wow i did not think i would ever get us here, but with this chapter we are officially caught up to We'll Always Have Paris :')
Please make sure you read (or re-read) We'll Always Have Paris after this chapter! it is meant to follow it directly, and the next chapter I post in Comforts will take place after WAHP.
short rated M scene in this one
enjoy, and thank you for being here! xoxo
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Rory sits in front of her desk at home almost two weeks later, staring at her computer screen. The file she wants to open stares back at her, taunting her from its place on her desktop. Her background picture is of her and Lorelai, from this past Christmas. Jess had once again joined her to celebrate the holidays in Nantucket; and he took the lovely picture she keeps staring at instead of opening the document. Lorelai and she stand outside, in nothing but their pajamas and unbuttoned coats. Mouths open towards the sky as they try to catch the tiny snowflakes that fell that Christmas morning. That day had been a couple weeks after the New York Times list with Jess's book was published; and as expected, it blew up. She helped him and the crew at Truncheon fulfill countless online orders until the day before Christmas eve. Working essentially a second shift at the store after her days at the Times, and the weekends too. The shop itself was also booming, and Jess paid everyone overtime to extend their hours and keep the shop open a little later almost every day during that time. He, Matt, and Chris made it even more worth everyone's while, and gave out generous bonuses as they had planned. It was a whirlwind of two weeks, but it did prove to Jess that a book tour would be a wise thing to do.
She picks up her large mug of hot coffee off the desk. The background changes to a new picture as she takes a large, savoring sip. Her whole body warms, both from the liquid and from the feelings this photo brings. It was taken the morning after the dance marathon in November; her and Jess sitting at the diner counter together. One of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, the other resting on the bar top. His hand wrapped around the handle of a carafe of coffee. He had made her her own pot and took it upon himself to be in charge of refilling her cup all throughout breakfast. She holds a mug between her hands, her head leaning on Jess's shoulder. They both are smiling for the picture, but she remembers they were smiling anyway. Discussing the previous day, making bets on the amount of coffee she would drink that day to recuperate from the dancing, and giggling at Lorelai making the rounds around the diner with her trophy. Usually, she prefers candid photos of them, but this one Doula had asked them to pose for, and she adores the casualness of their love visible in this photo. So immense, yet they make it look so easy.
The photo has her thinking about Jess, and all of the reasons that she just needs to open the document already. It's been long enough; the wounds have healed, leaving only faded scars in their wake that are more interesting to her than upsetting. She is in a good mental space and has been for a long time. Reading her pregnancy journal that night with Jess, without feeling the level of internal pain that she used to, was proof enough. And then, the conversation that she had with Nadiia, where everything just finally clicked into place - she's not just ready to start a family with Jess. She's ready for anything.
With this thought, she finally double clicks on the file simply named GilmoreGirls. The word document loads before her eyes, and she doesn't let herself take any more time. She dives right in, and immerses herself in her writings, reading her manuscript from the very beginning. The first few chapters are filled with little notes from Jess, from when he was helping her edit the book. She remembers after she moved into that apartment in Queens, and he told her Truncheon wanted to publish it, that he immediately got to work editing it during that week he was in Philadelphia. Before he came back to New York to discover that the process had turned her into an emotional disaster. Before he encouraged her to take her time and wait to come back to it when she can take the hits without bleeding out completely.
Before those things, he had sent her back the first few chapters with edits. She must have read them back then, she's sure, but somehow they feel brand new to her now. There are true editorial notes, such as advising her to rearrange some sentences, maybe try different verbs and adjectives to evoke the emotion she's going for. There are some arrows suggesting she move parts of the story around. But there are also small, enlightening morsels of his thoughts in the margins as well. Ones that she hasn't heard out loud before, that make her heart flip, like I understand Lorelai's need to get out and raise you on her own. There are things more important to people like me and her (and you) than the promise of financial security and a roof, like she would have had if she stayed with Emily and Richard. And because she left, she became wealthy in the ways that mattered to her.
And some that she has heard many times now over the years, in different ways, such as I've been infatuated with a Gilmore girl before, so I get how intense Christopher might have felt about your mom. But you and her should not have been treated as a packaged deal, in the way that he wouldn't stick around for you without her reciprocating his feelings. He's an idiot.
It makes her chuckle nonetheless and helps her realize that reading these chapters probably greatly influenced the piece about Christopher in his latest book. It's an impactful symbiosis, her work inspiring his, and now his work inspiring her. She hopes their love for each other continues to nourish their creativity for the rest of their lives.
But there is one note that sticks out to her in particular, especially in light of the words Jess spoke at his book event two weeks ago. The note is left at the end of the third chapter, which takes place towards the end of her childhood years. The way you reflect on your childhood, despite some of the disappointments you experienced, is beautiful Rory. Your appreciation for your mother and the world she surrounded you with comes through so clearly. I'm envious, to be honest, of your ability to look on at anything in the past in this way. Mine doesn't bother me the way that it used to, but I'm still struggling to strip the gloomy paint from its walls. I hope I can get to the point one day, where I can rewrite my own story in a way that makes me feel good inside.
She is crying now, but it's not at all like when she cried over the pages of this book almost seven years ago. The body of water these tears are flowing from is one of profound appreciation, not grief or self-loathing, because she realizes that her and Jess have been healing together. Though as he said he had already done a lot of the work himself, there were still parts of him that needed love, acceptance and care to foster those changes. From her, from family and friends, and from strangers that have become family - like Brandon, Brooke and Liam. And Connor. It makes her feel an even deeper gratitude for their relationship, for getting to be a part of these subtle yet dynamic changes in each other.
Her tears slow, and the current of emotions in her chest calms. This is where his editing notes end, but she needs to continue reading. So she can keep writing; so she can put to print all of the developments in their love story to share with the world. She takes a breath, and takes another giant sip of coffee, and she pages through.
The buzzing on her desk breaks her concentration sometime later. She blinks first in confusion, and then looks around for the culprit. She moves a notebook out of the way, as she got inspired to write down some thoughts during her reading, and finds her phone underneath it. She gets a funny feeling in her gut when she sees it's her work calling; not a bad one, necessarily.
"Rory Gilmore speaking."
"Hey Gilmore, how are you today?" the voice of her boss speaks back to her. She sits up straight in her chair, placing her free hand around the circumference of her coffee mug just to give it a purpose.
"I'm good, David. How are you?"
"I'm good, but this phone call is bittersweet for me."
She straightens more.
"What do you mean?"
"First thing's first. We would like for you to go to the Netherlands and work on a piece about the Farmer Citizen Movement, for a month if you can. It's caught a lot of momentum, and we're thinking big things are going to happen in June and July that we want someone on the ground for."
"Oh, that sounds cool. I heard a political analyst call it "folksy nationalism", I'm very interested in talking to locals about it," she pauses, "but when would you want me to go? And why is that bittersweet?"
"We'd love for you to leave next week," he replies, making Rory's stomach drop. Jess is finishing his book tour next week, and they have both been looking forward to being reunited. She doesn't respond yet as she mulls it over.
"And it's bittersweet because," he continues, "a local reporting position has just opened up. And they are only hiring internally for it. Which means, if you're ready now, it's basically yours. And that this might be your last international trip with our department."
Her breath catches in her chest and her mouth drops open. Her eyes shoot all around the room in disbelief, and then finally land on the open document on the computer in front of her. And now she smiles, because she will definitely take this as a sign that she's doing the right thing by returning to her book again.
"Rory?"
"Sorry," she quickly apologizes, "I'm here. Yes, I'm ready to transfer! And yes, I'll go to the Netherlands next week."
David chuckles, "that's what I figured, and there's that bittersweetness. I'm happy for you, Rory. But we're going to miss you."
"I'll miss you guys too, and don't worry, I'm still going to visit your department all the time and say hi to everyone! But I am definitely ready to move to local news."
"I get it. Okay, I'll book your flights and I'm emailing you the link to apply for a transfer right now. It will take a few weeks after you apply to hear anything. They have to do their due diligence you know, but don't worry. There's no reason it shouldn't be approved."
"Great!" she exclaims, standing up from her chair to bounce on her heels, "thank you so much. I'll see you at work on Monday?"
"You're welcome, and yes. See you then."
"Bye!"
She hangs up the phone and stands completely still as she internalizes the implications of that phone call. Then, she shrieks with excitement and runs around the room, buzzing with joyous energy. The door to the office creaks open and she pauses in confusion, but then she hears the pattering of feet and a loud meow; Sabrina coming to check on her. She grins wide and meets her gray furry friend by the door. She leans down and picks her up, holding her in the air, and saying out loud because she just needs to hear it, "we're going to start a family soon! Oh my god," she brings the cat to her chest and cuddles her, "I can't believe I made it to this point. Sabrina, you're going to be a big sister! Hopefully within the next year I mean! Are you so excited?! I'm so excited! I'm also scared, but so excited!"
The words tumble out of her mouth at rapid speed, as she pets the cat and walks in circles around the room. She stops when she catches sight of her phone, and looks down at the cat, "this is a secret between you and me, okay? I'm not going to get Jess's hopes up and then have something stupid happen with my transfer, you know what I mean? I can trust you, I know I can. And not just because you can't speak our language!"
Sabrina meows again, and Rory laughs loudly at herself.
"I'm crazy, aren't I? I guess that's what happens when you're really, really happy," she places a kiss to the cat's head and then releases her back to the floor, "I better call Jess to tell him I'm leaving for a month."
She picks up her phone, and as she sees the date on her lock screen she gasps.
"Oh no," she whines, and mutters to herself, "I'm leaving for a month! I'm going to miss his birthday. Again! Damnit Rory."
Instead of calling him right away, she turns back to her computer. Because she needs to address the birthday situation, or she'll feel guilty about that and not telling him about her application to transfer. She spends some time doing research and making some plans to hopefully make up for her absence on a big birthday. It takes her a while and various phone calls, but eventually she puts something together. Going back to her work email, she is first greeted with the word document that is her book. She stares at it, looking at the words she had just been reading over an hour ago. Whatever creative ideas she didn't write down have gone out the window for now, as her thoughts have effectively been refocused. She sighs because she was feeling great about getting back into it. She minimizes the page and catches a new picture on her background screen. This one is all three Gilmore women: Lorelai, Rory, and Emily, standing together in Emily's living room in Nantucket in front of her giant, sparkling Christmas tree. Immediately, seeing her Grandmother's face brings her back to a conversation they had on the beach a few years ago. "When the time comes, let it be your main focus."
Slowly, her discouraged look morphs into elation as she further conceptualizes the next couple years of her life. She will come back to the book every now and then, to stay connected to it and add ideas. But when the opportune time comes, she will let it be her main focus.
With excited anticipation rattling throughout her, she finally clicks on the email from her boss, and she applies for her transfer.
She walks up the subway steps, looking down at her breezy summer dress and sneakers, wondering why she thought it was a good idea to wear white shoes in a place as dirty and busy with tourists like midtown Manhattan. People bump up against her bare arms as they rush past her up to the street, but she's there over an hour early so she's in no hurry. And she has come too close to tripping up steep subway steps far too many times. So, she keeps her eyes focused on each step and her arms close to herself until she emerges on the sun soaked streets half a mile from Penn Station. She has a destination before that one though, and she looks around the streets to get her bearings for a moment, before confidently walking towards Bauman Rare Books with a small, excited smile on her face.
Within a block of her walk, she spies a cute little coffee shop and cannot quell the urge to stop for a cup.
"Just something small," she mutters to herself with a quiet giggle, stepping inside and easily placing her order. Her eyes roam around the quaint space, decorated with pictures of old Hollywood stars for no apparent reason, and one single Donkey Kong arcade machine shoved into a corner; she loves places like this that try to be so many things at once, because that's what New York is at its heart. She takes a breath, realizing that working locally is going to be just as wonderful as traveling. New York's richness is as vast as Europe itself; she will never be bored of her work here. As long as her transfer gets approved.
The barista calls her name, and she turns with a smile to get her coffee. Hot today, because there's a breeze in the air that dims the heat of the sun. She steps back onto the street and continues on her journey. It's a decent length walk, and she gets mentally sidetracked again when she sees a Barnes and Noble. It's not typically her type of book store, as she prefers to support places like Truncheon, but for the books that she suddenly has in mind - it would be the perfect place to stop. She bites her lip as she mulls it over for a few seconds, and then heads to the nearest street corner to cross over.
She walks into the store, and catching sight of the time, she walks to the help desk.
"Excuse me, where can I find…women's health books?"
The employee looks up at her, "what sort? Diet, exercise, pregnancy?"
"Um," she mumbles and says quietly, as though she's not a thirty-eight year old woman that logically might want to get pregnant, "I think family planning. So... yeah, pregnancy."
The younger woman nods and points her in the direction. She throws a thanks over her shoulder as she speedwalks to the section.
Once she's there, she is immediately overwhelmed by the choices. And she has no time to analyze and research them the way that she normally would.
"Crap," she exhales and starts fingering through the options. She decides to grab a few on different topics related to pregnancy, and jogs to check out.
"I don't need a bag, thank you!" she takes the books from the cashier after paying, and stuffs them into her large tote bag, thanking herself for bringing that particular sized bag today.
She tosses her empty coffee cup in a trash can outside the store and speed walks towards her next destination, needing to get there with enough time to get back to Penn Station as Jess arrives home from his almost five month book tour.
Half an hour later, Rory stands watching the Amtrak board with fierce concentration, holding two coffees in her hands now at Penn Station. This time, the coffee is iced because she is sweating from running all over town to get here on time. It has her feeling a little off, because she prides herself on her time management and would never be late to pick anyone up from a trip, but especially not Jess. But those darn books were too tempting to not stop. She was starving when she finally got to the station, and in addition to her coffee, she inhaled an apple fritter that is now making her feel bloated.
The incoming trains keep updating, and since his train is due any minute now, she's anxiously awaiting the track number. She wants to be there as soon as he arrives, like he is always at the airport waiting for her when she returns from her trips. The board flips through arrivals again, and she finally sees it: his train arriving from Hudson will be at track twelve in two minutes. She turns in a circle, looking all around her for the right track. She smiles when she spies it, and with excited concentration heads in that direction. But her fixation blinds her peripheral vision, and suddenly one of the coffees in her hands is half on the floor and half on her previously white sneakers. She gasps and opens her bag, panicking that it may have ruined Jess's gift. She sighs in relief when she sees that all of her bags contents are safe, and the stranger she bumped into is an uncharacteristically kind New Yorker and hastily helps her clean it up. Once that debacle is over, she looks at the train board and sees that his train is at the station.
She practically runs to get to the top of the escalator in time, where he should be ascending at any moment. The minutes tick on and she doesn't see him, she takes out her phone to check and see if she has any messages from him. She jumps when she feels a hand on her bottom, but thankfully it's soon accompanied by his voice.
"Hi, sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," he mumbles over her shoulder. She turns in his arms to face him; he keeps his hand at her back. Her smile bears some disappointment as she says,
"I wanted to meet you coming off the train. But I wasn't paying attention and ran into someone and spilled coffee all over the floor and my white sneakers, so I guess during that time I missed you," then she holds out the second iced coffee to him, "here, this one is for you."
He shoulders his bag up higher and leans forward to kiss her lips.
"Thank you," he kisses her again, "but please, you drink it. I've had coffee today already and I'm not like you. If I drink another I'll be climbing up the walls."
She frowns first and then it turns into a laugh, "okay, thanks. How was your trip?"
"It was fine," he shrugs, lips gently turned upwards. He nods in another direction, "drank a lot of water on the train, mind walking to the men's room with me? Lot of stranger danger potential here."
She looks back at him curiously and with a breathy laugh says, "sure."
He leads them towards it, standing close together and his hand never leaving its place below her back. As they come up to the restrooms he surprises her when he grabs the door for the family bathroom and pulls her inside.
"What's happening?" she asks with a nervous laugh, "I missed you a lot, but I don't think I want to have sex in a bathroom at Penn Station, Jess."
He meets her eyes as he lifts his duffel bag up and places it on top of the provided changing table. He shakes his head with a small chuckle.
"I can understand why you might think that was my motive. I do find you irresistible no matter where we are," he gives her a wink, then steps up to her and places his hands on her arms.
"I didn't want you to freak out," he says calmly, "there's blood on the back of your dress, baby."
She gasps and her head turns sharply to the mirror over her shoulder to see. She is horrified to see that he's not lying; there are three stains varying in size right below her bottom. Her whole body and mind immediately spiral, face turning red and skin heating with embarrassment. She turns back to him, and his look for her is so gentle that her eyes fill up and her lips start to tremble.
"Hey, hey," he soothes, never taking his eyes off hers as he places his hands tenderly on her cheeks, "it's okay. It's all good. We'll take care of it, don't worry. Do you want a sweatshirt to wear around your waist or would you rather borrow a pair of sweatpants and a shirt?"
His words make the hot tears flow harder and she sobs out, "this day is going all wrong!"
"Oh baby," he murmurs, pulling her body against his. He rubs his hand on her back in calming circles, letting her cry it out on his shoulder until she's ready to talk. Her breaths start to even out, and after a moment she pulls back and looks at him with big eyes.
"I think I'm going to miss your fortieth birthday, Jess."
His forehead crinkles, "and?"
"That's a big birthday!" she exclaims, "that's a big birthday, and you're my boyfriend and I love you and I shouldn't miss something like that! I missed your birthday last year too! It's not right."
"Rory," he gives her a look, "you know I don't care about my birthday. I expected you would be gone, you did say a month for this trip. There is no need for you to feel bad about that at all. Is that why you're upset?"
"But I do, I do feel bad!" she cries, lightly stomping her foot, "I had a day planned for us today, to celebrate your birthday early. I wanted to take you to lunch and give you your gift that I got you. That I almost spilled coffee on, by the way! And then later this afternoon, we're supposed to stop by Truncheon and pick up Liam and Connor and go on a boat ride because at the dinner we had together in Rhode Island, you talked about taking him on a boat, and so I thought it would be a nice birthday thing. But now literally my entire outfit is ruined and Jess, oh my god, I was almost late to pick you up! I'm never late, you know that! It's been such a weird day, and we only have two of them together before I leave for Europe! I don't know what's going on."
But she does know all of her feelings are compounded by the looming change in her work, that she knows would be the ultimate gift to him, that she also knows she can't tell him about yet; it adds a limbo-like feeling to these frustrations.
The speed and emotion of her words has his eyes wide now too, but he pulls her face to his and kisses her deeply to calm them both.
"I love you. That all sounds amazing," he declares with a caring smile on his face as they break apart, "it's too much, you did not have to do anything for me. But if you want to celebrate today, we can still do that. How about we head home, and instead of going out to lunch I'll make us something to save time. That way you can do whatever you need to do to feel comfortable for the rest of the day. What do you think?"
She still looks at him with round eyes, bottom lip in her mouth in thought. He stares back steadily, his whole face conveying warmth and love. Eventually, she nods.
"Okay," she agrees, crossing her arms over her chest and putting a piece of hair behind her ear, "that sounds good if it's okay with you."
His lips press against her forehead.
"It's more than okay with me," he mumbles against her, "so, do you want to get changed or do you just want a sweatshirt?"
Her hand roams down her stomach momentarily.
"Can I borrow sweatpants and a shirt? I was feeling bloated anyway," she asks, then as that fact clicks in her head she groans, "that's why I felt bloated, not the apple fritter! Why does something like this still happen to me? I'm not young! This stuff shouldn't just catch me by surprise anymore. It's not supposed to start for another day."
He gives her arm a kind squeeze then turns and rummages through his bag.
"I don't think you get some magical control over your body with age. I'm sure it happens to others. Lane, your mom, even Paris is human…I think. Have we checked if she's a robot yet?"
That gets her to release a laugh, and Jess smiles softly as he turns to her with a pair of gray sweatpants, boxers and a band t-shirt.
"Still embarrassing," she mutters, pulling her dress over her head before taking them from him. He takes her dress and stuffs it in his bag, then turns to her while she changes.
"It's nature, Rory. If someone is bothered by period stains on your clothes, then that's their problem. Don't internalize that."
She takes a deep breath. Because, as usual in moments like this, she is hit by the magnitude of his gentle care and kindness. Always making an uncomfortable situation better for her; making her feel less self-conscious while calming her down. And with the books in her bag on her mind, and the news she hopes to have for him when she comes back from her work trip, his actions have her thinking about how good of a dad he would be to a daughter. She takes another steadying breath as her heart skips a beat.
Once she's dressed in his old Metallica shirt and the forgiving sweatpants, she clasps her hands behind her back and looks at him bashfully.
"Thank you."
"Nothing to thank me for," he mutters and nods towards the door, "do you need me to get you supplies from one of the stores out there?"
She blushes and shakes her head, "no. I have some in my bag. Just need privacy."
He steps out of the bathroom to see a man with two children waiting outside the door. He bites his lip and rubs the back of his neck.
"Sorry. My girlfriend is still in there," he mumbles, and at the man's glare, he fibs, "uh, she's pregnant. So, you know. We're technically a family."
Just then the door opens, and Jess holds his hand out to her.
"Feeling better honey? That was some bad morning sickness, huh?" he turns to the man with a small grin, "sorry about that. All yours."
Rory gives him a bewildered look and he shakes his head, ushering her out of the area with a hand on her back.
"Don't worry about it."
She lets it go, and they walk together hand in hand out of the station and onto the street. Jess pulls her slightly closer to him as they walk towards a subway station to go home, and the action makes her feel so loved. The day has not quite gone as planned, but as they walk down the busy sidewalk she gets an even better idea for lunch.
They get on the packed subway train, and Jess guides her to an empty place to stand. They both hold onto the grab rail as the car moves; he adjusts the bag on his shoulder so he can wrap an arm around her waist and pull her closer to him.
"Feeling better?" he asks as he kisses her head. She grins back at him and nods.
"Thanks to you and your very comfortable sweatpants."
His lips curve, and he nods down towards her body, "they look much better on you."
"Oh, I strongly disagree with that," she mumbles in response with a telling raise of her brow.
He fully smirks now, and smoothly presses his lip to hers; pressing his tongue inside to give her a kiss he knows will make her flush. And as he pulls away and surveys her, he is gratified to see that redness in her cheeks. But she doesn't give him a hard time; instead, her eyes flit up to the subway map to see where they are. And as they announce West 4th Street, she takes his hand and tugs him towards an exit.
"Did that kiss effect your brain? This is not our stop."
She gives him a smug look that catches him by surprise, and he doesn't question her further as they leave the train and walk up the steps. He lets her pull him along until they turn a street corner, and he knows exactly where she is taking him. She turns to him as they step up to the hot dog cart, and her heart bursts at the bright look on his face.
"No longer an out-of-towner, are you?" he teases, but his tone is laced with pleasant surprise.
She smiles wide and shakes her head.
"Nope, I knew exactly how to find this cart. And I know exactly how to get to the record store too."
"You never cease to amaze me," he remarks, and Rory can feel the sincerity of his words all over.
"Let me order?" he requests with a nostalgic look, "for old times' sake."
"Absolutely, you are still much more of an expert than me," she replies, walking up to the stand next to him, "but, I'm paying this time. No arguing."
"As you wish, Jane," Jess playfully rolls his eyes and turns to the attendant, "two with everything, please."
Rory pays and they walk down the sidewalk with their sentimental lunch towards their next destination.
"Was this the birthday lunch you originally had planned?"
She shakes her head, "not at all. My coworker told me about a cool tavern that still has old school jukeboxes in East Village, with a lot of 70s and 80s punk. I thought it would be fun to make the whole bar listen to The Clash while we eat lunch and have a drink. Maybe dance a little."
Jess chuckles and reaches out to give her arm a loving squeeze, "that would have been fun. But this is fun too, and really thoughtful for a last minute plan. Thank you, Rory."
Her smile warms, and she stops to give him a quick kiss.
"Now you just have to let me buy you a record here, and I will feel one hundred percent redeemed for ruining your birthday plans."
"Rory, didn't you get me a gift already? You said-" he tries to argue, but she shushes him and pulls him into the shop. He releases a quiet laugh, at her headstrong devotion to making this day special, despite the fact that being together again was all he wanted.
But he humors her, and they spend some time looking around the store. As he's going through a crate of glam rock, he grins.
"Hey Rory," he calls to her across the aisle, "I found something cool."
She starts walking towards him, "don't tell me a signed Go-Go's record?! Is it possible that I can also finally redeem myself for missing my mother's graduation today? I'll die of relief!"
Jess laughs at her dramatics but shakes his head.
"Sorry, but no. Guess you'll have to live with that unnecessary guilt longer," he pulls out the record and holds it up to her, "it's an Aladdin Sane picture disc."
"Oh, cool!" she enthuses, taking it from his hands, "such an iconic look. And album. 'Panic In Detroit' is your favorite, if I remember correctly."
"Yeah, it is," he nods in agreement, "I think we should get it for Lane."
She cocks her head, "oh I thought you meant for you."
"No, I haven't found anything I want you to buy me yet," he shrugs his shoulder, "but I remember Lane saying she wanted a Bowie picture disc. At your birthday party in Stars Hollow."
Her brows furrow further before she gasps in realization, "my thirty-third birthday party? Almost six years ago?"
"Uhhh, yeah. I think that's the one," he shrugs again, as though he's not being incredibly considerate, "crazy I haven't seen any since then. But, you know, vinyl is 'in' again so I'm sure they're reissuing a lot of old stuff. This one's vintage though, she'll love it."
Rory holds the record to her chest, and stares at him with an adoring look.
"Yes, she will love it," she says softly, "that is so thoughtful."
"It's just a record."
"It's so much more than that."
"Whatever you say," he sighs with a small smile, "I'm going to go check out the punk section again, see if I can find something cheaper than fifty bucks."
She giggles and follows him, "there is no dollar amount on my love for you! No limits. Whatever you want."
"Oh, I know. I heard you the first few times you said it," he mocks, "but someone has to limit you. Can't have you spending too much money on me. We still have important, and expensive, things to do with our lives, you know."
The look he gives her easily translates his unspoken words. She tries to hide the unbridled butterflies swarming in her stomach. And she once again chokes down the impulse to tell him everything she's been thinking about and putting in motion for those 'important' things to happen. He eyes her, and before he can read anything, she shakes her head and sighs.
"Okay, fine. Fifty dollars max. But don't try paying for food or drinks on the boat later either!"
He chuckles and turns to the bins of records.
"As you wish."
"Hey Jess, welcome back," Brandon greets him when they arrive at Truncheon later that day. Jess keeps Rory's hand in his but steps up and gives him a half hug.
"Thanks. Mind helping me put something up on the wall?"
"Sure, what is it?"
Jess turns to Rory who opens her bag with a pleased smile, handing him the gift she picked up from the rare book store earlier that day. He holds it up with a grin similar to a child receiving the number one gift on their Christmas list.
"It's a handwritten note from Charles Bukowski to his publisher from the 70s. She got for me from Bauman's Rare Books in Midtown," he hands it over to Brandon to look at.
"'Do you read this shit as it arrives? Depends, doesn't it?'" Brandon reads the first couple of lines and laughs as he reads the rest. He hands it back to Jess.
"That's perfect to put up in Truncheon."
"Really perfect. Totally our publishing vibe," he agrees looking it over again and then over at Rory, "I just know she spent way too much money it, but it's the coolest gift I've ever received."
"It wasn't that bad," she promises and then jokes, "I can at least afford rent for the next two months."
He chuckles, and kisses her head then releases her hand.
"I'll go grab the tools, be right back."
"That gift is fucking perfect for Jess."
"I thought so," Rory grins and nods, then looking around the shop she asks, "are Liam and Connor here?"
"No," Brandon shakes his head with a confused look, "are they supposed to be? I think he's off today."
"Well, we're supposed to pick them up. We're doing a boat trip for Jess's birthday, because Connor loves boats and Jess hates celebrating his birthday, but he loves Connor. So I had to combine these facts to force him to celebrate in a special way."
Brandon chuckles, "you do know him well. Anyway, no they aren't here, and I haven't heard from them. Do you want me to call Liam?"
"I have his number, it's okay. I'll shoot him a text. Thanks."
Jess returns and he and Brandon head off to hang the letter on the wall behind the register. Rory takes out her phone and sees a text from Liam already.
We can't get to Truncheon on time. Missed the train and the next isn't for almost half an hour…sorry.
"Shoot," she mutters, then walks to the register area where Jess is standing on a small ladder and hammering a nail.
"Hey, do either of you know where Liam lives?"
They both turn to her and Brandon nods.
"Yeah, he lives in the Bronx. Kinda near Yankee stadium."
Jess turns to him, "Highbridge?"
He nods in confirmation. Jess makes a face that Rory can't interpret or spend time interpreting.
"That sounds kinda far. They missed the train, and the next one won't be for half an hour. Do we have time to go pick them up and still make the boat?" she looks to Jess for an answer, and he can see that feeling from earlier start to rise in her again - that frustration with things not going properly. He looks at his watch and nods.
"Yep, as long as we leave right now," he steps down and pats Brandon on the shoulder, "mind putting that up for me?"
"No problem. You guys have fun."
"Thank you. I'll see you Monday?"
"See ya."
A little under thirty minutes later, they arrive in a neighborhood that's rough around the edges. Rory notices that Jess seems to know his way around, hardly looking at the GPS. Slowly they pull up to an old, unkempt looking rowhouse, and on the porch stand both Liam and Connor, and a woman in a lawn chair smoking a cigarette.
"Is that their mom?" Rory questions as Jess parks the car and unbuckles his seatbelt.
"I'm not sure, never met her before," he mumbles and puts his hand on the door handle, "I'll be right back. Lock the doors when I get out."
"Wait, if that's their mom I want to meet her! I've spent a lot of time with her kids, she should know who I am."
Jess gives her a look, "the chances of her being in any state of mind where she will remember meeting you tomorrow are slim. I would rather you stay in the car."
"Jess," she argues, unbuckling her own seatbelt, "I was in a warzone many times last year. I can get out of the car in a bad neighborhood. Besides, they have to live here. It's rude if I don't come."
He hangs his head and sighs.
"Alright, come on. Bring your purse."
She shakes her head but does as he says, he meets her on the other side of the car and takes her hand before walking up to the house.
"Sorry we missed the train," Liam mutters as he meets them on the steps up to the porch, "my mother couldn't find her house key and we had to help her look for it. It was in her fucking pocket, by the way."
Rory gives him a sympathetic smile, Jess pats him on the arm.
"It's no problem. Happy to pick you up. What's your mom's name?"
His eyes flit back to the woman in question, who is scrutinizing Jess and Rory from a few feet away.
"Nora."
Jess nods and walks up the remaining few steps to the porch.
"Hi Jess, hi Rory!" Connor exclaims, waving happily at them both.
"Hey kid, thanks for joining me to celebrate my birthday," Jess nods towards him with a smile, and then turns to their mother, "hi Nora. I'm Jess, and this is my girlfriend Rory."
Rory gives her a small nod, "it's nice to meet you."
The woman looks them over while taking another puff of her cigarette, she doesn't get up, but she gives them somewhat of a smile. Jess notices a case of beer cans near her chair.
"I've heard a lot about you both. These two seem to love you," she replies, pointing her head in the direction of Liam and Connor. The older brother huffs and looks away from the group.
"Your kids are great. Both of them," Jess nods in confirmation, "Liam is a hard worker and cares a lot about his job. And Connor is wonderful company, and very good at puzzles and Legos."
"Huh," she looks over at them, "Liam's teachers never said anything like that about him."
Liam rolls his eyes; Jess recognizes building irritation on his face.
"My teachers never said anything nice about me either," Jess shrugs, "and now I run my own publishing company and have written five books. And I have the means to hire someone to work for me as great as Liam. So. What teachers say doesn't always matter."
"My teachers say nice things about me," Connor says quietly, then turns to the woman, "right mom?"
She breathes out a cloud of smoke and runs a hand through her hair.
"Except for not being able to color in the lines, yes."
Jess breathes out a humorless chuckle, trying not to let his annoyance show, "I don't think something like that defines who he is as a person, or his intelligence."
She shrugs and turns to Rory, "and what do you do? You work for him too?"
"No. I'm a traveling journalist for the New York Times."
"Mhm, no wonder you two can take my kids to do nice things. You've got fancy jobs with fancy money I'm sure," she turns and takes a beer out of the case nearby, "probably grew up that way too. People with money usually come from it."
"Jesus, mom," Liam grumbles, "how would you like it if they said you must have come from a freaking trailer park because of the way you live now? Can you leave them alone? I know you pretended to lose your house key so you could meet them, and here they are. You've met them, you've judged them instead of thanking them for being nice to us, and you've annoyed the hell out of me. Let us leave."
She turns sharply to look at her son, and Jess slightly lifts his hand to stop Liam from going further. He turns to Connor and kneels down, "hey, do you have any soda here? I'm a little thirsty."
He nods adamantly, "we have orange soda."
"Perfect, do you mind bringing me some?"
He nods and runs off into the house. Jess stands and looks intently at Nora.
"You're wrong. I lived three blocks from here with my mother, who also often had cases of beer surrounding her. We lived here, and in any other shitty neighborhood she could manage to get into as a single mother with a drinking problem. I worked hard for what I have. None of it was handed to me. I see that potential in Liam and Connor too. Your kids can do amazing things, either with your support or in spite of the absence of it. As an adult who had that kind of childhood, I can tell you that the right side of that to take is supporting them. And I'm sure you've had a hard life too, people don't usually find themselves in these types of places without something difficult happening to them. But that doesn't define who Liam and Connor are, unless you force it to."
She stares back at him with a frown and hard eyes. Rory can't help looking at him in subdued surprise at his admission, and his strong words. Just then, Connor comes running back out with a can of soda and hands it to Jess. His intense look softens as he thanks him. He turns back to their mom with a forced smile.
"Thank you very much for letting them spend time with us. We will have them home by nine at the latest."
And with that, he starts to lead the pack off the porch. As they walk across the small bit of lawn, she calls out, "have fun. Hope you're planning to feed them too, keeping them out that late."
Before Jess can throw any dirty looks her way, Rory squeezes his hand and shouts back, "we will. Bye."
They all quickly get settled in the car, silently agreeing not to further discuss anything that just happened. Jess starts the vehicle and turns around in his seat to look back and forth between the boys.
"All buckled in?"
They both nod, Connor much more enthusiastically than Liam. Jess doesn't press him, or give him any soothing words, because he knows exactly how he feels. He turns back around and pulls away from the house.
"Great, let's find us a boat."
Connor gasps, "we don't have a boat yet?!"
"Nope! Any ideas on where we can find one?"
The air in the car shifts to playful thanks to Jess, and Rory looks over at him from the passenger seat with a tiny smile of reverence. He meets her eyes at a red light and throws her a wink; his right hand moves from the steering wheel to quickly squeeze her leg before putting it back. Despite the tension felt on that porch moments ago, she's suddenly lit up with dreamlike thoughts of Jess being like this with their children one day. Sweet, silly and protective.
"Um, we need to find some water," Connor contemplates in the backseat, "there will probably be boats there."
"That's a great suggestion, a boat on land wouldn't be much use to us," Jess briefly looks at Liam in the mirror, and carefully prods, "you have any ideas Liam?"
It's quiet for a moment, and even though Jess now has his eyes locked on the road, he just knows Liam has an annoyed look on his face.
"Yes," he finally responds, "we can go get on the boat that Rory booked us tickets for that's docked in Manhattan."
The response is smart, but Jess can't help laughing.
"That's a great suggestion too. Alright, let's do that."
He looks in the mirror again and catches the faintest twitch of Liam's mouth towards a smile. He looks back to the road with a secret smile of his own.
...
That night when they bring them home after dinner, Rory doesn't argue with Jess about staying in the car. She watches out the window as he walks them to the door of their house and waits until they are both inside before turning around to walk back. His hands are in his pockets and his eyes are trained on the ground in front of him in thought. He steps up to the car and pulls the door open, looking incredulously at Rory as he sits behind the wheel.
"You were supposed to lock the doors."
"Sorry," she apologizes with a faint smile, "I was distracted by your thoughtfulness. Everything okay in the house?"
He sighs and shrugs, turning to put his seatbelt on.
"Nora's asleep on the couch or passed out drunk more likely. But they didn't seemed phased by it. I waited by the door to make sure I heard them lock it."
She gives him a sympathetic smile and places a comforting hand on his leg.
"That was a fun few hours though, right?"
He looks over at her with a grateful grin and nods.
"It was. Connor had a blast."
"I hope he's not the only one."
His grin turns into a smirk, and he leans over to place a lustful kiss on her mouth.
"He's not."
She smiles wide, "good."
He turns back to the road and pulls away from the house. When he pulls up to the next stop sign, he looks around and decides to turn right. Rory watches curiously but silently as he navigates in a different direction than their home. Within a few minutes, he stops the car in front of a dilapidated looking high-rise building. She looks up at it and then over at him, and based on the look on his face, she can guess what this is.
"Are you okay?" she asks quietly, careful not to overwhelm him. His eyes move from the building to meet hers; she finds something like fear and disturbance in his look. Gently, she places a hand on his face and is glad to see his features soften.
"I lived in this building with Liz for…four years I think. From age eight to twelve I want to say."
She swallows before asking, "is this where she gave you the rum and coke?"
His mouth tightens and he shakes his head, "this was the place after that place. That time that I took her twenty dollar bill and used it for groceries and she got mad, that happened here."
She bites her lip.
"Do you have any good memories here?"
Ever so softly, his mouth lifts up and his head quirks to the side.
"I do. I got my first official library card when we moved in here. It's one of the few really pleasant memories I have with Liz. She took me to the local library almost right away and let me pick out as many books as I wanted. She was…somewhat normal for a while when we first moved in. Happy I think because this place was nicer than where we lived before, and more of a community. I remember her making friends with our neighbors right away, which became a blessing for me to have other adults to go to sometimes."
She listens to all of his words and takes in his myriad of emotions about reliving these memories. She thinks about their evening, about who Jess is as a person to others. About the insecurities that he hasn't exactly spelled out for her, but that she sees in him anyway.
She says softly, "Now you're one of those safe adults for Connor. And Liam. And you were for Brandon too. Any one you know that needs someone to turn to, can count on you."
They are words he hasn't heard so plainly said before, and the depth of purpose he feels catches him by surprise. And Rory is also surprised to hear his somewhat uncertain sounding question of,
"You think so?"
"Yes," she answers instantly, "there's no question about it, Jess."
He searches her eyes, and then in his very Jess way, half smiles and nods in acceptance. He looks around the area and puts the car in gear as he mumbles, "we should get out of here. I've seen tires stolen off cars here with people still in them."
"Tires? Why would people steal tires?"
He chuckles, "you're precious."
She makes a face but lets it go, leaning over to kiss his shoulder.
"Thank you for taking me there."
His hand finds hers and he lifts it to his mouth as he drives.
"Thank you for reminding me that there were good memories too," he mumbles against her skin, "that stuff gets lost in the haze of it all sometimes."
They sleep in late the next day, the day she's leaving for Europe. He wakes first with a soft inhale; he turns to his side to see Rory sleeping on her stomach, her mouth open and a little bit of drool pooling on her pillow. He smirks and carefully leans over to get his phone off of the table beside his side of the bed. Quickly and silently, he snaps a picture. Because it's adorable, and also hilarious, and it will be nice to have something like that to look at in the mornings over the next month. He catches the time as he puts his phone back down, surprised that they slept past ten in the morning. He doesn't want to wake her up, but he also doesn't want to waste any more of the day they have together.
While he will openly admit now that he enjoyed the book tour, he hated not being around her. When she called him about this work trip, he tried to pretend to not be too bothered by it. But he was. Two days is not enough between months, and even though he really enjoyed the activities of the previous day, it drastically cut down on his alone time with Rory. He is forever proud of her and her work, but there are times that he wishes he could either travel with her or that she would stay home. He was happy with his life before they got back together years ago. Compared to now, however, that time in his life seems much less bright. And it's all because of her presence.
With that thought in mind, he sweeps his hand in a cherishing motion from her hair down to her chin. When that doesn't stir her, he whispers her name and plants soft kisses on her head. Her eyes finally open, and she slowly starts to turn to sit up in bed. She brings a hand to her mouth, and looks over at him, furious blush on her face.
"I drooled."
He tries to tame his smirk, but its ineffective.
"You did. I think a fish could live on your pillow."
Her jaw drops and she playfully hits his chest with the back of her hand.
"That was mean!"
"Not at all," he insists, pulling her face to his. He stops when their eyes are close together, and she can't see his mouth, but suddenly she feels his tongue on the corner of her lips. She jerks her head back.
"What was that?! I was expecting a kiss not whatever that was!"
"There was a little dry patch there," he shrugs with his hands in the air, "I was just trying to fix it for you."
She makes a face, "that is so gross and also mortifying."
"I think it's so cute when you drool."
"That's not normal."
"I never claimed to be such a thing."
His words cause her displeased demeanor to crumble, and he gets the satisfaction of seeing her attempting to not smile.
"Well, that's good. Because you're not," she throws the covers off the bed and scoots to its edge, "excuse me while I go shower and definitely wash my face."
"Can I join?" he asks, as he too gets out of bed. She turns to shut him down, solely because of her period, but is caught off guard by his bare chest, his handsome bedhead hair and his shorts falling low enough that she can see the lines below his stomach forming that beautiful V she loves. She opens and closes her mouth, finally deciding on, "okay."
He grins and follows behind her to their bathroom, taking his shorts and underwear off while she starts the shower. He watches her as she starts to remove her clothes.
"Can you turn around?" she asks timidly, thumbs fingering the top of her shorts. He lifts an eyebrow but turns away from her to face the bathroom door. She quickly takes her sleep shorts off, bundling them up and kicking them across the room so he doesn't see her pad.
"Okay, you can turn back," she says over her shoulder, opening the shower door and stepping inside. He chuckles to himself and turns back to join her, opening the glass. He steps inside and almost immediately has her pressed up against the wall of the shower, streams of hot water hitting one side of their bodies. His body has hers caged in, but all of his touches are gentle. His hands holding her face, then down her arms and to her hips. His tongue softly nudging against her lips for entrance, which he knows she is hesitant to give him since they just woke up. But eventually she gives in, and finds herself swept up in a soft, passionate kiss.
She feels him growing hard against her leg, and most unexpectedly to Jess, she places her hand on it and tries to guide it to her other lips. He pushes back slightly.
"Aren't you bleeding?"
"We're in the shower," she says in a quiet but affected voice, "it doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you."
"It never bothers me, unless it doesn't feel good for you," he looks between her eyes and mouth. She bites her lip and shrugs one shoulder, "let's try."
"Okay," he nods, "We'll try. I do owe you an orgasm anyway."
She looks at him in confusion.
"Orgasms for number of months gone, remember? I never forget, even if I don't say it."
She blinks, her whole body overcome with an even deeper desire now. She completely forgot about that playful tradition, which started that night they spent together before she left for her first trip. But as she thinks back over the years, he sure did keep that promise; even on trips that lasted longer than expected, he always made up for it when she came home.
In a throaty plead she says, "I really want you."
He takes her in once more, making sure that she's sure, and then carefully puts his arm under one of her legs, holding her up and open to him. He slowly pushes himself into her tight entrance, taking his time and watching her face. Once he is halfway in, discomfort passes over her features though she tries to hide it with a moan. He shakes his head and slowly pulls out of her.
"I'll be right back," he kisses her once and leaves her with a confused look in the shower. He doesn't bother drying off or anything, trekking water across the bedroom floor as he goes to his nightstand to find lubricant. He covers himself with it while walking back to the shower, bringing the bottle with him just in case. He steps back inside with a smile and sets it down on a shower shelf. He stands in front of her again, lifting up her leg, and this time he smoothly slips inside. She lifts her arms and wraps them tightly around his neck.
"Jess," she moans, and this time he can tell it's genuine. He presses his lips to hers while pushing in and out of her. His body rubs against hers with every motion, and he can feel her legs shaking in response.
"You were just going to let me hurt you, huh?" he whispers with a shake of his head as they break apart from kissing, "that is the complete opposite of what turns me on, remember?"
Her head is hazy, and she looks back at him in confusion as he gets deeper inside her.
"I need you to take care of yourself," he leans forward, words coming out on a grunt in her ear, "because I need you be around for a long time, much longer than me."
Her skin pebbles all over at his words; her nails dig into his upper back.
"I like it when you take care of me," she confesses in a trembling whisper, body wound tight and dancing at the edge of a pleasurable cliff, "I know I fight it sometimes, but I really like it."
"Oh fuck," he groans, and he latches his mouth onto her neck, "I know, baby. And I always will."
He fills her as completely as he can. He moves his free hand in between their bodies, finding and circling her swollen clit with his thumb while he holds himself in place. Her legs shake harder, and she whimpers his name as she succumbs to his movements. He stays still, holding her upright while he enjoys the feeling of her squeezing him all over and watches her face as it goes through every phase of pleasure. When her body feels stable in his arms again, he resumes thrusting in and out. The grip around his erection is even more intense than before, and it only takes him a few motions before he's finishing inside her; wet bodies pressed close together and slippery limbs holding on for dear life as they both shake.
He leans his head on her shoulder as he catches his breath. He feels her lips on his face and his jaw, placing tender kisses all over. He hums at the nice feeling and presses his lips against her shoulder before pulling back and slowly pulling out of her. She can't resist the urge to immediately look down, and he sees her whole face turn pink at the sight of red tinted water heading towards the drain. Her eyes slowly lift from the floor and up his body, and she gasps.
"You're a mess," she points between his hips. He doesn't look down, instead grabs a shower loofah and puts soap on it. He distracts her with kisses as he scrubs between her legs for her, and then between his own. He tosses it on the floor of the shower, wraps his arms tightly around her waist and pulls her close for a deep kiss.
"You feel okay after that?" he asks softly, gazing into her eyes with sincerity, "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
She shakes her head, "I feel great."
"Good," his grin glows with warmth, "that's the only way I ever want you to feel."
She bites at her cheek as her lips twist into a half smile, "That's humanly impossible."
He holds her face with both of his hands.
"That doesn't mean I will ever stop trying."
...
They depart at the airport hours later, after a lazy day together around their home. Eating, reading and just enjoying each other's company. She had mentioned the day before that she had been regularly journaling for herself again. And upon their separation at the security line, Jess stuffed what she thought was a brand new journal in her backpack in case she fills hers up during her travels. But after she gets through security and sits waiting at her gate, she decides to open it up and see what kind of journal it is (she prefers college ruled, but sometimes he likes totally blank pages), and gasps in warm surprise when she sees that this it's the Fez journal. And it's already mostly full of his own personal thoughts. He is not rigid about dating his work, so she has to read through a few pages to see when this is from. Her eyes water as she sees that most of these words were written while she was traveling last year. Her heart both swells and aches at the stark honesty of his inner thoughts; the depth of his love for her, the cavernous abyss of his fears. He writes of the various devastations he felt afraid of besides death; her getting hurt, being assaulted, getting arrested. Something happening that would stop them from being able to have a family. But he also writes of how proud he felt of her and what she was doing. How her love of writing and love for humanity led her down this path that is often surrounded by tragedy and disarray. How he loves talking about her to his friends, his coworkers, his sister especially - because he wants Doula to believe in herself, and he thinks she is a great role model for that.
The flight has started boarding, the calling of group numbers is a distant echo of sound as she pores over as many of his words as she can before boarding the flight. Her eyes leave wet marks on various pages, her fingers rub across statements of love and passion. She flips to the last entries she can find. She sees the words he read in Rhode Island, and there are a few more pages after that filled with his thoughts about her on the road, and his thoughts about his own traveling. Finally, she finds the last entry. There is writing on one page, and on the page next to it, he has taped a picture of her. It's from the very first trip she took with the Times, when she went to Morocco. It's in her old apartment, since he didn't take her to the airport that time. She stands in her tiny living room, suitcase in hand, backpack hanging off one shoulder. It was February, but she was traveling to a warmer place, so she wears only a light jacket over top of a plain t-shirt and leggings. She has a scarf wrapped around her neck, and the biggest smile on her face (which was there thanks to Jess and his encouraging words). She wipes her eyes to clear her vision, and she sees that this entry is dated with today's date - June 11th, 2023:
Remember this day? Leaving for your very first work trip. You were having doubts and didn't think you'd be able to get on the plane if I took you to the airport. Look how far you've come. How far we've come. You are forever brave and beautiful. And can I tell you a secret? Sometimes I have to remember to be brave too. When I watch you walk away from me to board a plane somewhere far out of my reach. When I know you're in a place much less safe than home with me. And do you know what I think of, to give me the courage to be that brave?
I think of you.
Two days together after months apart could never be enough time. Though you did make these two days incredibly special; thank you for that. I wanted to give you something special too, because even though I know you love your job, I also know it's hard for you to leave sometimes.
Knowing that you're reading these words that I wrote down to help me stay strong and sane, will make us feel a little bit closer than thousands of miles away, I think.
I love you. Stay brave, so I can too.
Tears fall down her face; her smile is so broad it's starting to hurt. She practically jumps out of her skin when she hears her name called over a loudspeaker. Hurriedly, she grabs her carryon and her coffee, holding the journal tight to her chest. She manages to check in at the gate, and rushes onto the plane. She thinks about Jess, and how extra open he has been with her and other people lately. He has slowly and steadily over time seemed to learn that putting himself out there to people that care for him deeply is never a bad idea. And she finds it sweetly serendipitous that he is sharing these insights with her now, when she has just put in for her transfer to local reporting, and there is a good chance that she will come home with life-changing news for them both.
The hope for that change has exacerbated into a desperation, because she needs to come back with promises of starting their family and spending more of their lives together. She will speak her desires out at 11:11, she will wish on a shooting star. She hopes they have dandelions in The Netherlands so she can ask it for a phone call or email from the New York Times during her trip, and she will blow it's petals off with all of her might. Because their feelings for each other are magnitudinous, and it is time to do something more with that.
As the plane starts to taxi, she takes her phone out and clicks on his name in her messages. She takes a breath.
Jess. You're forever brave and beautiful too.
She sends that, and then without giving too much away she says:
It won't always be this way.
I love you so much, and I'll be counting the days until I'm home again.
Another reminder to read/re-read "We'll Always Have Paris" now :)
I am very excited for this next part of their lives. hope you are too. xoxo