring herself to play along or pretend like the thing that's taken over every inch of her mind isn't waiting to spill out of her.
"Jess, I'm late."
His eyebrow raises, and his smile turns amused.
"For what? A very important date?"
She looks down at her lap and bites her lip.
Her response is a nervous mumble, "You could say that."
"Ror, what are you…" he starts, and in his silence she looks up at the screen. She can see it has dawned on him now, "oh."
"Yeah. I'm on day three of my placebo pills already and…nothing. Not a drop of blood yet. That's not normal for me."
He studies her and takes a breath. He can't exactly tell how she's feeling but takes it as a good sign that she's not crying or talking a hundred miles a minute.
"Are you okay?" he asks the question gently, in case an onslaught of emotion is waiting to bubble out of her. Instead, she gapes and looks like a fish out of water as she tries to respond but fails to find the words. Her eyes are wide and her face full of uncertainty.
"Okay," he says with an understanding nod of his head, "it's okay."
She gnaws at her bottom lip, and just stares at him. He keeps his eyes trained on her, so she can feel his support from so far away. Out of the corner of his vision though, he catches the calendar on his wall that shows it's late March of 2021. Then, it really dawns on him and his whole face lights up with understanding.
"The awards. You threw up from drinking the next day, didn't you?"
She nods and whispers, "and at the end of that night."
"Right. Probably got your pills all screwed up I guess," he runs a hand through his hair, "I'm sorry for not thinking of that. I could have got you Plan B."
"I don't think it would have mattered. I couldn't keep anything down that day," she recalls quietly, "But I dreamed about that night the last two days, and woke up in the middle of the night tonight and realized…"
"Maybe your body is trying to tell you something."
She nods.
"Shit," he curses. They sit in silence for a few minutes, and then a small smile forms on Jess's face.
"Well, at least we will have a great story to tell our kid about its conception. It was a special night."
Her eyes widen and a nervous laugh escapes her throat. He leans forward, his face coming closer to the camera.
"It's not a bad thing…right?" he asks cautiously, "We've been talking about it for the last couple of years."
She swallows.
"Right. Not bad."
"Okay. So, if it's not bad, can we say it's good?" he offers with an unsure smile, hope latent behind his eyes. She inhales deeply and says honestly,
"I don't know. I haven't taken a pregnancy test yet, so we don't know for sure anyway. So, I guess it's…nothing yet. Not bad or good or anything. And it's only three days late…it really could be nothing."
"Alright," Jess nods slowly in agreement. Then he smiles softly and gives her a tender look, one that makes her feel his gentle love and protection.
"Rory, I don't know if you're worried or not. But if you are, just know that I'm going to take care of you. Okay? I'll get you some tests before I pick you up from the airport tomorrow. I'll take you home, I'll hold you tight and we will find out together. Okay?"
She knows those words should calm her down, should make her feel supported and loved, and like she's not alone. But there's an inexplicable sinking feeling in her gut, a slight panic building in her chest, and annoying flashes of the traumatic events in her past surrounding an unplanned pregnancy. She tries to conceal all of this from him, schooling her features into some semblance of calm.
"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to try and get some sleep."
His eyes search her, and she can see that he is unsure of where they're leaving this conversation.
"You sure? I know this isn't something…light, Rory. I know everything you've been through."
"Yes," she quickly replies, "I'm fine. Just want to try and rest."
"Okay. How about I read to you? Help you relax?" he offers and looks down at something on his desk. He picks it up and holds a copy of The Grapes of Wrath up to the camera, "a classic but just slow moving enough it might bore you to sleep."
Her mouth twitches into a slight smile.
"No thanks. I'm okay, Jess."
He puts the book down with a sigh.
"Alright, I'll leave you be. But, call me if you can't sleep or if you want to talk more, okay? I'm here for you, always."
"I know. Thank you."
"And Rory," he adds, waiting for her to meet his eye contact, "I love you. And to me, this possibility is…exciting. But it's okay if you don't feel that way. We will deal with it together."
She swallows and feels heat building behind her eyes. She can tell he really is excited but trying to tame it for her sake. And in her continuing effort to conceal her emotions, she shakes it off and mumbles a quick, "I love you too, bye" before ending the video call. Tears fill her eyes. She sits and quietly cries for some time. She wipes her eyes clear enough to catch the time on her computer; it's approaching one in the morning in Ireland. Her flight from Dublin back home leaves at six.
She doesn't go back to sleep, surrendering herself to the reality of the panic she's feeling. Instead, she gets ready to go to the airport a few hours earlier than planned just to have something else to do. Anything to distract her from the possibility of yet another unplanned pregnancy, and even with less of a mystery surrounding it this time, it doesn't make it feel any less daunting.
….
Upon receiving a text that Rory has landed and deplaned, Jess turns his car off and makes the walk from the parking garage to baggage claim. He is always in a good mood when he gets to see her again after a work trip, but the added component of her possibly carrying a budding piece of their family has his chest full of butterflies. He's a buzzing mixture of exhilaration, anxiousness and a touch of concern reserved for Rory. He is not ignorant to the fact that she's found herself in this position before, and that almost all parts of that experience were difficult for her. But he's also aware that this is not that - there was no deception, and they are in a real loving and reliable relationship together. It is not the same at all.
His anxiousness though, has everything to do with his proximity to possibly being a father. Although as he said they have had a number of talks about having a family together, it was all with the understanding that it would be planned and controlled. It would happen at a time when they both felt ready to take on those roles. They never discussed what might happen if they have a surprise like this. But the outcome of this surprise isn't what matters most to him; it's showing up for her as a reliable partner. And for himself, to really solidify that he's nothing like his own father. Any fear he feels is overshadowed by the desire to be by Rory's side, and help her deal with a situation he is responsible for putting her in. While he knows he's put the work in, that's he proven himself as positively changed from an undependable teenager, he knows this whole situation is critical. It's an opportunity for her to truly see that he's meant everything he's said, that he wants to give her everything and be everything for her. He wants her to know that he can be counted on, and that there's no threat of running away from anything.
But it's the good emotions that he feels the most, and he can't contain the small smile that's been fixed on his face since the night before. And if they were going to make a mistake, he's glad that it is a result of such a wonderful night for them. It makes it feel extra special and serendipitous that they possibly created life during a time they were both so incredibly full of that very thing. It was a gratifying day for them both, Rory getting that award for a piece that she gave her heart and soul to. The idea itself was born from something that Paris had said to her, which was a shock to Jess because he had no idea that Paris was a staunch supporter of anything except herself. But he learned that food insecurity is her cause, and a discussion between her and Rory sparked something.
He remembers it clearly, the day in June the previous year, that she ran into their shared home office like a tornado, talking a mile a minute. At first, he was concerned that he was about to experience a repeat of the episode she had earlier that year. But once he caught on to what she was saying, he realized she was just incredibly excited. She shrieked and yelled that she had been called back to work, and that she had the opportunity to propose an article idea. And so she traveled to farms and supply chain companies, and any area of the world that she couldn't get to, she met with them virtually. She quickly crafted an informative yet captivating piece of work that appeared in an August issue of the newspaper. And unbeknownst to her, her superiors submitted her for a New York Press award. The night of the actual ceremony, the excitement they both felt for her, and for the end of a difficult year, had them bursting with vitality.
He also remembers taking care of her the day after. They both drank well past their limit, but she was especially affected by it. He stayed by her side all day and held her hair back every time she got sick. He gave her Gatorade and something small to eat after each time she threw up, but she couldn't keep any of it down until the end of the day. It worried him a bit, but he was glad to be there to help.
And now, he's thinking, that could be his life for a while if she's pregnant. Against his wishes, the smile on his face grows, because taking care of her and their growing child in any way sounds so sweet to him.
He grabs her suitcase from the rotating belt of luggage as soon as he spies it. As he turns to find a better spot to wait for her, he sees her coming down an escalator. Even from afar, he looks for any sign of how she's feeling. He walks in her direction, and she smiles when she sees him. His heart jumps. Smiling is good. They meet at the bottom of the escalator, where he immediately pulls her into his arms.
"Hi. How are you?" he mumbles against her hair.
"I'm good," she replies steadily, "but hungry."
He pulls back to smirk at her, "Good thing I have snacks in the car for you."
She grins. He kisses her on the lips. Everything feels normal, and the concern he's held onto for her starts to slowly slip from his grasp.
"What kinds of snacks?" she asks, as he takes her hand to start the walk back to the car.
"Oh, you know. Stuff you love. Like apples and carrot sticks, a protein bar, some mixed nuts."
She turns to him and makes a face of disgust that causes him to laugh loudly.
"You'll find out if I'm lying or not soon enough," he smirks and gives her hand a squeeze.
"Why are you torturing me?" she pouts, "Can you at least confirm that there's coffee?"
Without thinking about it, his eyes wander from her face down to the expanse of her stomach between her hips. When they move back up to her face, he finds a look that he can't interpret. His smirk shrinks.
"There is a small coffee with your name on it."
She breaks their eye contact and nods. The last thirty seconds of their walk is in silence, both of them caught up in their own thoughts. As they reach the car, he pops open the trunk and she watches him lift and pack away her luggage. He then stands straight and turns to her, arms out and waiting for her to hand her carryon bag to him. She's frozen for a moment. Eyes locked on his strong arms, which look like they were made to carry every heavy thing she's ever been burdened with. Then his hands, that are steady and comforting and rough in all the right places. That always sit waiting for her, whether it's to take her bag or hold her hand. Or dry her tears. The sinking feeling in her gut is making itself known again, but not for the same reason as it was last night.
"Rory?"
His voice snaps her out of her trance, and she hastily removes her bag and hands it over. Then she shuffles to the passenger seat, climbing inside and shutting the door behind her quietly. He closes the trunk and joins her in the car. He turns in his seat and looks at her with the softest gaze. His hand moves slowly towards her. He moves the hair gently off her shoulder, fingertips grazing her neck and jaw. His hand glides to the back of her neck; he holds it there, his grip protective. The corner of his mouth rises up as his thumb moves up and down against her skin.
"You okay?" he asks, his voice a murmur of tenderness. She swallows and his eyes move to her neck as he feels it beneath his fingers.
"Yes."
He looks back at her face, but she's looking away from him and at the dashboard now. He carefully squeezes where his hand rests.
"Do you want your snacks?"
Her eyes move to the coffee cup that sits in the cup holder. She bites her lip; it is small. But she looks up at him with half a smile.
"Yes please."
He mirrors her smile and nods, then moves his hand away to turn in his seat. He turns back with a white plastic bag that says "CVS" on it in red. She smiles when she sees a bag of Cheetos sticking out the top.
"You scared me for no reason!" she exclaims, mood shifting to playful. He smirks and hands her the Cheetos. Then a package of Oreos, followed by a kit kat.
"Wow! What did I do to deserve all this?"
"I also picked up your favorite newspapers and magazines for you," he mumbles with a grin, handing them over to her too. Her smile widens.
"That's so nice! Thank you."
He nods and looks back down into the bag. He clears his throat, and his grin softens.
"And a large bottle of water, so if you start drinking that now then," his eyes move from the bag to her face, "you should be ready to take these pregnancy tests as soon as we get home. Um. I may have gone a little overboard, because I wanted to make sure you had enough options. You know, so you can feel secure in whatever result it is that we get. There's Clearblue, first response, store brand. I think I got about eight tests total.. Is that enough?"
His words are kind but timid, because he's never been through this before with anyone else. All he wants is for her to be comfortable, and he searches her face for any sign confirming that. He gets a small smile in return, "Jess, that's more than enough, thank you."
His posture relaxes and his mouth perks up at one corner.
"But…"
Immediately, he's tense again and on alert.
"But what?" he looks her over and tries not to frown, "oh, did you get your period? I read that sometimes travel messes that up. But some women online said flying sometimes helps…move it along."
Her lips curve and she shakes her head, "No. Not yet. I actually took a few pregnancy tests at the airport before I left last night. They sell them there, believe it or not. Anyway, they all came back negative. It was a false alarm. I guess my period is really just late."
His heart sinks with every word, and the smile she has on her face the whole time she tells him this burrows a pit in his stomach. He realizes he should have kept a hold on his concern, that he let his guard down too soon. He should have tried to communicate with her more last night, should have tried to check on her constantly. Because what possible reason could she have to do that by herself if not fear? Mixed in with concern is agitation. He doesn't want to feel it, but it creeps up in him as he thinks about the circumstances of everything. Not only did she take tests without him, she didn't tell him and she wasn't going to tell him until the last possible moment, obviously. She's known since before boarding a plane out of Ireland that she's not pregnant. Her actions feel like punches to the gut, because all he has ever wanted to do was be there for her. The feelings remind him of those he felt when she went to London and said she was going to meet up with Logan. Like she's been holding on to secrets instead of sharing them with someone she claims to love and trust. And someone that's affected by them, because it takes both of them for something like this to happen.
He takes a breath; he decides to try and quell his frustration for her sake. He puts the bag full of his unnecessary purchases back on the floor in the backseat.
"Okay. You're not pregnant," he says with a small nod and turns the car on.
"I know. I'm pretty relieved. And I will definitely be making a pot of coffee when we get home."
He wants to scoff, because he realizes that was another opportunity for her to have said something - they both understood the purpose of him getting her a small. But he fumes silently, trying to talk himself out of his anger. The car ride is silent aside from Rory snacking in the passenger seat and the radio on low. She takes out her phone and he can hear her texting people and sending off emails, as if something big didn't just happen.
"Can you turn the sound off on your phone?" he asks in a harsh whisper, "it's a little distracting."
She looks over at him briefly, "Oh. Sure. Sorry."
They get close to their apartment, and Jess parks the car in the first free spot he can find. He gets out and wordlessly pulls her luggage from the trunk, lugging her backpack over his shoulder and pulling the handle of her suitcase. She meets him on the sidewalk and holds out a hand.
"I can carry my backpack."
He shakes his head and motions for her to follow him. She falls in step beside him.
"How's Sabrina? Did she miss me?" she asks, voice cautious but friendly. He shrugs.
"She slept with me every night. She seemed okay."
"That's cute."
He shrugs again.
"Did I tell you I tried a Guinness straight from the brewery in Dublin?"
"You did."
"Right. Did I tell you I got chased by a sheep walking to my hotel one day?"
He blinks and looks over at her momentarily. Her look is playful, and for some reason that agitates him more. He shakes his head and turns his attention back to the street, and to their apartment building that they are now approaching.
"Well, I did. I was getting dropped off by a taxi and instead of pulling all the way up to the building, he dropped me at the start of the driveway. A sheep came out of nowhere halfway through my walk and I had to run."
She recites this account as they climb the stairs to their floor. He grunts and unlocks their apartment.
"Sounds harrowing," he mumbles his response, setting her luggage down in the living room.
Finally, she gets annoyed and stomps her foot. He turns sharply to look at her, taking in her body language which conveys total indignation.
"What is your problem? Are you mad at me because I'm not pregnant? That's not fair, Jess! I have no control over that!"
He scoffs and gapes at her, "do you hear what you just accused me of? In what fucking universe would I be mad at you for not being pregnant, Rory? How the hell could you suggest something like that?"
Her shoulders stiffen and she looks contrite, but then her affronted look is back.
"Well, you're mad at me for something! You have been giving me the cold shoulder since leaving the airport. What am I supposed to think? I told you I'm not pregnant, and then you act like this!"
He can feel his features setting into a scowl that he has no control over.
"Why have I put in all of this work to prove myself to you? Why have I spent years now showing you that I'm reliable and trustworthy for you to still not fully believe in it?" His words are quiet but seething, she can feel the sting of them all over her body and she recoils.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Of course I know you're reliable. Of course I trust you!"
"You aren't acting like it!" this he shouts, and it startles her. She shrinks back, and hears a quiet meow come from a corner of the living room.
"Jess! Calm down. What do you mean?"
"I'm not mad at you for not being pregnant, and I am offended that you would think that, Rory," he explains, steadying his voice and his volume. He steps closer to her, "I'm upset because you found out about it without me. After we talked together last night, after I said I would buy you tests and we could find out together. After I told you, for probably the millionth time in our relationship, that I'm always here for you, Rory! Why did you push me out of this experience? The only answer I can think of is because you were afraid! To rely on me, to trust me or believe in me to be there for you. I know you have had horrible experiences, with Logan especially, and with your dad setting a pathetic example of a father. But I'm not them Rory, I don't deserve this!"
She huffs in a breath full of anger that's reached the same heights as his, added with rising petulance. She moves towards him now and throws her arms up in frustration.
"It's my body, Jess! I have a right to do whatever I want with it."
His expression changes to disbelief.
"Of course it's your body and ultimately the decision of what to do in this situation was always going to be yours. I'm not arguing that at all, and you know that. I know that you know that because you had plenty of opportunities to let me know that you went ahead and did this alone and found out you weren't pregnant. Yet, you waited until the last possible moment to tell me. You knew you did something that wasn't fair to me."
She looks accosted by his words. The trembling frown on her face is the only small indication of guilt.
"How is it unfair to you if it's my body? This is something that happened to me."
He huffs in exasperation and tugs at his hair.
"Yes, it's your body. I understand that, and I respect it. But Rory, this is a result of something we both did! Together! I'm equally responsible for you having a pregnancy scare. It takes both of us for that to happen, and it should have been both of us that dealt with the aftermath. Together. I'm not some one night stand Rory, or a fucking engaged man you were having an affair with!"
She crosses her arms over her chest and looks away from him.
"This feels like London all over again, do you realize that?" he asks, voice quiet but dripping with aggravation, "We're in a relationship. A serious fucking relationship. We live together and have been for over three years now. We've talked about having a family and getting married, we've shared the ugliest parts of ourselves with each other, we've cultivated something so fucking beautiful from our past, our pain, and with all of our love. Why did you turn away from that to do this on your own?"
She bristles, and gnaws at her lip, trying to hold back the water that's burning in her eyes.
"I was scared, Jess! I was scared and I wanted answers."
"You should have told me that, Rory! What am I here for if you don't want to lean on me? I said to call me if you needed to talk more, I asked you how you were feeling. You just decided to hide all of this information from me," his response is quicker than she expects, "and I was scared too! Yes, I was excited, but I was also nervous at the prospect of becoming a father already. I was hoping to share that with you, I was hoping for this to be a moment for us to just…. get all of those things on the table. Whether you were pregnant or not didn't matter. What mattered to me was facing this together and having important conversations. But you took that away from us."
"That's not fair! We can still talk about those things. That's not fair to say, Jess, not at all," she argues with a stomp of her foot. With a shaky voice and wet eyes, she asks, "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"
His eyes tighten into a wounded look, his scowl turns completely to a frown.
And he replies, with a sincerity that guts her, "Because I'm hurt, Rory. I'm really hurt. Can't you see that?"
She looks him in the eyes and is pained to see a wetness there too. Her lip trembles and she has to swallow before she can speak.
"Now I'm hurt too," she says quietly and sniffs, "So I guess we're even."
He deflates, and a tear escapes his eye, "Rory…"
She shakes her head, "I'm sorry. I did what felt right to me, and maybe that was wrong. But it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I don't trust…anything. I.. panicked. And all those scary feelings from the last time I went through this came back. My head was flooded with visions of everything falling apart in one way or another. And…I guess that's happening anyway isn't it?"
"No! I'm not…breaking up with you or anything, Rory. God, I love you. I have no intention of ever doing that," he moves closer to her and places a hand on her arm, "I'm just…hurt. Like I said. And I'm sorry if I hurt you back, I didn't mean to."
She doesn't respond; her eyes fall to the floor.
He continues quietly, "We'll get past it, I'm sure. But…this stings pretty badly right now. That you would rather face something like that on your own than with me by your side."
She looks up at him, eyes wet and doe like, and he feels for her. He softens and wraps his arms around her slowly. He kisses her head. They stay like that for a few silent minutes. Then, Rory pulls away and wipes her eyes.
"I think I'm going to go have dinner with Paris. She invited me over. I haven't seen her in a while."
His face is a mix of surprise and concern, and he goes to argue. But then he's hit with a memory of a conversation they had years ago, on her thirty third birthday. He told her to do whatever feels right to her in these situations, including icing him out or pushing him away; as long as they come back to each other and work it out. He has to let her go, and have a little faith.
So, he nods, "Okay. Want me to drive you so you don't need to find parking?"
She shakes her head, "No thanks. I'll take the subway."
"Rory, it's getting dark. I would rather take you."
"I'll be fine," she promises with a weak smile and turns towards the door, "I'll text you when I get there and when I'm on my way home."
He sighs, "Okay. Please be careful."
She nods in agreement and walks to the couch to say a quick goodbye to the cat. Then, she's out the door before Jess can even think about talking her out of it again. He releases an exhausted groan and pulls at his hair. His head is a mess of thoughts, his heart a whirlwind of feelings. As he mumbles to himself, pacing around the living room, he hears a meow and a soft pattering of movement. He looks down at the floor and sees Sabrina at his feet; she's now almost fully grown, and she wraps herself around his ankles. The feeling brings him a brief moment of much needed calm. He half smiles and bends over, picking her up with both hands and cradling her against his shoulder. She meows in his ear and lightly digs her nails into him. He takes one of her paws and kisses it.
"Why are you scratching me? What did I do?"
She meows again and tilts her head.
"Is this about Rory? She'll be back, I'm sorry. She's going through something and…I probably made things worse."
Sabrina mews and lays her head against him, now purring loudly. He shakes his head and smiles softly.
He mumbles a promise, mostly for his own ears to hear, "I'll fix it, don't worry."