Chapter Text
Chapter One
Jess
Jess wakes to an alarm on his phone, one he’s set to vibrate underneath his pillow. Living with several roommates with varied schedules has taught him the art of respecting others, something he definitely didn’t care about the last time he was staying in Luke’s old place.
The early morning sun casts light across the apartment, and he eases out of bed, tiptoeing across the cold floor toward the bathroom to do his business. Once done, he slips on well-worn jeans over his boxers and throws on a t-shirt and one of Luke’s soft flannels. He’s wearing the uniform with nostalgia and without irony this time.
Then, he peeks in on his temporary roommate who is still asleep in Luke’s old bed, quilt and sheets wrapped around her slender form. Her dark hair is a cascade of curls over the pillow. Her breathing remains even and slow, and he wonders again why she’s here.
Well, he knows the logical reason. People came in town for Luke and Lorelai’s wedding and needed a place to sleep. And when she looked at him with those big blue eyes and asked to stay in the apartment, he couldn’t say no. There was something there – some bit of sadness that overwrote the excitement about the chapters she wrote. He doesn’t know what to make of that sadness.
A part of him aches to climb in bed with her and pull her into his arms, but the last time he touched her, really held her, he’d been too blinded by his own emotions to hear that it wasn’t what she wanted. He isn’t about to make that mistake again. He doesn’t regret much, but over the years, that is one misstep his mind and heart refuses to forgive. He knows that is one reason of many that there is an unspoken wall between them, no matter how friendly they are with each other.
So, he does something he knows she loves – a gesture that’s equivalent to the ultimate Gilmore girl love language.
He starts a pot of coffee in the kitchen, his hand adjusting the filter in place and fingers pushing the button to grind the beans. As the water drips and then flows into the carafe, the scent of Luke’s blend fills the small space and beckons forth a sleepy Rory.
She runs a hand through her hair and sways a little like she’s just getting her bearings. She offers him a half-smile that doesn’t touch her eyes. “Hey.”
“Hey.” His heart beats a little harder in his chest at the sight of her, and he wonders, not for the first time, if this is what their mornings together would be like in another timeline.
“You made coffee,” she observes, yawning at the tail end of the statement.
“I did. Want some?”
She stares at the coffee pot for a beat too long. “Sure. Maybe half a cup.”
“Hungover?” He tries to remember if he saw her drinking at the wedding, and he draws a blank. Doula and his mom kept him occupied on the dance floor most of the reception. He isn’t much of a dancer, but his little sister keeps him on his toes. He can’t resist the sparkle in Doula’s eyes, something he hasn’t seen in Rory’s eyes much at all since he’s been back around.
She huffs a soft noise of amusement. “Not hungover.”
He pulls a mug out of the cabinet for her and decides to chance it. “What’s with the half a cup?” He pours some and passes the drink over.
Her fingers graze his as she takes the beverage from him. She folds both hands around the ceramic and inhales, her lips taking in a small sip. She meets his eyes for the briefest of seconds and then her gaze flits away. “I’m pregnant.”
Jess isn’t surprised by a lot of things, but this news coupled with the electricity he feels with her touch take him aback. He holds back a flinch, remaining steady on the outside. “Oh yeah?”
She nods, her eyes seeking his again. “Yeah.”
He almost asks whether she should be having any coffee, but he has a long list of things he does that he shouldn’t do. He still has the occasional cigarette or three over drinks with friends, and he has a bad habit of not caring enough about the women he semi-dates, especially since he’s seen Rory again. “Anything I can do?”
He catches the hint of tears in her eyes, but she shakes her head. “No.” She bites her lip. “Do you mind if I stay here for a while? I mean, just while Mom and Luke are on their honeymoon?”
He leans back on the kitchen counter, his palms pressing onto the smooth granite. “Aren’t you taking care of Paul Anka while they’re gone?”
Her tears are gone, and Jess wonders if he imagined them as she says, “I was, but Sookie and Jackson are thinking of adopting a dog again now that the kids are older, and they want to borrow him to see if the kids are responsible enough to take care of him. Mom gave Sookie the binder with all his foibles laid out.” She tilts her head as if contemplating something. “I’m honestly not sure how taking care of Paul Anka will be a typical dog experience.”
“That sounds like a recipe for potential disaster,” he says out of the side of his mouth.
He’s rewarded with a small smile. “Don’t worry. Sookie promised to pick up the slack if the kids drop the ball.”
A few seconds pass, and Jess concludes, “Well, then, I guess you can stay.”
She clenches the mug, her knuckles going white. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
“I’ll be right downstairs, filling in for Luke. If you need anything.”
Her grip loosens, and she nods at his flannel shirt. “He left you a uniform?”
Jess gazes down at the blue and yellow flannel. “It was hanging in the closet. Figured it would be reassuring for the customers to see a member of the Danes family in the customary Luke’s Diner owner attire.”
“You mean, it’ll reassure Kirk.” She takes another sip.
Jess laughs. “Luke didn’t leave many instructions beyond delivery times and rules about the Wifi, but he left a front and back page full of instructions about how to handle Kirk. The uniform was on the list.”
“I bet he did.”
Jess’s alarm goes off again in his jeans pocket – the second one he set in case he sleeps through the first one. He pulls out the device and shuts it off. “I better go down. What are you going to do?”
She glances back at the overnight bag she brought with her. “Write.”
Jess has a million questions he wants to ask, but he knows better than to press now. “Good.”
* * *
Logan
Logan is longing for something. He isn’t sure quite what. All he knows is that ever since he said goodbye to Rory for the final time, he’s had this sense that something isn’t right.
It’s like he has a pebble in his shoe, but when he takes off the offending footwear and searches inside, nothing is there.
The feeling is particularly keen at night after a long day at the office. Maybe because all his defenses are down, and he’s forced to reckon with himself, especially if Odette is out of town.
Today was particularly tedious with people on one continent disgruntled with people on a different continent, and everyone was in different time zones with different pressures. One thing that Logan hates about management is being the one in the middle in charge of sorting out the mess and making things works. He’s better than his father at it. His father bulldozes his way in and makes executive decisions without consulting either side, leaving ruffled feathers in his wake. And these are the feathers that Logan is tasked with unruffling.
It doesn’t help that one of the most ruffled set of feathers belongs to the husband of one of his father’s many mistresses.
Logan steps onto the elevator in his apartment building, pushing the penthouse button with one hand while loosening his tie with the other.
Maybe that’s what is bothering Logan the most. He’s not married, so Rory technically wasn’t his mistress, but maybe there’s something in being almost like his father that leaves Logan unsettled.
And that doesn’t matter because his. . . Vegas with Rory is over, and he’s getting married in a month.
The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Part of him hopes that Odette isn’t home from her trip to Paris yet. He can’t face her, not after having to face his father’s indiscretions once again.
He slides the key in the lock and enters the apartment. The lights are off like he left them early this morning when he left for work in the dark. The evening darkness is heavy with silence and the cool rush of air from the heat being lowered.
Relief washes over him along with a subsequent wave of guilt that he shoves away.
He lets the door shut behind him, locking it and stepping out of his shoes. He pulls off his tie, throwing it onto the back of the sofa. Shedding his overcoat, he goes to the hall closet to hang it up, and when he flips on the closet light, he is greeted by the harsh light shining down on the boxes Rory stowed there.
He’s honestly surprised Odette hasn’t found them even though she’s moved in. With her own large walk-in closet, she probably hasn’t had reason to dig through the hall closet for more space.
What does that say about him that Rory’s things are still here with him?
His heart aches, and he feels dizzy with how much he misses her and wants to reach out. But he can’t. Tears march forward, but he banishes them, scolding them into submission.
He’s pathetic. Rory isn’t even here, and he’s acting like he’s still in college and pining for her after their undiscussed break up at the bar when he was drunk and jealous of her ex.
He’s not allowed to go down that path again. Not now. She told him that she had to get him home, and they kissed goodbye for good.
He hangs his coat in a hurry, shutting the door a little too hard and flicking off the light. He rests his palm on the wood and closes his eyes.
He’s marrying someone perfectly suitable for his family and his life, and in the past, he would have bucked up hard against it. But now? He’s in a different place than when he was twenty-five years old. He’s ready to settle down. He wants a family, maybe a couple of kids, a life where things are boringly predictable. No matter how much he misses the adventure, misses her, he knows the fantasy is not reality, and he’s no longer a kid with his head in the clouds and his heart on his sleeve.
Plus, he doesn’t hate Odette. He actually cares about her. It’s not love, not yet. But it could be one day. Maybe.
He vows to mail Rory’s belongings to Stars Hollow. Speaking of pathetic, he still has Rory’s mom’s address stored in his phone even now. Maybe after he ships all the boxes, he’ll delete it and let himself get swept up in the life he has to focus on – the only one he has.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls the device out, hoping the text isn’t from work because he’s more than done with the sniping.
It isn’t much better that the text is from Odette.
“Mon cheri, I will be home tomorrow. I was able to book the caterer we wanted. Can’t wait to see you.”
Logan winces. He shouldn’t be thinking of Rory, not when he has someone else who deserves his whole heart.
He tries, his fingers typing a message that is insufficient. He can’t bring himself to hit enter. Not yet.
Instead, he throws his cell on the sofa to join his tie and heads to the bathroom, turning on the hot water, undressing, and stepping into the stream before it has a chance to heat up. He lets the cold liquid wash over him, overriding any sadness he feels and allowing him to tuck away his memories of his last time in Stars Hollow.
He doesn’t want to picture her blue eyes lighting with joy at seeing him, doesn’t want to remember her taking his hand and diving into the evening with him, doesn’t want to recall the warmth of her body against his as he slid deep inside of her for the last time.
He shivers as he washes his hair and runs a washcloth over his body.
The shower isn’t distraction enough.
In frustration, he steps out of the shower after five minutes, grabs a towel, and dries off. Goosebumps fly over his arms and legs, and he dresses in his warmest pajama pants and a t-shirt before adjusting the thermostat to a warmer temperature.
The bed greets him, and as he pulls the sheets and blanket over his body, he makes an executive decision that thinking about Rory was solely because he was faced once again with his father’s infidelity. He tries to imagine his mother and how sad she always was when she knew his father was engaged in dalliances with the woman of the month. He was little, but he knew what was happening. He remembers his mother’s tears and the endless number of cigarettes she smoked to try to hide them.
He can’t do that to Odette.
And most of all, he can’t be his father. He has to focus on what’s real and that is the woman who shares his bed, the woman he’s marrying. He just has to learn to ignore the pebble in his shoe, no matter how much it insists that it’s there.
Plus, Rory could have stopped him, and she didn’t. If Logan is honest with himself, she was right. The wild ride had to end.