Gilmore Girls 1. Chapter 1

Rory Gilmore was exhausted—physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. She figured she could think of some more adverbs to describe how exhausted she was if only she weren't so exhausted. What she really wanted to do was put on a pair of comfy pajamas and curl up under the covers in her bed in Stars Hollow, covers that wouldn't smell like industrial-strength motel detergent, and sleep for the next eleven days. She didn't want to see or talk to anybody: not her mother, not her friends, nobody. She wanted to hibernate.

Yet here she was at the Gilmores' annual Christmas party.

When her grandmother had called her on the campaign trail to announce that, rather than the usual two weeks before Christmas, they had decided to hold the party on December 22 when she would be back in Connecticut, Rory had tried to sound enthused. Or at least she had tried to hide her disappointment in not being able to avoid the event this year. She wasn't in much of a holiday mood.

"_That's really nice of you, Grandma," Rory had said from the bus, somewhere in Texas (or was it Oklahoma?). "But I don't want you to go to any trouble to change the date for me."_

"_Don't be silly. It's no trouble at all," Emily replied. "We want to celebrate the holidays with our only granddaughter in attendance. And I'm sure all the ladies from the DAR will love to hear about your campaign adventures."_

"_But you usually don't include them for your Christmas party. Isn't it just a few of your close friends?"_

"_Not this year. We've decided to go all out with a big celebration to welcome you home! We've seen so little of you since you left."_

"_Grandma, I don't need a welcome home celebration. It's just a job. You do realize I'm not the one running for president, right? I'm just reporting on the campaign."_

_Emily sighed. "Of course I realize that. Honestly, Rory, you sound just like Lorelai..."_

In the end, there was no getting out of it. Rory's flight had landed in Hartford at two that afternoon. She went home to Stars Hollow for a shower, put on the new midnight blue dress Lorelai had picked out for her (life on the campaign bus didn't leave much time to shop for Emily Gilmore-approved attire), and headed back to Hartford for the party.

She had spent the last hour and thirteen minutes, not that she was counting or anything, explaining life on the campaign trail to some of her grandparents' guests. _No, she hasn't spoken to the senator in person, although she did interview him last year when he visited Yale. No, she hasn't met Mrs. Obama, but she expects to get some time with her next month. Yes, it is quite hectic going from campaign stop to campaign stop._ When Lucy Faxton-Field, with a rather pointed expression on her face, asked if she'd met any eligible young men, Rory had sidestepped the question and excused herself to the bathroom. She knew what Lucy had really wanted to ask, and she wasn't ready for it. She didn't want to answer any questions about him.

After she left the powder room, Rory found herself seeking solace in Richard's study. Books were good. Books didn't ask questions she didn't want to answer. Questions she _couldn't _answer. The door to the study was open and the lights were on, so she figured it wasn't explicitly off-limits to guests. That would be Rory's argument should Emily catch her hiding in here.

She sat down in the leather armchair near the bookshelves, telling herself she just needed a break. Then, she'd plaster the fake smile on her face and pretend to be holly-jolly until ten o'clock rolled around. She'd promised her mother she'd stay until then. (_"If I have to be tortured for three hours, so do you. Need I remind you of the many hours of labor I endured?"_) The clock on the wall read 8:25. Rory sighed, wondering if anyone will notice if she stayed in the study until something like 9:45.

The truth was, Rory didn't feel like pretending to be holly-jolly and actually _being_ holly-jolly was out of the question. As good as it was to see her family and friends after nearly seven months on the road, she had been dreading the holidays. She couldn't think about Christmas this year without thinking of Christmas last year. She hadn't realized it at the time, but those two weeks in Europe alone with Logan, free from the distractions of their family and friends, school, and the newspapers, both Yale and Huntzberger-owned, had been the best two weeks of her life. She was truly happy. _They_ were truly happy. They had weathered the long-distance thing and gotten past her insecurity about Bobbi, the fight over Rory's article about the launch party, and the whole Marty debacle. They were solid, together and in love. But that was before. Before Rory's uncertainty about her post-college life had kicked in. Before her parents' hasty marriage had flamed out. Before Logan's business disaster and his break from his father's company. Before the out-of-the-blue marriage proposal.

Before everything got so royally screwed up.

Rory quickly wiped a lone tear from her cheek. She couldn't start crying now, not here. Crying at her grandparent's Christmas party was a violation of the rules. Crying over Logan was permitted only in the shower or, on the rare night when she didn't have to share her motel room with a roommate, in bed late at night. Although she'd become friendly with some of the other reporters, she wasn't close enough to anyone to share the sad saga of Rory and Logan. That meant the tears remained hidden.

"Shit," Rory whispered as another tear escaped. She picked up her glass and swallowed the watered down remains of her cocktail. If she weren't driving, she might think about getting drunk. Maybe that would make her feel better. Or at least make her feel nothing at all.

* * *

As soon as he arrived at the Gilmore house, Logan realized he may have made a huge mistake. Once his father had suggested he accompany Shira and him that evening, Logan's desire to see Rory had become overwhelming. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about seeing her before Mitchum mentioned the party. He thought about that every day, imagining any number of scenarios where they might be reunited. It's just that they were fantasies. Deep down, he knew Rory wasn't going to appear on his doorstep, and he wouldn't bump into her at the dry cleaners around the corner from his office or find himself seated beside her in first class on one of his business trips. The Gilmore Christmas party was a real opportunity to make contact with the one person whom he hadn't been able to push out of his mind since he moved to California.

Now that he was here, a terrible thought occurred to him. What if Rory hadn't come alone? Just because he had found it impossible to move on, that the idea of being with someone new was inconceivable to him, didn't mean that Rory hadn't. She was beautiful, intelligent, witty, sweet—everything that any man in his right mind could want. He certainly had. He still did. Logan didn't think he could bear seeing her on another man's arm.

For a second, he considered slipping back out the front door. Surely his parents' driver would take him home before returning to wait for Mitchum and Shira. He could get out before anyone, particularly any Gilmores, noticed his presence. He turned to ask for his overcoat from the coat-check girl, but a voice in his head stopped him.

"_Mate," Finn had said on his last visit to California in late September. "Pull yourself together. Either call her or go out and find some random blonde and get back to being Logan Huntzberger. But do something. I don't think I can take another minute of mopey Logan."_

Logan had been angered by Finn's comments at the time, but maybe he was right. Logan needed to do something. If Rory had moved on, he needed to know. He grabbed a scotch from the bartender and a couple of hors d'oeuvres from a passing tray as he scanned the crowd for the familiar brunette. He didn't see her, but he spotted Lorelai and a bored Luke in the corner of the living room. Logan ducked into the hallway before making eye contact. While Lorelai likely could solve the mystery of Rory's location, she was the last person he wanted to talk to. He could only imagine what she'd have to say to him.

A glance through the back windows showed a darkened pool house, so Logan headed to the other logical place where Rory might be. When he found her sitting (alone, thankfully) in Richard's study, his first glimpse of her in almost seven months, Logan felt as if his heart stopped. She was so beautiful. The chair was angled away from the door, allowing him to study her unseen unless she turned her head toward the doorway. He might have stayed there all night, just drowning in the sight of her as he desperately tried to think of an opening line, if he hadn't noticed her brush her cheek, as if she were wiping away a tear. He never could stand to see her cry.

He took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

"You know, Ace, you've really messed up on the concept of a sub-party here."

Rory's head whipped toward the door. For a second, she thought she was imagining things, that she'd drunk more than she'd realized, or that she had finally, completely, lost it. The men in the white coats would be arriving momentarily.

"You need more than one person for a sub-party," Logan said. "And, from the looks of your glass, significantly more alcohol."


	2. Chapter 2

"Logan." Rory's voice was barely above a whisper. "What...how...why..."

Logan smirked. "You forgot _who_, _where_, and _when_. That's basic high-school journalism. I know you can do better than that."

"I just...I didn't know you were going to be here," Rory said, regaining some of her composure. _Although, _she thought, _it was classic Emily Gilmore to invite Logan without telling her. No wonder she was so anxious for Rory to attend. _

"Well, don't tell anybody," Logan said as he crossed the room to sit against the edge of Richard's desk, his legs extended in front of him. "But I crashed the party."

"How very Vince Vaughn of you."

"Really? I'd have thought it be more Owen Wilson. You know, with the blond hair and all."

"Your nose is too straight to be Owen Wilson."

"True." Logan shrugged. "My parents were coming. Dad suggested I tag along."

Rory's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That raises so many questions. First of all, I didn't realize my grandparents and your parents had put an end to the Hartford version of the Hatfields versus the McCoys."

"Oh, come on, Ace. The Hatfields and McCoys? _Please._ They were far too common for any comparison to Hartford society. It was much more Capulets and Montagues."

Rory nodded. "Oh, right. My mistake. I thought that feud had been going on since that DAR benefit I planned."

"Seems global warming has melted the glacier and they're friends again. Unless it's a Christmas miracle," Logan said with a smirk.

"Hmm, maybe. And you're speaking to your father?" Rory asked.

"It appears so. I'm home for Christmas, anyway, thanks to Honor's begging. She really laid on the guilt about my missing Thanksgiving. Of course she neglected to mention she and Josh won't be joining us at the Huntzberger abode until Christmas Eve."

"How is Honor?"

"She's great. They're expecting a baby in the spring."

"Oh, really? That's fantastic. Tell them I said congratulations," Rory said. "Or...well, maybe Honor won't want to hear anything from me..."

"I'll tell her," Logan said.

An awkward silence enveloped the room as they studied each other. Rory was surprised at how much Logan looked like, well, Logan. For some reason, she had imagined he'd look different, perhaps more California surfer dude than Connecticut blue blood. If anything, he looked more respectable than ever, with his hair just slightly longer, yet less artfully mussed, than the last time she'd seen him. It made him appear more serious, more grown up, than the college boy she'd fallen in love with more than two years ago.

"So," Rory said.

Logan smiled. "That's supposed to be my line," he said. "You look good, Rory."

Rory shook her head. "I look tired, but thank you for lying."

"I don't see that. But even tired, you're still the most beautiful girl in the room."

She snorted. "Logan, I'm the only girl in the room."

"You know what I mean, Ace. Any room."

Rory felt her cheeks warm under his intense gaze and glanced down at her hands. She needed to change the subject. "How's California? The new job?"

"The job is going well. Very well, in fact," Logan said. He walked to the shelves closer to Rory's chair and pretended to study the books. "My hours are insane, though, so I haven't really seen a whole lot of California. I may as well be in Peoria."

"Um, no. Having been to both California and Peoria this year, I can definitely say they are nothing alike."

Logan shrugged and turned toward her. "I just meant that I've mostly seen the tiny part of California that lies between my place and the office."

"I find that hard to believe, but in the absence of any sun-kissed blond highlights, I'll have to take your word for it."

"How's life with the Obama campaign?"

Rory was surprised—and, yes, if she were honest, pleased—that Logan knew what she'd been doing since graduation. "It's been a great experience. It's a challenge to keep the writing fresh, and I've met some interesting people and made some good contacts. And, of course, I have a front-row seat to what may turn out to be a historic campaign."

"But..." Logan gestured with his palms up.

"Ugh. I must have given that bullshit beauty pageant contestant answer to at least two dozen people tonight. You're the first one to know there's a but."

"They don't know you like I do," Logan said.

His expression was serious, and Rory had no idea how to respond. Instead, she said nothing, just looked down at her hands again. _Great_, she thought, _he's going to think I've developed some abnormal fascination with my cuticles_.

"So...but..." Logan coaxed.

Rory sighed. "I hate it," she said.

"You hate it."

"I hate the bus and the living out of my suitcase and the crappy motels and the crappier coffee. And the food? Oh my god, the food is so bad that even _I _think it's bad and feel like I need to eat a vegetable or something. And I've heard the same speeches over and over until I can practically give them myself. I mean, you've got the education speech and the healthcare speech and the foreign policy speech, and yes, he varies them a little, depending on the audience, but the speech on any particular topic is always more or less the same. Not that I'm criticizing Senator Obama. I know it's the nature of a political campaign, but covering presidential politics was never my first choice. But it's the job I could get, so I listen to the same stuff again and again and try to find a new angle. And, okay, I don't hate the writing part and it really is a good experience and I've learned a lot. But I'm just so tired. The other reporters act like a bunch of drunken idiots every night, but since I have no desire to join in, I spend most of my time alone in crappy motel rooms, so they all hate me and think I'm a snob who thinks I'm better than they are." When she noticed the look of amused astonishment on Logan's face, Rory frowned and looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry. I don't know where that came from. That'll teach you to know there's a but."

"God, I've missed that," he said.

Rory looked puzzled. "What?"

"A good Rory rant. That was a particularly outstanding one." _And informative,_ Logan thought,_ as I can't say I'm not happy you've been spending your time alone in motel rooms._

"Shut up."

"No, it was. But I gotta disagree with you, Ace."

"About?"

"I'm sure that all the other reporters don't hate you. Nobody hates Rory Gilmore."

"At least half of Yale's female population two and a half years ago would beg to differ."

"What do you mean?" Logan asked.

"Just that I got a lot of dirty looks on campus after you and I got together."

"Oh." Logan frowned. "Well, I still don't believe the other reporters hate you."

"Not all of them, no, but a lot. When they found out I went to Yale, they decided that, not only was I a snob, I was an elitist snob."

"You are as far from an elitist snob as anyone I know. Of course I'm sure you _are_ better than all of them."

Again, Rory didn't know what to say. Honestly, she couldn't believe Logan was here and that they were having a conversation about their lives. He'd even called her "Ace." After his "Good-bye, Rory" on graduation day, she had worried she'd never again hear that endearment cross Logan's lips. She'd expected him to stay angry with her, and while she wasn't quite sure how to read him yet, he definitely didn't seem angry. It was almost like nothing had ever happened between them, like nobody's heart had been broken.

She looked up at him, opening her mouth to speak, but then stopped.

"What?" Logan asked.

"Why did you come?"

"Open bar, butter pats, little bags of Jordan almonds."

Rory smiled at his familiar response. "Jordan almonds are a wedding thing. They don't have them tonight."

"I came for the same reason I went to your grandparents' vow renewal. To see you."

Rory's stomach flip-flopped at Logan's admitting so openly that he wanted to see her, but she decided it was much safer to talk about the past. "Yeah, but that night you went out of your way to ignore me. At least until I threw myself at you."

Logan chuckled. "You _were_ quite forward in your sexy little cashmere suit."

A wistful expression crossed Rory's face. "Do you ever wonder how things might have been different if I hadn't approached you that night? That it might have saved everybody a lot of...I don't know...pain and heartache?"

Logan stiffened at Rory's words. "Well, it's good to know you wish we had never happened." He started toward the door.

"No, Logan, stop. Please. That's not what I meant. I don't wish that. Despite everything, I could never wish that."

Logan stopped, but remained silent.

"I'm sorry," Rory said. "I don't know what I'm saying. Okay if I use the 'extreme exhaustion' excuse?"

Logan sighed. "It wouldn't have changed anything," he said, without turning around.

"What wouldn't have changed anything?"

"If you hadn't approached me that night." Logan turned toward her. "I would have talked to you before the night was over."

"Maybe. But if I hadn't offered you the 'no strings' deal, things would have been different."

"No, Rory, they wouldn't have. You are totally overestimating my ability to stay away from you. Plus, you know we were never really without strings. I told you that night that it would be 'something' right away. And it was. I was kidding myself to think that it wasn't."

They stared at each other for what seemed like a long time. Rory's eyes felt hot with unshed tears. She couldn't speak, fearing the dam would open.

Finally, Logan said, "Soooo."

His exaggerated utterance broke the tension and coaxed a shy smile from Rory.

"I'm sorry you hate your job," Logan said.

"Thanks. I don't really hate it, at least not all of it. I think I just need a break. This is only my second time off the road. I made it back for a long weekend in October."

"How long are you home this time?"

"I'm due in Seattle on January 2."

"So I guess you're getting a lot of reading done in those crappy motel rooms."

"Not as much as you'd think. It's logistics. I can't lug around too many books, but it's not like I can check something out of a library in South Carolina and return it in Nebraska a week later."

"What do you do with yourself then?"

"Oh, you know me," Rory said. "A six-pack and some pay-per-view porn."

Logan laughed out loud. "You are too funny, Ace."

Rory looked down at her hands. "I write."

"But you're only posting three, maybe four, pieces a week. You can't be writing all the time."

"You've been following my posts?" Rory asked.

"We do get this thing called the Internet in Palo Alto. In fact, I think some of the technology was even developed there."

Rory rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"I know. So what else have you been writing? Working on the great American novel?"

"Not yet, but it may not be long before I start. Mostly, I write letters."

"Are we talking e-mail with tales from the campaign trail to your mom and Lane? Or parchment and ink pots?"

"Yes, that's it exactly. My calligraphy skills have improved immensely. I roll the parchments and tie them with a ribbon before Hedwig delivers them."

"Well, I haven't spotted any owls in Palo Alto, so I know you're not writing to me."

Rory stood up and crossed the room to study the bookshelves. "I never said I sent them," she said, quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"It sounded like you said you hadn't sent the letters. Which could suggest you _have_ written to me."

Rory cringed. "I've definitely had more to drink tonight than I realized," she said. "Must stop talking now."

"Can I read them?"

"Oh, right. Let me get my purse. I carry them around, just in case you happen to be nearby on the day I lose my mind."

Logan frowned. "Rory."

"Logan," Rory scoffed.

"Why didn't you send them?"

"Because it wouldn't be a good idea."

"And why not?"

"It just wouldn't. Look, Logan, I may have started out writing to tell you all the things that I would have told you if we were still..." She sighed. "At some point, it became more like a journal, but I kept addressing them to you. I never planned to send them. I don't even have your address."

"You could have e-mailed. That address hasn't changed."

"You really don't want to read them. Trust me."

"Do you still have them?"

Rory shrugged. "On my laptop."

"So all I have to do is steal your laptop and I'm in."

"Do I look like an idiot? Everything on my laptop is password protected, particularly the Logan files. You think I want any of the other reporters reading my work or my private thoughts?"

"The Logan files, huh? Is that what you call them?" Logan smiled. "I like it."

"God, I really need to shut up now."

"Please send them to me. I really would like to read them."

"I-I can't. I'm sorry." Rory picked up her glass and handbag and headed toward the door. "And I should probably get back before my grandmother notices I'm gone."

"Ace, wait..."

Rory turned and looked at him, the sadness evident in her eyes. "It was good to see you, Logan. Merry Christmas."

She fled the room, but rather than return to the party, she detoured up the stairs, just managing to reach her old room in the Gilmore house before the tears started in earnest.


	3. Chapter 3

It took Rory a good ten minutes to pull herself together. Somehow she had managed to squelch her tears before they morphed into gut-wrenching sobs. Returning to the party with bloodshot eyes and a red nose was not an option, and the eye drops and small amount of make-up she had in her bag would be no match for a crying jag. Yet, as she fought to compose herself on the outside, internally she was a jumble of emotions, uncertain what to make about Logan's sudden and unexpected reappearance in her life.

First and foremost, Rory felt great relief that he didn't appear to be harboring a deep hatred for her. He had admitted he came to the party to see her, had called her beautiful, had even said he missed her crazy babbling, none of which would indicate he intended to punish her for last spring's rejection. Of course that wasn't the same as forgiveness. Whether Logan could ever forgive her for hurting him was a question Rory was afraid to ask. She knew the pain she'd caused, though inadvertent, had been severe. By all appearances, he was still the same Logan, able to be playful and teasing one minute, intense and serious the next. He just wasn't _her_ Logan anymore.

Still, she had to question his decision to show up at the party. It was just dumb luck that their first meeting had occurred in the privacy of Richard's study; had Logan been fifteen minutes earlier, he would have found her surrounded by the ladies of the DAR. Did he have some pathological need to play out the difficult moments of their relationship in public? He could have called and asked her to meet him. Had he been afraid she'd refuse if given the opportunity to write the pro-con list? She wouldn't have. After so many months obsessing over him, worrying that she'd never see him again, dreading the day when the rumor of a new girlfriend reached her, Rory couldn't have stayed away. She wasn't over him, and she was beginning to wonder if she ever would be.

She supposed that, in a twisted way, it was fitting that they should meet again at her grandparents' party in front of so many of the people who had witnessed the awkward proposal last May. (She still cringed at the memory: Logan, normally so cool and collected, clearly nervous and becoming more flustered with each of her profound utterances of "wow." Yes, she'd really put that Ivy League education to impressive use that night.) Despite the fact that her rejection hadn't come until the next day, a story that juicy had spread far beyond her grandparents' guests. Rory had absolutely no doubt that every person downstairs, from Richard's accountant to the coat-check girl, was aware that Rory Gilmore had refused Logan Huntzberger's marriage proposal. And now she and Logan would have to mingle with those people as their every interaction—or lack thereof—was scrutinized.

Welcome to the fishbowl.

Rory sighed at her reflection in the mirror. Extra shiny lips might distract people from the evidence of her tears, at least long enough for her to make her apologies to her grandmother and escape. As she applied another coat of her "Merry-Berry" gloss, someone knocked and opened the bedroom door.

"Hon, you in here?" Lorelai asked. "Are you okay? I saw Logan—"

"So did I. You didn't say anything to him, did you?"

"What? No, he was at the bar, so I came looking for you. God! This is so typical of my mother! It's a sickness, this chronic meddling. She just can't leave things alone. Tell me, did she even have the decency to warn you he was coming, or was it another Emily Gilmore ambush? Just wait until I—"

"Mom, stop," Rory said. "It's not Grandma's fault. She didn't invite him. He tagged along with his parents."

"Why did she invite _them_? I thought they stopped speaking over the little fact that Mitchum and Shira didn't think you were good enough for their precious heir."

"Technically, that was Shira. Mitchum just didn't think I had what it took to be a journalist."

"Oh, well, that's so much better."

"And Mitchum did retract that, more or less, when he took us to dinner on Logan's birthday. He must have smoothed things over with Grandpa and Grandma, too."

Lorelai sat down on the bed. "So, Logan. You talked to him? How was it?"

"It was...okay," Rory said. "Fine, I guess."

"So you're hiding up here crying because it was fine?"

Rory turned back to the mirror. "Is it that obvious?"

"You're a bit pink around the eyes," Lorelai said. "But I am a little more attuned to you than most people. You're probably okay. What happened? Did he say something to upset you?"

Rory sighed. "No, it's just...seeing him again, I don't know. It was weird." She glanced at her watch. "I know I promised to stay until ten, but I think I'm going to slip out a little early. It's been an unbelievably long day, and I'm really not up for more small talk with the DAR."

"Not to mention you've got the Hartford society vultures down there, watching and hoping there'll be a scene between you and Logan."

Rory groaned. "Tell me again how many ways there are to sneak out of this house."

"You sure you're okay?" Lorelai asked.

"I guess so. Just a little thrown."

"Well, maybe seeing him tonight will give you the closure you need."

"Is that what you think? That I need closure?"

"I know things ended badly, but you've moved on—"

"Have I? Really, Mom?" Rory stared at Lorelai. "You really believe that?"

"You never mention him, so I just assumed—"

"I may not have mentioned him to you, but I haven't moved on. Not one bit. I have missed him every single day."

Lorelai frowned. "But you didn't want to marry him."

"No, but not nearly as much as _you_ didn't want me to marry him."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Just that you practically did a happy dance when I said no. You asked how I was doing that night and again when I unpacked my rocket, then never said another word about it. All the times I called you from the road, not once did you ask how I was doing about Logan. That's why I haven't said anything to you. Because I knew you didn't want to hear it."

"Oh, babe, that's not fair."

"Look, Mom, this isn't the time or place." Rory squeezed her eyes shut. "I have to go back downstairs to say good-bye to Grandma, and I can't do that if I start crying again. And I will if we keep talking about this."

"Okay," Lorelai said, frowning. "Hey, why don't you come back to Stars Hollow tonight? I'm sure your dad will understand. You can drive up tomorrow."

"No, the plan is for me to spend the night at Dad's, so we can have American Christmas for Gigi first thing in the morning."

"But you haven't even spent a night at home yet."

"Mom, you know this is my only chance to see Dad," Rory said. "I thought you were okay with this. I'm going to be home with you for over a week."

"I know, and I'm glad you're spending time with Chris. Really. But we need to talk about this. I can't believe you felt you couldn't talk to me. You should have told me that—"

"I shouldn't have had to! You should have known!" Rory saw the shock in Lorelai's eyes at her harsh tone. "I'm sorry. But, please, let's not do this now."

"Fine."

"I just can't talk it about it right now," Rory said.

"I said it was fine."

* * *

After Rory fled the library, Logan wandered back to the main rooms of the party, which had been adorned with the most elegant holiday trimmings that money could buy. Like any society offspring, Logan was well schooled in the appropriate behavior at these types of gatherings, and at nearly 26, was beyond any need for rebellion. He slapped on his best artificial smile and exchanged the obligatory pleasantries, but his mind was too consumed with thoughts of Rory to absorb much from the interactions. While clearly Rory had been shocked to see him, their conversation had been mostly amiable, despite the awkward undercurrent in the room. Still, he could not shake that last look they'd shared, the sadness evident in her beautiful blue eyes. There was more he needed to say, and he longed to hear about the letters she'd written. He had to find another way to see her before the night ended.

At the bar, Logan ordered his second—and, he'd decided, final—scotch of the evening, then sampled some of Emily Gilmore's always excellent food. Although he wasn't particularly hungry, he thought it unwise to drink on an empty stomach. The last thing he needed was to overindulge and cause a scene; the fact that he and Rory were both in attendance was more than enough grist for the gossip mill. He should have realized that many of these people had been guests at Rory's graduation party and, therefore, had witnessed his disappointment and humiliation at discovering that Rory didn't love him as much as he'd believed. On second thought, the self-imposed, two-drink minimum might be a bad idea.

It was, however, a good idea to avoid his mother. While Logan noticed only a few women under 30 in the crowd, that didn't mean the guests didn't have eligible daughters. Shira had not even attempted to hide her dissatisfaction that Logan was joining them at a party where _she_ would be, and he knew his mother's matchmaking efforts would be in rare form. It was much safer to pretend he was listening to his father's discussion of baseball's steroid scandal with one of his golfing buddies as he tried to figure out what to say to Rory.

He noticed her immediately when she entered the room, with a scowling Lorelai trailing behind her. She zeroed in on Emily and headed in her direction, only to be interrupted by a couple of society busybodies. Rory responded to their comments, but Logan could see by her polite, though not quite sincere, smile that she wasn't interested in speaking with them.

"Logan," Mitchum said, tapping his son's arm. "Logan?"

"I'm sorry. Did you say something, Dad?"

Mitchum followed his son's gaze and smirked knowingly. "I just asked if you knew how many career home runs Bonds had at the end of the season."

"Uhh...762, I think," Logan murmured, his eyes never leaving Rory, who had reached Emily's side.

Emily frowned at whatever Rory said, glared at Lorelai, and then embraced Rory before the two younger women turned back toward the front of the house.

"Excuse me," Logan said to Mitchum and his companion and hurried after them. It looked like Rory was leaving, and he could not let her go without another word between them. Without saying...something.

Rory and Lorelai were standing in the area of the foyer reserved for the coat check when Logan caught up with them. He hesitated, hanging back beside the oversized, twinkling Christmas tree that dominated the entrance to the house.

Lorelai noticed him and frowned. "I should probably go rescue Luke," she said.

"You can't wait two minutes until she finds my coat?" Rory asked. When she turned, she spotted Logan. "Oh. Real smooth, Mom."

"Call me tomorrow at the inn," Lorelai called over her shoulder. She nodded at Logan as she passed. "Logan."

"Lorelai," Logan said.

The attendant returned with Rory's coat, but before she could take it, Logan grabbed it and held it up for her. She turned and slid her arms into the sleeves. As he placed the coat onto her shoulders, Logan caught a whiff of her fruity shampoo, and the urge to pull her into his arms was intense, almost unbearable. He settled for allowing his right hand to drift gently down her upper arm and rest on her elbow for a few seconds.

"Um, thanks," Rory said, blushing.

"Any time, Ace. Didn't you come with Lorelai and Luke?"

She shook her head. "I'm staying at my dad's tonight."

"In Boston? Isn't that kind of a long drive?"

"Oh, he and Gigi live in Hartford now. Dad can work from anywhere, and it puts them closer to his mother."

"And you."

"Except I don't live in Connecticut anymore," Rory said. "I don't really live anywhere at the moment."

"I guess not. You're a free agent." They stared at each other, both recognizing the double meaning in his choice of words.

Rory shrugged. "They're flying to Paris tomorrow evening to spend the holidays with Sherry. We decided to do the whole Christmas thing tomorrow morning and then I'll hang out with them until they have to leave for the airport."

"That sounds nice. Are Chris and Sherry—"

"God, no. In fact, Sherry's engaged to some French guy. Pierre or something equally cliché."

Logan smirked. "Jacques?"

"Or François."

"_Non, je sais_," Logan said. "Jean-Luc."

"_Possiblement, monsieur_."

They shared a smile before Logan said, "So I guess I should let you go, then."

"Probably."

"Rory, I'm sorry for...I don't know...barging in on you tonight. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Well, at least you didn't bring Colin and do a skit that ended with Finn in a British bobby uniform."

"Nah, you know Finn. It would be a Santa suit this time of year."

"Or some reindeer antlers, anyway," Rory said. "Logan, it's okay. You didn't upset me. I was...surprised. But I meant it when I said it was good to see you. I'm happy to hear you're doing so well in California. Not that I thought you wouldn't be."

"Thanks. It's good to see you, too. I just wish—"

"I should get going." Rory stared at the floor.

"Rory, I..." Logan hesitated as he struggled to find the right words. "I feel like there's more to say, but I don't know...how...or even where to start. Maybe your letters...I get that you feel weird about letting me read them, but if there's any chance you might change your mind, I really would like to—"

"Dad's expecting me."

"Right." Logan sighed, defeated. "Well, give him my regards."

Rory nodded as she opened the door. "Take care of yourself, Logan."

"You, too."

After the door closed and she disappeared from his life again, Logan whispered, "Merry Christmas, Ace."


	4. Chapter 4

Until the day of her graduation from Yale, Rory had never considered herself to be much of a crier. Naturally, she'd shed her share of tears over her various romantic trials and other disappointments in life, but one good cry was usually all she needed to begin the process of moving on. Losing Logan had changed that. Her tears for Logan were always near the surface, and anything—a song on her iPod, a snippet of a stranger's conversation, a glimpse of a guy with messy blond hair—could set them off. Because she didn't want to be known as "Weepy Girl" within the press corps, she had forced herself to become a master at suppressing the waterworks.

As she drove the short distance to Christopher's house, she was failing at that new skill in spectacular fashion. The disconcerting reunion with Logan, the confrontation with her mother, it was all too much to handle on top of her overwhelming exhaustion, and silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Rory's resentment over Lorelai's complete disregard for her heartbreak had been building; she knew an eruption was inevitable. She just hadn't expected it to surface at the Gilmores' annual Christmas party. The night was supposed to consist of a few hours of mind-numbing conversation, tempered by Emily's excellent catered food. Instead, Rory got emotional chaos. Her only consolation was that she was heading toward the one person who might be able to help her make sense of it all.

To say that Rory and Christopher shared a complicated relationship was an understatement. As a little girl, she had been too delighted by his erratic appearances in her life to hold him accountable for his many failings as a father. Even when she grew to realize she couldn't count on him, she loved him enough to ignore his mistakes—at least until Christopher turned to Lorelai for help with Gigi. For the first time, Rory could not forgive what she viewed as another of her father's unfair intrusions into Lorelai's life, and her subsequent rebuke had taken them to the nadir of their father-daughter relationship. It took several months, and the death of Christopher's father, before they reconciled. Straub's death had illustrated to Christopher that he couldn't tolerate a fractured, dysfunctional existence with his daughter. He wanted to be a reliable presence in Rory's life, and over her final two years at Yale, they had both made an effort to maintain their connection, a bond that had become even more important to Rory over the past seven months.

Rory had not been completely truthful with Logan about her life on the campaign trail. Along with writing letters she never expected to send, Rory spent an inordinate amount of her free time on the phone. Preserving a link to home helped relieve her anxiety in those early weeks on the job and, later, the persistent loneliness she couldn't shake. She spoke with Lorelai nearly every day, called Lane and her grandparents about once a week, and even shared the occasional chat with Paris, who had returned from India to begin her reign of terror over the other first years at Harvard Medical School. What surprised Rory, however, was how dependent she became on her frequent conversations with Christopher.

From their first call, Christopher had recognized that the melancholy tone in his older daughter's voice was the result of something greater than homesickness. He knew heartbreak when he heard it, probably because he was still suffering through his own. And, although he would never force Rory into the unenviable position between her parents by discussing their disastrous marriage, he could and did ask her about Logan. Thanks to Christopher's gentle coaxing, Rory found herself revealing things about Logan and the breakup that she could not share with Lorelai. Of course it helped that Christopher had always liked Logan. He may have agreed with Lorelai that the young couple was not ready for marriage, but he had never had a problem imagining Logan as his future son-in-law.

Rory steered her Prius into the driveway at Christopher's house and parked in front of the garage. After retrieving her stuff from the trunk, she headed up the sidewalk. The front door opened before she reached the porch.

"Hey, kiddo, you're early. You need some help?" Christopher hurried out to take the shopping bag of Christmas presents from Rory, but his smile vanished when he noticed the tears streaming down her face. "Honey, what's the matter? Are you hurt?"

"Not hurt." She shook her head. "Just...he was there tonight."

"Who was there?"

"Logan!"

"At the party? Oh, honey." Christopher ushered her into the house and helped her settle her other bags in the foyer.

"We-we talked...but it was...weird...then...Mom...she said...I-I...told...her..." As her crying increased, Rory's words became incoherent.

"Shh, it's okay, Ror." Christopher led her into the living room. "Come sit down."

Rory took a seat on the sofa. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. Christopher sat with her and placed a comforting hand on her back until she got the tears under control.

"Sorry," she said. "Thought I was going to lose it there for a minute."

Christopher patted her shoulder. "Feel free to lose it if it will help."

"I think I'm okay. For now, anyway." She looked across the room at the large Christmas tree, glowing with colored lights and sparkling ornaments. "It's cozy in here with the fireplace and the pretty tree."

"Thanks. Only problem is that Gigi keeps taking the ornaments off. I tried to hang the breakables where she can't reach them, but she's trashed four this week."

"What do you expect? She's not even five yet."

"And amazingly destructive for someone so small." He paused. "So I take it things didn't go well with Logan."

"Not exactly," Rory said. "I mean, it wasn't awful. He just caught me off guard. Some of it was okay, even sort of good, but it was all kind of intense. Weird. Then, later, Mom said some things I didn't like and I said stuff back that she didn't like..."

"I'm sorry," Christopher said. "Tell you what—I'll fix us some hot cocoa and, if you want, we can talk."

"And by 'hot cocoa' you mean coffee?"

"Nope. Hot cocoa on Christmas Eve is a Hayden family tradition."

"Gilmores drink coffee on Christmas Eve."

Christopher rolled his eyes. "Name one day Gilmores _don't_ drink coffee. Besides, tonight you're a Hayden."

"And it's only pretend Christmas Eve."

"That didn't keep Gigi from bouncing off the walls earlier. She only went to bed because I told her you'd be really mad if she were still awake when you got here. And then you wouldn't spend the night, and we'd have to cancel American Christmas in the morning."

"Dad!"

Christopher shrugged. "Hey, I am not above lying if I have to. I couldn't threaten her with no Santa tonight because she knows we'll be in France for the real Christmas Eve."

"So you made me the bad guy? Gee, thanks."

"It won't matter. She worships you. So, what do you say to that hot cocoa? I've got mini marshmallows."

"Oh, well, if you've got mini marshmallows. Who can say no to mini marshmallows?" Rory stood up. "But I think I'll take my stuff upstairs and get changed out of this dress. Maybe wash off what's left my make-up, blow my nose a few hundred times."

"Take your time. Your room is all ready for you. The hot cocoa and I will be waiting."

* * *

After changing into her sweats, Rory added her presents to the pile under the tree and curled up in the comfy armchair beside the fire. Then, over her mug of hot cocoa, she gave Christopher the play-by-play of her conversation with Logan in the study, the confrontation with Lorelai, and finally the awkward good-bye at the front door. Christopher let Rory talk, asking only the occasional question and offering reassurance when her tears threatened to resurface.

When she finished, he said, "It should make you happy that Logan came to the party to see you."

"Unless _he_ was looking for closure."

"Nothing you told me sounds like he was trying to say good-bye. If anything, he's trying to reconnect."

Rory sighed. "I have no idea what he wants. In some ways, it was so easy to talk to him. It was almost like we picked up where we left off. At least, where we were before my graduation party. But, at the same time, there was this giant elephant in the room that we refused to acknowledge. Until I had to go and open my big mouth about the letters."

"Can I say something you might not want to hear?"

Rory frowned. "As long as you're not going to say the word 'closure.'"

"I promise," Christopher said. "I think you told Logan about the letters because, deep down, you want him to know about them."

"Like subconsciously I want him to read them? That's insane!"

"Is it?" Christopher asked. "You've managed to keep them a secret from your mother all this time, haven't you?"

"They're not a secret. I just haven't told Mom."

"Right. Because you don't want her to know about them. You know where I stand on that. I think you should try talking to your mom about Logan, but I also respect that it's your choice."

"She won't understand. She hates Logan, and she's happy we're over."

"She doesn't hate Logan."

Rory scoffed. "So you say."

"My point is you've been able to avoid telling Lor about the letters for months, but you let it slip to Logan almost immediately. That has to mean something."

"That's funny, Dad. I wasn't aware that you'd earned a psychology degree."

Christopher scowled. "I'm just saying you don't normally blurt things out without thinking. That's your mother, not you. You're much more cautious."

"I guess."

"Would it be so bad if you sent Logan the letters? Maybe it would be a good way to let him know what you've been thinking all this time."

"Are you crazy? I can't send them to him!"

"Why not?"

"Because...because I can't. Some of them are not very nice."

"So?"

"So I can't send them to him. I don't want to hurt him more than I already have."

"Come on, Ror, you need to stop punishing yourself. Logan wasn't the only one who got hurt. I was there, remember? I saw how devastated you were when he walked away, no matter how hard you tried to hide it."

"That doesn't change the fact that I hurt him. I can't do that again."

"Logan's a big boy. I'm sure he can take it.'

"But—"

"But nothing. If there's a chance to work things out, don't you want that?"

Rory sighed. "But if he doesn't and I send him the letters, it'll be humiliating."

"How will it be humiliating to be honest with him? You did say he was _the_ one."

"What if I'm not his one anymore?"

"How could you not be? You are an amazing, remarkable, brilliant—"

"Dad, stop."

Christopher chuckled. "So I'm a little biased. But I saw the way he looked at you. That boy adored you. That doesn't just go away."

"Sometimes it does. Not everybody gets forever."

"Believe me, I know," Christopher said, sighing. "But you and Logan could still have that. Send him the letters. It's not like you're going to bump into him at the grocery store, so you won't have to worry about any uncomfortable run-ins. What do you have to lose?"

"Only my dignity."

"Don't be silly. Just think about it. You don't have to decide this minute."

"I guess I can do that." Rory yawned. "Right now I think I need to go to bed while I still have the energy to walk upstairs. It's been a long day."

"What time did you leave Iowa this morning?"

"I left the motel at 5:15 to catch the connecting flight to Chicago."

"Maybe you can get a little rest tonight, although I have to warn you there probably won't be any sleeping in. I told Gigi she had to stay in her room until the clock reads 'seven-zero-zero,' but I can't guarantee that will work."

"You probably should have told her I'd be mad if she didn't sleep until nine." Rory stood and picked up her empty mug. "You need help cleaning up?"

"No, I've got it." Christopher reached for her mug. "You go on up. I'll take care of everything down here and see you in the morning."

"Bright and early," Rory said. "Good night, Dad."

"Sweet dreams."

Rory started toward the stairs, then stopped and turned back. "Um, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. And not just for tonight. For all the phone calls, too."

Christopher smiled. "You don't need to thank me. I'm just glad you can talk to me. I certainly wasn't there for you when you were little."

"Dad, that's not—"

"Rory, let's not pretend that I wasn't a lousy father to you," Christopher said. "Oh, I know you didn't really need me. You had Lorelai. But I hope you know how much I regret everything I missed."

"I know that. It means a lot that you're here now."

"It means a lot to me, too."

"But, you know, Dad, you're wrong about one thing."

"What's that?"

"I've always needed you."

A sad smile crossed Christopher's face. "Good night, Rory."

* * *

Excessive fatigue trumped emotional upheaval, and Rory slept like the dead until Gigi landed on her bed at 7:02. She groaned at the tiny, squealing intrusion, but soon found herself swept up in her sister's infectious glee. Thanks to their considerable age difference and the fact that they'd never lived together, Gigi had never quite felt like a sibling to Rory, at least not in the traditional sense, but she had great affection for the little girl.

Despite her preoccupation with all things Logan, Rory managed to enjoy the pretend Hayden Christmas. After opening their presents, they made chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, although it seemed that more chocolate chips made it into Gigi's mouth than the batter, and they spent the rest of the morning trying out Gigi's new toys before heading to the neighborhood pizzeria for lunch. The relaxing day wrapped up in mid afternoon, following a screening of Gigi's new _Ratatouille_ DVD.

The car Christopher had hired to drive Gigi and him to JFK for their nonstop flight arrived at 3:30, so it was time for Rory to make her good-byes and head back to Stars Hollow.

"Now you behave yourself, Gigi," Rory said, hugging her. "And have a good time with your mom. Tell her I said hello and what else?"

Gigi grimaced in concentration. "Um...joy-oh-no-el."

Christopher and Rory laughed. "Close enough," Rory said. She turned to her father. "Have a safe trip. Call or text or something to let me know you made it okay."

"I'll text. It'll be the middle of the night here when we get to Paris."

"Dad, promise me you'll get out and do something fun when Gigi is with Sherry. Don't stay in your hotel room alone the whole time, okay?"

"I'll try not to. And I think you should try talking to your mom about Logan."

Rory frowned. "Maybe. I'll think about it."

"Everything will be fine," Christopher said, pulling her into a hug. "Call me if you need me."

Before leaving Christopher's driveway, Rory called Lorelai at the Dragonfly to let her know she was on her way home. Lorelai was busy with the final details for a corporate Christmas party. She had decided to work that event, so she could have the next two days free.

"I won't be home until close to midnight," Lorelai said. "But there are plenty of leftovers in the fridge."

"Okay. I'm going to drop by and see Lane for a little while, so I might just pick something up at Luke's."

To Rory's relief, Lorelai did not mention the events of the Gilmore party during their brief conversation. She may have told her father she'd consider talking to Lorelai about Logan, but she wasn't ready yet. She had been thinking all day about Christopher's claim that she wanted Logan to read the letters. Was he right? Is that what she wanted? She hated the way things had ended on graduation day. The breakup was traumatic, but Rory thought it was made worse by the manner in which it happened. She knew she had done a horrible job of explaining herself to Logan. The letters could fix that, even if the relationship was beyond repair.

Once back in Stars Hollow, she headed to Lane's. Lane was excited to see Rory, but ultimately she was too distracted by her screaming twins to enjoy their conversation. Zack wasn't being much help, and when the couple started to bicker, Rory took that as her cue to cut out, with promises to return the next day. Rory then stopped by Luke's to pick up a burger and fries to go. After all the months on the bus, she relished the idea of some quiet time alone at home.

After she ate, Rory sat down on her bed to check her e-mail. Along with some work-related things that could wait until after Christmas, she received a couple of holiday greetings from some reporter friends she'd met over the past months, and Olivia and Lucy had sent a funny picture of themselves dressed as Santa's elves. Rory fired off the necessary replies, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't get Christopher's words about sending the letters out of her head: _What do you have to lose?_

What _did_ she have to lose? Yes, the letters were potentially embarrassing, but they were also a chance to make Logan understand why she had said no. Rory frowned. That sounded suspiciously like closure. She didn't want closure. What she wanted was Logan back in her life. If she couldn't have that, if that proverbial ship was halfway to Fiji by then, would some semblance of closure be the next best thing? She needed to do something to escape the gloom she'd been living under since that awful day. Her life felt stalled. Either she needed to fix things with Logan or finally accept that they were really and truly over.

She glanced at the desktop folder labeled _Logan Files_ on her laptop. Should she read them again? She clicked on the folder and moved the cursor to the June file, but then stopped. No, if she read them, if she opened herself up to the vulnerability she knew they contained, she'd never send them. Instead, she opened up a new mail file and started to type. She couldn't just attach the files and be done with it. ("Here they are—have fun reading!" seemed woefully inadequate.) She needed to write something to send with them.

Over the next few hours, Rory wrote and deleted and wrote and deleted some more. Tears were shed and curse words were uttered until, finally, she thought she had found the right words. Then, she wasted another ten minutes trying to decide how to sign it. Should it be "Love, Rory" or "Yours, Rory," or the more generic "Best, Rory"? Eventually, she decided to skip the closing line and just type her name. She added the attachments to the bottom and sat back to read the new letter one last time.

_Dear Logan,_

_I don't suppose you expected to find my name in your inbox. I can tell you with absolute certainty that I never expected you would. Yet, here I sit, typing away..._

_Whenever I imagined the day when we'd meet again (and, believe me, I did many times), I was cool, calm, and collected: the epitome of composure. So it was quite disappointing to learn that, in reality, I was none of those things. Surprised, nervous, and disconcerted? Yes. Cool, calm, and collected? Uh...not so much. _

_Being flustered by your unexpected appearance was supposed to be my explanation for why I told you about the letters. My father disagrees. He's convinced I told you because, subconsciously, I want you to read them. I told him that was crazy, but now I'm not so sure. Since he planted that idea in my head last night, I've been able to think of little else. On one hand, revealing to you my innermost thoughts, composed during a period of great distress, sounds like such a terrible idea that it will make dropping out of Yale look like a genius plan. On the other hand, maybe I'll find some peace of mind in finally having the chance to explain things to you. Because, Logan, one of the biggest of my many, many regrets is that I completely failed to make you understand what I was thinking and feeling that day. _

_As I sat down to type this "introduction" to the letters you will find attached to this e-mail, I decided I would not reread any of them. If I did, I'm sure I'd edit some and delete others (that is, if I didn't chicken out completely), but that wouldn't be fair. If I'm going to go through with this, you deserve to know everything, warts and all, rather than some watered-down version of the truth. Besides, I don't need to reread the letters. I know what's in them. _

_For that reason, I need to warn you that some of them will be difficult, even painful, for you to read, and you may very well find that you regret asking me to send them to you. It may also seem a bit daunting when you see the number of attachments. There is a separate file for each month, beginning with June, but I also think I gave you the impression last night that there are more letters than there actually are. I didn't write every day, not even close, and not all of them contain some deep analysis of our relationship. Most have nothing to do with you at all, except that, as I wrote down my perceptions of the people I met, the places I visited, or the world in general, you were my audience. I hope you'll find some of those letters interesting, maybe even amusing. More than likely, you'll be bored to tears. You may even doze off. _

_As I type this on December 23, it occurs to me that this is probably not the most appropriate time of year to send you the letters. However, now that I've made the decision, I'm afraid I'll lose my nerve if I think about it any longer. (You always taught me to live in the moment, so I guess, in a way, you have only yourself to blame.) You could wait until after Christmas to open the attachments, but I know you well enough to know that won't happen. Please know that I am not trying to ruin your holiday._

_So. _

_The moment of truth has arrived. It reminds me of the day I sent that first text message to you in London. Lane and I were sitting on the floor of the bookstore in Stars Hollow, both of us freaked out for very different reasons. She had just discovered she was pregnant, and while I considered myself quite fortunate not to be in her particular situation, I was worried about the distance between us. Worried that our daily phone calls, which at that point seemed stilted, wouldn't be enough to keep our relationship going. Worried that, without the little everyday intimacies, the things that made you and me an us, we would slowly drift apart, no matter how much we loved each other. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so I borrowed a passage from Henry Miller, clicked send, and instantly felt like I was going to puke. _

_I suspect I'm going to feel the same way in about thirty seconds._

_Rory_

After one final check that all seven files were attached, Rory held her breath and clicked send. She heard the familiar "whoosh" from the computer's mailbox as the file went hurtling into cyberspace.

And she definitely felt like she was going to puke.


	5. Chapter 5

It was almost 10:30 when Logan awoke on Christmas Eve. He hadn't intended to sleep so late. On the previous morning, which followed the Gilmores' party, he had risen from a fitful sleep at 5:30 and managed to sneak undetected to the kitchen for some pastries and orange juice before returning to his room. Nobody had bothered him until noon when his mother beeped in on the house intercom system.

"_Logan, honey, I know you're jet-lagged and on Pacific time, but lunch will be served in thirty minutes. You need to shower and dress before you come down."_

Logan had rolled his eyes at the intrusion. It was typical of Shira to issue her commands via the intercom. When he was a child, it was the intercom or a visit from the nanny, so he guessed he should be happy she hadn't dispatched one of the maids.

The fact was that Logan rarely needed a wake-up call because he didn't sleep much anymore. His life in California was consumed by his job, and he normally worked thirteen- or fourteen-hour days, six days a week. On most nights, he dragged himself back to his apartment in Palo Alto around nine, often with dinner he picked up on the way. He might catch the end of a baseball or basketball game, but he usually nodded off in front of the news or _Sportscenter_. Then, he was up by dawn for a morning run or a trip to the gym. Logan had discovered that people who went to the gym at 5:30 were interested in working out, not socializing. Socializing was something that Logan took great pains to avoid. His life had become a monotonous routine: exercise, work, sleep, repeat.

He glanced at the bedside clock and shook his head in disgust at his current predicament. Here he was, almost 26 years old, with a degree from Yale and a partnership in an emerging internet company that was proving to be quite successful, reduced to hiding from his mother in his old bedroom. Granted, as far as hiding places go, the room wasn't bad. The bed was comfortable, and it had a private bath. There was a functioning TV, complete with his original PlayStation (circa 1995, operational, albeit a bit primitive), and unlike the days when he lived in the Huntzberger mansion, the house was now completely wireless.

What the room lacked, however, was a source of food. If he wanted to eat, he'd have to go downstairs and face his mother. Until this visit, Logan had not spent a night under his parents' roof in over two years, and while his relationship with them was civil, at least on the surface, he couldn't deal with Shira's inquiries into his social life and her inevitable attempts to play matchmaker with some society airhead. He wasn't interested. The girls his mother tried to force on him could never mean anything to him.

In a small corner of his mind, Logan had wondered if he would feel differently about Rory after seeing her again. Had he merely been clinging to the memories of something that didn't exist anymore? He wasn't. It didn't matter what had happened between them; it didn't matter that she had crushed him with her rejection. Logan knew he still loved her just as much as the night he proposed.

After Rory's exit from the party, he had managed to avoid conversation or even eye contact with Lorelai and survived a few awkward moments with Emily and Richard. Society rules dictated that Logan thank them for their hospitality, while apologizing for his faux pas in attending uninvited; in turn, they were required to assure him it was their pleasure and insist he would have received an invitation had they known he'd be in town. All the while, Rory's name was conspicuously absent from their conversation.

She was not absent from Logan's thoughts. It bothered him that he no longer trusted his ability to read her. (After all, he had been certain she'd say yes to his proposal; clearly she wasn't as transparent to him as he'd thought.) They had shared a mostly pleasant, though uneasy, conversation, but she had seemed so anxious to get away from him. And then there were the tears. She had been crying when he found her in Richard's study, but he never discovered the source of her tears. He had spent most of the following day glancing at his cell phone, wondering if he should reach out. He convinced himself he didn't call because he didn't want to interrupt her time with Christopher and Gigi. In reality, he didn't know how to say what needed to be said or if Rory would be open to listening.

Logan kicked off the covers and got up. His hunger gnawed at him, and he silently berated himself for not thinking to stash some snacks in his room. Rory would have remembered snacks.

Honor and Josh were due to arrive in time for lunch; he'd just have to suck it up until then. He was eager to see his sister, even though he was still annoyed that she'd tricked him into taking the red-eye from San Francisco Friday night. He had discovered her ruse as soon as he got to the house Saturday morning and had called her immediately. Honor was not apologetic.

"_If I told you we weren't coming until Christmas Eve, you'd have given me some bullshit about not wanting to deal with holiday travelers and you'd have stayed in California. Remember Thanksgiving, Logan? The holiday you spent alone in your apartment? I wanted you home for Christmas," Honor had said when Logan finished yelling at her. "I did what I had to do to get you here. Get over it."_

Honor was right. Logan hadn't planned on coming back for the holidays, and he would have used the hassle of flying on Christmas Eve as an excuse to stay in Palo Alto. Of course then he would have missed the chance to see Rory. He probably owed Honor one for that—not that he'd give his sister the satisfaction of knowing it.

One of the benefits of a house as large as the Huntzbergers' was that Logan's room was located in a wing far from any of Shira's usual haunts, so he was free to run the water without her realizing he was awake. Once he was showered and dressed, Logan sat at the desk and opened his laptop. His office was closed until after New Year's, but Logan planned to work from home through the holidays. He opened his inbox, expecting to find a note from a business contact in Asia. It wasn't there.

Instead, Logan found an e-mail from Rory Gilmore with the subject line _The Logan Files_.

Logan was stunned. She had written to him. Had she really changed her mind and sent the letters she'd been writing him all these months? His heart was racing when he clicked on the e-mail.

_Dear Logan,_

_I don't suppose you expected to find my name in your inbox. I can tell you with absolute certainty that I never expected you would. Yet, here I sit, typing away...._

After he finished reading Rory's introduction to the letters, Logan marveled at how good it felt to hear her voice again. Her writer's voice had always been eloquent. He had "heard" that voice in her articles for Hugo, which he read faithfully, often more than once. But, in this letter, which simultaneously gladdened and filled him with apprehension over what he'd find in the files, he could hear her speaking to him.

With a shaking hand, he saved the seven attachments to his hard drive. Rory was right about one thing: there was no way he could wait to read the letters. He took a deep breath, clicked on the June file, and began to read.

_June 4, 2007_

_Dear Logan,_

_It's well past midnight, and I can't sleep. As I'm apt to do when I find myself in this situation, I've been checking the clock repeatedly in order to calculate the exact amount of sleep I'll get if I go to sleep "right now." As it stands, even if I do go to sleep "right now"—and I won't as I remain spectacularly awake—my potential sleep time has dropped to below five hours. Yay._

_When you were in London and I found myself awake and troubled about something awaiting me the next day, I would call you. You'd be getting ready for work (or in the office already), and you'd know just what to say to soothe my troubled psyche. Sometimes you'd tease me about my clock-watching calculations—you called it the insomniac's self-torture, remember?—but most of the time you would just talk to me. A few reassuring words from you, and I would relax enough to fall asleep after we hung up. Of course, when I couldn't sleep when you were lying beside me, you had other ways to take my mind off my worries. I'd still be tired in the morning, but at least I'd be in a good mood. (Okay, that was probably mildly inappropriate considering where we stand, but it's the truth.)_

_Anyway, I'm not really sure why I'm writing to you, except that I have to do something besides stare at the clock. Calling you is not an option, particularly since I don't even know where you are. Are you in Connecticut or have you left for California? God, Logan, I can't tell you how unbelievably sad that makes me. One week ago, you were the most important person in my life; now I don't even know which time zone you're in. _

_There are so many things I want to tell you. One big thing is I got a job. I met Hugo for drinks Friday, expecting to discuss freelancing opportunities with his e-zine and general industry stuff, and the next thing I knew, he was offering me a full-time position. The reporter who was assigned to the Barack Obama campaign is moving overseas, and Hugo needs a replacement in Iowa by Monday. That meant I had no time to think about it. I wasn't considering political reporting as my career path, but it's not like I've had any other offers rolling in. I said yes. Starting tomorrow (technically, today), I'll be traveling the country on a bus and the occasional plane with the Obama press corps. Such a rash decision is quite unlike me, but you always said I needed to be more spontaneous. _In omnia paratus_, right? It's exciting and scary and nerve-wracking. Hence my insomnia._

_After I accepted the job, my first instinct was to call you, and for a few blissful seconds, I forgot that I couldn't. Then I remembered and..._poof_...there went my elation over getting my first real job. How is it that you've gone from number one on my speed dial (a position you usurped from my mother, whether you realized it or not) to someone I'm not allowed to call at all? It simply makes no sense._

_Instead of sharing the news with you, I had to settle for Friday night dinner at my grandparents' with my mom. They're all very proud, of course, but I could tell Grandma was sad it would be our last dinner for the foreseeable future. Mom is also disappointed because we had to cancel our vacation. She had been planning a roller coaster road trip (don't ask) as a post-graduation celebration. I went along with it, faking enthusiasm when required, even though I haven't felt like celebrating. At least now I won't have to go and pretend to be having fun._

_The weekend became a mad scramble to find all the "gear" I'm required to take with me. It's more than a little daunting to realize I'm going to be toting the stuff everywhere, living out of a suitcase. Yikes. The best thing about getting ready to leave is I've been too busy to think about much else. No, that's a lie. I'm always thinking about you, Logan, but it's been something of a relief to have a distraction from the constant wondering about where you are, what you are doing, if you're okay. Are you okay? I hope you are._

_Then, tonight (or last night), something pretty amazing happened. Stars Hollow threw a surprise "Bon Voyage, Rory" party. I was touched. I knew they had planned a graduation reenactment ceremony and party for next weekend (again, don't ask, it's Stars Hollow), but my new job put the kibosh on that. Or so we thought. Sookie and Luke arranged everything. They even invited my grandparents, so I had another chance to say good-bye to them and to all the people of Stars Hollow who have meant so much to me. It became a night of nostalgia and was more than a little bittersweet. After I left for Yale, I spent more time away from Stars Hollow than in it, but tonight it felt like I'm really leaving home, like I'm graduating from Stars Hollow—from my childhood, in a way—and heading off into the real world. _

_I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I spent much of the party hoping you would show up. In my head, I knew it was unlikely. For one thing, you don't know I'm leaving in the morning. Even if Sookie or somebody wanted to invite you, I don't know how they would have gotten in touch with you. (Not to mention the little fact that you could already be in California.) Yet, knowing all of that and how stupid it was to imagine you'd come, in my heart, I let myself hope. _

_Because, Logan, I really thought I'd hear from you before now. I thought you'd call or e-mail or, hell, just appear at my door. Something, _anything_, to show that you don't want everything we've been for nearly two-and-a-half years to come down to those two minutes on the lawn at Yale. _

_But you haven't called; you haven't come by. So I find myself sitting alone in my childhood bedroom in the middle of the night, writing a letter that I'll never have the guts to send. That probably sounds pathetic, but I don't care. I am heartbroken, devastated in a way I couldn't begin to comprehend until I watched you walk away. _

_I am sorry that I wasn't ready to give you what you wanted. The last thing I ever intended was to hurt you, Logan. I am so terribly sorry about that._

_But you hurt me, too. _

_Love,_

_Rory_

Logan let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he read the last few paragraphs. Rory's sadness was so clear, so unmistakable. During those first horrible days, he hadn't give her heartbreak a second thought. He had been so wrapped up in his own misery that he had never stopped to consider what his leaving had done to her. She had suffered, and he was responsible. No wonder she didn't want to marry him. She deserved so much more than an ass like him.

His hunger was gone; in fact, he felt sick. Rory had been waiting for a call he'd never made. Not one day had passed when he hadn't wanted to hear her voice, but something always stopped him from placing the call. Fear. Anguish. Despair. Cowardice. It didn't matter. He had cut her off, just as he had after the awful fight that led to their first breakup.

The next letter was written over a week later. Logan hoped Rory's state of mind had improved once she had the distraction of her new job. Maybe it wouldn't be as difficult to read. He forced himself to continue.

_June 13, 2007_

_Dear Logan,_

_Life has been crazy hectic on the campaign trail, but I'm finally beginning to learn how this job works. For example, I now know that following Barack Obama does not mean following him everywhere. He's always jetting off for fundraisers or other events, then jetting back in the same day, and we in the minor league press corps are not always invited to tag along. Still, I've already covered events in Iowa, Tennessee, Virginia, the Carolinas, Chicago, and southern California. I thought I might be heading to San Francisco yesterday (surely, you're in Palo Alto by now, right?), but instead I was on the bus to Las Vegas. _

_We're staying on the outskirts of the city, far from the glitz and glamour. A bunch of the other reporters were heading to the Strip tonight, but I elected to stay behind. I don't feel comfortable with this group yet. (I can hear you now: _"Ace, you'll never get comfortable if you don't give them a chance."_ Do you still call me Ace? I don't know how that works.) It's a lot like my first days at Chilton. They didn't have an opening for me until a few weeks into the school year, so I showed up late, making me even more obviously the new girl than if I'd been there the first day. I had to try to fit in when I had no experience interacting with society kids. (Before you get indignant, I don't mean that as an insult. They were just different from the kids at Stars Hollow High.) It was unnerving, and my natural shyness did me no favors. That is kind of how I've felt since I arrived in Sioux City last week. _

_I haven't been at it very long, but I think it's safe to say that covering politics is not going to be my life's work. I know the press is crucially important in politics, but I'm already weary of the repetition. Thank God Hugo isn't looking for stories solely about policy because I am no wonk. I report on some policy, of course, but Hugo's more interested in the stuff that happens on the periphery of the campaign, the behind-the-scenes stories and slice-of-life accounts. If I had to write only about the speeches and policy, like many of my fellow reporters, I'd probably throw myself under the bus. I just e-mailed Hugo my latest article, so now I can relax a little. _

_I guess it's surprising that I'm spending my relaxation time writing to you again—or maybe it isn't. It has been 16 days with no contact between us, but you are always on my mind. (Just call me Willie Nelson.) No matter where I am or what I'm doing, the thought of you is with me. Oh, I can usually push you aside when necessary—at least enough to function in my daily life—but you remain a constant presence. I miss you so much, Logan. I'm trying to adjust to this new life and I so wish you were around to reassure me, to make me laugh, to keep me sane. You're better at that than anyone. Maybe getting the words down in letters is my way of "talking" to you. Maybe it will help me make sense of things, even if you never read them. _

_Have you started your new job? I hate that I never got all the details about it. When you interviewed, it seemed like the perfect fit for you, and I know you will be brilliant at it. I am so proud of you for having the guts to leave the Huntzberger Group and find your own path. You are so capable of accomplishing anything you want. I don't think you've heard that enough in your life, particularly from your father. It always amazed me that someone as intelligent as Mitchum never figured out that constantly pressuring you and forcing you into things were not what you needed to be successful. You needed a little encouragement, not coercion._

_A couple of days ago, when I thought I might be going to San Francisco, I became obsessed with your new life in Palo Alto. (I don't know how I would have handled being so geographically near you. Alas, that freak-out will have to wait for another day.) Did you end up renting the house with the avocado tree? Have you dropped the tailored suits for board shorts and t-shirts? It's weird no longer knowing the details of your life when they used to be so intertwined with the details of mine._

_I also can't stop torturing myself about a specific area of your life. I don't want to know the answer—I probably don't have the right to ask—but still.... How long will it be before you go back to your old ways? Maybe you already have. After all, it didn't take very long the last time we were apart, and this time I don't need Honor to tell me we broke up. I know it's not fair to compare our relationship during my lost semester to what we are now. Or were. But, that's just it, Logan. I still can't accept that I need past tense for you and me. _

_Crap. The tears are back. I have to stop writing now._

_Love,_

_Rory_

How was Logan going to make it through seven months of these letters? It was torture. He had always gone to great lengths to avoid making any girl cry. He wasn't a heartless bastard. He kept things casual and didn't make promises he couldn't keep. No strings meant no emotional attachments meant no tears. Then Rory came along and changed the rules. He let her get close and had ended up making her cry more times than he cared to admit. He tried to erase the image that appeared in his mind: Rory crying her eyes out alone in a motel room. He hated that she sounded so unhappy. He also hated that she could believe he'd go back to his old ways so quickly. He hadn't—not in June and not now.

That he had yet to feel any desire to return to his pre-Rory lifestyle of alcohol and casual sex had been something of a surprise to Logan. He _had_ spent the first two days after Rory's graduation completely plastered in Colin's apartment, and had Finn been in town, he probably would have made it his goal to take Logan out and get him laid. Colin, however, just let Logan drink himself into oblivion on his sofa. But the binge couldn't last forever. On the third day, Logan sobered up, and he was in California by the time Rory had acquired her new job.

His insanely long hours didn't leave much time for anything else. Sundays were the only days he didn't go into the office; they were reserved for catching up on sleep, doing laundry, shopping for groceries, and, yes, some working from home. He didn't spend time in bars, only dined out for business purposes, and didn't pursue any of the women who dangled themselves in front of him. There were plenty: at work, at the local coffee shop, and at the gym until he switched his workout schedule to early mornings. One of his business partners and his wife had even attempted to fix Logan up with one of the wife's friends. He had respectfully declined and had disclosed so few details about his personal life to his coworkers that it wouldn't surprise him if they thought he was gay.

Finn found Logan's self-imposed celibacy unfathomable. _("You're pathetic, mate. I guess Gilmore really does have your balls.")_ Logan knew it wouldn't last forever. He was a 25-year-old guy—a 25-year-old guy who, except for those first five months in London, had been accustomed to regular sex since his mid-teens—but every time he considered the possibility of hooking up with someone, he thought of Rory. In a way, Finn was right. He was pathetic. He remained faithful to the girl he no longer had.

Logan turned his attention to the next letter. It was the first that didn't include any details about them. Instead Rory had written about the other reporters on the bus and introduced him to Phil, her first new friend:

_And, to avoid any Bobbi-like confusion, let me make it clear that Phil is short for Philomena. Unlike Dr. Phil, Phil Mickelson, Phil Donahue, Punxsutawny Phil, or any other Phil you can think of, my roommate is most definitely female. You'd like her. She's a cute blonde. _

There were descriptions of the reporters' drunken antics, which seemed to occur nightly and which Rory only heard about the next morning on the bus. The ringleader was a guy named Pete, who Rory described as a lot like Robert without the trust fund and even less charm. (Frankly, Logan thought it was impossible for anyone to have less charm than Robert.) It figured that Pete worked for the Huntzberger-owned paper in Omaha.

By far, the best part of the letter was where Rory compared each of the reporters to a traditional high-school stereotype: the jock, the homecoming queen, the party girl, the nerd (Rory cast herself in that role), the class president, the clown. Logan laughed out loud at her witty analysis. Her insight and her ability to express it in her writing never ceased to amaze him.

But if Logan had thought that letter was funny, the final letter in June was flat-out hysterical. In her uniquely Rory way, she dissected the media circus that surrounded Paris Hilton's recent stint in jail. She began by mocking the now-paroled Ms. Hilton's appearance on Larry King, but it soon evolved into a commentary on the state of the media and celebrity in America. With some minimal research and confirmation of sources, Logan had no doubt that Hugo could post it on his website. It was just that brilliant.

Because those final letters in June had been much easier to read, Logan moved on to the July file.

_July 3, 2007_

_Dear Logan,_

_Well, it finally happened: the Huntzberger name came up on the bus. I'm kind of surprised it took a whole month, seeing that there are at least three reporters from Huntzberger-owned papers onboard. Apparently today was the first time anybody connected the dots between the Huntzbergers and Yale and me. _

_So, late this morning, we were traveling between events in Iowa—where I seem to be spending half my life these days—and as usual, I was sitting next to Phil. She was typing on her laptop, while I stared out the window, doing my best to ignore the conversation around me. Then I heard my name._

"_Hey, Gilmore," Pete said. "When you were at the snooty Ivy League school of yours, did you ever cross paths with Mitchum Huntzberger's son? What's junior's name again?"_

"_Logan," said Teresa, the bimbo from Birmingham. "I hear he's really hot."_

"_Well, I heard he totally fucked up some huge deal and cost the company billions last winter. Daddy wasn't happy and kicked him out on his ass."_

_I don't know who said that because by then I was busy trying to make myself invisible. You'll have to forgive me for not defending you on those details, but I was far more interested in avoiding any conversation about you with those idiots than correcting the facts. My hope was they'd get wrapped up in their usual juvenile taunts and forget about me. _

_No such luck._

"_So, Gilmore, what's the deal? Do you know Logan Huntzberger?" Pete asked._

_How was I supposed to answer that? _

_Should I have told them about the time I jumped off a seven-story scaffolding with an umbrella in one hand and your hand in the other? Or described the night we were caught in a slightly compromising position in a country club dressing room, not only by my mother, but also by my father and my mother's boyfriend? Maybe they'd have enjoyed hearing about the time I unintentionally (and I stand by that—I wasn't clever enough to anticipate your reaction) made you insanely jealous by going to a party with your friend (frenemy?), and that, not too long after that, you gave up your no-strings life to become my boyfriend, something you'd never done for any girl. I suppose I could have entertained them with the great yacht heist of 2005. That certainly would alter their goody-goody image of me, and if it didn't, well, I could have mentioned how I, the Mary of Chilton Class of 2003, sent you naughty transatlantic text messages and once did something even naughtier with you in the back of a moving limousine._

_Perhaps I should have just told them the simplest story, the basic facts. We met at Yale, we bickered, we bantered, we flirted. We fell in love. Lived together. Survived the physical and emotional trauma of your accident. Managed to stay together when we were an ocean apart. And the biggest of all: that a little over a month ago you asked me to marry you and, despite the fact that I love you more than anyone in the world, I wasn't ready for that. You weren't willing to give me time, and both our hearts were broken._

_I could have said all of that and a million other things to explain the role Logan Huntzberger has played in my life. _

_Instead, I said, "Um, yeah, I know him."_

"_So is he as hot as they say?" Teresa asked._

"_Oh, right, Ter," Pete said. "Like you'd have a shot in hell with a Huntzberger."_

_Lucky for me, this time they did forget about my part in this brilliant discourse. The conversation quickly deteriorated into junior-high insults, so I pretended to be listening to my iPod and went back to staring out the window at the Iowa countryside. (For the record, the Iowa countryside? Cornfields. Lots and lots of cornfields.)_

_Coincidentally, before Pete called my name, I had been thinking about you, specifically that we've never spent the Fourth of July together. Last year you were in London and the year before that, when I was holed up in the pool house, you were gallivanting around Europe with Colin and Finn. We've never shared the Independence Day parades, the cookouts, or the fireworks. (Yeah, yeah, I know you're probably thinking we've shared plenty of fireworks. I was speaking of the pyrotechnic kind.) _

_This year, I will be spending July 4 in lovely Iowa, ending the day in Des Moines. Phil has already informed me that I will be accompanying her and some of the other reporters to an outdoor concert and fireworks display tomorrow evening. She made it clear that it's not an optional activity. I guess it will be okay. I can be lonely in a crowd just as easily as I can be lonely in my motel room. Besides, if I don't find myself enjoying the patriotic fun, there's always the chance I'll find a topic for an article. _

_I hope you get to do something festive tomorrow. Light a sparkler for me or something._

_Love,_

_Rory_

How had she done it? How had she written about them so honestly? In July, Logan could barely think about Rory without feeling completely wrecked. He certainly couldn't have found the strength to compose such an eloquent passage. Then again, he doubted he'd be able to so succinctly describe what they had meant to each other under any circumstance. Yet despite her melancholy, she never lost the genuine wit, the funny asides, that made the writing so obviously Rory's. He'd recognize her style anywhere.

He also remembered the article that came out of her July 4 excursion. She had found a topic for an article: the monumental role the small state of Iowa plays in the early months of presidential campaigns and how the Iowans feel about it. The piece was genius, probably one of her best from the campaign trail.

The date on the next letter showed a quick turnaround, so he forged ahead.

_July 6, 2007_

_Dear Logan,_

_I think you should know that I kind of hate you right now. _

_You have ruined music for me!_

_Every freaking song on my iPod reminds me of you, and I can't listen to them anymore. Maybe we were never so trite as to label anything "our song," but it doesn't matter. Songs that make me think of you are always popping up at random. There are songs I remember from the car the first time you took me to the Vineyard, songs we listened to in the pool house and in the apartment in New Haven, and even a couple that I remember hearing when I was blindfolded and seated beside you in Finn's SUV. Oh, and don't forget about the cheesy "seduction" playlist you made as a joke. We played it, didn't we? It's like my iPod is deliberately trying to torture me, and it's all your fault._

_When we're in our motel room, Phil likes to tune in a country station on the clock radio. (She's from Nashville; she can't help it.) I can usually block it out, but now that it's increasingly difficult to listen to my music, I decided to give country a try. Huge mistake! Country music is nothing but sad, depressing breakup songs and mushy, romantic ballads, all with an annoying nasal twang. Not helpful at all. _

_But just now something even worse than country music happened to me, something so truly horrendous that I almost can't type the words. _

_We arrived in California late last night, but the next campaign event isn't until tomorrow. (We're in Long Beach, so again no need to worry about bumping into you at Starbucks.) Phil went sightseeing, but I really wanted to work on my article about Iowa's role in presidential elections. (Turns out inspiration did strike on the Fourth of July, and I'm kind of excited about this piece.) Crappy motel rooms can be eerily quiet in the middle of the day, so I switched on the radio. The sounds of a pop "hits of the 90s and today" station filled the room. Not really my bag, but I decided it was just background noise, right?_

_Wrong. So very, very wrong._

_I don't know how it happened. I reached a lull in my work, or it was just a weak moment, but I found myself really listening to the lyrics of a song. The lyrics touched my heart. The singers spoke to me. They felt my pain._

_IT WAS THE BACKSTREET BOYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_The Backstreet Boys?! I was moved by the Backstreet Boys?! It was horrifying! Humiliating! Who's next?! The Jonas Brothers?! Miley Cyrus?! _

_How am I going to tell Lane? That's it—there goes seventeen years of friendship down the toilet. She'll probably retroactively fire me as her maid of honor, and I won't get to be the twins' Lorelai Gilmore. _

_So thank you very much, Logan. Turns out you really are a butt-faced miscreant. You've ruined music for me. You and your stupid "Good-bye, Rory." _

_Disgustedly yours,_

_Rory_

Logan laughed. He couldn't help it. She wrote that she kind of hated him and called him a butt-faced miscreant, but he laughed. He could picture her face when she realized she had bonded with the Backstreet Boys. God, he wished he'd been there. The next letter was from the same day.

_July 6, 2007, later_

_Dear Logan,_

_I didn't mean it. I don't hate you. I totally hold you responsible for my newfound affinity with the BSB, but I could never hate you._

_Although sometimes I think my life would be so much easier if I could._

_Love,_

_Rory_

_P.S. You are still a butt-faced miscreant._

It was painful to read that she thought life would be easier if she hated him, but Logan was happy she didn't.

In the next letter, Rory wrote about a visit with Christopher and Gigi. She had approximately 40 hours free between appearances in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and a tiny town in Iowa. Rather than join the reporters on the bus journey, Rory had flown to Chicago at Christopher's expense. He put the three of them up for two nights at the Drake, and they spent an entire day exploring Chicago. The next morning, they left Chicago at dawn in a rental car, so Rory could catch up with the campaign. Christopher and Gigi hung around long enough to eat lunch with Rory and Phil and then continued onto Des Moines for their flight home the next day.

For the first time, Rory sounded truly happy in one of her letters. She had clearly enjoyed the brief vacation with her dad and little sister, which had been a first for them. However, while reading about Rory's time with Christopher, it occurred to Logan how little Lorelai's name had appeared in any of the letters he'd read. He wondered if another rift had formed in their freakishly close bond. And, if so, why?

_July 22, 2007_

_Dear Logan,_

_I assume you are familiar with the five stages of grief. In her famous model, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross was referring to grief over the death of a loved one. While I certainly don't mean to trivialize an actual death, I think the same basic principles can be applied to the end of our relationship. _

_Stage 1 is denial. I've definitely been in denial (with a side of depression, which technically is stage four, but this is my version of the stages, so deal with it). For almost two months, I have been holding out hope that I'll hear from you. That you didn't mean it when you walked away. That we are not over._

_But, now after 55 days without a word from you, I'm starting to get pissed off. How could you walk away without looking back? How? I thought you loved me. You said you loved me. You wanted to _marry_ me, for god's sake. How do you go from that to nothing? You acted like a spoiled brat who didn't get his way, so he took his ball—or, in this case, his engagement ring—and went home. Just stomped off like a baby._

_Speaking of the engagement ring, what the hell were you thinking springing that proposal on me, completely out of the blue, in front of all those people? You know me, Logan. You know I would never be able to make a split-second decision on something as important as marriage. I can't even begin to express how surprised I was. You're Logan _Freaking_ Huntzberger, the guy who only a little more than two years ago claimed he wasn't boyfriend material. I know a lot has changed since then—you've changed—but how was I supposed to know you'd want to get engaged at 25? Why the rush?_

_Paris once told me how she and Doyle used to lie in bed and think up baby names. We never did anything even remotely similar to that. (By the way, thank you for that because..._eww_.) But I couldn't know you were thinking about marriage because we never talked about it, not even in general terms. The closest we ever came to a conversation about the future was that day in Stars Hollow when you told me not to factor you in. You said I should make my decision about my career and then you'd factor me in. Then, a few weeks later, you turned around and did the exact opposite. _

_I know when you said that you didn't know you'd get a job before I did. Getting the job in California was a great achievement, and I am very proud of you. But that's another thing! You didn't even tell me you'd taken the job until _after_ you proposed. What the hell, Logan?! How could you keep such an important detail from me? If I had said yes that night (which you so obviously expected because what kind of an idiot proposes in public unless he's certain he'll be accepted?), I wouldn't have even known what I was saying yes to! Would you have put the ring on my finger and then said, _"Oh, by the way, we're moving to California"_? Was that your plan?_

_In case you haven't figured it out yet, stage 2 is anger. I don't think I even realized how angry I am until I started writing this letter. _

_Marriage should be the biggest decision of your life, and it's not something to take lightly. I'm not saying you did, but we should have talked about it. I mean, did you ever consider saying something like _"Hey, Ace, do you see us getting married some day?"_ We would have discussed the idea, worked out when we'd be ready, where'd we live, how many kids we'd have and when._

_It's not that I'd never thought about those things because I did. _A lot._ I told my mother you were "the one" that weekend we went to the Vineyard, which in case you've forgotten was over a year ago. We've been through so much since then, but it never changed the way I felt. Of course I thought about marrying you, having babies, growing old with you, all of it. I wanted that, Logan. I still want that. _

_I'm sorry I wasn't ready to make that commitment at 22 on the day I graduated from college. You were 23 before you agreed to be my boyfriend and almost 24 before you could admit that you loved me! I've been waiting for you practically since we met. I waited for you to decide what you wanted from me, for you to realize you were in love with me, for you to get your act together and get past all the stupid Brigade stunts and the impromptu trips to Vegas. I waited for you when you were in London, which was your opportunity to get your bearings when you were fresh out of Yale. You had a chance to figure out what you wanted in your career, to find success and, yes, make mistakes, but you wouldn't give me the same chance. You wouldn't wait for me. It was your way or nothing and that was unbelievably selfish of you._

_Believe me, I know I'm not blameless. I shouldn't have let you go the night of the party. We should have talked, all night if that's what it took, but I saw the disappointment in your eyes when I couldn't give you the answer you wanted and it broke my heart. I hate that I let my mother influence me, even subconsciously. She refused to give her opinion, but I knew where she stood. I also regret giving you my answer in those brief moments after the ceremony. I didn't adequately explain myself. If I had, you would have understood that I wasn't saying no. I was saying not yet. _

_It was probably naïve to think I could reject your proposal and we'd just go on from there, but I did think that. Everything in my life was up in the air—everything except you. I had the relationship part, the love part, figured out. I just needed some time to figure out the rest. I honestly thought you'd give me that opportunity, the time to explore. You had that. Why didn't I deserve the same thing? _

_Why did it have to be all or nothing? That is probably the most perplexing thing of all, that you could go from wanting to marry me to never wanting to see me again. If I had truly understood that your proposal was an ultimatum, would it have changed my answer? I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I honestly don't know. I guess I could have insisted on a long engagement. Maybe that would have worked for you. _

_But some of the things I was afraid of happening if I married you now would have happened by becoming your fiancée. I want a career in journalism, and I've worked incredibly hard toward that goal. I did not want to have a job handed to me because I was marrying into the Huntzberger family. I need to prove myself as a journalist on my merits. Once I establish myself, once my work can stand on its own, it won't matter so much if people know I'm connected to you. But, right now, I couldn't tolerate anyone believing I got a position for any reason other than I deserved it._

_At the same time, I did not want to be denied a job because of my connection to you. And you know what, Logan? I'm pretty sure that has already happened. I sent out dozens of résumés. _Dozens._ Nobody wanted to interview me. I have since heard of two staff writers at the _Yale Daily News_, reporters I supervised as editor, getting jobs at papers that wouldn't even grant me an interview. Were editors afraid to hire me because they knew about my relationship with you? Or worse, did Mitchum put the word out that I was Huntzberger property? Did he think he could blackball me until I went to him for a job and then manipulate me into bringing you back into the fold? I don't know. I don't _want_ to know. But you can't tell me it's not a little suspicious. _

_Please know I don't hold you responsible for that. You have no control over your father, and you can't help being a Huntzberger anymore than I can help being a Gilmore. It's just who you are. In a way, I guess it's ironic that I fell in love with the heir to the most powerful family in the newspaper world. Many people wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of a connection like that, but I won't. You know I won't. I need to prove to everyone, including me (maybe mostly me), that I have what it takes. _

_I'm sure there's more to write and more to explain, but I'm tired. Tired of feeling miserable. Of missing you. Of wondering about you. Of worrying about you. Now that I've written all this down, I don't feel quite as angry, so perhaps my stage 2 will be brief. I hope so. I don't want to be angry with you. I hope you're satisfied with your life in California and that your job is everything you want it to be. I love you, Logan. I truly want you to find success and happiness. I just never expected you'd be finding those things without me._

_Love,_

_Rory_

A stunned Logan stared at his computer screen. This letter, the last in the July file, had to be what Rory had referred to when she said some might be painful to read. The earlier letters, the ones he thought had been difficult, were nothing compared to this. To read these words, to finally get some idea of what Rory had been thinking, was almost too much for him. She called him a spoiled brat, a baby, and an idiot. She said he was unbelievably selfish.

He loved her. He wanted to marry her and spend the rest of his life with her. She was the one who didn't want that, the one who wanted her "wide open" future, and she thought _he _was selfish?! Logan could feel the heat rising in his face as he pushed back from the desk and began pacing around his room. Perhaps it was time for his stage 2.

Logan grabbed his cell phone from the bedside table. He wanted to talk to her. No, he wanted to _scream_ at her. He took a deep breath, then tossed the phone on the bed. He needed to calm down before he did something he'd regret.

He walked back to the desk and reread the final paragraph. It sounded almost like Rory was saying good-bye. She said she loved him and wanted a future with him—and there were five more files of letters—but that hint of a good-bye scared him more than anything. That was worse than the anger and the gut-wrenching sadness that he knew she felt as intensely as he did.

The letters were supposed to help Logan understand where they stood, but he was more confused than ever. He felt lost.

The intercom beeped, and Honor's voice broke the silence in the room.

"_Logan, we're here! Get your ass out of bed and get down here! In case you've forgotten, I'm almost six months pregnant. Don't make me drag myself up the steps to find you."_

Logan sighed in relief. He had no choice but to stop reading for now. Maybe a break was what he needed. Maybe it would allow him to make some sense of his jumbled emotions.

He closed the laptop and headed downstairs to find his sister.


	6. Chapter 6

"Holy crap, Honor. You are huge," Logan said when he walked into the living room.

"Shut up! I am not!" Honor pulled her brother into a hug.

Logan shrugged. "I can barely get my arms around you." Logan shook hands with his brother-in-law. "Good to see you, Josh. So is she waddling yet?"

Honor smacked Logan on the arm. "Logan! I still have over three months to go."

"I'm kidding. You look great. Really. You've got that pregnant glow thing going on," Logan said, smirking. "Unless it's just that your face is fat."

"Ha-ha. Remind me again why I wanted you home for Christmas."

"Because I'm your favorite brother and you missed me?"

Honor rolled her eyes. "No, I'm sure that's not it."

Logan laughed and gave his sister a peck on the cheek. He often wondered how he would have survived his childhood without her. Mitchum was rarely home, and Shira preferred to leave most of the responsibility for her children to a series of nannies, none of whom stayed for more than a couple of years, so Honor and Logan quickly learned to rely on each other. By the time they were teenagers and went off to different schools (in Logan's case, _many_ different schools), their bond was strong. That didn't mean they avoided the normal sibling conflicts—Honor had a tendency to be bossy, while Logan had perfected his role as the pesky little brother—but Logan knew Honor would always be there for him. Until Rory, he believed Honor was the only one who loved him unconditionally.

A few minutes later, Shira summoned them to the dining room, where they were joined by Mitchum and his father, Elias. Although he was preoccupied with Rory, Logan enjoyed lunch more than he expected. Other than Elias, everyone seemed to be in the holiday spirit, including Mitchum. Much of the improvement in Mitchum's demeanor could be attributed to Honor. Despite her protestations over the years, she had mastered the art of being daddy's little girl, and Mitchum always acted a bit less Mitchum-like whenever his daughter was around. Yet Logan sensed his father had a new attitude toward him with the absence of the oppressive expectations about Logan's place in the family business. Mitchum may not have entirely accepted Logan's departure from the Huntzberger Group, but he wasn't forcing the issue. For now, anyway.

The same could not be said for Logan's grandfather. The Huntzberger patriarch was as cantankerous as ever. He clearly had not forgiven Logan for "abandoning his birthright and letting the family down." Logan chose to ignore the comment and the disappointed glares Elias cast in his direction when the old man wasn't grumbling at the household help about some perceived shortcoming.

Honor's pregnancy dominated the conversation. She and Josh had recently learned they were expecting a boy, so Shira and Honor rambled on about suitable choices for the color scheme in the baby's room. As a gift for the expectant parents, Shira had hired one of New York's premier nursery decorators, and the transformation of the spare room in the young couple's Manhattan brownstone to a state-of-the-art nursery was scheduled to begin in the middle of January. Logan had no idea that decorators who worked exclusively on nurseries even existed. Fortunately, he had zero experience with pregnancy and had spent very little time around expectant parents. Mitchum's mandate that "you make damn sure you don't get some girl pregnant" was the one piece of advice that Logan had taken to heart. Kids weren't even a blip on Logan's radar before he fell in love with Rory. As the talk in the dining room turned to baby names, Logan struggled to push the image of Rory with a baby—their baby—out of his mind.

Finally, around three o'clock, Shira said, "Well, I suppose we should get ready to go."

"Where are you going?" Logan asked.

"To the Ingrams' open house," Shira said. "You know we go every Christmas Eve."

"I have no intention of going anywhere except home," Elias said. "Have my car brought around front."

"Certainly, Dad," Shira said.

After Shira summoned the maid to arrange for Elias' car, she turned to her son. "Honor and Josh are joining us at the Ingrams' house, so why don't you come, too? Colby's home for the holidays, and I know she'd love to see you. Such a lovely girl. She's graduating from Sweet Briar in May."

Winston and Annabelle Ingram were close friends of the Huntzbergers, and Shira had been trying to steer Logan toward their daughter, Colby, for as long as he could remember. "Lovely" was not the word Logan would use to describe her.

"Mom, I really have some work I need to do." Lunch had been a welcome diversion, but Logan was anxious to get back to Rory's letters.

"On Christmas Eve?" Shira asked. "Honestly, Logan—"

"Shira, we shouldn't keep Logan from his work," Mitchum said. "I have a call to make myself before we go."

Shira frowned. "Fine. Will twenty minutes be enough time, Mitchum?"

"Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow, Dad," Mitchum said.

The old man grunted at Mitchum's farewell. Logan said good-bye to his family and hurried from the dining room. He caught up with his father outside Mitchum's study.

"Thank you," Logan said.

Mitchum shrugged. "I don't know why your mother insists on forcing that insipid Colby on you. I've been telling her for years that it was never going to happen, but she doesn't listen. Insufferable."

Logan wasn't sure whether "insufferable" referred to his mother or Colby, and he didn't ask. "Well, thanks." The two men looked at each other for a moment before Logan turned and headed for the staircase.

Once he was back in his room, Logan grabbed his laptop and settled himself on his bed to read the rest of Rory's letters. After that brutal letter in July, he had no idea what to expect in August. With trepidation, he clicked on the file.

The first thing Logan noticed was that Rory had not written again until August 15, more than three weeks after the previous letter. He wondered if writing it had been as draining for Rory as reading it had been for him, and as he dove into the August letters, he decided that was the case. While there were six letters written over the last half of the month, none touched on anything close to their fractured relationship.

With her usual sparkling wit, Rory wrote about some sightseeing excursions she took on off days and continued to regale him with accounts of the other reporters in such detailed descriptions that Logan felt like he knew them. One letter explained Christopher's move to Hartford. (He and Gigi had e-mailed Rory pictures of the house because _"Gigi was afraid I wouldn't be able to visit them if I didn't know what the house looked like."_) The last letter in August was Rory's insightful review of the final Harry Potter book. She had told him at the Gilmores' party that she wasn't reading much on the road, but Logan was happy she had managed to get her hands on a copy. He also thought she could have a career as a literary critic if she wanted one.

Logan enjoyed the angst-free August letters. They were full of things they would have talked about on the phone every night if he and Rory were still together. Knowing what she was doing made him feel closer to her. The letters reminded him of their phone calls when he was in London. After the first few awkward calls, they had found a rhythm for sharing the routine details of life, talking about everything and nothing as a way to stay connected. (The sexy text messages had helped, too.)

With slightly raised spirits, Logan opened the September file.

_September 3, 2007_

_Dear Logan, _

_Happy Labor Day from lovely New Hampshire. Today was supposed to be my first day back after a five-day vacation, my first real break in three months. I was supposed to go home to Stars Hollow. I was supposed to have five days with no responsibilities, no motels, no buses, plenty of Luke's coffee, and lots and lots of sleep. Sounds heavenly, right?_

_Alas, Hugo had other plans for me. _

_For about a month now, he has been kicking around the idea of having a reporter who covers a Democratic candidate check out the happenings on the Republican side of things for a few days (and vice versa). After the Fourth of July piece I did in Iowa, in which I interviewed supporters of candidates from both parties, Hugo decided I'd be perfect for this assignment. Yay me!_

_I was excited about ditching my regular traveling circus for a short time and possibly going somewhere besides Iowa—until Hugo decided that Senator Obama's five-day break would be "the perfect time for you to see what's happening on the other side of the aisle." So much for my vacation. Yay me. _

_Instead of flying back to Hartford, I hopped a flight to South Carolina to see Mitt Romney, then another to Texas to see Ron Paul, and then another to...wait for it...Iowa to see Rudy Giuliani one day and John McCain the next. Then, it was a plane to New Hampshire to hook up with the Obama campaign. Tomorrow, after a town hall in Manchester, we all get on a plane to go...again, you'll be shocked...back to Iowa!_

_And I thought I was tired last week. I probably should have said something to Hugo, but I was so flattered about getting the assignment that I didn't want to complain. Still, I don't know how long I can keep up this pace. _

_Travel has definitely lost its appeal, and I can't believe there was ever a time when I wanted to be an overseas correspondent. As I told Christiane Amanpour the day I met her in my pajamas, I had mostly abandoned that idea in favor of a job with a major daily. Now that I've been on the road continuously for three months, I'm positive I need something with more permanence. This job with all the constant travel doesn't make me happy. _

_Unless it's not the job. Maybe it's just my life._

_Love,_

_Rory_

Logan's first instinct was to pick up the phone and call Hugo. How could he not realize how badly Rory needed a break? Of course, he would never actually call Hugo. For one thing, Rory wrote the letter nearly four months ago, so it wouldn't make sense to give Hugo crap about it now. Besides, Logan could only imagine how livid Rory would be if she found out he'd interfered on her behalf.

Logan recalled reading Rory's articles about the Republican candidates and had wondered at the time how those (and others she wrote from the Clinton campaign that appeared later in September) had come about. Now he knew. What he didn't know: how and when did a pajama-clad Rory meet Christiane Amanpour? Logan sensed there was more to that story, and he really hoped he'd get to hear it someday.

The next two letters dealt with Rory's growing dissatisfaction with her job. He could feel her weariness as he read her words. She wrote that she was considering graduate school for next fall and had gone as far as to research the top journalism schools in the country, but she was conflicted. She didn't know if she really wanted to go to grad school or if it was just an excuse to leave a job she didn't particularly like. She was also unsure of her favorites. She had narrowed her list to Columbia, NYU, and Stanford:

_I don't know if Stanford is on my list because it's one of the top five journalism schools in the country or because it's in Palo Alto. Could I go to grad school in your new hometown? Would that be weird?_

Logan didn't think it would be weird. If it meant Rory would be with him, it wouldn't be weird at all.

_September 15, 2007_

_Dear Logan,_

_I'm starting to think Hugo is trying to kill me. _

_On Labor Day, Bradley Gumbleton, Hugo's reporter on the Clinton campaign, was rushed to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. As if having a name like Bradley Gumbleton wasn't bad enough, the poor guy had to spend one of our national holidays having an internal organ removed in Le Mars, Iowa. I don't care if Le Mars is the "Ice Cream Capital of the World," that had to suck, particularly because they probably don't let you eat ice cream after an appendectomy, so all that ice cream was just there to taunt poor Bradley with its ice-creamy goodness._

_So what does all this have to do with Hugo trying to kill me? _

_Obviously poor Bradley has been off the campaign trail since his surgery, which means Hugo has been without any coverage of Senator Clinton for almost two weeks. It just so happens that Senator Obama had a light schedule this week, so guess who Hugo decided would be the perfect substitute for a few days? _

_Once again, I had to call my mom and tell her I would not be coming home as planned. _

_No rest for the weary. _

_And no ice cream, either. I missed the stop in Le Mars._

_Love,_

_Rory_

Hugo might not have been trying to kill Rory, but Logan definitely wanted to kill Hugo. Why had he been so insensitive to Rory's well-being? There was no doubt that Rory was one of Hugo's best reporters, but she wouldn't be any good to him if she ended up collapsing from exhaustion.

Logan frowned. He knew Rory didn't need—or want—him to take care of her, but he couldn't help it. His desire to protect Rory had surfaced as early as the night he'd witnessed that asshole, Dean, break up with her outside her grandparents' house. It didn't matter that they barely knew each other at the time. When he had looked into her beautiful eyes shining with tears, he wanted nothing more than to prevent her from crying. Ironic, considering he'd been the source of most of her tears ever since.

Logan also recognized that his need to protect her, combined with his irrational jealousy, took him dangerously close to the cliché of the possessive boyfriend. He didn't like that side of himself, and he knew Rory didn't, either. Everything had always been too easy for Logan. He had grown up in a world of privilege with enough intelligence to coast through school and enough charm to win friends and, later, to attract any number of pretty and willing girls. His relationship with Rory was the first thing he'd ever had to work for, and she was certainly the only girl who ever meant anything to him. Being with Rory made Logan happy, but it also brought out some insecurities he didn't know he had. He supposed that was one reason why he was so anxious to get married. It wasn't that he doubted Rory's commitment (at least, he hadn't until she rejected his proposal), but he worried that one day she might realize he wasn't worthy of her. Deep down, he believed that Rory was far too good for him.

_September 23, 2007_

_Dear Logan,_

_Phil has deserted me. She finished her six-month assignment yesterday and headed back to Nashville. I am going to miss her. Phil was somebody to sit with on the bus who didn't annoy me or ask obnoxious questions, and we worked as roommates. We kept similar hours, didn't fight over the bathroom or the TV remote, and respected each other's privacy. There were no crafts in the corner, and I never caught my editor (or anyone else) in "Property of Alcatraz" pajama bottoms. _

_I thought of Phil as my best friend on the campaign, but now that she's gone, I realize she was never much more than a work colleague. We weren't really close friends. If we were, I'd have told her about you, right? I'm fairly certain Phil suspected I was suffering from some kind of heartache, but she never asked—not even when I emerged from the shower with bloodshot eyes. It had to be obvious I'd been crying. (Either that or I was seriously inept at keeping shampoo out of my eyes, something most Yale graduates should be able to handle.) I don't know exactly why I never told her. Phil is a kind person; she would have listened and been sympathetic. I think part of me worried that sharing the details with an outsider would force me to admit that it's really over, which is so stupid. Who am I kidding? Of course it's over. It's been 118 days. That's nearly four months, twice as long as we didn't speak the first time we broke up. The fact that I know how many days have passed is pitiful._

_Screw Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and her stupid five stages of grief. I can't seem to make it out of stage 1. I've dropped in on anger and visited depression, but I live in stage 1. Apparently Denial is a town in Iowa._

_Anyway, I thought the worst part about Phil's leaving would be adjusting to a new roommate, and perhaps that will be the case when my new roomie is assigned. (Fingers crossed that I'll get at least a few days on my own.) However, at this moment, my biggest problem is something I never saw coming, and his name is Mike._

_Mike is a reporter from Colorado, who joined the campaign about a month ago. He seemed like a sweet guy, kind of quiet, and, like Phil and me, wasn't into the whole "let's get drunk in the motel bar" scene. When all three of us were free at the same time, we'd often grab dinner together, so it didn't seem unusual when he invited me to eat with him tonight. _

_The problem was, with Phil gone, Mike decided we were on a date._

_My first clue should have been that he insisted on picking me up at my room instead of meeting in the lobby, but I didn't think anything of it. We found a small café in walking distance of the motel, and dissecting the day's campaign stops gave us plenty to talk about. It all seemed pretty normal until Mike tried to pay for my meal. Okay, I know that should have been clue number two, but I still didn't get it. Paris always said I was pretty dense when it came to recognizing when a guy was into me. _

_On the way back to the motel, even dense Rory couldn't miss it. Mike tried to put his arm around me. Finally, the alarm bells sounded. I jumped away from the contact and asked what he was doing. He turned bright red and said he really liked me and hoped we could be more than friends. It was Marty all over again—horribly awkward and embarrassing. I tried to let him down gently and stammered out something about not wanting to get involved with someone on the bus before getting away from him as quickly as possible. I think it's safe to say I won't be sharing meals with Mike any time soon. And I'm down two friends in the past two days._

_The question is does a date that I didn't know was a date (and wouldn't have accepted if I had) count as my first date since our breakup. What do you think? I imagine you've been on countless "dates" by now. Does that work? Would it help me get over you if I slept with somebody else? I'm pretty sure Mike would oblige, but if his humiliation is too great after tonight, probably any number of guys on the bus would be up for it. Most of them don't seem particularly discriminating in their choice of bed partners. Maybe I should give promiscuity a try. I'll go totally no strings, but for real this time—not the phony, pretend stringless way it was with you. I'll stick with guys I don't like very much, so there'll be no danger of ending up drunk and crying on the bathroom floor. _

_But there's one problem with my plan. The idea of letting some random guy kiss me makes me sick to my stomach. And anything more than that? That I can't even imagine because, in my heart, despite 118 days of evidence to the contrary, I still belong to you. _

_I just looked up "pathetic" in the dictionary. The entry read "See _Gilmore, Rory_."_

_Piteously yours,_

_Rory_

If Rory was pathetic, then Logan was right there with her. He may not have kept track of the days the way Rory had, but he thought about her constantly and seemed to miss her more, not less, with each passing day. Apparently Denial was also a town in California.

It didn't surprise him that Rory had missed Mike's interest in her. Paris was right: Rory was incredibly oblivious about her appeal. It was almost comical. Logan, on the other hand, never missed the admiring, even desirous, looks that followed her wherever they went, and he knew several Brigade members had been hoping for a shot at her in the early days of their involvement. Robert had just been the only one with the guts to ask her out.

Logan didn't worry about Rory's threat to use sex to get over him. She may have slept with him before he was her boyfriend, but she was never casual about it, and he couldn't see her sleeping with someone she didn't like. Logan readily conceded his hypocrisy when it came to his and Rory's sexual histories. While he had enjoyed himself immensely (albeit with nowhere near the hundreds of girls that his reputation purported) before she entered the picture, he hated to think about Rory with anyone else. He didn't know what he would have done had she been a virgin when they met. He certainly couldn't envision Rory offering no-strings sex under those circumstances, but as Logan had told her the other night, she overestimated his ability to stay away from her. His attraction to Rory Gilmore was unlike anything Logan had ever experienced. He wanted her—and not just physically. If that meant he would have had to ask her out and become her boyfriend before they slept together, he liked to think that's what would have happened. It just would have taken longer.

Moving on to the October file, Logan found two letters written during the first week of the month, both with more stories from the campaign trail. The next letter came after a two-week gap.

_October 19, 2007_

_Dear Logan,_

_Well, I'm finally home._

_After two failed attempts, I am off the campaign trail for a few days. I haven't set foot in Stars Hollow in four-and-a-half months. I've never been away that long; even when I lived in the pool house, I managed a few visits. Mom picked me up at the airport late yesterday afternoon, and I don't have to leave until lunchtime Monday. Other than dinner tonight at my grandparents' house and lunch with Dad and Gigi tomorrow, I have no plans. Well, besides sleeping, soaking in a hot bath on multiple occasions, and vegging out in front of the TV._

_The weird thing is that it all feels foreign to me. I can't explain it exactly. Nothing much has changed in Stars Hollow, but it's like I've suffered a disconnect from my old life. We stopped at Luke's for dinner last night, and everyone was happy to welcome me home, which was nice, but they all wanted to talk to me and ask questions about the campaign trail. All I wanted to do was go home. _

_Unfortunately, once I did, I wished I'd stayed at Luke's. The first thing I saw when I walked into my room was my rocket. There it was, standing on my dresser, just where I left it last spring. It took all my resolve not to burst into tears, which was something I definitely did not want to do with Mom hovering._

_When I moved back from New Haven after graduation, I couldn't bring myself to hide the rocket away. It meant too much to me. It was the most romantic gift you ever gave me. (Maybe the most romantic gift _anyone_ has ever given.) The rocket meant more than a dozen Birkin bags or all the jewelry in the world ever could. It represented true love. _Our_ true love. I can't tell you how many lonely nights I spent staring at the rocket when you were in London. The rocket was a promise. It meant we could survive any separation, that we would be together forever. I really believed that. Even after graduation, I still wanted to believe that. _

_Now it's just a reminder of everything I've lost. _

_It isn't getting any easier. Mom said it would take time. With time, I was supposed to feel better, but it's been 144 days and, if anything, I feel worse than I did that day at Yale. I was in shock then. I had yet to grasp how my life would feel without you. _

_I've been writing these letters for months. After the angry letter in July, I've mostly avoided writing about anything that had to do with us. I hoped it might help if I didn't dwell on all the painful stuff, so with the exception of the letter about my almost-date and my plan to embark on a life of casual hookups (never executed, in case you were wondering), I played it safe. I wrote about the places I've visited and described the things that happen on the trail. I wrote what I thought you might enjoy reading, just to feel connected to you. Perhaps the sensible thing would have been to stop writing altogether, but I couldn't bring myself to sever the connection, even though in reality the connection was nothing but a bunch of files on my laptop. _

_So many significant dates in our relationship have come and gone over the past six weeks or so. Did you know that August 31 was the third anniversary of the day we argued outside my dorm room? (Considering you don't remember our brief encounter on the previous day, I've always counted that as the day we met.) I also can recall the date you agreed to help me with my article about the Life and Death Brigade. It was the first time you called me Ace. The date we jumped off the scaffolding is an easy one; if I didn't remember it, it's documented in the _Yale Daily News_. Skip almost exactly a year ahead to September 25, 2005, and it's the night I freaked you out by saying "I love you" for the first time. _

_I hate that I remember all the little anniversaries. It's ridiculously sentimental. If I heard some other girl reminiscing about the day her boyfriend gave her a nickname, I'm certain I'd mock her unmercifully. Believe me, I didn't set out to remember those dates; I just do. Then, my birthday arrived last week. I so wanted you to remember. It was only after I waited all day for a call that never came that it finally hit me. October 8 was just another Monday to you. And I'm just a girl you used to love. _

_So I think maybe it's time for me to let you go. _

_I thought I was done with the five stages of grief when I couldn't get out of denial, but I've changed my mind. Although I'm pretty sure I skipped the bargaining of stage 3 and the depression of stage 4 is far from over, I am forcing myself into stage 5. Acceptance. I think I will always love you, Logan, but I can't continue to exist under this cloud. I can't write to you anymore. The letters are a link to you, and as long as that link is there, however tenuous, I'll never move on. _

_I hope someday it won't hurt so much to look at the rocket, that I'll be able to see it and smile at the memories of a time when we were happy. Until then, it will reside in a box on the dusty shelf in my closet. _

_Good-bye, Logan._

_Love,_

_Rory_

Logan put the laptop down on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. His head was pounding. The sense of finality in her good-bye was agonizing. He really understood how Rory felt when he walked away after her graduation ceremony.

He had not forgotten her birthday. It had not been just another Monday to him. He brought her number up on his phone several times, but could never bring himself to push send. He started and deleted three different e-mails. He even considered calling Hugo to find out exactly where Rory was, so he could send flowers or candy, something to let her know he remembered. But he was afraid. Afraid to find that she had moved on, that she didn't love him anymore. It broke his heart to learn she had interpreted his silence to mean he no longer loved her.

Suddenly, it occurred to Logan that, despite what she wrote in this letter, she had not stopped writing. She had sent him files for November and December. He picked up the laptop and noticed that he had not even reached the end of October. He scrolled down to the next page.

_October 31, 2007_

_Dear Logan,_

_It's after midnight and I just got back to my room after the Democratic candidates' debate in Philadelphia. My roommate for the week, Sara, turned on CNN, and they're reporting that a "moderate, but powerful" earthquake struck the San Francisco Bay Area about an hour ago. _

_I know I said I wasn't going to write to you anymore. I also know that I'm not really writing to you, merely typing words that you'll never read, which probably means in this scenario I'm more than a little insane, but I don't know what else to do. I'm worried. I have the same knot in my stomach that I had after Colin called me about Costa Rica. That helpless feeling only got worse when nobody at the hospital would tell me anything because I wasn't your family. That's how I feel right now. _

_I hope you're safe. Please be safe._

_Love,_

_Rory _

_P.S. The anchor just said there have been no reports of injuries, and it looks like Palo Alto is some distance from the epicenter. I guess you're okay. I'm trying to convince myself of that, anyway._

Logan had been driving when the earthquake hit that night and had not been aware of the minor effects in Palo Alto until he heard the news reports. He smiled at Rory's concern for him. This was not the letter of somebody who had moved on. There was still hope.

November's file contained one letter.

_November 15, 2007_

_Dear Logan,_

_Turns out, Rory Gilmore is a big fat liar. There has been no acceptance. Not writing to you has not made one bit of difference in "Operation Get Over Logan." I still think about you and worry about you and miss you all the time. _

_Senator Obama held a town hall meeting yesterday in Mountain View, California. Maybe you've heard of it as it just happens to be located in Palo Alto's backyard. I spent most of my time there looking over my shoulder, hoping to see you. _

_It's hard to believe that, after all these long months on the road, yesterday was the first time I've been anywhere near you. Senator Obama has flown to San Francisco many times for private fundraisers, but reporters like me who do not work for the prominent media outlets, aren't normally included for the quick trips. Instead, we climb on a bus headed for the next rally. _

_This week was a little different. We were in New Hampshire Monday, then flew to Iowa Tuesday and San Francisco yesterday. After the town hall, we were on another plane to Las Vegas for the Democratic candidates' debate tonight. (After so many flights in one week, I'm worried I'm going to suffer some type of bus withdrawal. It's lucky we still have to take buses from the airports. My lungs wouldn't know what to do without the diesel fumes.) _

_I'm still kind of surprised they didn't send us from Iowa to Las Vegas. I think I spent a grand total of five hours in California and part of that was spent traveling from the airport to the town hall meeting and back. (We passed right by the exit for Palo Alto.) Still, five hours was plenty of time to dream up scenarios of how we might meet. Some examples:_

_1) The bus stops for gas in Palo Alto, just as you pull in to fill up your car. Our eyes meet across the asphalt._

_2) I have a meal in a restaurant where you just happen to be eating. Our eyes meet across the salad bar. _

_3) You're heading out of town and we bump into each other, literally, at the airport._

_4) You come to the town hall meeting, not to see the senator, but because you want to see me._

_Stupid, right? The first three are absurdly far-fetched; chance meetings like that only happen in bad romantic comedies. (Besides, when was the last time you ate at a restaurant that had a salad bar?) And the last one? Well, that was just wishful thinking on my part. _

_I've spent a lot of time imagining any number of chance encounters, but I've carefully avoided contemplating what would happen if any of them came to pass. How would I react to seeing you after so much time? I'd like to think I'd be able to play things cool. We'd talk, catch up—it would be perfectly fine. We could do that, right? We're adults._

_Although I think it's just as likely that I'd burst into tears, throw myself into your arms, and beg you to take me back. _

_Acceptance, my ass. _

_Self-loathingly yours,_

_Rory_

_P.S. I'm still trying NOT to write. No promises, though._

After seeing each other at the Gilmores' party, neither needed to wonder about what would happen when they met again. They knew. They talked; they caught up; they both tried to play things cool. Rory, however, did not burst into tears and beg Logan to take her back. If she had, he'd be with her right now instead of torturing himself reading her letters.

Six files down, one to go. Logan clicked on December.

_December 20, 2007_

_Dear Logan, _

_Maybe I'm starting to make progress. It's been over a month since I last wrote, which I believe is my longest stretch between letters, and this is only the third one since I vowed to stop. Not bad, right? Really, it's only the second because I don't think the one about the earthquake counts. It was written out of panic and desperation._

_(And, yes, I am aware how silly it is that the solitary letter for November got its own file and that I've now opened a new file for December. I can't help it. I created a system for these letters and I'm loath to abandon a system. I am an organization freak, you know. Remember when I helped you with the research for your article about Professor Roarke? I still cringe when I think about the mountain of notes I lent you. All those color-coded folders—ugh. You must have thought I was the biggest dork on campus.) _

_Anyway, it's not that I haven't thought about writing to you. I still want to share things with you. Something stupid will happen on the bus or I'll read an interesting article, and my first thought will be "oh, I should tell Logan about that." I guess you're still number one on the speed dial of my brain. It only lasts a few seconds before I realize I won't be telling you anything. I wonder how long it will take before those momentary lapses go away. If they ever do. _

_With Christmas less than a week away, I find I'm thinking about you even more than usual. Specifically, I can't seem to shake the memories of last year in London when it was just us, completely alone together for two whole weeks without the distractions of family and friends, school and work. We had resolved the stupid fights (my article about your launch party; the Marty debacle) and dealt with the insecurity and jealousy (mine: Bobbi; yours: Marty) and, most importantly, we had survived those long months on opposite sides of the Atlantic. We were getting ready to pack up the last of your stuff and ship it to your Manhattan address. Everything seemed perfect. It was the best Christmas I'd ever had._

_I keep going back to the second night of my visit. I had insisted we buy that sorry little tree for your flat, and we decorated it that evening before we went to bed. You fell asleep after we made love, and I may have dozed off as well, but as I was stuck on Connecticut time, I was wide awake around 2:30. I was about to get up and go read in the other room when I gazed at you in the dim light coming through the curtains. You looked so peaceful and beautiful. I remember lying there, watching you sleep, listening to the comforting sound of your breathing, and I was overwhelmed with a feeling of joy. I thought it was just the beginning for us, that we would have a lifetime of Christmases to share._

_I'm certain those memories are the reason I'm finding it hard to summon up much enthusiasm for the holidays this year. I'll arrive in Connecticut on Saturday afternoon, just in time for my grandparents' annual Christmas party. Grandma delayed it this year, so I could attend—yippee. For obvious reasons, I'm not looking forward to mingling with the society people I haven't seen since my graduation party. I wonder if anyone will mention you to me. I've heard nothing about you since I left home. (And, surprisingly, other than a couple of June press releases about your new position, Google is stingy with Logan Huntzberger results.) For all I know, you could have joined the French Foreign Legion, although I suppose I would have heard if there was any major gossip about you. My grandmother would tell me. I think. Then again, since the Gilmores' falling out with the Huntzbergers, I don't suppose Grandma talks to Shira very often. _

_It will be good to see my family and friends, particularly since I didn't make it home for Thanksgiving. I don't have to be back at work until January 2, so it will be a nice long break. Unfortunately, Dad and Gigi are leaving for Paris on Sunday evening and won't be back until after I leave. I won't get to see much of them, but we are going to celebrate a pretend Christmas together on Sunday morning. _

_I still feel guilty about Thanksgiving. I had time off from the campaign, but after all the traveling I've been doing since June, I didn't feel like flying home on the busiest travel day of the year. It would have been a huge hassle to leave Iowa on Wednesday, only to return on Sunday, so I might have exaggerated (okay, lied) about my schedule and told Mom I couldn't make it home. I stayed in Des Moines and went out for a low-key Thanksgiving dinner with a small group of reporters who also chose not to leave town. On Friday, I did a little sightseeing and shopping, and a few of us nearly froze to death at an outdoor ice skating rink along the city's river walk on Saturday afternoon. The rest of the time I hid out in my hotel room, reading, watching television, and catching up on sleep. It was actually kind of relaxing. Going home for a short visit and dealing with connecting flights through O'Hare in both directions would have been exhausting. _

_Will you be back in Connecticut for Christmas? I know things were strained between you and your dad last spring, but maybe they have improved. I hope so, anyway. Even if they haven't, maybe you'll get to spend the holidays with Honor and Josh. _

_In a weird way, I always felt gratitude toward your sister. After everything you told me about your childhood, it seemed like Honor was the only one you could lean on. I hope she has been there for you over these past seven months (206 days, to be exact), although I suppose it's presumptuous of me to assume that you've needed her all that time. Maybe your new life in California is completely fantastic. Does it make me a horrible person that a tiny part of me hopes your life without me isn't fantastic? Probably it does. I want you to be happy—in my heart, I always want what's best for you—but I guess I don't want you to be too happy yet when I'm most definitely not. I'm not proud of that, but there it is._

_Anyway, whether you are spending time with your family, skiing the Alps, or lounging on a Hawaiian beach, I wish you well, Logan, and hope you have a lovely holiday season. _

_Sorry. That sounded like something I'd write in a greeting card to a casual acquaintance. I'd best stop writing before I sink to something that belongs in a high-school yearbook inscription. _

_Merry Christmas,_

_Rory_

The final letter had been written only four days ago. Four days ago, Rory had written longingly of their first Christmas together. Those two blissful weeks had meant just as much to Logan. It was the first time he started to think seriously about marriage. After he had succeeded in winning her back after their first breakup, Logan knew he wanted to be with Rory forever. He had given her a rocket that stood for true love, but even then, marriage was still an abstraction, something that would happen in the future. Being away from her all those months he was in London had changed that. He realized he never wanted to be away from her again, a feeling that was only reinforced after his disastrous business deal forced him into the unknown. Logan truly believed that, as long as he had Rory, everything would be okay, which is what he had told her the night he proposed.

After nearly seven months apart, Logan had learned he could be successful, at least professionally, without Rory. He didn't need her help and support. He could live without her.

He just didn't want to.

What he wasn't sure of was whether Rory wanted to continue to live without him.

Logan didn't think she did. Her letters were full of raw emotion; she had revealed her innermost thoughts and her unhappiness and pain. Why would she have sent the letters to him if she didn't want a reconciliation? For all her words about acceptance, even after her good-bye letter, she didn't write like someone seeking closure.

He looked at his laptop. Perhaps he should respond with a letter of his own. He was a writer, too. Could he say in one letter what had taken Rory twenty-five over seven months? He was good—after all, writing was in his blood—but he didn't think he was that good.

Logan opened a new document file.

_Dear Rory,_

That was as far as he got. The cursor blinking on the screen seemed to mock him. He typed:

_Thank you for sending me your letters._

That was a horrible beginning. It sounded like the notes he had to write as a child, thanking relatives for gifts. He deleted it and tried again:

_I am glad that you changed your mind about sharing your letters with me. _

No, that was worse. Again, he deleted and started over:

_It meant a lot to me that you allowed me to read your letters. I think I understand your reasons a lot better now._

This was impossible. He wiped the document and tried one last time:

_Dear Ace, _

_I love you. I was an ass to walk away. Please give me another chance. _

_Love,_

_Logan_

Logan shook his head and laughed at himself. He couldn't seriously send her that. He quit the word processing program without saving anything.

Maybe the answer was to call her. He was trying to work out an opening line when Honor's voice startled him.

"Colby sends her love," she said, standing in the doorway to Logan's room.

Logan looked toward the door. "Huh?"

Honor walked inside the room. "Colby Ingram. She sends her love. I think she was sorry you weren't there to see the Hartford debut of her new boobs."

"Her new what?" Logan asked.

"You heard me," Honor said. "Seems her daddy bought her a set of implants for her twenty-first birthday last summer, which is disturbing on so many levels. She looks like a fucking porn star. No pun intended."

Logan chuckled. "Colby doesn't have enough personality to be a porn star."

"Now is that any way to talk about your future wife?"

Logan's face fell at Honor's words.

She sat down on the bed. "Logie, you know I was teasing, right?"

He nodded. "Don't call me Logie."

"Okay." Honor had only ever used the nickname to tease or annoy him. "So are you going to tell me what happened with Rory the other night?"

"What...how do you know about that?"

"I don't know anything, except that you took the bait and went with Mom and Dad to her grandparents' party. Please tell me you talked to her."

"Wait a minute. What do you mean I took the bait?"

Honor shrugged. "Well, I counted on you not being able to resist the chance to see Rory once you found out about the party."

"Is that why you insisted I take the red-eye Friday night? So I'd be home in time for the Gilmores' party?"

"I had to do something, Logan. You've been so miserable without her, and you weren't doing anything about it."

"But I wasn't invited to the party. How did you know I'd even ask where Mom and Dad were going that night?"

Honor shrugged again. "I may have asked Dad to make sure you knew."

It had been Mitchum who had suggested Logan tag along. "Oh my god! You've got Dad messing with my love life now?"

"Well, I sure as hell couldn't have asked Mom. She may have started to come around about Rory's positive influence on you, but once she rejected your proposal, that was all out the window. I knew Dad would be more receptive."

Logan narrowed his eyes at his sister. "This is Mitchum Huntzberger we're talking about, right?"

"Logan, regardless of what you think, Dad wants you to be happy. Rory made you happy. Even Dad could see that," Honor said. "So, come on, tell me what happened."

"We talked."

"And?"

"It was weird and a little awkward," Logan said. "But at the same time, it was kind of normal."

"And you both declared your undying love and you're going to live happily ever after."

"Not exactly. She seemed anxious to get away from me, but she did tell me that—"

"She loves you and wants to marry you and have a million babies with you?" Honor asked.

"Would you stop that?" Logan glared at her.

"Sorry. What did she tell you?"

"She wrote me letters. She didn't send them, but she's been writing to me almost since the day she said no. I asked her to let me read them. Actually, I kind of begged, but she told me it wouldn't be a good idea."

"So ask her again."

"I don't have to. When I opened up my e-mail this morning, she had sent them to me. Twenty-five letters. I was reading them when you got here today."

"So Rory's letters were what you needed to get back to after lunch?"

Logan nodded. "I just finished reading them and was trying to figure out what to do next."

"Are you okay?" Honor asked.

"Honor, she wrote about everything. How hurt and unhappy she's been, how much she's missed me, why she said no...it's all in there in excruciating detail."

"See? I told you she still loved you. I still don't get why she changed her mind about marrying you, but—"

"I never said she changed her mind," Logan said.

"But you'd talked about it, right? Before you proposed?" When Logan didn't respond, Honor frowned. "Logan, please tell me you did not propose to that girl in a room full of people without ever talking about marriage with her."

Logan remained silent.

"Logan! What were you thinking? I assumed you two had at least broached the subject."

"All right, I'm an idiot, as Rory so plainly pointed out in one of her letters. We hadn't talked about marriage per se, but we said we loved each other and belonged to one another."

"Not exactly the same thing. Josh and I talked about it for months before he finally proposed."

"Yeah, well, I get that now. Believe me, I am painfully aware how much I fucked that up."

"So why did she say no?"

Logan sighed. "Lots of reasons. Mainly she wasn't ready for marriage when she was just finishing college and trying to start a career. She said she wanted to marry me, but not yet."

"And you believe she still loves you?"

Logan nodded.

"And I know you are desperately in love with her. So what the hell are you going to do about it?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out for the past hour," Logan said. "I tried to write her a letter, but everything sounded stupid."

"Don't write. Go see her." Honor cocked her head toward the door.

"Now?"

"There's no time like the present."

"It's Christmas Eve!"

"Yes, and tomorrow is Christmas, and the next day you go back to California. You don't have a lot of time. Call her and ask her to see you. She reached out by sending you the letters, so now it's your turn." Honor picked up Logan's cell phone from the nightstand and tossed it to him. "Call her. Right now."

"Maybe you should call her. You did break up with her for me on a major holiday."

"Quit stalling, Logan."

"But what if I interrupt her Christmas Eve festivities?"

"Rory won't care."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know everything."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Oh, right. I forgot."

"Fine. If you don't want to call her, send her a text. That's less intrusive."

"A text," Logan said.

"Ask her if you can meet up or ask her to call you when it's convenient."

"What if she doesn't respond?"

"She sent you twenty-five letters, Logan. She'll respond," Honor said. "Do it or I'll tell Mom to arrange a date for you and Colby and her new boobs."

"Okay, I'll send a text."

Logan grabbed the phone, punched in a message, and hit send.

"I think I'm going to puke," he said.


	7. Chapter 7

"As long as we leave my parents' house by quarter to seven, we'll have time to come home and change," Lorelai said from the stepladder as she hung a silver snowflake ornament on the Christmas tree. "We'll need lots of layers because it'll be cold sitting on Sookie and Jackson's porch."

"It'll be _freezing_ on Sookie and Jackson's porch," Rory said. "How did Taylor come up with the idea for a parade at night?"

"That's the First Annual Stars Hollow Christmas Eve Festival of Lights Spectacular to you, missy," Lorelai said. "Once Taylor found out about Mitchellville's Christmas Eve Parade of Lights, he was determined we would not be outdone."

"So we all have to freeze our butts off. Thanks a lot, Mitchellville." Rory handed another ornament up to Lorelai, then hung a sparkly elf on a lower branch.

"You should be used to the cold after all those outdoor political rallies in Iowa."

"That's exactly why I want to spend my vacation indoors drinking hot cocoa beside a cozy fire." Rory hung the snowman ornament she and Lane had made in third grade.

"Excuse me? Hot cocoa?"

"Or coffee." Rory shrugged. "Dad and I had cocoa Saturday night."

"Ah, he played the Hayden Christmas Eve tradition card on you."

"I didn't mind. Our fake Christmas was fun, even if Gigi did wake me up by pouncing on my bed at seven a.m."

"Well, you made up for it last night. You were out cold when I got home, and what time did you get up this morning, Sleeping Beauty? Almost eleven?"

"I never get to sleep in on the road. There's always a small-town pancake breakfast to cover or a glamorous bus journey first thing in the morning."

In truth, Rory had only pretended to be asleep when Lorelai returned from the inn around 11:30 the previous night. She was happy to delay the inevitable confrontation about Logan as long as Lorelai would allow it, and if that meant hiding in her room, so be it. No matter what Christopher said, Rory doubted Lorelai would be understanding—not when she was thrilled that Logan was no longer in Rory's life.

Lorelai climbed down from the ladder and stepped back to look at the tree. "What do you think? Are we done?"

"The angel's a little crooked."

Lorelai moved the stepladder closer to the tree and carefully reached up to straighten the angel. "How's that?"

"Perfect," Rory said. She looked at the boxes strewn around the living room. "Now we just need to put all this stuff away, and I have a couple more gifts to wrap before we leave for Grandma's."

"I know! We'll call Emily and tell her we can't come because you haven't had time to wrap your gifts."

"Mom, she'll never fall for that," Rory said as she stacked the empty ornament boxes for their return to storage.

"I know, but we just saw them two nights ago," Lorelai whined.

"And they didn't get to spend much time with us because they had other guests. I barely talked to Grandpa at all. Besides, it's Christmas Eve. You're supposed to spend the holidays with family."

"So you go. I'll hang out at the diner with Luke until it's time to go to Sookie's."

"It won't be that bad. Besides, you should just be happy that Grandma agreed to have dinner at five tonight instead of seven, so we won't miss the parade."

"You mean the First Annual Stars Hollow Christmas Eve Festival of Lights Spectacular. There'll be hell to pay if Taylor hears you call it a parade."

"Duly noted."

When Lorelai left the living room with the empty boxes, Rory slipped into her room to check her e-mail for probably the tenth time that day. She didn't know what she was hoping to find. In fact, when she woke up, she wasn't even certain she had sent Logan the letters. He had been haunting her dreams for months, so it wasn't too hard to imagine she had dreamt the whole thing. However, a check of her sent folder had proven it was no dream, and she'd been waiting for some kind of response ever since. Like all those months on the road, her inbox was empty of e-mail from Logan Huntzberger. She had no missed calls and no little envelope in the bottom corner of her Sidekick to signify she'd missed a text message.

The more hours that passed, the more queasy Rory felt about her decision to send the letters. It had been foolish to pour her heart out like that, and waiting for a response—any response—was torture. She told herself not to expect a quick reply. After all, it was Christmas Eve, so Logan may not have checked his e-mail, and it would take hours to read all the letters if he had. She was certain of one thing: she had written her last one. If the letters were a catalyst for their reconciliation, Rory would have no need to continue writing. But if Logan chose to ignore her after she had made herself so vulnerable, she'd have to stop kidding herself that they had any chance of fixing things. Either way, she was done with the letters.

Lorelai appeared in Rory's doorway. "Whatcha doing?" she asked.

"Just checking my e-mail."

"Expecting something?"

Rory shook her head. "Nothing in particular."

Lorelai sat down on the end of the bed. "And you're not expecting a phone call?"

"What?"

"You've been carrying your phone around all day," Lorelai said. "Is your dad supposed to call from France?"

"No, I had a text this morning to let me know he and Gigi arrived safely. He's going to call tomorrow." Rory shut her laptop.

"Carrying the phone around wouldn't have something to do with Logan, would it?"

Rory ignored the disdain in Lorelai's voice when she mentioned Logan's name. "I really need to wrap the twins' Christmas presents. I got them books. I know they're not a year old yet, but it's never too early—"

"Rory, we need to talk about what you said the other night."

"Why? So you can tell me again how I need closure? Or how I made the right decision? How, if Logan had been the right guy, I wouldn't have hesitated?"

"But you did hesitate, hon," Lorelai said. "That tells me that, deep down, you didn't want to marry Logan."

"No, it just means I didn't want to get married _then_—not that I didn't want to marry Logan," Rory said. "Mom, you knew how I felt about him, but you were so quick to dismiss him, to convince me I'd done the right thing. Because you never liked him."

Lorelai frowned. "You're right. I didn't like him," she said, and Rory was struck by how much she sounded like Emily. "Logan was the typical society brat, and I didn't like the way he treated you from the beginning, sleeping with you when he was still seeing other girls—"

"That wasn't Logan's idea."

"Oh, come on, Rory. You agreed to that because you liked him and it was the only way you thought you could be with him."

"Maybe so, but that was almost three years ago. Things changed. The way we started is completely irrelevant. You knew I loved Logan and you knew he loved me."

"You're too young to get married."

"Don't you think that's a little hypocritical? By the time you were my age, you had a seven-year-old."

"Talk about irrelevant. You know I have never regretted having you for one minute, but it did mean I had to give up some of the opportunities that you have. If I had married your dad and become one of those society wives at 16, my life would have been even more restricted. I want more than that for you."

"Logan would never try to turn me into a society bimbo."

"Maybe not right away, but it doesn't mean that some day he won't want a wife whose main function is to keep his social calendar and look pretty on his arm."

"That would never happen, which you'd know if you'd ever taken the time to get to know him. I know you two got off on the wrong foot on an epic level, but I thought after your late-night talk during Spring Fling weekend that you had started to change your mind about him. I guess I was wrong. You just can't see past the privileged background."

"Maybe because I've known dozens of guys like Logan. Sooner or later, they all want the Stepford wife, no matter what they say."

"How would you know? You're such an expert on the world you ran away from over 20 years ago?"

"Look, Rory. We worked so hard for years to make sure you had every opportunity. We didn't go through all of that, getting you into Chilton and then an Ivy League school, so you could throw your life away on some guy."

"Logan is not just some guy, Mom. He's the love of my life!"

"You may think that now, but—"

"I don't _think_ that. I _know_ that. I am in love with Logan. Being with him would not be throwing my life away. Why can't you trust my judgment? I'm not a child."

"So what are you saying? That you made a mistake by not accepting his proposal?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Rory sighed. "I definitely made a mistake letting him walk out of my life. If the only way I could have prevented that was to say yes, then maybe I should have. You told me it would just take time to get over him, but time hasn't helped. Not at all. You have no idea what it's been like for me."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Lorelai asked.

Rory scoffed. "Are you serious? This conversation is exactly why. You were glad that Logan and I broke up. You didn't want to hear about how unhappy I was, and I didn't want to hear about how much better off I was without him."

"I wouldn't have said that," Lorelai said.

"Says the woman who told me just hours after I turned him down that I had made the right decision."

"I was just trying to make you feel better."

"I wish I could believe that."

"Rory, I get that you're unhappy, but have you thought about the possibility that it isn't Logan? Maybe you're just homesick. I know your job hasn't turned out to be all you'd hoped."

"See, you're doing it again! You're trying to make me believe what you want to believe. Why can't you accept that I know what I feel?"

"That's not what I'm doing. I just think you need to consider the possibility that you're holding on to the idea of Logan because the rest of your life isn't so perfect right now."

"And you need to consider the possibility that you're so against Logan because you're jealous that somebody else became more important to me than you!"

They both froze at the harshness of Rory's words.

Finally, Lorelai stood up and said, "I'm going to walk over to Luke's. I'll be back in time to shower before we go to Hartford." She walked out of Rory's room.

When Rory heard the front door slam, she flung herself down on her bed. Once again, the tears came. She was disgusted with herself. She cried more than the Leave Britney Alone guy on YouTube.

* * *

By the time Rory and Lorelai left for Hartford, Rory had checked her e-mail—and been disappointed by Logan's silence—another half-dozen times. Although she could easily continue to monitor her inbox from her phone, Rory knew Emily would never tolerate her fiddling with her Sidekick during dinner, and maybe that was good. The last thing Rory wanted to do was read a letter from Logan while sitting in a room with her mother and grandparents.

The drive to Hartford had been miserable. Lorelai was obviously punishing Rory with the silent treatment, but no matter how much Rory disliked fighting with her, she was not ready to apologize for hurting her mother's feelings, particularly when she believed she had told the truth with her outburst. Lorelai resented no longer being number one in her life and had never given Logan a fair chance because of it. Still, Rory realized an apology would be required at some point. One needed to look no further than the five and a half months Rory had lived in her grandparents' pool house for proof that Lorelai was a champion at holding a grudge when Rory didn't act exactly as Lorelai wanted.

For most of her life, Rory had perfected the role of the dutiful daughter, stepping out of line so rarely that discipline had no place in her relationship with Lorelai. They were more like sisters or best friends than mother and daughter, and the bond they shared was ridiculously close. It wasn't until Rory got older and dared to veer off Lorelai's preferred course of action that the cracks appeared. While Rory would be the first to admit she had made some poor decisions, they were her mistakes to make. On those rare occasions, she had been shocked to see the emergence of a Lorelai who bore a scary resemblance to her own mother. The wardrobe and the sense of humor may have been different, but the judgmental attitude and controlling nature were all Emily Gilmore. If Rory ever truly wanted to wound Lorelai, she would only need to share this revelation with her.

Dinner at the Gilmores' house was a mostly pleasant experience. Christmas gifts were exchanged, and the conversation was lively, although Lorelai and Rory continued to ignore each other. If Richard and Emily noticed the frost between their daughter and granddaughter, they were wise enough not to mention it. Instead, they peppered Rory with questions about the campaign trail, and she was grateful for any conversation that kept her from talking directly to her mother.

They were finishing up dessert when the question Rory had been dreading all night finally arose.

"Rory, dear, I have to ask you," Emily said. "Did you get a chance to speak with Logan at the party? I was pleased to see he came with Mitchum and Shira."

Lorelai snorted, and Emily gave her a puzzled glare.

"Um, yes, Grandma."

"Mitchum tells me the young man is making quite a name for himself out in California," Richard said. "I dare say Mitchum's even proud of him."

"That's nice to hear," Rory said.

"And how was it? Seeing him again?" Emily asked.

Rory squirmed in her seat. "Oh, it was...fine." Before she could think of anything else to say, she heard an electronic beep coming from inside her purse.

Emily frowned. "Rory, you know I don't approve of phone calls during dinner."

"That was a text message not a call, but I thought I'd switched it off. Sorry, Grandma." Rory took the phone from her purse to turn it off, but stopped when she saw the name on the screen: Logan. "If you'll excuse me a moment, I need to take care of something."

Rory hurried from the table before anyone could say anything and crossed the foyer to Emily's small sitting room. With shaking hands, she clicked the button to open the text.

_Need to see you. Back to CA Wed. Can I come to SH, maybe tonight?_

She looked at her watch. It was 6:25. She and Lorelai had planned to head back to Stars Hollow by 6:45, but she was certain that Logan and Lorelai in the same town was a bad idea, considering Lorelai's current state of mind. Although Lorelai would be furious if Rory skipped the parade, seeing Logan was more important than Taylor's stupid festival of lights spectacular, and they had limited time before he returned to California. Her heart raced as she typed a reply before she changed her mind.

_In Hartford w/o car. Pick me up at Gilmores' in 20?_

She hit send and waited. The phone beeped within seconds.

_On my way. _

Rory's stomach churned. Logan wanted to see her. No, he _needed _to see her. Rory didn't know if she should be excited or apprehensive or both. _This is exactly why I don't make spontaneous decisions,_ she thought.

It was too late to back out, so Rory slipped into the powder room for a few minutes, hoping to regain her composure. She did a quick grooming check (teeth, food-free; make-up, not smudged; hair, presentable), then rejoined her family, who had returned to the living room.

"Everything okay?" Emily asked when Rory entered. "You look a little flushed."

Out of the corner of her eye, Rory noticed Lorelai's glare. "Everything's fine, Grandma. I was just making plans to meet someone."

"When?" Lorelai asked.

"What?" Rory asked.

"You heard me," Lorelai said. "When are you meeting this _someone_? Like I can't figure out who it is."

"Lorelai, what on earth are you going on about?" Emily asked.

"Ask your granddaughter."

"Fine, Mom. I'm meeting Logan. Are you happy now? He's picking me up here."

"Just like that. He says jump and you say how high, and on Christmas Eve, no less." Lorelai shook her head in disgust. "Unbelievable."

"It's not like that. I need to see him before he goes back to California," Rory said. "God, Mom! Why are you being so difficult about this?"

"What about Lane?" Lorelai asked. "Weren't you supposed to hang out with her at Sookie's during the parade?"

"She was only going to stay for a little while before the twins' bedtime," Rory said. "And Lane will understand."

"Does this mean you and Logan are getting back together?" Emily asked.

"I don't know, Grandma. We're going to talk."

Emily beamed. "Well, I think this is wonderful news. Richard, isn't this wonderful—"

"Of course you think it's wonderful, Mom," Lorelai said. "Nothing would thrill you more than to see Rory bound to Logan and his trust fund. You've probably got Vera Wang on speed dial."

"Lorelai, I don't like your tone," Richard said.

Lorelai stood up. "And, on that note, I'm out of here," she said. "Thank you for dinner and the gifts. Merry Christmas. I'll see myself out."

As unreasonable as Rory felt Lorelai was being, she didn't want to meet Logan for what might be the most important conversation of her life with this bitterness looming over her. She followed Lorelai into the foyer. "Mom?"

"What, Rory?"

"I just...I don't want you to be mad about this. Please try to understand why I need to see him."

"You want my blessing to run off with Logan."

"I'm not running off with him. Please don't be like this."

Lorelai said nothing as she pulled on her coat.

Rory sighed. "Fine, whatever. I don't know when I'll be home, so don't wait up."

Rory waited until Lorelai was gone before returning to Emily and Richard.

"Sorry about that," Rory said. "Mom and I...well, we had a bit of an argument this afternoon. Clearly, it's not over."

"Is she really so upset that you and Logan are getting back together?" Emily asked.

"Grandma, I don't know that we are. Saturday night was the first time we'd had any contact since, well, you know."

"But if he's coming here—"

"Emily, leave the girl alone," Richard said. "She doesn't need you asking her a million questions. When she has something to tell us, I'm certain she will."

Rory smiled weakly at her grandfather. "If you don't mind, I think I'll just watch for Logan at the window. I know it goes against proper etiquette not to let him come to the door, Grandma, but I think it'll be easier in this case."

Before Emily could respond, Richard said, "That will be fine."

After they said their good-byes, Rory gathered her things, put on her coat, and positioned herself in a window where she could see Logan pull into the driveway, which he did almost exactly twenty minutes after Rory's text. She stepped outside as soon as she saw the headlights, then stopped just beyond the front door. She held up one finger to Logan in a gesture that said she'd be right with him.

Logan watched as Rory removed her phone from her purse. Once again, he was struck by her beauty. With the tasteful white Christmas lights illuminating the arched doorway behind her, she looked positively angelic, and just the sight of her calmed the butterflies in his stomach, at least a little bit. She had responded to his text so quickly that he still had no idea what he was going to say to her. Honor had assured him it was a good sign that Rory hadn't hesitated to respond, and after determining Logan was adequately groomed and dressed in clean clothes, she had dropped the car keys in his hand and shuffled him out of the Huntzberger house.

Rory ended her call and opened the door to the black Range Rover.

"Sorry about that," she said as she climbed in. "I needed to let Lane know about the change in plans."

"Am I keeping you from something?" Logan asked, nervously. "I don't want to mess things up for you. If you need to be somewhere—"

"Logan, it's not a big deal. I'll see Lane tomorrow." Rory belted herself into the passenger seat. "Is this your car?"

"Nah, it's Dad's. He's letting me drive it while I'm in town."

"Huh. I never would have pegged Mitchum as an SUV guy."

"He only drives it in snowy weather." In his Mitchum voice, Logan added, "The newspaper business does not come to a halt because of winter."

Rory chuckled. "Only Mitchum Huntzberger would have a, what, $70,000 car just for driving in snowstorms. Wouldn't it make more sense to have a beat-up old truck for that?"

"Mitchum in a beat-up old truck? That's crazy talk, Ace."

Rory smiled slightly at the sound of her nickname. "Of course. What was I thinking?"

"So how'd you get here without a car?" Logan asked. "You haven't mastered teleportation, have you? Because that would be awesome."

"God, I wish. Covering the campaign would be so much nicer," Rory said. "But, no, Mom was here until about ten minutes ago."

Logan noticed the annoyance in Rory's tone. "Is there a problem?"

"Nope," she said. "So does this fancy snowmobile move or are we going to sit in front of my grandparents' house all night?"

"No, it moves," Logan said, putting the vehicle in gear. "Though I have to admit I didn't really think this through. We need a place where we can talk. You know, somewhere—"

"Private."

"Right. But I'm staying at my parents' house, and since you told me to pick you up here, I assume you don't want to go back to Stars Hollow."

"Definitely not."

Logan couldn't make out Rory's expression in the darkened car, but something was definitely up between her and Lorelai. He hoped he wasn't responsible. Lorelai had blamed him—unfairly, he thought—for their estrangement when Rory dropped out of Yale. If he and Rory had any chance at a future, they would need Lorelai's support—or at least no blatant opposition from her.

He stopped at the end of the Gilmores' drive. "So any ideas?"

Rory thought for a minute. "I know where we can go," she said. "Turn left."

For the first five minutes or so of the drive, the only sounds inside the car were the oldies music on the radio and Rory's occasional directions. She desperately wanted to say something more intelligent than "turn right at the light," but she couldn't find the words. Writing things down was much easier. It didn't help that she was distracted by the absurdity of listening to "We Can Work It Out"as she and Logan were about to talk about the sorry state of their relationship. Finally, the Beatles' song ended, only to be followed by the Beach Boys' "God Only Knows," which Rory thought made things even more awkward. It had only been named the best love song of all time by _Entertainment Weekly_. Mitchum's radio was as mean as her iPod.

"Mind if we turn the music off?" she asked.

"No problem." Logan switched off the radio. "Dad's a fan of the '60s channel."

"Because who doesn't enjoy a little Motown while dodging snowplows."

"Exactly. It did kind of seem like the music was mocking us."

"I was thinking the same thing," Rory said. "Take a left here."

"You know, Ace, there are over a hundred channels on satellite radio. I could probably find some Backstreet Boys if you want."

Rory glared at him in the dark. "You're hilarious."

Logan chuckled. "Sorry. Couldn't resist." He sighed. "Can we just acknowledge that this is a little weird?"

"Yes. But also not weird, which kind of makes it weirder. I felt the same way at the party."

"Me, too. So are you going to fill me in on our secret destination, or are you just messing with me by making me turn at random intersections?"

"It's not a secret. We're going to my dad's house," Rory said. "We're almost there. Take a right at the next stop sign. Then, it's the third house on the left."

"I thought Chris was in France."

"He is. You said you wanted private."

"We're not breaking in, are we?"

"No, I abandoned my life of crime after the yacht." Rory opened her purse. "Dad wants me to feel like this is my home, too, so he gave me a key when I was here in October. I stuck in my wallet in case I ever needed it on the spur of the moment."

"Like tonight."

"Can't say I imagined using it under these circumstances, but at least we've got a place to go."

Logan pulled into Christopher's driveway and parked in front of the garage. Security lights were burning on the corners of the house. Rory and Logan glanced at each other in the dim light, but neither made a move to get out of the SUV. While the atmosphere between them was not quite comfortable, something about it felt surprisingly familiar, and they seemed reluctant to lose that feeling in the emotional upheaval they both knew awaited them.

Finally, Rory said, "So we should probably go inside."

"Probably."

Rory gathered her things and climbed out of the SUV. "Coming?" she asked.

Logan got out and hit the lock button on the key fob. "Right behind you, Ace," he said and followed her up the front walk.


	8. Chapter 8

As soon as Rory unlocked the front door, the electronic chime of the alarm system sounded.

"You do know the alarm code, don't you?" Logan asked.

Rory rolled her eyes as she flipped the switch beside the door, flooding the foyer with light. "Of course." She punched a four-digit number into the control panel, and the annoying tone stopped. "What good would it do for Dad to give me a key without teaching me how to shut off the alarm?"

"Just checking. Wouldn't want the police showing up, especially now that you've abandoned your life of crime."

"I did that a long time ago," Rory said. "I'm a straight arrow now."

"Ace, you've always been a straight arrow."

"Excuse me, but I have a criminal record that says otherwise."

Logan frowned. "That's my fault."

"Hardly," Rory said, shaking her head. "It was my idea."

"You couldn't have done it without my help."

"Well, it doesn't really matter now, does it?"

"I guess not."

"Anyway, Dad made sure he chose an alarm code I could easily remember."

"What is it?"

"Why?" Rory asked. "Planning on coming back later to clean my dad out?"

"Oh, you're on to me. Damn."

Rory smiled. "It's 3-1-0-8. Gigi's birthday is January 31, and—"

"Yours is October 8," Logan said.

Something about the wistful look in Logan's eyes made Rory's cheeks warm, and she turned away to avoid his gaze. "Dad was worried I'd feel slighted because he put Gigi's birthday first, but he didn't want to start the code with a zero. He made a big deal of telling me that was the only reason she came first. It was kind of cute."

"Sounds like things are good with your dad. I'm glad."

Rory nodded. "Yeah, really good. In a lot of ways, he's closer than...well, I feel like this is the best our relationship has ever been. I talk to him all the time."

"And he and Gigi came to see you in Chicago."

"How do you...oh, right. I wrote about that, didn't I?"

"And a lot of other things. I feel like I know what you've been doing for the last seven months."

"Yet I know nothing about what you've been doing."

"What do you want to know?"

Again, Rory wouldn't make eye contact and crossed her arms over herself. "It's cold in here. There's a gas fireplace in the living room. Think you can figure out how to turn it on while I go push the heat up?"

"I think I can manage."

Logan watched Rory walk toward the back of the house before moving into the living room. He turned on a table lamp, then dropped his coat on a padded bench just inside the room's entrance. It took him a minute to find the fireplace's hidden panel on the side of the hearth, but once he did the flames shot up behind the glass panel. As he straightened up to survey his success, he noticed a double picture frame on the mantel and picked it up for a closer look. The picture on the right was Christopher with his arm around Rory in her cap and gown after the ceremony at Yale. Logan remembered watching that photo session from a few yards away, minutes before Rory had shattered his world by rejecting his proposal. He quickly shifted his eyes to the photo on the left in which a teenaged Christopher was holding a baby with wispy brown hair and huge, sparkling blue eyes. Baby Rory had been just as gorgeous as grown-up Rory.

"Oh, good, you got the fire going. That should warm things up in a hurry," Rory said as she entered the room. She removed her coat and dropped it on top of Logan's.

Logan held the hinged frame toward Rory. "I assume this is you with your dad. He looks so young."

"He _was_ young. Sixteen," Rory said moving closer to look at the picture over Logan's arm. "Although I guess he was seventeen by then. I think that was taken when he was home from school for Easter break. I was about six months old."

Except for the few seconds when Logan had helped her with her coat at the Gilmores' house, it was the nearest they'd been to each other, even closer than in the car, and Rory felt as if a magnet were pulling her toward him. She quickly stepped back before she did something inappropriate. Like rest her head on his shoulder.

Logan cleared his throat. "I don't think I've ever seen a baby picture of you with your dad."

"There aren't many." Rory shrugged. "He wasn't around much."

"I'm sorry."

Rory looked puzzled. "It's not your fault."

"I just meant that I wasn't trying to bring up painful memories."

"I know. If you wanted to do that, you could just mention the picture on the other side of the frame."

An awkward silence settled over the room as they stared at each other. Because she'd removed her coat, Logan could see she was wearing a simple, close-fitting cashmere sweater the color of her eyes, dark gray wool pants, and a pair of black pumps. Her outfit possessed the perfect amount of casual elegance to earn Emily Gilmore's approval.

"Hey, can I get you something to drink?" Rory asked. "Or something to eat? Have you had dinner? I ate at my grandparents' house, well, duh, you probably figured that, but I'm sure I can find you something to eat if you're hungry. Oh, I know—there's leftover pizza from lunch yesterday. It's really good, too. I was supposed to take it home with me, but I forgot until I was halfway to Stars Hollow, and I wasn't about to turn around—"

"Rory, relax. You don't need to get me anything," Logan said. "And I'm nervous, too."

"I've seen you nervous. You don't look nervous."

"Well, I am. I have so much I want to say, and I don't even know where to start."

"Maybe we could sit," Rory said.

"Okay."

Logan sat down on the sofa, but Rory walked over to the Christmas tree and found the switch in the light cord and flipped it on.

"It's a pretty tree, isn't it?" she asked, making no move to sit down.

"Yes, but I thought you wanted to sit."

"Yeah, okay." She hesitated beside the sofa, then walked over and sat in the armchair by the fireplace. "I'm sitting."

"I can see that," Logan said. "So. First off, I guess I should thank you for sending me the letters."

"Thank my dad. He had a lot to do with convincing me I should."

"Hmm, that's kind of fitting."

"How?"

"I just found out that my dad played a role in getting me to your grandparents' party," Logan said. "Honor schemed to get me home and then enlisted Dad to make sure I knew where they were going Saturday night."

"And he went along with it?" Rory asked. "Wow, Mitchum is full of surprises."

"I guess he is. Anyway, I'm glad you sent the letters."

"You are?"

"Hey, I'm not going to lie. Some of them were pretty hard to read—"

"I'm sorry about that. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did." Logan sighed. "But even though they were sometimes difficult to read, you wrote some things that I probably needed to hear."

Rory stared at her hands. "Like what?"

"Like, I don't know, maybe I shouldn't have proposed to you like that when we'd never talked about marriage. Because what kind of an idiot proposes in public unless he's certain he'll be accepted, right?"

Rory cringed. "Oh, god, Logan, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have written—"

"No, you were right. Honor basically told me the same thing about 45 minutes ago. I heard all about how she and Josh talked about it for months before he finally got around to asking her."

"It never occurred to me that you would want to get married any time soon. Honestly, I had resigned myself to the fact that when I was ready, I would have to bring up the subject. I imagined having to drag you, kicking and screaming, into that kind of a commitment when the time came."

"And I never imagined you'd say no," Logan said. "It sounds arrogant now, but that possibility never crossed my mind."

"But we had never talked about it. At all. Not even as a joke. It was a total surprise to me." Rory kicked off her shoes and drew her legs up, hugging herself around the knees. "Why were you in such a rush? It was crazy."

"Crazy?" Logan stood up and walked over to the Christmas tree. He felt a surge of the anger he had experienced when he read her July letter, anger that he'd kept bottled up for seven months.

"Well, no, not crazy, but—"

"Was it crazy that I loved you so much that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?" He spun around to face her. "Fuck, Rory! How do you think that made me feel to realize that you didn't want that?"

"I did want that!" Tears welled up in Rory's eyes.

"Oh, really? Because the big fat 'no' I got seemed to contradict that. I was nothing but an obstacle to your 'wide open' future!"

"That isn't fair! I never said—"

"Yes, you did! You said your life was wide open, and if you married me, it wouldn't be. Believe me, I remember what you said that day. I was offering you a lifelong commitment, and you threw it back in my face. And then you had the nerve to write about how I was selfish. How _I_ was selfish? I'm the bad guy here?"

Tears streamed down Rory's cheeks. "I didn't throw anything back in your face! I said I loved you. You knew how much I loved you, but you walked away and never looked back. How could you do that? If you loved me so much, how could you just cut me out like that?"

"You were the one who cut me out! All for your wide open future!"

"But I didn't want to break up!" Rory jumped out of her chair. "That was all you!"

"Oh, right. It's all my fault! You didn't love me as much as I thought, as much as I loved you, and everything is my fault. Of course." Logan glared at her, breathing heavily.

"God, Logan, did you even read my letters? I explained why I wasn't ready to get married—"

"Right, because it would interfere with your precious career. So how's that working out for you, Ace? Is riding around Iowa on a fucking bus all you ever wanted?"

"You know it's not!"

"Well, that's what you picked instead of a life with me."

"Why did you have to give me an ultimatum? Why did you make me choose?"

"Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe that wasn't fair," Logan said. "But fair or not, it doesn't change the fact that when I did, you chose your career over me. Do you know how much that hurt? To find out that your career was more important to you than I was?"

"No, Logan, that wasn't—"

"Sure seemed like it to me."

"I just wanted to explore my options before I—"

"Options that didn't include me. What was it, Rory? Were you afraid to tie yourself to me in case something better came along?"

"No! Of course not! Why would you even think such a thing?"

"Why wouldn't I think that? I loved you, Rory. I asked you to _marry_ me, and you said no. What else was I supposed to think? Either you wanted to spend your life with me or you didn't."

"Logan, no, that's not...it was the timing. I wanted to be with you. I just needed a little time."

"Time for what? To convince Lorelai that it was a good idea? Is that what happened, Ace? Did your mommy tell you not to marry me?"

Rory's mouth dropped open. "I cannot believe you just said that! You said you wanted to talk, and all you're doing is yelling ridiculous accusations at me! If your plan is to make me realize I made the right decision, then bravo, Logan! You're doing a great job! I really dodged a bullet by saying no!"

"You know what? I don't need this shit." Logan turned toward away and grabbed his coat, knocking Rory's onto the floor.

"You're leaving? Fine, go ahead! No surprise here! If there's one thing Logan Huntzberger is really good at, it's walking away!"

Logan got as far as the front door before he stopped. Behind him, he heard Rory breaking into gut-wrenching sobs. He couldn't fathom how things turned so ugly between them in such a short time. He didn't want to yell at her. He wanted to tell her how much he loved and missed her and how much he wanted her in his life. He walked back to the living room. Rory was sitting on the sofa, hunched over its end with her face buried in her crossed arms, crying like Logan had never seen her cry. She looked tiny as her body shook with the intensity of her anguish. Logan couldn't bear seeing her in such despair.

"Oh, Rory."

She lifted her head. "Forget something?" she asked through her tears. "Gonna throw some money at me for a cab?"

Without thinking, Logan crossed the room and sat beside her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her toward him. Rory stiffened against the embrace, but when Logan made no move to let go, she collapsed against him. She allowed him to lift her legs over his, and she put her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. He stroked her hair and whispered soothing words in her ear.

"Shh, sweetie, please don't cry. I'm so sorry. So sorry about everything. I never want to make you cry, Ace." He placed a light kiss on the side of her head. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I never want to hurt you. Never. I love you so much, Rory."

"Love...you...too," Rory croaked out.

"I know."

"I'm...sorry...please...don't...go..."

"I'm not going anywhere. Shh, it's okay. You don't have to say anything right now."

Logan had no idea how much time passed before Rory's tears subsided, and even after her breathing returned to normal, they clung to each other in silence for what seemed like a long time. While he hated knowing he was the source of her pain, Logan reveled in the feeling of her in his arms again. Finally, Rory lifted her head and looked at him with sad, bloodshot eyes. He touched her face, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb, and she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," she said. "For ever making you doubt how much I love you." She cast her eyes down, then wiped her fingers across the neckband of his sweater. "For getting snot on your sweater."

Logan chuckled. "I'll send you the dry cleaning bill, but I don't care about the sweater. Just you, Ace. And I'm sorry, too. I didn't come here to yell at you. I don't know how that happened. I went a little crazy there for a minute. I came to tell you how much I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

"Yeah, I kind of picked up on that from your letters. How many days has it been now?"

"Two hundred and ten," Rory said. "Not that I'm counting."

"Oh, you're not. Well, okay then." He kissed her forehead.

"I was counting the days since we'd seen each other or talked, so technically that ended Saturday night at 208."

"Maybe you should stop counting now."

"Yeah, maybe." Rory removed herself from Logan's embrace, but remained beside him on the sofa. "Sorry about all the hysterical crying."

"It's okay."

"It's annoying. I cry all the time now. A couple of weeks ago, I watched one of those Hallmark Hall of Fame movies where all the commercials are for Hallmark cards. I'm sitting there in my motel room, watching a commercial where a woman reminisces about trudging through the snow with her dad when she was a little girl on Christmas Eve, and I start bawling. It was disgusting. It's a good thing I didn't have a roommate that night."

Logan smiled and reached for Rory's hand. "You were also crying when I found you in Richard's study, weren't you?"

Rory nodded. "Want to know why?"

"If you want to tell me." He placed a gentle kiss on her palm.

"I was thinking about last Christmas and how happy I was with you in London. Before I ruined everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," Logan said. "No more than I did, anyway. I shouldn't have sprung that proposal on you. I realize that now. I just...I thought that we were in love and marriage was the logical next step. I was worrying about the future and going to California, and I thought you were all I needed. That as long as I had you, I'd be fine."

"But you had me, Logan. We didn't need to get married for that."

Logan shrugged. "I guess not. You know, there's something else that Logan Huntzberger's really good at."

Rory blushed. "Yes, I know. You should be good at it with all the practice you've had."

"Ace! I didn't mean _that_. What a dirty little mind you have. Although, now that you mention it, I am quite talented in that area." Under his breath, he added, "Used to be, anyway."

Rory made a face at him. "Well, what were you talking about then?"

"I'm pretty good at being an ass."

"You're not an ass."

"Well, thanks for saying that, but I know you could give at least a half-dozen examples of my asinine behavior off the top of your pretty head, including one from about ten minutes ago."

"Logan—"

"What I mean is I was an ass to keep my job offer from you. I don't know what I was thinking not telling you about California."

"That is kind of a big life-altering event."

"I know, and getting that job was part of why I proposed. I wanted you to go with me, but I guess I didn't think it was fair to ask you to leave your family and friends and move across the country with me as my girlfriend. If you were my fiancée, it would have been different. Does that make any sense?"

Rory nodded. "I guess so. It's just that the fiancée part freaked me out. I was scared to make such a huge decision when everything in my life was so uncertain. But, Logan, I know it may have seemed like it, but I was never uncertain about you. You have to believe me. I knew I wanted to be with you forever. I just wasn't so sure about making it all legal right then at age 22."

"When I was 23 before I agreed to be your boyfriend and almost 24 before I could admit that I loved you."

"Wow, you really paid attention to those letters."

"Yeah, well, I read that one more than once," Logan said. "There really was a lot we should have talked about, wasn't there?"

"Yes, there was."

"You know last Christmas was the first time I started to think seriously about marrying you. I'd thought about it, of course, pretty much from the time I realized I was in love with you. But last Christmas was where it started to be more than just hypothetical."

"You know what's crazy?" Rory asked. "If you had asked me then, even out of the blue, I probably would have said yes. I was so happy during those two weeks. Nothing about the future had gotten scary or uncertain yet. And it was before my parents' marriage flamed out."

Logan frowned. "I never even thought about that. Is that why you're against marriage?"

"I'm not against marriage, Logan. Really, I'm not. But I can't say that what happened with them didn't affect me. I know we are not my parents and our situation was completely different, but it doesn't change the fact that they were really happy, happier than I'd ever seen them, until they messed it up by getting married. Mom said it wasn't too soon because they'd had over 20 years to get there, but she was wrong. She wasn't completely over Luke yet."

"She's back with Luke, isn't she? I saw him at the party."

"I guess. I don't know." Rory shrugged and shook her head. "They're not living together or engaged or anything."

"You don't want her to be with Luke?"

"It's not that. I love Luke. You know that. But I just...I don't know if Luke can ever make Mom happy. He doesn't get her the way my dad does. He never has." Rory sighed. "I know I'm biased. Things are so good right now for Dad and me, and that's the fairytale—to have your parents happily together. Plus, I can tell Dad still wishes things had worked out."

"And Lorelai?"

"Who knows? But, for the record, she did not tell me I shouldn't marry you. Instead she flat out refused to give any opinion or even talk about it with me the night you proposed."

"But she didn't want you to say yes."

"No, and I knew it. I hate that I let that influence me, even subconsciously. I am so sorry about that. Particularly now."

"Why now?"

"Oh, nothing. We're just...we're kind of fighting."

"About me?" Logan asked.

Rory nodded. "She started in on me Saturday night, about how seeing you would give me closure, and I kind of went off on her. We hadn't talked about you since those first few days after graduation. Once I left for my job, she never asked how I was doing when it came to you. She's supposed to know me so well, but she couldn't tell how heartbroken I was. Dad knew it, but she didn't. Or she didn't want to admit it."

"She really hates me, doesn't she?"

"I used to think that," Rory said. "Well, hate is probably too strong a word, but she didn't like you very much. You did make a pretty horrible impression on her at the beginning."

"No kidding."

"But I've reached the conclusion that it isn't really you. I said something to that effect this afternoon, and now she's not speaking to me."

"What did you say?"

"Basically, I told her that she never gave you a fair chance because she was jealous that you had replaced her as the most important person in my life."

Logan stared into Rory's eyes. "Am I still the most important person in your life, Ace?"

"If you want to be," Rory said, her eyes shining with tears.

"Oh, I definitely want to be."

Their lips met, tentatively at first, but the kiss soon deepened into something more. It was as if they were trying to erase all the hurt feelings and loneliness of the past seven months with one kiss. Logan pulled Rory against his chest and her arms found their way around his neck. When the kiss finally ended, Logan rested his forehead against Rory's, but he didn't release his grip on her lower back.

"So nothing about _that_ has changed in seven months," he said.

"Not a thing." Rory dropped a quick peck on Logan's lips. "I love you so much. I never stopped, not for one minute. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. You have to believe that. I'm so sorry about—"

"Shh, Ace." Logan captured her mouth again in a lingering kiss. "I think we can agree that we're both sorry, and we wish we could change what happened."

"But we can't," Rory said, frowning. "But there is one thing I need to say. I made a mistake, Logan. Not necessarily about getting married, but I never should have allowed myself to think that my career had to be my top priority simply because I had just graduated from Yale."

"I shouldn't have made you choose. I'm—"

"Hush. I'm not finished yet."

Logan made a little salute. "Yes, ma'am."

"My career matters a lot to me. It's important, and I still think I deserve the chance to figure out what I want to do with my life professionally. But not at the expense of us. It sounds really sappy and exactly like something from a Hallmark commercial that would make me burst into tears since I've become such a complete and total sentimental fool, but if I don't have you to celebrate my successes and to help me deal with my failures, none of it means anything. I am so sorry that I made you feel like I was choosing my career over you. I never meant to do that, and I hope you can forgive me." Rory paused. "Okay, you can talk now."

"I forgive you," he said. "If you can forgive me for proposing like that and then walking away."

"I can. As long as you promise not to walk away again. Oh, and never to propose in front of the DAR."

Logan smiled. "Deal. I adore you, Ace. You mean everything to me. You know that, right?"

He didn't wait for a response before his mouth found hers again. After several minutes of kissing and cuddling, Rory nestled her head against Logan's shoulder. They remained quiet, just basking in each other's presence.

Finally, Rory asked, "So what do we do now? You live in California, and I ride around the country on a bus."

"You won't always. Until then, we'll figure something out. It'll be easier than when I was in London. At the most, we'll only be three time zones apart."

"But you said you didn't want to do long distance. That you couldn't go backwards."

"Yeah, well, I said and did a lot of stupid things that day," Logan said. "I'm not saying I'm looking forward to long separations. I've had more than enough of being away from you this year, but we'll manage, Rory. And, even if Senator Obama gets the nomination, there is an end date to the campaign trail."

Rory groaned. "Yeah, next November. I can't be away from you for eleven months. Besides, I'll never make it. The bus, the motels, I just can't."

"Did you apply to grad school? You mentioned it in one letter, but you didn't write many more after that."

"In theory, I could still apply to Columbia, but I missed the deadlines for Stanford and NYU. I think I procrastinated because I wasn't sure if that's what I wanted."

"Not even Stanford?"

"I love Stanford's program, and if it meant I'd be with you, it would be perfect, but it's almost impossible to get in. They accept only about 15 students each year. By comparison, Columbia takes a few hundred."

"Stanford would be crazy not to accept you."

"I seem to recall your telling me the same thing about the Reston Fellowship. I know now I shouldn't assume I'm going to get something just because I apply."

"Not getting the Reston doesn't mean you shouldn't try, Ace."

"No, of course not. That's not what I'm doing. Maybe I'll decide to apply to Stanford next year. But, as much as I love school, I think I'm better off getting some more real-world experience first. That is, if I decide I even need a master's. Or maybe I'll get a master's in something other than journalism, so I can write with expertise about a particular field."

"But not political science."

"Ugh. Definitely not. But I won't know what until I get some more experience."

Logan kissed Rory's hair. "You know, Ace, we don't have to figure out all the details right now."

"Good. I don't think I'm capable of figuring everything out tonight. It makes my head hurt."

"We can't have that, can we?"

"No, I might start crying again."

"Well, I will kiss your tears away."

Rory giggled. "Were you always so cheesy? I don't remember you being so cheesy."

"Cheesy, huh? I'll show you cheesy." Logan tickled her and planted a wet kiss on her neck as Rory squealed and wriggled out of his grasp.

She stood up in front of the couch and held her hand out to Logan. "Come on."

Logan looked puzzled as he put his hand in hers, but he remained on the sofa. "Where are we going?"

"I don't believe I've given you a proper tour of my dad's house."

"No, you haven't."

"There's a bedroom upstairs that he has designated as mine. I think you should see it."

"Rory..."

"I believe I need a refresher on the other thing that Logan Huntzberger is really good at."

"Ace, we don't have to—"

"Are you coming or not?" Rory let go of his hand and walked toward the doorway.

Logan took a deep breath. "I just—I mean...are you sure?"

Rory gave him an impish grin, peeled off her sweater, and threw it at him. Logan's mouth dropped open at the sight of Rory in her pink, lacy bra.

"I'm sure," she said. "So get off your cute ass and come upstairs with me before you ruin your reputation."

"Ruin my reputation, huh?" Logan laughed as he jumped up from the couch. "Now you're in for it."

"Oh, am I? Promises, promises." Rory squealed as she dodged Logan's reach and ran for the stairs.

"You'd better run," Logan said as he chased a giggling Rory up the steps.


	9. Chapter 9

What had begun with Logan's playful pursuit of Rory quickly turned serious once they reached the bedroom. Despite their intense desire, they shared an unspoken need to take their time becoming reacquainted, and their lovemaking had been slow and tender. Afterward, as they lay tangled in each other's arms, neither could find the words to express the profound emotions coursing through them. Nestled against Logan as his fingers absentmindedly raked through her long hair, Rory had nearly drifted off to sleep when his voice broke their contented silence.

"January 11, 2006."

Rory opened her eyes. "What?"

"January 11, 2006," Logan repeated. "The first time I told you I loved you. Of course you shut the door in my face right after I said it."

"I did not."

"Ace."

"Okay, I did," Rory said. "I wasn't sure I could believe you."

"But, on January 19, you decided you could. That was the night we saved the paper after Paris' meltdown and, more importantly, you kissed me, and I knew you had decided to take me back. You're not the only one who remembers the important dates in our history."

Rory squeezed her eyes shut to squelch the tears—happy tears, this time—that threatened to fall. "I love you so much," she said.

"And I love you."

Rory propped her chin on her arms, so she could look into Logan's brown eyes. "So what do you think of my room?" she asked.

"It's great, but I think it has a lot more to do with the beautiful girl in the room than the room itself," Logan said, tightening his hold on her. "I also think this is _not_ what Chris had in mind when he gave you a key to his house."

Rory chuckled and dropped a kiss on Logan's bare shoulder. "Oh, I don't think he'd mind too much. He loves me and wants me to be happy. And he's always liked you. "

"Oh, really? Have you forgotten that the first time I ever saw him he threatened to kick my ass for pawing his daughter?"

"That was almost three years ago—and he was pretty smashed that night. I think now he'll just be glad he won't have to listen to me talk about how heartbroken I am anymore."

"Well, just stick to the PG version. Tell him we're working things out and skip the details," Logan said. "Fathers do not want to think about their little girls having sex. I think my dad is still in denial about Honor, and she's been married for almost two years and is expecting a baby in April."

Rory grinned. "You mean, when Dad calls tomorrow and asks about my Christmas Eve, you don't want me to mention that we got naked in his house and then you did this amazing thing with your tongue—"

Logan rolled on top of Rory and attacked her lips before she could finish her sentence. "Please do not tell him that. I need one of your parents on my side."

"But shouldn't my father know that you're treating me well? Because I've got to say, babe, what just happened in this room definitely falls into the category of treating me well. _Very_ well. Multiple—"

"Ace!"

"Oh, calm down." Rory pushed Logan off her, then snuggled against him with her head on his chest. "You know I would never discuss our sex life with my father. There are certain boundaries that cannot be crossed. Although when you knock your girlfriend up at 16, you lose the right to be too judgmental about sex. At least Dad could handle finding out about tonight better than my grandparents took the news about what was going on in the pool house."

"When _you_ told them."

"No, I told Reverend Ultimate Gift or whatever his name was, and _he_ told them," Rory said. "Isn't there some kind of confidentiality clause for clergy, like with lawyers and doctors?"

"Usually, but I guess it depends on the setting. You weren't at confession."

"Whatever. I still can't believe Grandma and Grandpa were so shocked. I mean, _hello_, their own daughter had a baby at 16. It's not exactly like premarital sex was unheard of in our family. And I was almost 21."

"But you were their sweet, demure Rory. The good girl."

"I know they thought I was something special, but they also knew about your playboy rep. Did they really think that Logan Huntzberger was going to give up sex just so he could be my boyfriend? I wasn't _that _special."

"Hey, I have willingly endured some torturously long stretches without sex for the sake of being your boyfriend."

"When you were in London, but that was different. You were being faithful to me. It's not like you gave up sex to date some innocent virgin," Rory said. "Can you imagine if my grandparents found out you weren't even my first? They would flip out."

"Well, I try not to think about that myself."

Rory snorted. "Hypocrite."

"No argument here." Logan kissed the top of her head, and she tried to snuggle closer. "Rory?"

"Hmm?"

"I want to—I feel like I should apologize again for earlier. When I yelled at you. I didn't mean to be so...harsh. I hate that I got mad so—"

It was Rory's turn to silence him with a kiss. "It's okay," she said, settling back on her side, so they were face to face. "It's only fair you got a chance to be mad. I did my yelling at you in that angry letter. That must have been the worst one for you to read."

"Let's see, you called me a spoiled brat, a baby, an idiot, and unbelievably selfish. So, yeah, good times."

Rory cringed. "I didn't write all of that."

"Uh, yeah, you did," Logan said. "And you were right about the spoiled brat part. I did walk away when I didn't get exactly what I wanted. I have no excuse for that."

"You were hurt."

"Which could explain my walking away at that moment, maybe, but it doesn't excuse me for not coming back or talking to you again. I was only thinking about myself. My bruised ego, my broken heart. I guess you were right about the selfish part, too. And that I'm good at walking away."

"But you didn't walk away tonight. You wanted to, but you stayed."

"Because I don't want to do that anymore, Rory. I want to be better. I know you've heard that from me before, but I really do want to be the guy who deserves you."

Rory frowned. "Don't do that. Don't put me on a pedestal. You know I'm far from perfect."

"I can't help that I think you're extraordinary."

"And that's sweet, but if you let yourself think I'm perfect, you're only setting yourself up for a huge disappointment. You're not the only one who acted selfishly, Logan. No matter what my reasons were, I put my needs ahead of yours without so much as talking to you about it." Rory sighed. "God, I wish we had talked—really talked—the night you proposed. I should have told you what I was thinking before I made a decision. Maybe I could have made you understand why I was hesitating and saved us both a lot of heartache."

"And I should have been more willing to listen before I stomped off in a huff."

"How about from now on we promise never to make any big decisions without talking to each other first? Completely open lines of communication, even when the conversation might be uncomfortable."

"And when we do have a fight or disagree about something, no more going off and not talking to each other," Logan said.

"I agree."

Logan leaned over and kissed her, then pulled her back against his chest. "You know, Ace, even with the name-calling, your angry letter wasn't the worst for me to read. The worst was the one you wrote when you went home in October. The good-bye letter. That one killed me."

Rory laid her hand on Logan's face. "I'm sorry."

"Your birthday was not just another Monday to me. It's all I thought about all day."

"It was?"

"I had your number on my phone several times, and I started and deleted at least three e-mails. I even thought about calling Hugo to find out where you were, so I could send you flowers, something, so you'd know I remembered."

"I wish you had called."

"Me, too. That day or any of the millions of other times when I wanted to," Logan said. "After I got past the hurt ego, when I realized I should have handled things differently, I was scared that you'd reject me again if I called. I was afraid to find you'd moved on, that you were happy without me."

"I wasn't."

"I know that now, and you need to know I was just as miserable as you were. I thought I knew what it felt like to be depressed when we broke up the first time, but that was nothing compared to this." Logan brushed fresh tears off Rory's cheeks. "Are we crying _again_?" he asked, smiling.

"I'm sorry. You probably won't even want to be with a crybaby like me now."

"I will always want to be with you, tears or no tears."

"Cheesy."

Logan chuckled. "Well, maybe being cheesy is my new thing like crying is yours."

"I can live with your cheesiness, but the crying is ticking me off," Rory said. "Logan, if you were afraid I'd reject you, what made you come to my grandparents' party? I'm glad you did. So glad. But why now?"

Logan shrugged. "Dad mentioned it and it was like I just had to see you. Finally, I had a real opportunity, not just some fantasy about bumping into you at Starbucks. I told him I'd go before I had a chance to think about it too much. Of course, once I got there, it dawned on me that you might have come with a date, and I knew I couldn't handle that. I was going to leave until I thought of something Finn said."

"Ah, Finn. How is he?"

"Finn is Finn. The usual," Logan said. "He came to visit in September and dragged me out for a few drinks. We saw a group of girls in the bar. It looked like a bachelorette party, and Finn was all ready to jump right into the middle of it. When I wouldn't, he got pretty disgusted with me. He told me he couldn't stand being around mopey Logan and said I should either call you or find myself a blonde and move on, but I had to do something. I believe the word 'pathetic' was used. I remembered that just as I was about to bail on your grandparents' party. I guess I figured, either way, I needed to know if we had any chance."

"Wait a minute. When Finn said you needed to do something, are you saying that you didn't just go back to...that you haven't—"

"Had sex since that afternoon before your graduation party when we were supposed to be spackling your room. Nope. Not until tonight."

"But you, I mean, I just assumed...not once? Really?"

"Is it really that shocking?"

"Honestly, yes," Rory said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to hear it. But when we had that fight in the pub, it was the first thing you did."

Logan frowned. "It was not the first thing I did."

"It didn't take you very long. It couldn't have been more than a week or so."

"And look how well that worked out for me."

"But, Logan, this time we weren't together. This wasn't just a fight. You were free to do whatever or, shall I say, _whomever_ you wanted."

"Being with other girls didn't help me get over you then, so why would it be different now? Rory, it's not like I decided to be celibate until we got back together. I didn't really think that was even a possibility. But I'm not the same guy I was when we met."

"I know that," Rory said. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

"My life in California is very different."

"How?"

"It's all about work, even more than when I was in London. I threw myself into my job as soon as I got there, and I've been working insane hours ever since. My routine doesn't leave much time for anything else—up before dawn, go to the gym or for a run, then work," Logan said. "Working so much has been a good distraction for me, and it's been great from a business standpoint, but it's pretty much all I do. I've been working six days a week, and I'm rarely home from the office before nine. I don't go out unless it's required for business."

"It sounds lonely."

Logan sighed. "Did you think you had a monopoly on loneliness?"

"No, of course I didn't—"

"Look, I'm not going to tell you I haven't been tempted. In fact, I came very close to hooking up in L.A. a couple of months ago. I flew down to meet with a group from a company we were negotiating with, and their marketing director flirted with me a little at dinner. The two of us ended up having drinks afterward in the bar at my hotel. This was not long after Finn's visit, and I had started to think maybe he was right and that I needed to force myself to move on. She made it clear she was available, and she was pretty, so I thought why not?"

"But you didn't go through with it?"

"We got as far as the inside of the elevator and she kissed me and I didn't feel any real attraction toward her. There was a time in my life when that wouldn't have mattered. When a pretty girl offered sex, I didn't need to feel anything for her, but that night it just felt weird. It ended up being incredibly awkward. I apologized and lied about having a girlfriend. I also said that, even if I didn't have a girlfriend, it wouldn't be a good idea if we were going to be in business together. She was not happy."

"I guess not. So did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Go into business with her."

"No, that deal fell through."

Rory giggled. "Maybe you should have slept with her. A little Logan lovin' might have sealed the deal."

"Funny." Logan kissed her.

"So you really haven't had sex with anybody in all this time?"

"No, Rory, I really haven't. You don't believe me?"

"No, I believe you. Your reputation is shot to hell, though." Rory grabbed Logan's hand and started tracing her fingers over the palm.

"Sweetie, you destroyed my reputation a long time ago. What are you doing?"

Rory chuckled. "I thought that was obvious. Checking for calluses."

"Oh, you really are hilarious tonight." Logan pulled her on top of him.

"I thought so," Rory said, kissing Logan's neck and eliciting a soft groan from him. "I haven't, either, you know. Been with anybody, I mean."

"I knew that was the case a couple of months ago, but you didn't write as much after that."

"Well, it wasn't because I was having a torrid affair."

"Good. You know...seven months...is a...long...time," Logan said between soft kisses all over Rory's face. He stopped after a kiss on the tip of her nose and smirked at her. "It will probably take a lot of practice for me to regain my previous level of expertise."

Rory blushed and rolled her eyes. "Your expertise seemed just fine to me."

"Now, Ace, you know that Huntzbergers aren't interested in _fine_."

"Oh, right. Well, far be it from me to stand between you and your previous level of expertise."

"I'm very glad to hear you say that," Logan said, as he rolled them over, reversing their positions. "Because you know what they say: practice makes perfect." He silenced her giggles with a long, deep kiss.

* * *

Logan's stomach growled as Rory lay with her head on his chest.

"Was that your stomach?" she asked.

"Haven't eaten since lunch."

"Logan, why didn't you say so? I offered you food when we got here."

"I was too nervous to eat then."

"Come on. Let's go eat the leftover pizza." She climbed out of bed and picked Logan's V-neck sweater off the floor and pulled it over her head.

"Hey, what am I supposed to wear?" Logan asked.

"Your t-shirt and boxers."

"What if I get cold?" Logan pretended to pout when he was actually admiring the view of Rory's long legs beneath the sweater that barely reached her thighs.

"Oh, boo-hoo, I'll keep you warm. Besides, when I bend over, you can sneak a peek down my top."

"I don't need to sneak a peek. I'm allowed to look." Logan smirked. "Actually, I'm allowed to do a lot more than look."

"Well, you won't get any pizza if you don't get out of bed and come down to the kitchen. I'm hungry, so don't think I won't eat it all." Rory picked up Logan's shirt and boxers and tossed them to him.

"Oh, I know you will." Logan stood up and pulled on the boxers. "I've seen you eat. I wouldn't dream of coming between you and food. That could be dangerous. Might lose a finger."

"I gotta finger for you." Rory put her arms around Logan's neck and tilted her head up to kiss him. "Butt-faced miscreant," she muttered.

Logan smiled. "Love you, too, Ace."

* * *

After they finished off the pizza, Rory and Logan grabbed some other snacks and settled down in the living room in front of the fireplace, where, over the next two hours, they shared everything about their lives since they'd been apart. While her letters had provided Logan with many details about the campaign trail, Rory filled in the gaps from the months after she'd stopped writing regularly; in return, Logan told her everything about his job and California. They talked about Colin and Finn, Paris and Lane, Honor's pregnancy, their parents, books, movies—any and every topic that came to mind. They laughed at each other's stories and reconnected completely as their conversation flowed effortlessly from one subject to the next, with only brief interruptions for canoodling and the preparation of the traditional Hayden Christmas Eve hot cocoa. So perfect was their heart-to-heart that, had they not already been in love, they would have been certain they were falling by the end of the evening.

When it was close to midnight, Logan said, "I guess I should take you home."

"I am home," Rory said with a sigh.

"Well, I'm sure Chris would love to hear you say that, but I meant back to Stars Hollow."

"And I wasn't talking about the house." Rory kissed Logan's cheek.

Logan smiled. "Now look who's being cheesy."

"I don't care. I didn't think this Christmas could ever compare to last year's, and I suppose there's been too much weeping and drama to say this one is better, but I never expected to feel this happy. Not this year."

"Neither did I."

"I don't want to go," Rory said. "We could just stay here for the night." She buried her face in Logan's neck.

"As tempting as that sounds, I don't think Lorelai would be very happy if you didn't come home on Christmas Eve."

"I wasn't home last year."

"That was different. She knew you weren't going to be there last year."

"Well, I don't care what she thinks."

Logan kissed her. "Yes, you do, Rory. I know you care. And I don't want to come between you two any more than I already have."

Rory sighed. "I guess you're right. I suppose we need to straighten up around here first. Can you turn off the fireplace? I'll get the tree lights."

After they folded the blanket they'd been cuddling under and returned it to the back of the chair in the corner, they gathered the detritus of their snacking and their empty cocoa mugs and took them to the kitchen, where they loaded them in the dishwasher.

"You want me to get the heat?" Logan asked.

"No, wait until we're ready to go," Rory said. "I think I'll going to grab a quick shower. If mom's asleep, I won't be able to get one without disturbing her. Or them. I assume Luke will be there, too." She batted her eyes. "Care to join me in the shower, Mr. Huntzberger?"

"I thought you said a _quick_ shower."

"I'm not in any hurry." Rory looked at the clock. "It's only just midnight. Hey, it's Christmas. Now it's officially our second Christmas together."

Logan pulled her into his arms. "Merry Christmas, Ace."

"It is now," Rory said just before their lips met.

* * *

As they were getting dressed after their shower, Rory said, "It's a good thing Gigi didn't take her hair dryer to France since _somebody_ didn't pay attention when I said not to get my hair wet."

Logan smirked. "You must have said that when you were naked. You can't expect me to listen to you when you're naked."

"Logan!"

"I'm kidding! I always listen to you. Scout's honor."

"Oh, that sounded so sincere. You, my darling, were never a Boy Scout."

Logan shrugged. "I'm just saying I'm easily distracted by your beautiful nakedness. It has been seven long months, Ace. Keeping your hair dry really wasn't my top priority."

"Such a one-track mind."

"Just making up for lost time, baby." Logan winked at her. "Hey, what about the towels and the sheets?"

"What about them?"

"Shouldn't we, I don't know, wash them or something?"

"Now? In the middle of the night?" Rory asked. "You _really_ don't want my father to find out we were here."

"I'm just saying we can't remake the bed—"

"I agree, but didn't you notice the bed wasn't made when we came in here?"

"No, I believe I was helping you out of the rest of your clothes at the time."

"Well, I slept in this bed two nights ago, and Dad told me to just leave it unmade and his housekeeper will take care of everything when she comes in next week before they get back from France."

"Yeah, but you just slept in it, and we, well...you know."

Rory shook her head, grinning. "When did you become so prudish about bed linens? Or are you just worried that Gil Grissom is going to come in and find your DNA? Are you on the lam? You'd tell me if you were on the lam, wouldn't you?"

Logan frowned. "I'm not on the lam, smart ass. But I'd just as soon your father not find out about our tryst."

Rory laughed. "Our tryst? Is that what we're calling it now? Logan, I hate to break this to you, but Dad knows we've had sex. We lived together, remember? In a loft apartment with one bed, which he happened to visit the day I moved in."

"I know."

"How about this? We strip the bed and stick the sheets in the hamper. Will that make you feel better?"

"Yeah, okay."

After they dealt with the sheets, Rory said, "I'm going to Gigi's room to dry my hair. Would you mind going downstairs and getting my sweater? I think it's still in the living room."

"Your wish is my command, m'lady."

When he returned with the sweater, Logan stood in the doorway to Gigi's room until Rory switched off the hair dryer.

"Did you know it was going to snow tonight?" He handed the sweater to her.

"It's snowing?"

"There's probably only an inch or so of new snow so far, but it's really coming down."

Rory pulled the sweater on. "You know good things happen when it snows. Hey, maybe it's a sign that we should just stay here."

"Nah, we'll be fine with the all-wheel drive, but your pumps might be a problem."

"Oh, crap. They're not exactly snow-friendly."

"I don't suppose you have another pair of shoes here at your home away from home." When Rory shook her head, Logan asked, "So what's it gonna be? Piggyback, fireman's carry—"

"You don't have to carry me. I don't care if my shoes get ruined."

"It's not the shoes I'm worried about. It's slippery. You might fall and hurt yourself."

"How chivalrous of you, but that sounds kind of dangerous. You might fall and hurt both of us," Rory said. "I have a better idea. Dad probably has a pair of boots in the closet I can stick on to walk as far as the car. I'm sure I'll be back in Hartford again before I go back to work, so I can return them. That way Dad will never know about _our tryst_. Speaking of which, you want to make one last check of the upstairs for evidence of _our tryst_ while I go on a snow boot hunt?"

Logan scowled at her. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

Rory smiled and shook her head. "I will be mocking you when you're old and gray."

"Well, as long as we're still together when I'm old and gray, I won't mind."

Together, they said, "Cheesy."

* * *

For most of the trip to Stars Hollow, the only sound in the Range Rover was the rhythmic slapping of the windshield wipers. Driving required Logan's concentration, not because the roads were particularly slippery, but because visibility through the swirling snowflakes was no more than a few yards. As a result, Logan was forced to reduce their speed to a crawl. Luckily, they encountered little traffic. It had been close to one a.m. when they left Christopher's house, so it was likely the only other people on the road were those making their way home from midnight services.

"You're not driving back to Hartford tonight," Rory announced when they were about a mile from her house. "These conditions are terrible."

"It's not so bad as long as I take it slow."

"Painstakingly slow. It's taken us 50 minutes to drive what took me less than 30 on Sunday afternoon. There's no way I'm letting you turn around and drive another hour or more back to Hartford at two o'clock in the morning."

"It's 1:40."

"Close enough. Logan, please be reasonable. I don't want to spend the rest of the night, worrying about you ending up in a ditch. I've done my time keeping vigil beside your hospital bed."

"Okay. I don't really want to drive back to Hartford in this, at least not until daylight. But what about Lorelai?"

"She's not going to demand you go back out in a snowstorm. And even if she does, too bad, you're not going."

"I don't want to cause a problem." Logan pulled into the driveway and parked next to Lorelai's jeep.

"You won't. She's probably asleep, anyway," Rory reached over the back seat and grabbed her bag.

The front door was unlocked, and a lamp in the living room was burning. Rory slipped off Christopher's boots as soon as they were inside.

"Take your wet shoes off and leave them by the door," she whispered.

"For your mother to find?"

"Logan, I'm not hiding you. So what if she notices your shoes?" After he removed them, Rory said, "Go on through to my room. I can find my way in the dark."

"Do you want me to pull out the trundle bed?" he asked.

"If you want, but I'm okay with sharing my bed. It's cozier."

"Works for me. It'll be like your dorm room in Branford."

Rory waited until she heard Logan open her bedroom door before switching off the lamp in the living room. She was almost to the kitchen when she heard a door open upstairs and light flooded the staircase.

"Rory, is that you?" Lorelai called.

Rory turned around and saw her mother at the top of the steps. "Yes. Sorry, we didn't mean to wake you."

"We?" Lorelai walked downstairs.

"Logan's here. It's snowing pretty hard, so I don't want him to drive back to Hartford at this hour. Is Luke here?"

"He's asleep. So you and Logan are together again?" Lorelai's question dripped with disdain.

"Mom."

"What? I'm not allowed to ask? You stay out half the night in a snowstorm on Christmas Eve, and then bring him home with you. What am I supposed to think?"

"We didn't realize it was snowing, and it took almost an hour to drive from Hartford. It doesn't make sense for Logan to turn around and drive another hour back in this weather."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Yes, we're together."

Lorelai frowned. "That was quick."

"It really wasn't. And you know how I feel about Logan." When Lorelai didn't reply, Rory said, "Mom, I'm really tired. Can we just talk about it in the morning?"

"Fine, whatever. Good night." Lorelai turned and began climbing the stairs.

"Good night. Sorry again about waking you."

Rory let out a big sigh as the hall light clicked off. When she reached her room, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. "Mom knows you're here," she said.

"I heard." Logan had overheard the brief conversation and was incensed that Lorelai was insisting on making things so difficult for Rory. "Are you okay?"

Rory forced a smile. "It's Christmas, and we're together." She walked to her dresser and pulled a pair of pajamas from a drawer. "You know I still have some of your clothes."

"You do?"

"A pair of sweatpants, a couple of t-shirts, a pair of boxers. I think there might even be some socks. They were mixed in with my dirty clothes when I brought everything back from New Haven." A sad expression crossed Rory's face. "We didn't realize we needed to separate our stuff when I was packing up."

Logan walked across the room and gathered Rory in his arms. "Everything is going to be okay now, Ace, okay?" He kissed the top of her head.

She nodded. "I didn't know what to do with your clothes after I washed them, so I just stuck them in a drawer."

"Well, thanks for not having a boyfriend bonfire with them," Logan said.

Rory grinned. "Look at you with your ten-year-old pop culture references."

Logan shrugged. "Sometimes I get bored with _Sportscenter_, and I watch old sitcoms before I go to sleep."

"Speaking of sleep, I'm exhausted. Let's get ready for bed."

In less than ten minutes, they were tucked into Rory's bed.

Logan kissed her forehead. "Good night, Ace."

Rory bolted up and turned on the bedside lamp. "Wait a sec," she said, climbing out of bed.

"What's the matter?" Logan asked.

Rory didn't answer as she walked to her closet and disappeared behind the door.

"Ace, what are you doing?"

After some rustling around, Rory emerged with her rocket ship. She placed it in the center of her dresser, then turned to meet Logan's eyes.

No words were needed. Logan smiled and held out his arms for Rory, who turned off the light and snuggled into his embrace.


	10. Chapter 10

The electronic ring of his cell phone roused Logan from a sound sleep.

Rory, who was nestled against his chest, muttered something unintelligible and turned over as Logan hurried to disentangle himself from her arms. He grabbed his phone from the desk and glanced at the caller ID.

"Hey, Honor," he whispered. "Hold on a sec."

"_Why do I have to hold on? Are you okay? You didn't come home."_

Logan felt around in the nearly pitch-black room until he found his sweatpants and pulled them on before quietly letting himself out of Rory's room. The small bulb burning over the stove cast a dim light in the kitchen.

"_Logan? Are you still there?"_

He gently closed the door to Rory's room. "I'm here. I didn't want to disturb Rory. What time is it?"

"_You're with Rory? Oh, Logan, that's great! Here I was worried you were stuck in a snowbank somewhere and you're in bed with Rory. You were in bed with her, weren't you?"_

"A gentleman doesn't say."

"_Since when are you a gentleman?"_

"Hey, be nice. We were sleeping."

"_Sorry, but where exactly are you?"_

"Stars Hollow. It was snowing pretty hard when I brought Rory home, and she didn't want me to drive back to Hartford. I didn't call you because it was around two. And considering how dark it is outside, that couldn't have been too long ago."

"_It's 6:10."_

"Honor, why the hell are you calling me at 6:10? I've had like four hours of sleep."

"_Well, excuse me for being concerned because you never made it home in a snowstorm."_

"You don't usually know if I make it home at night."

"_Usually you're not supposed to be in the room across the hall. I thought I should check to see if you're okay or if you needed me to cover for you. So tell me—"_

"Do you have to cover for me? I no longer have a curfew, and I think I'm a little old for Mom and Dad to ground me. Although I guess technically Mitchum could take away the car keys."

"_Don't be a smart ass. I meant tell me about Rory. Is everything good now?"_

Logan couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, we still haven't figured out exactly what comes next, but we're going to be together."

"_That is such good news. I'm so happy for you!"_

"Thanks. So am I."

"_Now don't be an ass and screw it up this time."_

"Thanks for that overwhelming vote of confidence. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"_Yes, but you have to tell me everything later. Are you coming home to open presents? Why don't you bring Rory for breakfast? Or dinner. I'd love to see her."_

"Oh, well, we haven't really discussed our plans for today. Has it stopped snowing?" Logan walked to the back door and peered out into the darkness. "It's too dark outside to tell, and I don't want to disturb anyone by opening the door or turning on a light. Lorelai is already not thrilled that I'm here."

"_I thought you made your peace with her last spring."_

"Apparently not." Logan noticed the kitchen brightened and turned away from the back door. Someone had turned on a light in another part of the house, possibly in the hallway or in the living room. He wondered if he could sneak back inside Rory's room before he came face to face with either Lorelai or Luke.

"_I can see the floodlight over the garage from your window. It's not snowing right now."_

A floorboard creaked seconds before Lorelai appeared in the kitchen's archway. "Then it's probably stopped here, too. Look, I've got to go. I'll call you when I figure out what I'm doing."

"_Okay, bye. I'm so happy for you, Logan." _

"Thanks. I'll see you later." As he ended the call, Logan experienced a fleeting moment of relief that he'd had the presence of mind to slip on his sweatpants. Bumping into Lorelai while he was wearing boxers and a t-shirt would have been awkward. Or _more _awkward. "Sorry about that," he said. "With the snow and everything, my sister was worried when I didn't make it home last night. I came in here, so I wouldn't wake Rory."

"You don't owe me an explanation, Logan," Lorelai said. "I woke up and thought I'd come down to see if it was still snowing."

"Honor said it stopped in Hartford, but I couldn't see anything in the dark. I didn't know if the switch worked a light next to the door or a flood on the house. I didn't want it to shine through your window."

"It's right outside the door." Logan stepped back to give Lorelai access to the door, and she flipped the light on. "It stopped," she said. "What do you think? Maybe five inches of new snow?"

Logan looked over her shoulder. "Probably. Enough to shovel, anyway." He stepped away toward the kitchen cabinets on his left.

"Luke will get his snowblower." Lorelai turned off the outside light. "He loves the snowblower. It's like a toy to him."

"Well, yeah, snowblowers are awesome."

Lorelai looked at Logan with raised eyebrows. "Forgive me for wondering when Richie Rich ever used a snowblower."

Logan shrugged. "We had a groundskeeper who used to let me help him. When I was eleven, I thought the snowblower was the coolest thing ever."

"Must be a guy thing," Lorelai said, shaking her head. "Well, I guess I'll try to get a little more sleep." She started toward the doorway.

"Lorelai?" As soon as her name left his lips, Logan worried it was a mistake.

She stopped and turned to meet his gaze in the dimly lit room. "Yes?"

"Um, thanks for letting me stay."

"You didn't really think I was going to send you out into a snowstorm, did you?"

"No, of course not, but..." Logan paused, uncertain of what to say. "Lorelai, I want you to know that...well, you and I are on the same side. Whether you realize it or not, we want the same thing."

"Which is?"

"For Rory to be happy."

"And you think you can make her happy," Lorelai said.

"I think so, yes," Logan said. "I certainly plan to spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to make her happy."

"Okay."

"Can I ask you something?" Logan interpreted her silence as permission to continue. "The day I came to see you, if you were so against my proposing to Rory, why did you give me your blessing?"

Lorelai frowned, crossing her arms. "That's really only a formality, isn't it? Does anyone ever refuse?"

It was Logan's turn to frown. "So you really wanted to say no, but didn't think you could?"

"No, not exactly." Lorelai sighed. "Look, Logan, I believe that you love Rory."

"More than I ever thought I could love anyone."

"And I have to give you points for that—"

"But you don't think I'm good enough for her," Logan said. "You're probably right. I doubt anyone is good enough for Rory, but I will try my best to deserve her. I know how lucky I am to have her."

"You may not believe me, but my main objection wasn't about you. I just thought, _I still think_, that Rory is too young to be thinking about marriage," Lorelai said. "Hell, I think you're too young. I know you're older than she is, but you aren't that far removed from the whole carefree college lifestyle. You both need more time to grow up, to experience the real world and all the responsibilities that go with it."

"Why didn't you just tell me that?"

Lorelai scoffed. "Would you have listened?"

"I don't know. Probably not." Logan leaned against the kitchen counter. "I really messed everything up, proposing like that, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for walking away. But I love Rory, and I won't apologize for wanting to spend the rest of my life with her."

"I'm not asking you to. I just don't get why you were in such a rush to get married."

"It wasn't that much of a rush. We'd been together for over two years."

"But you spent months of that apart."

"How is that relevant?" Logan asked.

"It's just that you weren't really together for two years. For a lot of that time, you were working in London or off gallivanting around Europe with your buddies or sleeping with your sister's friends."

Logan clenched his jaw at that last remark. "Nothing like going for the jugular." He forced himself to keep his voice low and under control. The last thing he wanted was for Rory to wake up and overhear any of this conversation.

"Am I wrong?" Lorelai asked.

"That happened when we were broken up. Do I wish that it hadn't? Of course. But we weren't together at the time. I have never been unfaithful to Rory. Not once. Not even close. Is that your objection to me? That you don't think I can be faithful? Or is it just that you're going to hold every mistake I've made against me, no matter how long ago it was or whether Rory's found a way to get past it?"

"But you admit it was a mistake."

"It was a mistake for me to assume that the terrible argument we had meant we were broken up. And, in the sense that what I did hurt Rory, then, yes, it was a mistake. But it's not fair to say I was unfaithful when I honestly thought our relationship was over." Logan took a deep breath, fighting the urge to remark about how absurd it was for Lorelai Gilmore to criticize anyone's relationship history. The conversation had deteriorated enough without his hurling accusations about her romantic failures. Instead he decided on a new approach to explain why he had proposed when he did. "Do you know much about my parents? About their marriage?"

Lorelai looked puzzled. "Not really. I don't exactly move in their social circle."

"Lucky you. Well, my parents have not had what you'd call a happy marriage. My dad pretty much does whatever the hell he wants, and my mom puts up with it. But, you see, the thing is, I grew up thinking that was normal because most of my friends' parents were the same way. I know you've had your differences with your parents—"

"That's a nice way of putting it."

"But you must realize how unusual they are. From spending time with them and everything Rory's told me, it seems like they have a real marriage. That's not the norm in their world. At least, not from what I've seen."

"They've had their problems, too," Lorelai said. "If not, they wouldn't have renewed their vows a few years ago. I believe _you_ were there that night. Spent some time in the dressing room, didn't you?"

Logan grimaced, but ignored her dig. "My point is that your parents stayed together because they wanted to, not because they had to preserve a corporate merger or avoid a scandal."

"I guess, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"I always assumed I would end up exactly like my parents. I grew up with the expectations of being the heir to the Huntzberger fortune, and I knew at some point that would mean marriage to some girl my parents deemed suitable because of her position in society or her family's business connections. I figured I'd be lucky if they let me have any say in the matter, and the best I could hope for was a wife I could tolerate. I thought that was just the way it was in my world."

"Until Rory," Lorelai said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded. "Until Rory. She changed everything. For the first time, it occurred to me that I could have something better than my parents, something real. I could be happy with her. We could have a life together. We could have children because we wanted to, not because I had to produce the next generation of Huntzbergers."

"That's great, Logan. You love Rory. You want a life with Rory. Why did that mean you had to get married the minute she graduated from college?"

"Well, you know we weren't going to get married the _minute_ she graduated, but I understand now what you mean. Last May, I didn't. With everything that happened, losing that money and leaving my dad's company, when I got the job in California, all I could think was I had a chance to start a whole new life, free from my family's control. I wanted Rory to be with me for that."

"But that would have been what was best for you, not Rory."

"Maybe, maybe not," Logan said. "She would have had job opportunities in California, too."

"You don't know that she would have found a job that made her happy."

"It's not like the job she has now makes her happy, is it?"

Lorelai shook her head. "I guess not."

"So you can't say she would have been any worse off in California." Lorelai started to protest, but Logan cut her off. "_However_, I am willing to concede that her job's been good for her, if only because it showed her what she doesn't want for her career. And, at the same time, it probably helped me that she wasn't there."

"What do you mean?" Lorelai asked.

"I devoted myself to my job, which I probably wouldn't have done if I'd had Rory to go home to every night. I've been working incredibly hard to be successful on my own, and I'm supporting myself one hundred percent. I haven't touched my trust fund or taken anything from my parents since I left."

"Oh, so what do you want—a medal? It's not like you're doing anything that the majority of people don't do. Most people have no other choice."

Logan frowned. "I realize that, Lorelai. I'm not looking for sympathy for the poor little rich boy. What'd you call me? _Richie Rich?_ I know I grew up with the money and privilege that most people only dream about, and I took advantage of everything that was handed to me. My attitude was to live it up while I still had some control over my life, but I'm not that spoiled kid anymore. Being with Rory, falling in love with her, had a lot to do with that. So did nearly killing myself in Costa Rica. I'm not perfect. I'm going to make mistakes, but I've grown up and taken responsibility for myself."

"You know, my father said Mitchum's been bragging about how well you're doing in California."

"You're kidding."

"That's what Dad said."

"Wow. I don't even know what to say to that. That's a first." Logan couldn't recall a time when Mitchum was proud of his achievements, at least not without giving the credit to Rory. "I can't even remember what I was going to say next."

"You've grown up..."

"No, er, yes, but that wasn't it." Logan shrugged. "I guess I just want you to know that I would never try to limit Rory's options. I'd never forgive myself if I held her back in any way. I know how brilliant and talented she is."

"At least we can agree on that," Lorelai said. "But, for the record, I never shared my...uh, misgivings with her."

"I know that. I also know that she cares a great deal about your opinion, and even though you didn't say it, she knew you didn't want her to say yes."

"So you're blaming me?" For the first time, Lorelai raised her voice.

"No, Lorelai, not at all." Logan glanced toward the closed door to Rory's room. "That's not what I'm saying. It's just that things will be a lot easier for Rory if she knows you're not against us."

"I don't need you to tell me what my daughter needs."

"I'm not trying to do that. You may think she's too young to get married, but she's not a child. She can make her own decisions, and she loves me and wants to be with me. But you and I both know how much Rory wants to please the people she loves, particularly you. I'm afraid that if you can't find a way to accept me, she'll never be truly happy. I was there when you stopped speaking to her after she dropped out of Yale. I saw how upset she was—"

"So I get blamed for that, too?"

"I'm not blaming you for anything. You dealt with things the way you thought you had to, and so did Rory. And, by the way, I thought her dropping out of Yale was a bad idea, too," Logan said. "What I'm trying to say is I remember how unhappy she was when you two weren't speaking, and the last thing I want is to come between you."

"I don't want that, either."

"Good. All I ask is that you give me a chance. Please. If not for me, do it for Rory's sake. Apparently you intend to hold every mistake I've ever made _and_ that fact that my family is rich against me, but I'm really not a bad guy."

"I never said you were. And I'm not holding all your mistakes against you." When Logan raised his eyebrows, she added, "Okay, maybe I have, but I'm her mother. It's my job to protect her."

"You don't need to protect her from me. She means everything to me, which I believe I told you last May."

"Logan, I have no doubt that you love my daughter. I also know you're no longer the spoiled kid I caught making out with her in a country club dressing room."

Logan smirked. "Right. _A country club_. I'm not the only one around here who came from a wealthy family."

"Okay, fine." Lorelai rolled her eyes. "My blood is blue."

Logan chuckled softly. "Please understand that, as great as everything has been for my career over these last months, I've been miserable without her. I thought she didn't love me. Not enough, anyway. But now that I've read her letters, I know that isn't true."

"Her letters?"

"The ones she's been writing to me since June. She e-mailed all of them to me Sunday night."

"First I've heard of that," Lorelai said. "Although that does explain why she was obsessively checking her e-mail and phone yesterday."

"It took me hours to finish reading them."

"That's why you asked to see her last night," Lorelai said.

Logan nodded. "I have a flight back to San Francisco on Wednesday. Tomorrow now. I needed to see her before then."

"And all it took was a few hours and you're back together."

"It wasn't quite that simple, but yes. We haven't figured out how this is going to work with my job and her job, but we know we want to be together. I promise you that nothing is more important to me than Rory. I hope you can find a way to be happy for us."

"I'll try," Lorelai said. "I want Rory to be happy."

"I know you do. So do I. That's why I said we were on the same side."

They stared at each other for an awkward moment. Finally, Lorelai smiled slightly, and asked, "Does this conversation seem a little like _déjà vu_ to you? If only we had some pie."

"You mean you don't have any—" Logan yawned. "Sorry, guess I could stand a few more hours of sleep."

"I imagine we all could. Why don't you go back to bed?"

"Okay, but let Luke know I'll help him with the snow removal."

"You just want to play with the snowblower. You might have to fight him for it. Good night...or...good morning. Whatever. See you in a few hours."

"Yeah, see you in a few hours."

After Lorelai left, Logan slipped back into Rory's room. He closed the door, then eased into the bed without bothering to remove his sweatpants.

"Logan?" Rory mumbled.

"I'm here," he said as he pulled her to him.

"Woke up...thought it was a dream." From the soft grogginess in Rory's voice, Logan knew she wasn't quite awake. Over the years, he'd discovered that entire conversations could occur while Rory hovered in the limbo between sleep and consciousness, conversations she wouldn't recall in the morning. Logan had always found her sleep-laden murmurings adorable. Of course there was very little about Rory Gilmore that was _not_ adorable to Logan.

"No, Ace." He kissed her gently on the top of her head. "Definitely not a dream."

"You're here." She relaxed against him, nuzzling against his chest. "You love me."

Logan chuckled. "Yes, I do. Now go back to sleep. It's still early."

Rory didn't say anything more, and it wasn't long before her breathing evened out. Despite his exhaustion, sleep didn't come as quickly for Logan. The conversation with Lorelai had been intense, even hostile at times. She may have claimed her objection was to the timing of Logan's proposal, but it was obvious she still harbored doubts about his suitability for Rory. Her remark about Honor's bridesmaids had been particularly harsh and, Logan thought, unfair. His only consolation was that he'd refrained from retaliating with some discourteous words of his own—because nothing good would have come from that. While they had made progress toward clearing the air and the conversation had ended on something of a friendly tone, Logan wasn't certain that he had won Lorelai over, at least not completely.

He also couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he'd made a mistake in revealing the secret of Rory's letters. It had not occurred to him that Christopher would know something about Rory's life that Lorelai didn't, although, in hindsight, Rory had mentioned that she and Lorelai had not talked about him during her time on the road. He hoped his slip wasn't going to cause additional problems between mother and daughter.

Because as certain as Logan was of his and Rory's love, he was also certain that, without Lorelai's blessing, Rory would never allow herself to be completely happy. He believed he and Rory could and would make a good life together—a contented life, even—but the specter of Lorelai's disapproval would always be there, lurking under the surface.

Logan could only hope that Lorelai had meant it when she said she'd try to be happy for them.


	11. Chapter 11

Before she opened her eyes, Rory was conscious that coffee was brewing outside her door. Waking to the aroma of fresh coffee was her one of her favorite things about occupying the small room off the kitchen, and she inhaled deeply, anticipating the hot cup that awaited her upon rising.

Unlike the coffee, which she could identify as easily as she breathed, the warm weight draped over her stomach was harder to discern. It took a moment before she recognized that it was an arm, specifically Logan's arm. As her eyes adjusted to the sunlight peeking through the curtains, Rory smiled at the sight of Logan, asleep on his side, facing her as she lay on her back. The twin bed was cramped, and if Rory were completely honest, her rest had been somewhat fitful because of it. As much as she loved having Logan within reach, loved having his arms around her, there was something to be said for a bed large enough to spread out in when the heat radiating from their bodies under the covers became uncomfortable. Still, being crammed into a tiny bed with Logan certainly beat waking up alone.

Her slumber had been filled with pleasant dreams of Logan. The dreams were not unusual. On many mornings over the previous seven months, Rory had opened her eyes to blissful thoughts of Logan, only to have her spirits crash with the lonely realization that her nighttime visions were fantasy. On this Christmas morning, however, Rory was definitely not lonely. At last their reconciliation had not been a tortuous invention of her subconscious: Logan was here, in her bed, his hand gripping her hip as he lay beside her. She felt the soft cotton of his sweatpants against her shins where the leg of her pajama bottoms had ridden up, a somewhat confusing sensation as she could have sworn he'd been wearing only boxers as they settled into her bed in the wee hours. It didn't matter. He was here. Her eyes drifted to their rocket ship, standing prominently in the center of her dresser.

As the fog of sleep cleared, Rory heard the occasional clink of a utensil against a dish and the low murmurings of Luke and her mother. A glance at the bedside clock revealed it was 8:09. Considering she and Logan hadn't gone to sleep until after two, that seemed insanely early to Rory, but she knew Luke would disagree. Thanks to his years of opening the diner at the crack of dawn, Luke was an early riser; on most mornings, he was gone long before her mother stirred. Undoubtedly, Luke was the one cooking breakfast, while her mother watched with a steaming mug of coffee in her grasp. At the jingle of the tags on Paul Anka's collar, Rory pictured the mutt lurking at Luke's feet, hoping a morsel would drop to the floor—and the accompanying scowl on Luke's face as the shaggy intruder obstructed his movement around the small kitchen.

Rory knew she should wake Logan. It would be rude for them to miss breakfast, but she was dreading the tension that would arise when Logan appeared at the table. While she didn't believe her mother would be openly hostile, she wasn't sure if the Christmas spirit would be enough to keep the peace. She didn't want anything to temper the joy she felt over Logan's reappearance in her life. Besides, whatever unpleasantness was going to occur with her mother—and Rory feared it was unavoidable—would be better handled without Logan in the room. And Luke, too, for that matter.

Turning slightly toward Logan, Rory glanced at his face, so serene in sleep that she was reluctant to disturb him. A hint of stubble covered his jawline, and Rory longed to trace her fingers across his slightly parted lips. She knew they'd be soft under her touch. Her eyes found the scar on his cheek below his left eye, the remnant of his accident in Costa Rica, a tiny, curved line imperceptible to all but those who knew it was there. Thinking about her first glimpse of Logan's battered body as he lay unconscious in his hospital bed and the terror she'd felt before she knew he would recover still made her stomach clench. She hated the memories of those horrible days, both before and after the accident, yet she recognized it had been a turning point in their relationship. Making it through the accident and Logan's recovery had brought them back together.

"Why are you staring at me, Ace?"

Rory started as the soft croak of Logan's voice broke the silence in the bedroom. She met his eyes and smiled.

"Not staring. Gazing lovingly," she whispered.

Logan tightened his grip on her hip. "Okay, why are you gazing lovingly at me?"

"Um, because I can."

"Why are we whispering?"

"Mom and Luke are right outside the door. I don't want them to know we're awake because then we'll have to get up. We don't have to whisper. Just talk quietly."

"Come here." Logan rolled onto his back and opened his arms for Rory to snuggle against him. "Where's my Christmas kiss?"

"I have morning breath," Rory said.

"So do I. We'll cancel each other out." Logan bent his head and touched his lips to Rory's. "Merry Christmas, Ace."

"Merry Christmas." Rory sighed. "Is it going to be awkward that you're here? Mom's going to want to open presents, and I don't have anything for you. I don't want it to be weird."

Logan knew that any awkwardness that awaited them would have nothing to do with the lack of Christmas presents. "I don't have anything for you, either, but it doesn't matter. I've got the best present ever right here."

"Cheesy," Rory muttered. "Did you sleep okay? I know it seems all romantic to sleep together in a twin bed, but the reality ends up being crowded and hot."

"Hot's good," Logan said. "We like hot."

"Not that kind of hot. I meant the sticky, 'stop breathing on my neck' kind of hot."

"Well, I know a way we can make it about the good kind of hot." Logan's hand started to creep under Rory's pajama top, but she grabbed it, halting his progress.

"What part of 'Mom and Luke are right outside' do you not understand?"

"We can be quiet."

"Not _that_ quiet."

Logan sighed. "Fine. We're back together for, what, twelve hours, and you're already withholding sex."

Rory lifted her head from his shoulder and scowled at him. "Excuse me, but when have I ever withheld sex?"

After his conversation with Lorelai, Logan's thoughts immediately went to the weeks after Honor's wedding. It wasn't that Rory had rejected him during that time, but the combination of her hurt feelings about the girls Logan had been with while they were apart and his regrets over the pain he had caused, however inadvertent, had formed a barrier between them that remained until Logan's accident. But no matter what Lorelai believed, they had moved beyond that unhappy time in their history, and Logan could see no benefit in rehashing those tense days with Rory now.

Logan grinned. "Well, there was that time at the charity dinner at my parents'—"

"You must be joking. I hardly think refusing a quickie in your old bedroom while your mother is hosting two hundred of her closest friends downstairs counts as withholding sex."

Logan chuckled. "You are so adorable." He kissed Rory on the head, then shifted her off of him, so they could lie face to face. "I'm only teasing you, Ace. I was no more serious about anything happening in here with your mother right outside the door than I was that night at the charity dinner."

"Oh, so if I had been willing that night, you'd have told me you were just joking?"

"Hell no. I'd have had you upstairs and naked in a heartbeat. You know how much I hate those charity events. The evening would have been vastly improved with a little private time—"

"You mean a secret _tryst_?" Rory smiled wickedly.

"Okay, enough with the _tryst_ talk," Logan said. "I swear I'll never use that word again."

"Really? Because I intend to use it as often as possible."

"Oh, is that so?" Logan tickled Rory's side, then silenced her soft giggles with a kiss.

Rory's hand slid down Logan's back to his waist. "Am I crazy or did you go to sleep without the sweatpants?"

"You're not crazy. You don't remember my phone ringing at 6:10?"

"No. Who called you at that ungodly hour? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, other than I have an overprotective sister who was worried when I didn't make it home in the snowstorm. She was quite happy to know I was tucked in bed with you instead of stranded in a snowbank."

"You put on your sweatpants to talk on the phone?"

"I put on my sweatpants to go out in the kitchen to talk on the phone. Good thing, too, since I ended up running into Lorelai."

Rory winced. "Oh, god. Please tell me she was nice to you."

Logan hesitated. He wasn't sure how much of his conversation with Lorelai he wanted to repeat. He didn't want to keep anything from Rory; he just wasn't certain there was anything to be gained from providing a complete play-by-play. He suspected Lorelai would provide her perspective when she got Rory alone, so he knew it was important that she heard his side of the story as well. "I wouldn't exactly say _nice_."

"I didn't hear any yelling."

"No. No yelling, but it got a little...heated at times. It's weird to have a heated conversation in hushed voices," Logan said. "But it was okay. We said some things that needed to be said."

"Like what?"

"I tried to make her understand why I proposed when I did, and she explained why she thinks we're too young to get married."

"And that was it?"

"No, there was more," Logan said. "She said her objection was about the timing, but that's not really true. I think basically she doesn't trust me. She thinks I'm going to hurt you or hold you back somehow."

"She said that?"

"Not in so many words, but she did make a comment about the girls when we were separated."

"What?" Rory pushed up on the mattress. "She had no right—"

Logan grabbed Rory as she started to climb over him and silently berated himself for mentioning that part of the conversation. "Hold it, Ace, calm down."

"No, she shouldn't have said anything about that. That was ages ago." Rory tried to wriggle free from Logan's arms. "I'm over that and, besides, it's none of her business."

"Rory, please just wait a sec. For me?"

Rory looked into Logan's pleading brown eyes, then rolled back against the mattress. "Fine."

"Thank you," Logan said, without releasing her. "Now, I agree that it was a low blow, and I told her that. I also told her that it wasn't fair for her to hold every single mistake I've ever made against me and that I'm no longer the spoiled kid I was when she first met me."

"Of course you're not. You've grown up a lot since then. We both have."

"At first Lorelai tried to argue that she wasn't doing that, but then she admitted that she probably was, but only because she's trying to protect you. That's her job as your mom."

"I don't need protecting from you."

"Which is exactly what I told her." Logan took a deep breath. "Look, I really don't have the energy right now to repeat the entire conversation, but I think I got her to understand how important you are to me and that I'm not going anywhere."

"You'd better not."

"And I asked her to give me a chance and to try and accept that we're together because, without her support, I know you'll never be happy."

"No, Logan. That isn't true. I don't need her approval."

"You may not need it, but you want it."

"No, I don't. I don't care what she thinks."

"Oh, Ace, sweetie, you keep saying that, but I know it isn't true."

"Yes, it is. It doesn't matter what she thinks, Logan. I love you."

"I know you do, and we're going have a really good life together." He kissed her temple. "But I also know that Lorelai's opinion matters to you, and if she doesn't approve, it will always bother you."

"No, it won't."

"It will, and that's okay," Logan said. "Hey, I want her approval, too. I want her to like me and accept me. I'd like to think we could get along pretty well if she'd give me a chance. We have a lot in common."

Rory frowned. "You and my mother?"

"Yes, Rory, we both love you more than anything in the world." Logan lay his hand on Rory's face and looked into her eyes. "So please don't go out there and pick a fight with her. In the long run, I think it was a good thing we talked, and it ended on a mostly good note. Okay?"

"Okay." Rory gave a slight nod.

"But there is something I have to tell you, something I fucked up."

"What?"

"I sort of mentioned your letters to Lorelai."

"You sort of mentioned them or you did mention them?" Rory asked, as she pulled herself up to sit cross-legged beside Logan.

"I did, and I'm sorry. I guess I should have realized she didn't know about them when you said you two hadn't talked about me, but I didn't think about that."

"It's okay. I probably should have told her yesterday when she asked why I kept checking my e-mail. So what did she say?"

"Nothing, really," Logan said. "Just that she didn't know about them and something about you obsessing over your e-mail yesterday. I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Rory said. "You didn't mention that Dad knew about them, did you?"

"No. Why?"

"It's just sometimes she gets a little weird about my relationship with Dad. Finding out he knew something she didn't would probably bother her more than the fact that I didn't tell her."

Rory hated feeling stuck between her parents. Growing up, finding a balance between them had never been an issue. Although Lorelai had always encouraged Rory to spend time with Christopher, he simply wasn't around much, and when he did make his rare appearances, the three of them usually spent time together. As she got older and began seeing him on her own, Rory's awkwardness about how much to share with Lorelai fluctuated according to the state of her parents' relationship at any given time. Since their failed marriage, the awkwardness had become permanent for Rory, despite both Lorelai's and Christopher's reassurances that their split was amicable and that neither wanted her to feel uncomfortable. Rory still felt stranded in the no man's land of their ever-changing relationship.

"Well, you should probably cut Lorelai some slack on that. She did have you to herself for a long time," Logan said. He realized that, besides getting kicked out of most of the prep schools in New England, he and Christopher had something else in common: in a way, Lorelai viewed both of them as competition for Rory's time and affection.

"I guess, but it's not like I'm a kid." Rory shook her head. "It's kind of ridiculous. I'm 23 years old, and here I am trying to figure out how to deal with being the kid of divorced parents."

"At least that's something our kids will never have to worry about."

Rory smiled shyly. "A year ago, you would have never made a comment like that."

"Too bad I didn't. It might of led to a whole other discussion. Saved us a lot of trouble." Logan placed a pillow behind him and sat up against the headboard. "But we're supposed to talk about this stuff now, right? The future?"

"Right. So do you have a timeline in mind? For kids, I mean."

Logan shrugged. "No time soon. I mean, even if you'd said..." He stopped.

"Even if I'd said yes. Logan, we can't just act like the proposal never happened."

"I know." He took a deep breath. "We wouldn't have gotten married right away, and we can wait even longer on starting a family. Maybe when I'm 30—or when you are. Obviously, if we have a, you know, _surprise_ earlier, I'll be okay with that, but I think I'd like to have you to myself for a while."

"Me, too," Rory said. "How many are you thinking about?"

"I don't know. Start with one. See how it goes. In all fairness, I think it should be more up to you than me. You're the one with the difficult part. Pregnancy. Childbirth." Logan winked at her. "I just get the fun of making them."

"Oh, if I'm miserable when I'm pregnant, I'll make sure you get to share in the suffering."

Logan chuckled. "I'm sure you will, Ace."

They stared at each other for a few moments, reveling in this new level of intimacy about their future together. They had always shared secrets about their childhoods, things that neither of them had shared with anyone else, but the future had remained off-limits. It seemed strange to both of them that they had shied away from it for so long, particularly when the avoidance had proven to be so detrimental to their relationship.

Rory reached over and took Logan's hand. "I always thought two would be a good number. In a lot of ways, Mom was more like a big sister than a mother, but I can remember times when I wished I had a sibling. And I know how much Honor meant to you when you were kids."

"I don't know if I would have survived without Honor. It was us against them."

"Well, that's something else our kids won't have to worry about. We won't be the kind of parents you had."

Logan frowned. "Hopefully."

"Logan?" Rory's brow furrowed in confusion. "You know you're not your father, right?"

"I guess. But he was the example I had and—"

"He showed you what _not_ to do as a father. You will be wonderful father." Rory squeezed his hand.

Logan desperately wanted to believe Rory was right. He didn't want to end up like Mitchum, a mostly unseen figure in his son's life until he wanted to dole out criticism or punishment. The day that Mitchum had finally attended one of his Little League games, following months of invitations, was etched in Logan's memory. Nine-year-old Logan had been thrilled when he'd driven in two runs with a triple in the final inning, not only because it secured his team's victory, but because for once he had done something to make his father proud. Expecting praise and congratulations during the drive home, Logan had been shocked when instead Mitchum had pointed out that it had been his error on a routine play at shortstop in the previous inning that allowed the other team to tie the game and that if Logan had been concentrating, he would have avoided the mistake that necessitated the late-game heroics. Logan never invited his father to another game. Then, there was the time Mitchum had dismissed Logan's championship ribbon on his sixth-grade science project, saying that "the quality of the other students' work must have been appalling" and that it was "charitable of the judges, considering Logan's atrocious spelling." Most of Logan's childhood memories concerning Mitchum involved living in fear of his disappointment and rebuke. Later, the fear became resentment and rebellion against authority, thus the multiple expulsions from school.

The last thing Logan wanted was to be the kind of father to his children that Mitchum had been to him. Rory had heard all his stories about Mitchum. In fact, Logan had shared details with her that nobody knew, including Honor. Mitchum had been just as absent from Honor's life, but she had never been subjected to the expectations and criticism that Logan had endured. Only Rory understood how deeply Mitchum's callousness had wounded the young Logan and how that had led to the teenager and young adult with the devil-may-care attitude about life. What Logan had never admitted, not even to Rory, was that he was terrified that history would repeat itself when he had children, simply because he couldn't imagine that Mitchum had _planned_ to be the type of father who withheld affection from his son and parented by disapproval. Yet that was what had happened.

"You really think I'll be a good father, Ace? That I won't turn out like him?"

"Oh, babe, I know so. Do you think I'd love you so much if you were the kind of man who'd make a crappy father?"

"I thought you loved me for my looks," Logan said, earning a smack on the arm.

"You don't need to worry about being like Mitchum."

"I don't?"

"No, because you have me. I have no doubt that you will be an excellent father, but if, by some chance, you start to exhibit any Mitchum-y characteristics, I will put a stop to it. I am not worried about that happening at all, but you can be sure that I'll knock some sense into you if it does."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Besides, babies kind of freak me out. I'll probably be so afraid of something happening to them that I'll be overprotective and smothering, and they'll like you better. You'll be the fun parent."

Logan shook his head, smiling. "Nah, I've always thought you'll make a great mom. A mom with an excessive number of pro-con lists about parenting techniques, but a great mom."

"Smart ass," Rory muttered.

A wide smile spread across Logan's face.

"What are you grinning about?" Rory asked.

"Just you. Us. Talking about this. I like it."

"Me, too."

Logan brought Rory's hand to his lips and kissed her palm. "Plus, don't you think our kids are going to be pretty amazing?"

Rory smiled. "I imagine we'll think so, even if they're not. And, hey, maybe we'll enjoy them so much we won't stop at two. But I should tell you right now, if we only have girls, I'm not going to keep having babies just so we can try for a male heir."

"Fine by me, but you may have to take that up with Mitchum."

"No problem. I'll be happy to point out that it's the freaking 21st century, and it's time to leave his outdated chauvinistic attitudes behind. There's no reason why his granddaughter can't take over the family business someday."

"One problem," Logan said. "In case you've forgotten, I'm not exactly in line to take over anymore."

"For now."

"What do you mean _for now_?"

"It just won't surprise me if, at some point, you go back." Logan started to protest, but Rory cut him off. "I'm not saying it's going to happen any time soon, but Mitchum will want you back. You're still his son. His brilliant, talented, Ivy League-educated son."

"Doesn't mean I want to go."

"No, it doesn't, but it is your birthright, and there's nothing wrong in wanting to reclaim that. And now you'll be in a much better position if you do decide to go back."

"How do you figure that?"

"Logan, you're proving to Mitchum that you don't need him or his money. If you go back, you'll have leverage. You'll be able to make conditions on how he treats you. He'll know he can't try to bully you or send you off to London or Omaha or Timbuktu without your permission. If he wants you back, it will have to be beneficial to both of you because he'll know you could walk at any time."

It surprised Logan that Rory would have such insight into his situation with his father. "You've put some thought into this."

"Haven't you?"

"I guess, though apparently not as much as you have."

Rory shrugged. "I've been thinking about it pretty much since you resigned last spring. I just figured you wouldn't want to talk about it so soon afterward and then, well, we weren't together. Listen, if you want to avoid the Huntzberger Group forever and let Mitchum find some other successor, that's fine. But if you want to go back, I'm okay with that, too, as long as it's on _your_ terms. I will support you either way, and I know it's not a decision you'll make rashly—"

"No, it's a decision _we_ will make. Not just me," Logan said. "From now on, big life decisions we make together, okay? We're a team."

Rory nodded. "Okay. But I want you to know how proud I am of what you're accomplishing on your own, and from what Grandpa said, it isn't going unnoticed by Mitchum. He's going to realize how lucky he would be to have you back, not as some minion he can control, but as his brilliant son who will be a huge asset to the family business."

Logan gave Rory a small smile. "Thank you for believing in me," he said. "It means a lot."

"You don't need to thank me. It comes with the territory. I happen to be your biggest fan, you know."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, just don't expect me to grab any pom-poms in your name."

Logan let out a soft whistle. "Now there's an image: you, a set of pom-poms—Yale blue and white, of course—and nothing else." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"In your dreams, Huntzberger. If you've got some cheerleader fantasy, you've got yourself the wrong girl."

"Nope, not the wrong girl. The _only_ girl."

Rory blushed. "Logan..."

"What? You are the only girl for me, Ace."

Rory launched herself against Logan and hugged him. "Good. Don't ever forget that," she whispered in his ear.

"Never."

Rory rolled across Logan's body and climbed out of bed. "Now, as much as I'd like to hide out in here with you all day, I guess we shouldn't miss Christmas breakfast. Plus, it smells like Luke is baking muffins or coffee cake." She picked up her zip-front hoodie from the desk chair and pulled it on over her pajamas, then gathered her hair into a ponytail.

"I think I'll get dressed first," Logan said as he got up. "You go ahead. I'll be out in a minute."

"You sure?" Rory asked. "You're not going to climb out the window to escape, are you? Remember your shoes are in the foyer."

"Baby, I climb _in_ windows to get to you, not the other way around."

"You only did that once."

"And, man, was it worth it." Logan flashed his trademark smirk. "I had no idea that spending the night with sweet, little Rory Gilmore would be so—"

"Do _not_ finish that sentence," Rory said as the blush spread across her cheeks.

"I was just going to say _amazing_." Logan laughed and gathered her into his arms. "How is it that you still turn bright red after all this time?"

"I can't help it," she pouted into his chest.

"I know. It's endearing." He kissed her head. "But I promise I'm not sneaking out. I will be out in a few minutes for a nice Christmas morning with you and your mom and Luke. It's going to be fine."

And it was fine. Luke's breakfast was delicious, and the conversation was amiable. To Rory's surprise, Lorelai kept any displeasure she may have felt about Logan's presence to herself. After the coffee cake, scrambled eggs, and bacon had been consumed, the four of them moved to the living room, where they opened presents and relaxed in front of the tree. All in all, it was a perfectly lovely Christmas morning.

It wasn't until later, when Rory answered Logan's phone, that her Christmas started to fall apart.


	12. Chapter 12

Rory and Lorelai stood side by side in front of the living room windows, sipping coffee and watching Logan and Luke as they cleared the snow from the driveway. Actually, they were watching Luke. The snowblower was a one-man machine, so once Logan had finished shoveling the snow from the front walk, he could only join them as spectators.

"I hope Luke lets Logan have a go with the snowblower," Rory said. "Logan thinks snowblowers are cool."

Lorelai chuckled. "I heard."

"You did?"

Lorelai nodded. "Oh, yes, Logan declared his love for snowblowers when we were checking out the snow this morning. If we'd been in here instead of in the kitchen, he probably would have jumped up and down on the couch."

Rory laughed. "It's not quite that serious."

"Could be. Better keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't start badmouthing psychiatry," Lorelai said. "So I take it you heard about our little kitchen pow-wow."

"I did. Logan didn't provide the written transcripts, but I got the headlines," Rory said. "Anything you want to say about it?"

"There's a lot I want to say, but do you really want to talk now when Logan and Luke will be back inside any minute?"

"Probably not. Look at your dog." Rory giggled as Paul Anka crept up to the stream of snow shooting from the snowblower; as soon as the snow touched him, he jumped back and ran circles around the yard. "There's something seriously wrong with that mutt."

"Hey! Don't make fun of my dog."

"But he's nuts—"

A cell phone rang from the small table in the foyer.

"Is that yours?" Lorelai asked.

Rory shook her head. "Sounds like Logan's. He must have laid it down when he was putting his coat on and forgot to put it in his pocket." Rory walked over and picked up the phone. "It says 'House' is calling."

"Dr. Gregory House?"

"Yes, Mom, a television character is calling Logan," Rory said. "He probably wants to talk about the new doctors they've added to his team this season."

"Well, I don't know. Who is House then?"

"The Huntzberger house. Think I should answer it? It's probably Honor wondering when he's going back to Hartford."

Lorelai shrugged. "Up to you. He's your boyfriend."

"I guess he wouldn't care if I—" The phone stopped. "Just let it go to voice mail."

"So what is the plan?" Lorelai asked. "Is Logan staying in Stars Hollow or going back to be with his family?"

"I don't know. We haven't talked about it yet. I was thinking about inviting him to stay for dinner. Do you think Sookie would mind if I brought him along?"

"Of course not. You know Sookie always has enough food to feed an army—"

Again, they were interrupted by the ringing of Logan's phone.

"House again," Rory said. "Maybe I should answer it. It must be important." She stared at the phone in her hand for a few seconds, took a deep breath, and answered the call. "Hello?"

"_Who is this? I'm looking for my son."_

Rory grimaced. "Oh, Mrs. Huntzberger. This is Rory. Logan is—"

"_Rory Gilmore?"_

"Yes." She almost asked how many other Rorys Shira knew, but she figured her sarcasm would be unappreciated.

"_Why are you answering my son's phone?"_

"Because Logan is outside and his phone isn't. Would you like me to get him? Or could I take a message?" Rory rolled her eyes at Lorelai, who was listening intently.

"_Outside where?"_

"We're at my mother's house in Stars Hollow. Logan spoke with Honor this morning. She knew he was here."

"_Did she? Well, she did not mention that to me, and I didn't think to ask if she knew where her brother was. But you know Logan. One never knows where he spends his nights."_

The woman was unbelievable. Was she actually using Logan's former reputation as a ladies' man to make Rory doubt his feelings for her? Rory chose to ignore her attempt to undermine them.

"It was snowing pretty hard when Logan drove me home last night. I wanted him to stay instead of driving all the way back to Hartford in the storm."

"_Oh, I'm sure you did." _The haughtiness in Shira's tone was unmistakable. _"Look, Rory, I'm not certain what you think you're up to with Logan—"_

"I'm not up to anything."

"_Really? Let me see if I understand. Last spring, after Logan had his falling out with his father and no longer had access to the Huntzberger connections in publishing, he had nothing to offer you—"_

"What happened last spring had nothing to do with—"

"_Of course it did. Now that he's doing so well in California, you think you can just waltz back into my son's life. Suddenly he's appealing again. I understand how these things work."_

It was on the tip of Rory's tongue to say that Shira understood about marrying for money or connections because that is exactly what she had done, but Rory knew better than to pick a fight with Shira. No matter what Rory thought about her, Shira was Logan's mother, and while Logan had never been particularly close to her, presumably Rory would be dealing with her for years to come.

"With all due respect, Mrs. Huntzberger, you really don't know anything about my relationship with Logan."

"_Oh, I think I do. I know you rejected his marriage proposal. Do you have any idea how many young women would kill for a marriage proposal from a man like Logan? Someone with his status?"_

"What other women would do really doesn't concern me. My feelings for Logan have nothing to do with his status."

"_Hmph, so you say. You may be able to fool Logan about your true intentions, but don't think you can fool me."_

Having experienced the dinner from hell when she and Logan had first become official, Rory shouldn't have been surprised that Shira would come right out and accuse her of using Logan or trying to trick him, but she had no idea how to respond to such a ridiculous claim. It was unlikely Shira would believe anything she said, anyway.

"In no way am I trying to trick Logan," Rory said.

"_I guess we'll see about that. What exactly is Logan doing outside?"_

Rory walked into the living room and looked out the window. "At the moment, he is pushing a snowblower." Even in the middle of her unpleasant conversation with Shira, Rory couldn't help but smile at the boyish exuberance on Logan's face as he walked along behind the snowblower.

"_You asked him to clear your driveway?"_

"He volunteered to help Luke with the job."

"_Luke?"_

"My mother's boyfriend. Would you like to hold on while I get Logan, or should I just have him call you back in a few minutes?"

Shira sighed into the phone. _"Please have him call me as soon as possible. It is rather urgent that I speak with him."_

"Okay, I'll tell him right away."

"_Fine. Good-bye." _

"Bye. Merry—" Rory's words were cut off when Shira ended the call. "Christmas." She frowned at Lorelai. "Guess I should have let it go to voice mail."

"What did the lovely Shira have to say?" Lorelai asked.

"Let's just say she wasn't too thrilled that I was the one answering Logan's phone." Rory sighed. "I guess I'd better go tell him he has to call her. She said it was urgent." Rory slipped her coat on over her pajamas and went out the front door wearing her slippers. She hated to interrupt Logan's snow-blowing fun, but the last thing she needed was to give Shira any more ammunition for her anti-Rory campaign.

Logan was so intent on the job of clearing the small area of the driveway that Luke had left for him that he didn't notice Rory as she waved to him from the front porch. When he did look in her direction, he smiled and nodded his head in acknowledgement, but continued with the job. Rory motioned Luke over.

"Luke, I need to talk to Logan. Can you take over for him?"

Luke furrowed his brow. "Everything okay?"

"Yes. I guess so. He needs to call his mother."

With Logan's phone in her hand, Rory waited on the porch while Luke approached Logan and gave him the kill sign. Logan shut down the snowblower, and after a brief exchange with Luke, he headed toward Rory.

"What's up, Ace?" Logan smiled and draped his arm across Rory's shoulders.

"Sorry to interrupt your fun, but I just...I probably shouldn't have...well, you left your cell phone inside and it rang and it said 'House,' and I thought about answering it, but I waited too long and it went to voice mail, but then it rang again right away, and again it said 'House,' so I figured it must be Honor and I thought it might be important, so I answered—"

Logan cut off her rambling with a quick kiss. "So you answered my phone. No big deal. I've been known to answer yours on occasion. What did Honor want?"

"Logan, do you think I'd be babbling like an idiot if it had been Honor?"

Logan frowned. "I guess not, but I could hope. So which Huntzberger was it?"

"Your mother. She wants you to call her back. She didn't sound distraught or anything, but she said it was 'rather urgent.'"

"Yeah, I highly doubt that. Did she say something awful to you?"

For a moment, Rory considered telling Logan the truth about her conversation with Shira. Logan's relationship with his parents had never been easy, but things between them seemed to have improved since last spring when Logan resigned from the Huntzberger Group. If Rory told Logan the truth, she had no doubt that he'd take her side and any positive development in his relationship with his parents would be erased.

"Um, no, well, she was surprised that I was the one answering your phone," Rory said. "You weren't keeping me a secret, were you?"

"Rory, no. I didn't tell her where I was going last night, but it wasn't because I wanted it to be a secret. I'll tell my parents about us. Hell, I intend to tell the whole world, but we only got back together last night, and I've been with you ever since."

Rory smiled. "Yeah, I know."

"So I guess I ought to see what Mom so urgently needs to tell me."

"You'd better, or she'll think I didn't give you the message." Rory handed Logan the phone, and they went into the house. Logan bent down to pull off Christopher's boots, which Rory had insisted he borrow for the snow removal.

Lorelai was sitting on the sofa with a magazine. "Everything okay?" Lorelai asked.

"I'm sure it's fine," Logan said. "Let me just...Ace, I'll go in your room to call."

"Okay." Rory plopped down on the sofa beside her mother.

"You okay, kid?" Lorelai asked, nudging Rory's leg with hers.

"I guess so. It's just...Shira. _Ugh_."

"What exactly did she say to you? From your side of the conversation, it didn't sound like she was being very pleasant."

Rory scoffed. "Pleasant? No, I don't think I've ever had a pleasant conversation with Shira Huntzberger. Maybe a _fake _pleasant conversation, but definitely not a genuine one."

"So what was it this time?"

"Oh, she thinks I turned Logan down last spring because he wasn't working for his father and didn't have any connections in publishing that I could use, but now that he's doing well in California, he's become more appealing to me."

Lorelai gaped. "She said that to you?"

"Yep."

"What a bitch."

"You think?" Rory shook her head. "Well, I guess it's fitting."

"What is?"

"Logan's mother hates me. My mother hates Logan."

"I don't hate Logan," Lorelai said.

"You don't like him very much," Rory said. "But then you've never liked any of my boyfriends."

"Not true. I liked Dean and Dean, the Sequel. I thought he was an excellent first boyfriend for you. It was only Dean, Part III, the Final Chapter, I had a problem with."

"You didn't like Jess."

"Hon, _nobody_ liked Jess except you and Luke," Lorelai said. "And I think Luke only liked him out of family obligation."

"Mom!"

"What? Jess was a loser punk. I guess most girls go through a bad-boy phase. You saw something, some intelligence, in him, but I certainly never did. If he was so smart, why did he go out of his way to be horribly rude and obnoxious to everyone he met, particularly the people who tried to help him, like you and Luke? He was terrible to you. No way was he good enough for my daughter."

"Wow, Mom. Tell me how you really feel," Rory said. "You know the thing about Jess—"

"Yeah, yeah, Jess was misunderstood, _blah, blah_. Whatever." Lorelai rolled her eyes."Why are we talking about Jess? I was under the impression that Logan is the love of your life. Do you really want to waste your energy defending Jess? Unless you still have some unresolved feelings for him."

"No! Not at all. Not for a very long time," Rory said. "What I was going to say before _somebody _interrupted was that I now realize that whatever it was I felt for Jess was nothing compared to the way I feel about Logan. I wish Jess well. I hope he's happy and has a nice life, but I absolutely do not have feelings for him."

"Well, I'm sure Logan will be happy about that."

"Logan knows Jess is no threat to him."

"I wasn't saying he didn't know that," Lorelai said. "I just, well, after Logan and I talked this morning, I realize I may not have given him credit for just how much he loves you."

"He did ask me to marry him, you know."

"Yes, and I knew that he loved you. I guess I just worried that eventually he'd want someone like his mother. The typical society wife."

"Logan would never want me to be like his mother or for us to have the type of relationship his parents have."

"I'm beginning to get that. But, you know, you're still going to have to deal with Shira."

"I know."

"You sure you want to be her daughter-in-law?"

"Of course I don't want to be her daughter-in-law." Rory turned as she heard Logan returning to the living room. He had a disgusted look on his face. "Well?"

"My mother is being her normal unreasonable self," Logan said. "I have to go back to Hartford."

"What? Now? But we still have things to talk about," Rory said.

"I know, but..."

When Logan hesitated, Lorelai jumped up from the sofa. "Hey, I don't hear the snowblower anymore," she said. "Maybe I should go out and see if Luke needs rescuing from Babette. She probably has him cornered out there with her latest cat stories."

Rory mouthed a "thank you" to Lorelai and walked over to Logan beside the staircase. She placed her hand on Logan's forearm. After they heard Lorelai exit the house, she asked, "Do you really have to leave right now? I was going to ask if you wanted to stay and have Christmas dinner with us at Sookie's. She always makes plenty of food."

Logan shook his head and stared at the floor. "I can't, Ace."

"Oh, okay." Rory let go of Logan's sleeve.

"No, I'm sorry. I have to pick up my grandfather," Logan said. "He gave his driver the day off for Christmas. Dad was going to send a car for him, but the old coot is demanding that someone pick him up in the Range Rover because his driveway hasn't been plowed."

"And you have it."

"It's ridiculous. There's not that much snow out there, and I can't imagine my grandfather cares what car comes for him, but my mother is insisting that I pick him up now."

"So you have to go."

Logan nodded, his mouth a tight line. "Maybe you could come with me. Have dinner with us. I know dinner at my parents' house hasn't worked out so well in the past, but things are different now. They need to get used to the fact that we're together for good."

As much as she wanted to spend Christmas with Logan, the idea of sharing the table with the Huntzbergers filled Rory with dread. Honor and Josh would be great, and Mitchum might be tolerable. He had warmed to Rory's place in Logan's life last winter and apparently had willingly played a role in getting Logan to her grandparents' party. Shira and Elias, however, had never had any scruples about vocalizing their misgivings about Rory, and after today's conversation with Shira, Rory was certain she would not be a welcome presence. Answering Logan's phone had certainly turned out to be a stupid mistake.

Rory snapped out of her thoughts when she realized Logan was waiting for some kind of reply to his invitation. "Oh, well, I don't...I mean, I couldn't go with you right now. I don't think my pajamas and hoodie would be appropriate, so I'd have to take a shower and get dressed for dinner. Plus, I still need to talk to Mom. I haven't spent very much time with her since I've been home. And I've barely seen Lane. I'm supposed to hang out with her this afternoon before we go to Sookie's for dinner."

"Okay, so you can't come with me now, but couldn't you do both dinners? Didn't you tell me you and your Mom once ate three Thanksgiving dinners?"

"Actually, it was four," Rory said. "What time is your dinner?"

"Six."

"Sookie's is at five, so there's no way we'll be finished in time for me to make it to Hartford by six."

"Okay, whatever. It was just a thought."

The expression on Logan's face reminded Rory of the day he had left for London after his graduation from Yale. The doleful look in his eyes was just as heartbreaking as it had been that morning. "Logan, when I made my Christmas plans, I didn't know that we'd be together."

"I know."

"I'm sorry. You know I'd rather be with you, but—"

"I get it. I only saw Honor for a few hours yesterday afternoon. I was supposed to hang out with her and Josh last night," Logan said. "They're heading back to Manhattan after dinner because they have an early flight tomorrow. They're going to visit Josh's parents in Toronto. If I want to spend any time with her, I have to do it this afternoon."

"Josh is Canadian?"

"No, his dad is a visiting professor at the University of Toronto this year."

"Oh." Rory didn't know what to say. It didn't really matter whether Josh was or wasn't Canadian. What mattered was that Logan was leaving her. Again. She squeezed her eyes shut to squelch her tears. She wondered if Logan's grandfather had really demanded that Logan pick him up or if it was just Shira's plan to tear Logan away from her. "But we haven't talked about how we're going to, you know, handle things with us, and you're going back to California tomorrow."

Logan shrugged. "My flight isn't until late afternoon." Logan looked down at the time on his phone. "Shit, my grandfather's expecting me in twenty minutes. I'll never make it. Why he wants to get to my parents' house so early, I have no idea. Probably wants to terrorize the household staff. And I'm going to be stuck in the car alone with him. Fifteen minutes on what a disgrace I am to the Huntzberger name. Yay."

Rory put her hand on Logan's face. "You know that isn't true, right?"

Logan shrugged. "Tell that to my grandfather." He walked to the foyer and slipped on his shoes.

"I wish you didn't have to go," Rory said, following him.

"Me, too, Ace." He bent his head and dropped a quick kiss on her lips.

Something was off. Rory couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but the atmosphere between them had changed. Had something Shira said to Logan upset him? Was Logan hurt because Rory had refused his dinner invitation? Or had he heard her say she didn't want to be Shira's daughter-in-law? Rory hadn't meant that she would _not_ be Shira's daughter-in-law, only that it wouldn't be easy. Should she tell him that? She felt desperate to return them to the comfortable rapport they'd shared all morning before she'd answered Shira's call.

"Logan, is everything, um, okay? With us, I mean."

Logan pulled Rory into a tight embrace. "What? Of course," he said against her hair. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

After another quick kiss, Logan released his grip on Rory and opened the front door. "I'll call you later, Ace."

"Okay."

And, with that, he was gone, leaving Rory with a nagging sense of foreboding. She and Logan had promised each other they would never again allow minor issues to escalate because they had failed to tell each other the truth about something, yet Rory had a feeling that they had just done that. Perhaps she should have told him what his mother had said to her; then, Logan might have understood her reluctance to go with him to Hartford.

She wandered into her room and lay down on the unmade bed, breathing in Logan's scent from the pillow. During her last year at Yale, when Logan was in London and later Manhattan, Rory had always been reluctant to wash the pillowcases after one of his visits. She had taken comfort in keeping that small reminder of him for as long as it lingered on the soft material.

Now it made her want to cry. Logan had said he loved her before he left, but he had seemed distant, and the fact was that tomorrow afternoon he would be gone again. It simply wasn't enough time. Her tears had just begun to fall when she heard the front door open and her mother call her name.

Rory quickly wiped her cheeks and sat up. "In here."

"Hey, babe, Logan left his boots on the floor in the foyer," Lorelai said as she bounded into Rory's room. "You know I think they are the exact style I bought your dad last winter."

"They're not Logan's boots." Rory stood up and started to make her bed.

"They're not?" When Rory didn't respond, Lorelai frowned. "So they're not the same _style_ I bought your dad. They're the same boots. How the hell did Logan end up with Christopher's boots?"

"I borrowed them last night."

"But Chris is in France." Lorelai sat in the armchair in the corner.

"I have a key to Dad's house."

"Since when?"

Rory shrugged. "Since October. Dad said he wanted me to feel like it was my home, too. He gave me a key and the alarm code, so I could let myself in if he wasn't home."

"So you went to his house last night to borrow snow boots for Logan?"

"We went to Dad's house, so we could talk in private. His parents' house wasn't an option, and you certainly made it clear that bringing him here would have been a bad idea," Rory said. "It started snowing while we were there and Logan was concerned about my walking to the car in heels, so I found Dad's boots in the closet and wore them home. This morning, I convinced Logan to wear them instead of his shoes when he went out to help Luke. It's not a big deal. I'll return them before I go back on the road."

"So you and Logan were alone at your dad's house until you got back here at nearly two a.m.?"

"Yeah, so?" Rory sat on the bed. "We had a lot to talk about. A lot of things we should have talked about last spring."

"That's a long time to _talk_." Lorelai made air quotes, earning a glare from Rory.

"Mom, we got back together after being apart for seven months. We're in love," Rory said. "Do you _really_ need to know the details?"

Lorelai smirked. "I guess not," she said. "But somehow I don't think that's what Christopher had in mind when he gave you a key to his house."

"That's exactly what Logan said. But, you know, what Dad doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Was that your philosophy when it came to me and the letters you wrote Logan?"

Rory sighed. "I don't know. I didn't set out to _not_ tell you. I just didn't."

Lorelai walked over and sat on the end of the bed. "Hon, why did you think you couldn't talk to me about Logan?"

"Didn't we talk about this yesterday? For one thing, you never asked me about Logan. And I knew you were happy we broke up," Rory said.

"I wasn't happy you broke up."

Rory scowled. "Mom."

"I wasn't! It doesn't make me happy to see you in pain. God, Rory, how could you think that?"

"You were happy I turned down Logan's proposal."

Lorelai sighed. "Because I think you're too young to get married. Both of you. I also wasn't crazy about the idea of your moving to California. Is that what's going to happen now?"

"No, I have my job, and...well, I don't know what we're going to do. We haven't talked about the logistics, and now that he went home, I don't know when we'll get a chance to."

"But you're not engaged?"

"We're not engaged," Rory said. "I'm not in any rush. But we will be someday. I don't know when, but I'm going to marry him. You're going to have to accept that."

"Tell me about the letters," Lorelai said.

Without going into much detail about what was in them, Rory explained the history of the Logan files: how she had written the first letter the night before she left Stars Hollow; how they had become a sort of therapy for her when she was on the road, a way to feel a connection to Logan when she was so heartbroken; and finally how she had come to send them to him. The only thing Rory left out of the story was Christopher's role in convincing her to share the letters with Logan.

When Rory had finished talking, Lorelai reached over and took her hand. "I wish you had told me," she said. "It kills me that you had to write letters you weren't going to send because you didn't have anybody to talk to."

"In a way, I liked writing the letters. It hurt sometimes, but it gave me a way to...I don't know...organize my thoughts. Vent a little," Rory said. "It's easier for me to write things down than talk."

"I know, but I hate that you were alone with this."

Rory bit her bottom lip and stared at the pattern on her quilt. Just as she didn't want to have secrets from Logan, she didn't like keeping things from her mother, either. That had never worked well for them. And, despite her protests, Rory knew Logan was right about her wanting Lorelai's approval. Keeping secrets from her wouldn't help.

"Unless you talked about it with someone else," Lorelai said. "Lane, maybe? Or that roommate you had during the summer? Phil?"

"I didn't talk to Phil about it. A little to Lane, I guess."

"Well, I'm sure you weren't discussing it with Emily Gilmore."

Rory shook her head. "No, not Grandma. I don't want you to be mad, okay?"

"Why would I be mad?" Lorelai asked.

"It was, well, I talked to Dad. He asked me how I was doing about Logan the first time we talked and after that we just kept talking about it."

"Oh." Lorelai frowned. "So you could talk to your father, but not to me?"

"It was just easier with Dad," Rory said. "He didn't want me to get married, either. He agrees with you on that, but Dad likes Logan. With you, there was just so much...so much baggage when it came to Logan. I didn't set out to exclude you—"

"Really? Sure sounds like it to me."

"Okay, in a way, I guess I did, but only because I knew you didn't have a good opinion about Logan. Dad was more sympathetic. I knew he was never going to tell me I was better off without him."

"I never said that!" Lorelai said.

"You told me the night of my graduation that I had made the right decision. Before that you wouldn't give me your opinion, but as soon as I said no, you were awfully quick to jump in on that side."

"Rory, that wasn't a decision I could make for you. I didn't want to influence you and have you resent me or blame me for the rest of your life."

"I know," Rory said. "I understand that."

"And everything I said in those first few days was just my attempt to make you feel better."

"I know that now, but nothing was going to make me feel better that night." Rory brushed back a few tears. "So are you mad?"

"That you talked to your father about Logan? Of course not. I'm glad that things are good between you and Chris. I want you to have that closeness with him," Lorelai said. "But I do wish you had felt comfortable talking to me, too. Rory, we've always been able to talk about everything. I want you to still feel that way."

"Sometimes I wish I hadn't told you so much about Logan. Like when he's made mistakes or whatever," Rory said. "I've been able to forgive him and move on, but you haven't."

Lorelai nodded. "That's what Logan accused me of this morning, that I've been holding every mistake he's ever made against him and that's keeping me from giving him a chance."

"Do you think he's right?"

"I didn't think so," Lorelai said. "Now I'm not so sure. Before you and Logan got up this morning, I told Luke a little about my conversation with Logan. He agreed that Logan was right about my holding grudges against him for stuff that happened in the past. I guess you can count Luke with your Dad on the pro-Logan side."

"I'll make sure he gets the t-shirt and the membership card," Rory said.

"I suppose on some level I haven't been able to forgive Logan for things he did that I didn't think were fair to you or hurt you."

"Well, you are my mother. You're supposed to look out for me. But you don't need to protect me from Logan. He's not just some spoiled society kid. He really loves me, and he only wants what's best for me."

"I'm starting to understand that," Lorelai said.

"I just want you to give him a chance. Can you try?"

"As long as he makes you happy, I can try."

"He does, Mom. I never had any doubts about that, but these past seven months, being apart, I've been so miserable. I know we belong together. We both do."

Lorelai shrugged. "Well, I'll just have to get used to him. I want you to be happy. You know that, right?"

Rory nodded. "Yes."

"Hey, I never asked. Is there a problem with Shira? Logan didn't seem very happy when he said good-bye to Luke and me."

"Shira said he had to go pick up his grandfather right away because his driveway...you know, it's too inane to repeat. Logan didn't want to go."

"Did you ask him to stay for dinner?"

Rory nodded. "He said he had to have dinner with his family, but he invited me to have dinner with them."

"Are you going?"

"No, I told him I couldn't. I've barely seen Lane, and I haven't seen Sookie at all. But really I just didn't want to. I want to be with Logan, but I don't know if I could take dinner with his family. Not after the stuff Shira said this morning."

"But, hon, if you're going to marry into that family—"

"Yeah, I know. I'll have to get used to them, but Logan and I have just gotten back together. I'd rather they got used to the idea of us being a couple again before I attempt a major holiday," Rory said. "The thing is, I'm afraid Logan didn't understand that. Things felt a little off between us when he left."

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing to do with you. Logan loves you. I'm absolutely certain of that."

"Wow, he really convinced you this morning," Rory said. "You're probably right. I'm probably making too much out of the weirdness, but there's still so much we have to talk about before he flies back to California tomorrow afternoon. He did say he'd call me later."

"Then I'm sure he will," Lorelai said.

But he didn't.

Christopher called from France to wish Rory a merry Christmas, and Rory filled him in on her Logan news. (Except the part about the amorous activities that had occurred in Chris' house, per Logan's request.) After her father's phone call, Rory went to Lane's. She had fun visiting with the Van Gerbigs, but she must have checked her phone about a half-dozen times in the two hours she spent with them. And still there was no word from Logan.

Shortly before they headed to Sookie's house for dinner, Rory broke down and called him. He didn't pick up, and she didn't leave a message. Dinner, as expected, was wonderful. It was truly amazing how Sookie managed to create such a delectable meal while corralling two preschoolers hyped up on Christmas excitement and caring for the newest member of the Belleville family, three-month-old baby Sam. The house was a scene of delightful chaos, and Rory couldn't help thinking the only thing that could have made the evening better was Logan's presence at her side.

With three children under five, any evening at the Belleville house ends early, so it was only a little past seven when Rory, Lorelai, and Luke returned to the house. Rory suggested they have a Christmas movie night with _It's a Wonderful Life_ and _A Christmas Story_, but Lorelai had other plans for Rory.

"Call him," she said after Luke went upstairs to change out of his dinner clothes. "You've been checking your phone all night."

"I did call," Rory said. "Before we went to Sookie's. It went straight to voice mail."

"Well, try again. You're going to make yourself nuts checking your phone every ten minutes."

Rory groaned. "I know. I'm being a little insane."

"Not insane. Maybe a little insecure, but not insane," Lorelai said. "But I really don't think you need to be insecure about Logan's feelings."

Rory raised her eyebrows. "I must say this is quite the turnaround. You being a new member of Logan's fan club, I mean."

Lorelai shrugged. "I hear the t-shirt's cute."

Rory picked up her phone and placed the call.

"_Hello, this is Logan Huntzberger. Leave a message..."_

Rory clicked off. "Voice mail," Rory said. "I want to talk to Logan. Not his stupid voice mail."

"Here's a thought: why don't you go to his house? By the time you drive there, they should be finished with dinner. You can spend some time with Logan and say hello to Honor. You like her, right?"

"Just show up? Are you crazy? Shira would have a field day with that."

"With what? Logan invited you, didn't he? So you didn't make it for dinner. I'm sure the invitation stands. Don't you want to spend as much time with him as possible before he goes back to California?"

Rory furrowed her brow. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with Lorelai Gilmore?"

"Hey, I'm trying here," Lorelai said. "This is me being supportive of you and Logan."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"So you really think I should just show up?" Rory asked.

"Why not? I'm sure the door will be answered by a maid, who will leave you in the fancy-schmancy foyer of the big fancy-schmancy mansion to wait while she summons 'Mr. Logan Huntzberger' for you," Lorelai said. "Shira and the other lunatics probably won't even know you're there. And, if they do, you look beautiful. Very elegant. Definitely Emily Gilmore-approved."

Rory chewed on her bottom lip. "I don't know. Maybe Logan won't want me to drop by unexpectedly."

"Rory, don't be ridiculous. You'll make his night. Go. Have fun," Lorelai said. "Just remember to call me if you're not coming home for the night, so I won't worry. You can leave out the dirty parts."

"Mom! Stop!" Rory picked up her coat.

"So you're going?"

"I guess I am," Rory said. "Thanks, Mom."

"Any time, kid. Love you."

"I love you, too."

Thirty-five minutes later, Rory stood with her finger hovering over the doorbell of the Huntzberger house as she desperately tried to ward off a panic attack.


	13. Chapter 13

Logan should have turned off his phone.

He could have spent the day in Stars Hollow. Had dinner with Rory at Sookie's house. Slept another night with Rory cuddled against him in her tiny bed. She may have found it cramped, but Logan would take waking with pins and needles in his arm over sleeping without her any time.

But Logan had called his mother back. Once Rory told Shira she'd pass along her message, he had no choice. He wouldn't give his mother another reason to criticize Rory. According to Honor, their mother had taken Rory's rejection of his proposal as an insult to the entire Huntzberger family, and Logan suspected the end of the feud with the Gilmores was a direct result of Shira's need to minimize the family's humiliation. He couldn't imagine Shira would ever forgive Emily Gilmore for calling her a "two-bit gold digger" unless she had something to gain from reestablishing the friendship. What better way to show the busybodies in Hartford that Rory hadn't injured the family than to make nice with the enemy—or, in this case, the enemy's grandmother? Clearly, keeping up appearances was more important to Shira than Logan's broken heart. She had yet to offer a single consoling word to her son.

When Shira picked up his call without so much as a hello, Logan knew his mother's Gilmore forgiveness had not extended to Rory.

"_Logan, what are you doing with Rory Gilmore? Can't you see she's only using you? She turned you down last spring when you were estranged from your father, but now that you're doing so well, she's changed her mind? You are better off without her. In no way would she make a suitable wife. Surely you must see that the Gilmores are not our equals."_

Not only were Shira's words hurtful and wrong, they were insulting. Was it so unlikely that Rory could love Logan for the person he was and not his family? And did his mother really believe he couldn't tell the difference between a girl who was interested in him for the Huntzberger name and one who genuinely cared for him?

"_Mom, if you have something to say that isn't about Rory, then say it," he said. "Otherwise, I'm hanging up."_

"_Well, you need to come home. You know we're expecting you for Christmas dinner," Shira said. "Holidays are family times."_

Logan had almost laughed at her pretense. Calling any holiday "family time" for the Huntzbergers was complete fantasy. Since high school, the only Christmas Logan had spent with his parents had been two years ago when he was in the midst of his first breakup with Rory—and that was entirely because of Honor. By Christmas, Logan's epiphany had come: he was in love with Rory and returning to his old life had done nothing to relieve his depression over losing her. Honor, however, had refused to accept that Logan wanted to be alone and miserable in his apartment for Christmas and had driven to New Haven, made Logan pack some clothes (it took her threats of rifling through his underwear drawer to get him off his sofa), and dragged him back to Hartford.

Logan figured Shira had sensed that the "family time" argument would have little effect on him because her next approach had been to exploit his relationship with the one member of the family she knew mattered to him.

"_I know you don't want to disappoint your sister," Shira said. "Don't you want to take advantage of what may be your last chance to spend time with Honor before the baby arrives?"_

Logan had started to waver then. Honor was the reason he had come home to Connecticut, and he did want to hang out with her, if only to share his happiness about Rory and to thank her for the role she'd played in their reconciliation. Other than Rory, he had missed Honor more than anyone since he'd moved to California.

Still, it wasn't until Shira had explained that his grandfather was demanding to be picked up in the Range Rover that Logan relented. Elias had never intimidated Logan, but he was the only person Logan had ever seen who could dominate Mitchum. Even years after his retirement from the Huntzberger Group, the old man ruled the family. Refusing the chauffeuring job would result in multiple phone calls from his mother, and possibly his father. In the end, no matter how much he resented his mother's demands, it was easier to do what she wanted.

Which is why Logan should have turned off his phone. The day had begun with so much promise when he woke up next to Rory for the first time since May, and he'd even forged some sort of truce with Lorelai. Logan was furious with Shira for ruining his Christmas and disgusted with himself for allowing her to manipulate him.

Because manipulate him, she had. Nothing his mother had said on the phone had one iota to do with the reason she wanted him home for dinner. No, Shira's true motivation was sitting beside Logan at the table. The newly enhanced Colby Ingram.

From the moment the Ingrams arrived at five, Logan had been forced to listen to Colby's tiresome babble. During pre-dinner cocktails, Honor had tried to act as a buffer between her little brother and his admirer, but Logan could not escape Colby once they reached the dining room. She talked about her friends at Sweet Briar. She talked about her upcoming ski trip (_"You know, Logan, Aspen is on your way back to California. Why don't you join me and my friends? It's going to be an awesome time."_), her new iPhone, the party she'd gone to Sunday night, and her plans for a post-graduation trip to Europe. The only thing she didn't talk about was her plastic surgery, although the plunging neckline of her tight satin blouse took care of announcing that for her.

Having inherited his father's ability to appear engaged in a conversation while his mind was elsewhere, Logan was able to tune out most of Colby's blather during dinner. Instead, he thought about the girl who had never left his consciousness in over three years. For the first time in seven months, he could think of Rory without the soul-crushing unhappiness and regret. She loved him and wanted to be with him again.

Yet Logan couldn't deny the atmosphere had been strained between them when he left Stars Hollow. It was natural that they were disappointed about not spending the rest of the holiday together, but Rory had wrongly interpreted his somber, Shira-induced mood to mean he was upset with her, and Logan wasn't sure he'd eased her doubts in the few minutes they'd had before he left for his grandfather's house. He also couldn't stop Rory's words to Lorelai from replaying in his head.

"_Of course I don't want to be her daughter-in-law."_

Logan didn't believe Rory had meant what she'd said, at least not in the way it sounded. He had no doubts about her feelings for him, and while he understood why she hadn't been ready for marriage when he proposed, he was confident that someday Rory would be his wife. At the same time, he realized his mother would always be a problem. Other than his mother's charity event last winter, Rory had avoided the Huntzberger house since the night of the dinner from hell, and he couldn't blame her. Both his mother's and grandfather's behavior that night had been appalling. On their rare meetings since then, Shira had been nothing but courteous to Rory, but Logan knew Rory could recognize feigned society politeness when she saw it.

A public meeting at a social gathering and a private phone call were very different things, and Logan assumed his mother had been rude to Rory on the phone, a fact she seemed to confirm with her hesitation when he asked about their conversation. While it was likely that Rory, ever the peacemaker, wanted to protect his fragile relationship with his family, he couldn't shake a nagging feeling of apprehension, particularly after they'd just promised each other open lines of communication. Almost every problem they'd ever had—from his father's critique of Rory on the day of the yacht heist to his job offer in California, with every Bobbi confusion and Marty debacle in between—had happened, not from blatant dishonesty, but from their failure to reveal important details.

The touch of Colby's hand on his sleeve snapped Logan from his thoughts. His dinner companion had been liberal with her physical contact all night, beginning with the hug she had launched at him when she arrived. When she wasn't placing her hand on his arm or "accidentally" tapping his leg with hers under the table, Colby was leaning toward him to provide a clear view of her new cleavage. Her come-ons might have been comical had they not seemed so desperate and orchestrated, and Logan wondered how much coaching she'd received from their mothers.

Thanks to their parents' friendship, Logan had known Colby since she was ten and had always found her rather dull, both in personality and intellect. _Insipid_, Mitchum had called her yesterday. Shira had never considered Colby the only possibility for Logan (who could forget the Fallon girl?), but she had never been shy about hinting what a suitable match she would make when she was older. With an age difference of more than four years between their children, Shira and Annabelle had been forced to delay any obvious matchmaking until Colby turned 18, which happened just before she left for Sweet Briar. Logan had met Rory later that fall, but even if he hadn't, he would not be remotely interested in Colby. She had grown into a young woman who possessed the type of bland prettiness all too common in the society set, which was to say it resulted more from the skills of stylists at expensive salons and plastic surgeons than from any inherent attractiveness.

The society side of Logan's brain registered that Colby had asked him about a best-selling novel she had finished reading on her flight from Virginia.

"It's really the most amazing book," Colby said. "You should totally read it."

"Uh, not really my thing," Logan said. "But I'm pretty sure my girlfriend read it when it came out a couple of years ago."

"Well, I bet she loved it," Colby said. "It's so totally romantic."

"Actually, I think she hated it," Logan said. "She thought the writing was bad and that the heroine was an airhead. I remember her saying something about it 'setting feminism back at least five decades.'"

"What? No way! It's a beautiful love story. Logan, you must have it confused with another book."

Logan shrugged. "Yeah, okay, maybe so," he said, knowing that he didn't.

Logan had tried to drop references to his girlfriend into his conversation with Colby, hoping she'd get the hint, but either she didn't notice or had decided to ignore it. Certainly Colby was aware of Rory's rejection of his proposal, but he imagined Shira had assured Annabelle that Logan was over that and available.

With dessert finally on the table, Logan's time with Colby was nearly over. The minute he could get away, he intended to call Rory and tell her he was returning to Stars Hollow. He'd come up with a plan during his drive home, something he hoped would make her happy. After discussing it with Honor, who gave her approval, Logan had made the arrangements, although not soon enough to call Rory without interrupting her dinner. The plan had some risk. It might have been better if he'd talked to Rory first, but he hoped she'd view it as a surprise (like an unannounced visit from London) rather than another case of Logan's making decisions for them (like an out-of-the-blue marriage proposal).

"Excuse me, Mr. Huntzberger?"

Logan heard the voice of one of the maids behind his chair and turned around. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor in the front hall."

"Oh, thank you. You'll have to excuse me, Colby."

As Logan stood up, he felt his mother's eyes on him, but he didn't meet her gaze before hurrying from the dining room, puzzled by his unexpected guest. If Finn hadn't e-mailed that morning about the "lovely Sheila" he was taking surfing on Bondi Beach, Logan might have expected to find the crazy Australian waiting for him. Then again, it wouldn't be out of character for Finn to make up an elaborate story to pull off an ambush, and while Logan was always happy to see his old friend, there was only one person he truly hoped to find waiting for him.

And there she was, standing beside the large, professionally decorated Christmas tree that dominated the front hall. She was wearing the burgundy dress they'd bought last December in London, and her chestnut hair was gathered in a low ponytail of soft waves.

"Nice dress, Ace," he said.

When Rory whirled around, Logan saw the worry in her eyes. "I hope it's okay that I'm here," she said. "I probably should have called first instead of showing up like this. I _did_ call, twice, but you didn't pick up, and then Mom said I should just come since you invited me, but I almost didn't ring the doorbell. I think I stood out there for ten minutes in the freezing cold, worrying about what your mother will—"

Logan placed his hand on her face and silenced her rant with a kiss.

When he finally released her lips, she said, "So you're not mad at me?"

Logan looked at her like she was crazy. "Mad at you? Why would I be mad?" They both turned when they heard voices and the sound of chairs moving in the dining room. "Come with me."

Grabbing Rory's hand, Logan pulled her across the front hall to the wing of the house away from the dining room. She followed him through a set of double doors, which he shut behind them as he flipped on the light. Rory looked around the small room, taking in the plush upholstery, the glass coffee table, the tasteful artwork, the carefully selected accent pieces. On her last visit to the Huntzberger house, Rory had explored much of the first floor, and every room appeared to have been lifted from the pages of _Town and Country_ or _Architectural Digest._ This room reminded her of the 1920s historic estate, now a museum, she had toured last month in Des Moines, lovely and impeccably decorated, yet lacking a sense of warmth or feeling that anyone _lived_ in it.

"What's this room?" Rory asked. "I missed it the last time I was here."

"One of the many pointless rooms in this house," Logan said. "Mom calls it the rose room because there are huge rose bushes surrounding the patio outside the French doors."

"I bet it's nice in the summer," Rory said. "So are you hiding me? Oh, did I interrupt dinner? I thought you'd be finished by the time I got here."

"We were just finishing dessert, and of course I'm not hiding you. You seemed a little upset, so I thought we'd take a few minutes before we go in there." He motioned for Rory to sit beside him on the sofa and put his arm around her waist. "I'm really glad you're here." He leaned in and kissed her.

"I was afraid you might be mad because I didn't come to dinner," Rory said. "Or because you, maybe, um, overheard something I said—"

"You mean when you said you didn't want to be my mother's daughter-in-law?"

"I am _so_ sorry, Logan," Rory said. "I didn't mean I _wouldn't_ be her daughter-in-law, just that it wouldn't be, you know, an easy position to hold."

"Ace, relax, I knew what you meant."

"You did?"

Logan nodded. "I get it. Look, I was disappointed you weren't coming with me, but I understood, and I certainly wasn't mad. Not at you."

"But you said you'd call, and when I called you this afternoon, you didn't pick up. I called you again right before I left Stars Hollow—"

"You didn't think I was screening your calls, did you? I left my phone in my room. I don't know why I missed your first call. Maybe I was in the shower, but if I'd known you called, I would have called you back right away."

"But things were kind of, well, weird when you left."

"It wasn't you," Logan said. "I was pissed off that I had to go get my grandfather, and my mother...well, she said some things I didn't like."

"Like how I'm only using you because you're successful again? Oh, and I'm trying to trick you. Not sure how, exactly. Maybe she thinks I'm going to get pregnant."

Logan snorted. "She should know all about that."

"Is that why your parents got married?" Rory asked.

"Not really. They were engaged for almost a year, but Honor arrived six months after the wedding," Logan said. "Honor's theory is Mom didn't want to give Dad a chance to change his mind."

"Or maybe it wasn't intentional. Not all babies are planned, you know. Like me."

Logan smiled and shook his head. "That's my girl. Always wanting to believe the best about people, even people who aren't very nice to her. Whatever, it doesn't matter, but you should have told me what Mom said to you, Ace. No secrets. Open lines of communication, remember?"

Rory nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to cause problems between you and your mother."

"Hey, you're the one who matters," Logan said. "You don't need to worry about my fucked-up relationship with my parents. I will always take your side over my family. _Always_. I love you. Nothing my mother says or does is going to change that, okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay." Logan pulled her closer, and she snuggled against him. "You look gorgeous, by the way."

Rory looked up and grinned. "You don't think this dress is so last year?"

"No way, Ace. It's timeless. Perfect."

The dress had appeared so ordinary on the hanger in the tiny shop near Covent Garden that Rory had walked past it, but the deep burgundy silk caught Logan's eye. When she came out of the dressing room, the saleswoman raved about Rory's "ethereal beauty" and how the color complemented her "lovely, azure eyes." Logan was rendered speechless. The sleeveless fitted bodice had a low, sweetheart neckline, but a silk organza overlay draped beneath Rory's collarbones and formed fluttery cap sleeves, then cascaded in soft ruffles from the waist to the hem that barely skimmed her knees. Logan wasn't certain how the elegant dress could be both modest and sexy, but that was its overall effect as it hugged Rory's curves and revealed her beautiful long legs.

Rory saw the desire in Logan's eyes. "Geez, Logan, what is it with you and this dress? Would you like me to leave you two alone?"

"Funny," Logan said. "I was just remembering when you wore it last Christmas Eve. Every guy in that restaurant wanted you. But I got to be the one who took you home."

"Logan." A deep blush spread across Rory's cheeks. "Stop exaggerating."

"I'm not. You look amazing in this dress, absolutely stunning. Not that you don't look stunning in everything." He winked at her. "Or nothing."

Rory, still blushing, rolled her eyes. "Stop it." She reached up and straightened Logan's tie. "You're not so bad yourself, you know. Very handsome in your suit."

"Well, you were with me when I bought it, and you picked out the tie. It'd be pretty bad if you didn't like it."

"So we're okay?" Rory asked.

"We're better than okay. I was going to call you as soon as I could escape the dinner party. I was planning on driving back to Stars Hollow tonight. I have a surprise for you."

"Oh, yeah?"

Logan smirked. "You know, maybe I should wait," he said. "Keep you in suspense for a little while."

"You're about to take me in there to face your mother and your very scary grandfather."

"And my parents' friends."

Rory cringed. "Oh, great. I just barged in on your family's Christmas."

"You didn't barge in. I invited you. Besides, everybody will be leaving soon."

"Well, I think you should tell me your surprise."

"You do, huh? Let me think. I suppose I could tell you part of it."

"Logan!"

"Okay. I changed my flight. I'm not going back to California until Saturday."

Rory gasped. "Really? I thought you had to get back to work."

"Not until January 2. I just had no reason to stay here. Honor and Josh are going home this evening, and even if I wanted to spend time with my parents, which I don't, they're leaving for the house on St. Croix early tomorrow morning."

"But you're staying for me." Rory kissed him.

"I guess I'm not ready to be away from you yet."

Rory smiled. "I'm not ready for you to be away from me, either. Oh, this is great! So what's the other part of the surprise?"

Logan stood up and held out his hand. "That, my dear, needs a lot more discussion, so it will have to wait. Come on, let's go find Honor. I know she'll be excited to see you."

"Hold on a sec." Rory removed her lipstick from her handbag and applied a light coat to her lips. "Do I look okay?"

"Fishing for compliments now?" Logan asked. "I already said you look gorgeous."

"Yeah, well, you say that when I'm in my tattered sweats with no make-up and uncombed hair."

"Because it's true," Logan said. He couldn't help but compare Rory's subtle make-up to the layers he'd noticed on Colby's face. Colby couldn't come close to Rory's natural beauty, no matter how hard she tried. "Nobody in that room will think anything except how gorgeous you are."

Rory snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm sure your mother will be thinking something more along the lines of what the hell is _she_ doing here?"

Logan didn't tell Rory how right she was about that. Shira would not be happy about the failure of her latest matchmaking attempt. "Come on."

"Wait. You've got a little lipstick." Rory laid her hand on Logan's face and gently rubbed her thumb across his lips. "There. That's better." She didn't remove her hand immediately, but continued to feather Logan's lips while they stared into each other's eyes.

"Keep that up, Ace, and I'm taking you upstairs," Logan said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rory removed her hand. "Let's go." When Logan raised his eyebrows, she added, "To see your family, I mean. Not upstairs. Like I would agree to that."

"Can't blame a guy for trying."

As he led the way from the rose room, Logan nearly walked into his sister.

"Oh, there you are," Honor said. "Mom sent me to find you...Rory! You're here!" She sidestepped her brother to embrace Rory.

"Merry Christmas, Honor," Rory said. "Congratulations on the baby. I hear it's a boy."

"Oh, thank you. We're very excited," Honor said. "I love your dress. You look fantastic."

"Told you," Logan said.

"Thanks," Rory said. "How are you feeling? You look great."

"Better now that I'm over the morning sickness. The first trimester kind of sucked." She hugged Rory again. "I'm so glad you're here! And you." Honor turned to her brother and smacked his arm. "Why didn't you tell me Rory was coming tonight? Josh and I might have left without seeing her."

"I didn't know."

"He didn't," Rory said. "I crashed the party. I decided I had to see him again tonight since he was supposed to leave tomorrow, but now I found out he isn't."

"Finally, he did something that made sense," Honor said. "Guess he's not as dumb as he looks."

"Excuse me," Logan said. "Standing right here."

"Did he tell you the rest of his plan?" Honor asked.

"No, so stop talking, Honor," Logan said. "I know how difficult that is for you, but please try."

Honor smiled. "Okay, okay. I won't say anything else. Oh, it's so great that I got to see you before we head back to the city. And that you're giving my idiot brother another chance."

"Hey!" Logan said.

"I'm kidding," Honor said. "I'm really happy for you both. Logan has been a miserable boy without you, Rory, and California was too far away for me to kick his ass."

"If you tried to kick me now, you'd fall over," Logan said.

Rory smiled at the affectionate banter between the siblings. She had always enjoyed the time she and Logan spent with Honor, even though it made her envious of what she'd missed as an only child.

"I guess we'd better rejoin the group before Mom sends out a search party," Logan said, taking Rory's hand.

As they neared the living room, the sound of Shira's voice triggered butterflies in Rory's stomach, and she tightened her grip on Logan's hand.

"Don't worry. I'll protect you," Logan whispered.

"Look who I found," Honor announced when they entered the room.

"Rory! Nice to see you," Mitchum said. He left the fireplace where he'd been standing with a man Rory didn't recognize and walked over to greet Rory with a kiss on the cheek. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Rory said. "It's nice to see you, Mrs. Huntzberger. Your holiday decorations are lovely. Mr. Huntzberger." Rory nodded in the direction of Rory's grandfather, who was scowling from his chair at the far end of the living room. Rory wondered if the expression was permanent or if he only looked that way when she was around. She had never seen him smile.

"Hi, Rory. Good to see you," Josh said, as he rose from the chair next to Elias. Honor walked over and took the seat.

Rory smiled. "You, too, Josh. Congratulations on the baby."

"I wasn't aware you were joining us tonight, Rory," Shira said.

"I invited her, Mom," Logan said.

"You're always welcome, Rory. Have a seat," Mitchum said. "Can I get you a drink?"

"Oh, no, thank you. I'm fine."

"Have you met the Ingrams? These are our friends, Annabelle and Winston, and their daughter..." Mitchum's eyes scanned the room. "Well, she's around here somewhere. This is Rory Gilmore, Emily and Richard's granddaughter."

"It's nice to meet you," Rory said, smiling at the blonde woman sitting beside Shira on one of the sofas. Annabelle appeared to be about a half-decade younger than Shira's 51, although thanks to Botox it would be hard for anyone to identify either woman's true age.

"Hello, Rory. I've heard a lot about you," Annabelle said, sporting a sour expression that matched the one on Shira's face. Rory was certain that nothing Annabelle had heard was good if it had come from Shira.

After she shook hands with Winston, Rory followed Logan to the sofa opposite his mother and Annabelle, thankful to have his reassuring presence beside her. She allowed her leg to rest against his as they sat.

"So, Rory," Mitchum said. "I didn't get a chance to speak to you at your grandparents' party the other night."

"Oh, I wasn't able to stay very long," Rory said. "My father left for Paris on Sunday, and I wanted to spend some time with him."

"I didn't realize your father lived nearby," Shira said.

"He bought a house in Hartford last fall," Logan said.

"Rory's father is Francine Hayden's son, Christopher," Shira said. "Lovely woman. How is your grandmother, Rory? Do give her my regards."

"Oh, um, she's spending the winter at her house in The Bahamas," Rory said.

Logan reached for Rory's hand when he felt her tense at the sound of Francine's name. While the story of Lorelai's pregnancy was well known in Hartford society, many had forgotten the Hayden connection to the scandal, and it wasn't something Rory liked to advertise. In fact, Logan had learned about Rory's paternity by chance, shortly before they started dating. His mind drifted back to that January night, nearly three years ago.

_Logan had rushed over to Sterling to pick up a book for his economics class, but as he was returning to his dorm, he noticed Rory Gilmore at a table on the library's main floor. After the prank in her philosophy class the previous semester, Logan had downplayed his interest in the quiet brunette, deflecting his friends' questions and denying any attraction to her, despite the fact that she occupied his thoughts more than he cared to admit. There was no question that Rory was beautiful, but she was nothing like the girls who normally caught his attention, and somehow Logan sensed she'd complicate his life in a way he wouldn't like. As a result, he had gone out of his way to avoid her, something that was easy to do as she never frequented campus parties, the pub, or other Yale hangouts._

_On that particular night, however, Logan had wandered into her natural habitat. She was sitting alone, a stack of textbooks on her left, oblivious to the activity around her. He watched her for a moment, just enjoying the view, until he realized his staring was verging on stalking. Either he needed to leave or go talk to her. He walked to her table._

"_Hey, Ace." Logan plopped down in the chair beside her. She started at the intrusion, and when she looked up from the newspaper she was reading, he saw the sadness in her eyes. "Wow, who died?"_

_Rory made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a snort, then seemed to hesitate before sliding the newspaper toward Logan. When he saw she'd been reading a long obituary for Straub Hayden, he said, "Oh, shit, Ace, I'm sorry. I was joking. I didn't—"_

"_It's okay," Rory said._

"_Was he a friend of your grandparents?" Logan asked. He knew the Haydens were a prominent Hartford family, but he didn't recall a connection to the Gilmores._

"_Not exactly."_

"_But you knew him?"_

"_Not exactly."_

_Logan looked puzzled. "You didn't know him, but you're upset that he died? Fill in the blanks."_

_Rory sighed. "Read the last sentence."_

_Logan picked up the paper and read aloud, "In addition to his wife of 39 years, Mr. Hayden is survived by his son, Christopher Hayden, and his granddaughter, Georgia Hayden." Logan shrugged. "What about it?"_

_It was Rory's turn to look puzzled. "Huh. You really don't know," she said. "I gotta say the Hartford society gossip mill? Quite the disappointment. I should probably file a complaint."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_You know about my mother, right?" Rory asked. "How she had me when she was 16?"_

"_I might've heard something about that." Everyone in his social circle had heard about Lorelai Gilmore. It had been a big surprise when Logan discovered the girl with the amazing blue eyes he had argued with outside her dorm room was the product of the most famous teen pregnancy in Hartford society history._

"_Well, it takes two to tango, and Christopher Hayden was my mother's dance partner."_

"_Oh. So he's your...and that makes Straub...wow, I'm so sorry. Wait. You said you didn't know him."_

"_I didn't," Rory said, frowning. "I met him once. Supposedly I saw them when I was a baby, but I don't remember that. No, just the night when I was sixteen and, let me tell you, what a fun night that was."_

_Logan didn't know what to say, so he glanced down at the newspaper. "Your name isn't here."_

"_Nope."_

"_I don't understand."_

"_What's to understand? Straub and Francine Hayden never acknowledged me, Logan. I'm the mistake that ruined their son's life and stole away his Princeton legacy. The stain on the family name. The bastard child to be ignored."_

"_Ace, I'm sure that's not—"_

"_Look at the paper!" Rory snapped, then realized she'd raised her voice. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm yelling at you."_

"_It's okay. I'm the one asking the nosy questions," Logan said. "And, remember, I am a butt-faced miscreant."_

_As intended, Logan's last remark coaxed a smile out of Rory. He couldn't believe how cruelly the Haydens had treated her, and he wanted to lighten her mood, even for a moment._

"_It doesn't matter," she said. "I'm sorry for my dad. He's grieving, even though they had a really horrible, complicated relationship, but Straub was nothing to me."_

_Logan knew all about complicated father-son relationships. "Still, he was your grandfather."_

"_No, he was my father's father. My grandfather is Richard Gilmore," Rory said. "I was sitting here reading what a great man Straub was with his accomplishments in international law, his generosity, and it seemed so, I don't know, contrary to what I knew about him. He gave millions to charity, but he couldn't give me the time of day. He blamed me for being born, like my mere existence was my fault. I mean, come on, even I'm not smart enough to mastermind my own conception."_

"_Well, I don't know. You did figure out an awful lot about the Life and Death Brigade all by yourself," Logan said. "Look, it sounds like Straub Hayden was a real asshole."_

_Rory scoffed. "He was a respected member of Hartford society. I read it in the _Hartford Courant_."_

"_Ace, I hate to burst your bubble, but some of the most respected members of Hartford society are also the biggest assholes you could ever meet." Like my father, Logan thought. "Besides, you get that it was the Haydens' loss, not yours, right? They're the ones who missed out by not being in your life."_

_Rory turned bright red and looked down at the table. "What are you doing here, anyway?" she asked. "Did you get lost again?"_

Logan had been pleased when Rory confided in him that night. Pleased and confused. Before Rory, his interactions with girls were about one thing: fun. Anything beyond the superficial smacked of a relationship, which was Logan's cue to move on. But Rory was different. He liked talking to her, getting to know her. He couldn't explain why, but he didn't mind that she had shared something personal with him. And, like the night her boyfriend had dumped her outside the Gilmore house, he felt the urge to shield her from pain. From that point on, he couldn't ignore the fact that Rory Gilmore was affecting him in a way no other girl ever had.

She still did. Logan glanced at her. To a stranger, she may have looked calm and composed, but Logan saw the tightness of her lips that betrayed her anxiety. Few people understood how deeply the Haydens' rejection had wounded Rory, and Logan resented his mother's callous mention of Francine's name. He knew Shira was aware that Rory had no relationship with Francine, and he was incensed by his mother's deliberate—and, yes, mean—attempt to rattle her. Under different circumstances, he wouldn't let her get away with it, but it would upset Rory to prolong the conversation, particularly in front of the Ingrams. His reproach would have to wait.

Before Logan could think of a new subject for conversation, his eye caught movement over his mother's shoulder, and he saw Colby returning to the living room.

"Oh, Logan, there you are," Colby said. "I wondered where you disappeared to." Colby gaped when she spotted the girl sitting next to Logan. "Rory Gilmore?"


	14. Chapter 14

Rory looked puzzled when the young blonde woman entering the room said her name. "Colby?"

"You two know each other?" Shira asked.

"Sort of," Colby said. "From Chilton."

"Colby Ingram. Of course," Rory said. "I should have made the connection when I met your parents. You were a year behind me, weren't you?" Because she tended to avoid the Chilton social scene, Rory didn't know a lot of students, particularly those in other years, but she recognized Colby as a boy-crazy sophomore who had belonged to one of Paris's college application-padding tutoring groups during their junior year.

"That's right," Colby said.

"But you left Chilton, didn't you?" Rory asked.

"I transferred to Oldfields after my sophomore year," Colby said. "I wanted the boarding school experience."

"I forgot you went to Chilton, Colby," Logan said. "You never mentioned you knew Rory."

"I didn't know _you_ knew Rory," Colby said, taking a seat beside her mother.

Logan's surprise showed on his face. Was it possible Colby didn't know about his relationship with Rory? After the events of last May, he assumed they'd been the talk of Hartford society. "Really?"

"I thought...I mean I haven't been in Hartford much the last few years. I heard you had a girlfriend, and everybody knew about what hap—that," Colby said, leaving no question as to what_ that _was. "I guess nobody ever mentioned Rory's name to me." She looked at Logan. "I thought you pro—were dating a girl you met at Yale."

"We did meet at Yale," Logan said.

"But, Rory, weren't you desperate to go to Harvard, like that scary Paris Geller?" Colby asked.

Logan stifled a laugh when Rory elbowed him in the ribs. "Actually, Paris and I both ended up at Yale," Rory said. "Although Paris is now in medical school at Harvard."

"Well, not everyone is accepted to Harvard," Annabelle said.

"Oh, Rory was accepted," Logan said. "To Princeton, too." He lifted Rory's hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on it. "Lucky for me, her brilliant mind told her to choose Yale. We met at the beginning of Rory's sophomore year, but it took me until the spring semester to convince her I was the one for her."

That earned Logan another elbow in the ribs because, not only was that an inaccurate description of the beginning of their relationship, Rory realized what he was trying to do. She saw the look of disappointment on Colby's face when Logan took her hand, and it didn't take an Ivy League degree to figure out her appearance had disrupted another of Shira's matchmaking attempts. Shira's expression reminded Rory's of Michel's when somebody got into his Post-its at the Dragonfly. The last thing Rory wanted was more of the ugliness she'd endured during her first visit to this house, but she wasn't sure if the Ingrams' presence would be enough to prevent Shira from lashing out.

It wasn't.

"Now, Logan, you make it sound as if you and Rory have been together all this time," Shira said. "We all know she ended things with you last spring."

"That's not exactly what happened, Mom," Logan said.

"Well, why don't you tell us what did happen?" Shira said. "This girl turned down your marriage proposal and then suddenly turns up here on Christmas. Care to explain that?"

Honor gasped. "Mom!"

"Logan, maybe I shouldn't have come," Rory said, quietly.

A flush of anger spread across Logan's face, and he tightened his grip on Rory's hand. "Of course you should have. You have every right to be here," he said. "As I said, Mother, Rory's here because I invited her."

"Yes, but that doesn't explain—"

"Honestly, Shira," Mitchum said. "Is this necessary?"

Shira muttered something unintelligible at Mitchum's rebuke, and an awkward silence fell over the room. Rory was stunned. She had known since Logan's birthday that Mitchum had changed his opinion of her, and he'd helped Honor with her plot to get Logan to the party Saturday night, but Rory wasn't prepared for him to intervene on her behalf. She couldn't help but wonder how different her life would have been if Mitchum had been on time for dinner the first time Logan had brought her here. Without the uncivil treatment she had received, Mitchum would never have felt obligated to offer her the internship. That would have meant no "you don't got it" critique, no stolen yacht, no community service, no semester off from Yale, no estrangement from her mother. It would have changed everything.

"Colby is in her last semester at Sweet Briar," Honor said, and Rory could have kissed her for breaking the tension in the room. "What did you say you're studying?"

"Art history," Colby said.

"Oh, did you study abroad?" Rory asked. "Maybe Florence or—"

"Rome," Colby said. "Last spring."

"Oh, I bet that was wonderful," Honor said. "Rome is so beautiful. My friend Megan and I spent a month there the summer after college. Her parents keep an apartment in Parioli."

"How did you like Rome, Colby?" Rory asked.

"It was nice," Colby said.

Both Honor and Rory tried to engage Colby in conversation about Rome and college, but after several minutes of monosyllabic responses to their questions, they gave up and talked about Honor's preparations for the new baby. When conversation turned to the Huntzbergers' impending trip to St. Croix, Rory was content to sit quietly beside Logan, grateful for his calming presence, his constant, reassuring hold on her hand, as he, Winston, and Mitchum discussed Mitchum's golf game. Rory couldn't shake the feeling that she was on display. More than once, she felt Shira's frosty gaze on her, and she noticed Colby's fascination with her and Logan's joined hands. Elias also appeared to be glaring at her, although, to be fair, his scowling seemed to be aimed at the room in general.

The party started to break up around nine. Honor and Josh, who needed to get home to prepare for their trip to Toronto, were the first to say their good-byes. While Josh brought their car around, Logan and Rory waited with Honor in the front hall.

"Promise me you'll call me from the campaign trail, Rory," Honor said. "I've got loads of free time now that I'm only working part-time, and I'd love to get caught up with you."

"I will," Rory said. "I often have downtime during the day when most people are at work."

"And you," Honor said, turning to her brother. "You had better not forget about me now that you've got your girl back."

"Yes, ma'am," Logan said. When they hugged, he whispered in her ear, "Thank you for meddling."

"You're welcome," Honor whispered back. "I hated how unhappy you were."

Once they were alone, Logan wrapped his arms around Rory. "Come here." He kissed her, then continued to hold her tightly against him. "Want to go up to my room?"

Rory wriggled out of Logan's embrace. "You know we have to go back to the living room."

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do. While I'm sure your mother'd be happy if I disappeared forever, she wouldn't want me to take you along."

Logan took a deep breath and exhaled. "Well, can I at least hope everyone leaves soon?"

"Knock yourself out."

They entered the living room as Elias announced he was ready to go home. Before Rory could ask if Logan would be responsible for driving the old Scrooge, Mitchum volunteered, which was the cue for the Ingrams to take their leave as well. The good-byes were cordial, although Colby never looked Logan or Rory in the eye. Logan kept his distance and avoided another hug.

After everyone was gone, Logan and Rory remained in the front hall with Shira.

"Colby's grown into such a lovely young woman," Shira said.

Logan scoffed. "You are unbelievable, Mom."

"What?"

"What did you think you'd accomplish by parading Colby in front of me?" Logan asked. "You know I'm back with Rory."

"I didn't know until this morning," Shira said. "Did you expect me to disinvite the Ingrams? They're our friends."

"You could have at least warned me you were trying another set up, which you should know by now never works," Logan said. "I don't need your help."

Shira snorted. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Either you accept that Rory is part of my life, or you're going to see even less of me than you do now. You think I'm going to bring Rory here with the way you treat her? Bringing up Francine like that—"

"Logan, please don't," Rory said. Witnessing the friction between Shira and Logan about her was awkward, to say the least, and she never liked discussing her non-relationship with Francine. In a perfect world, nobody would remember her connection to the woman who wished she'd never been born. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't okay," Logan said, glaring at his mother.

"Logan, be fair," Shira said. "I wasn't aware that Francine was a touchy subject—"

"Oh, please," Logan said. "Of course you were."

"Don't worry about it," Rory said. "Really, it's fine."

"No, it isn't," Logan said.

Rory placed her hand on Logan's arm. "Logan, please."

Logan started to say something else, but the pleading look in Rory's eyes stopped him. Another uneasy quiet settled over them.

Finally, Shira sighed. "I apologize, Rory, if I upset you."

"Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal," Rory said.

Shira gave her a tight smile and turned to Logan. "Since your father and I are going to St. Croix, I gave the staff vacation time before I knew you'd be staying until the weekend. Once they finish in the kitchen, they'll be leaving."

"I don't need the staff," Logan said. "I don't even know how much time I'll be spending here."

"Well, just be certain you remember to set the alarm and lock up whenever you leave. I know you're not used to the house being empty," Shira said. "Do you need a key?"

"Dad said he'd give me one tonight," Logan said. "I'll get it when he comes back from Grandpa's."

"Fine. I have some more packing to do, and I'm exhausted, so I'm going upstairs," Shira said. "The car will be here to take us to the airport at seven, which I assume will be before you're awake, if you're even here."

"Definitely," Logan said.

"Then, I suppose this is good-bye," Shira said. "I'm glad you came home, Logan. Take care of yourself."

"You, too, Mom." Logan gave his mother an obligatory kiss on the cheek. "Enjoy St. Croix."

"We will," Shira said. After a short pause, she added, "Lovely to see you again, Rory."

Rory wasn't sure how to respond to Shira's obvious lie, but she decided to play along. "Merry Christmas," Rory said. "Have a safe trip."

Rory and Logan watched Shira ascend the grand staircase.

"You Huntzbergers sure are big on the warm and fuzzies," Rory said, once Shira was out of earshot.

Logan shrugged. "You know we're not an affectionate family."

"You didn't need to say anything to her about Francine," Rory said.

"Yes, I did. I'm sorry about the way my mother acted tonight. You'd think I'd know by now not to underestimate how vicious she can be." He draped his arm across Rory's shoulders. "She shouldn't have brought up Francine. That was low, even for her. I know you don't like to talk about her."

"Not your fault. I expected your mother would be unhappy to see me and that was before I realized I was ruining her plans for you and Colby."

"Ugh."

"Oh, Colby's not so bad," Rory said. "She doesn't really say much."

"Maybe not when you were around, but she never shut up before you got here. Maybe her robot power source needed to be recharged after all the droning on she did."

"Don't be mean."

"I sat through more than two hours of her vapid conversation. I've earned the right to be mean," Logan said. "You know why she left Chilton? Because her parents decided a less academically rigorous school would be a better fit for her."

"So she's not so bright," Rory said. "I sort of felt sorry for her. I'm sure both of your mothers convinced her tonight was her big chance with the very eligible Logan Huntzberger. She must have been awfully disappointed when I showed up."

"My mother's crazy. Even if we weren't back together, I wouldn't be interested. Colby could never live up to you in any way."

"I don't know," Rory said, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "She does have me beat in one particular, um, area."

Logan chuckled. "Oh, you noticed."

"They're kind of hard to miss. Which, I suppose, is the point."

"She told Honor they were a present from her parents for her twenty-first birthday."

Rory made a face. "And all I got was a party and an undrinkable eponymous cocktail. I feel so deprived."

"Well, don't. You definitely don't need to do anything like that. You're already perfect."

A flush spread across Rory's cheeks. "Time to change the subject before this spirals into an embarrassing conversation about cup size. Are we going to stand here in this fancy foyer all night?"

Logan winked. "Wanna go up to my room and fool around?"

"You never give up, do you?"

Logan pouted. "Come on, Ace, it's been seven months."

"Come on, Logan, it's been less than 24 hours."

"You know what I mean." Logan grinned. "I'm powerless against your charms."

Rory shook her head. "Then I guess it's a good thing I have some self-control. You have to wait for your father to get back, and I want to hear about your big plan."

"Come up to my room, and I'll tell you," Logan said.

"Do I look like I was born yesterday? I know you, Logan Huntzberger. Going to your room will not be conducive to conversation."

"Maybe not, but it'll be a lot more fun." When Rory gave him an exasperated look, he said, "Fine. Let's go back to the rose room. We can talk in there while we wait for Mitchum."

Once they reached the small room, Logan removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie.

"Uh-oh. The tie is coming off. This must be some plan," Rory said, as she kicked off her high heels and sat on the sofa, pulling her feet up under her. "Spill it."

Logan took the spot beside Rory. "Okay, when I was driving back from your house today, I started thinking about how Seattle is a lot closer to San Francisco than Hartford."

"Wow. No wonder you got into Yale," Rory said. "Your knowledge of geography is astounding."

"It is impressive, isn't it? I totally kicked ass at _Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?_"

"I bet you did. So this display of knowledge is relevant because?"

Logan took a deep breath. "Okay, well, you know how you told me at your grandparents' party that you have to be in Seattle on January 2?" He didn't wait for Rory to respond. "I got to thinking that maybe you might like to spend a few days with me in Palo Alto before then. We could celebrate New Year's together, and you could see where I live, and even though the office is closed, I could still show it to you. One of my business partners is having a New Year's Eve party, but we wouldn't have to go unless you wanted to." While Logan talked, his fingers drummed an even beat on the sofa cushion, and Rory reached for his hand in hopes of quelling his jitters. "I'll cover your costs for the extra flights, of course. And I know that Lorelai won't be happy if you leave Stars Hollow sooner than planned, so I'll understand if you don't want to, but I just...I'd really like you to come to California. I think it will be good for us to have some time together without, you know, the distractions of our families and everything. So. I guess that's it."

Rory smiled. "That was some ramble. You have spent entirely too much time around me."

"Well? What do you think?"

"I think spending a few days alone with you sounds wonderful. I'd love that," Rory said. "There's just one problem. I got an e-mail from Hugo yesterday, and the Seattle event was postponed. I now need to be in Iowa next Thursday morning for the caucuses. I fly out, connecting through O'Hare, next Wednesday afternoon."

Logan's face fell. "Oh."

"But I'm sure there are flights from San Francisco to Chicago that would get me there in time to catch my flight to Des Moines."

"You'd do that?"

"Logan, I want to see where you live, particularly if I'm going to live there once I leave this job, whenever that is." Rory looked down at the floor, suddenly shy about her assumptions. "I mean, if that's what you want."

"You know I want that. If that's what you want."

Rory looked up to meet Logan's gaze. "You think I can get on the flight to San Francisco with you on Saturday?"

"Okay, here's the thing. I don't want you to be upset because I probably should have asked you first and I know you're over the big gestures. Try to think of this more like my coming home from London to surprise you instead of, say, showing up unannounced at a wedding in North Carolina, but when I was on the phone with the airline today—"

"On Christmas Day? How long were you on hold?"

"About an hour and a half. That's another reason I didn't call you earlier, but what I needed to change couldn't be done online," Logan said. "I had to change my flight today because I was supposed to leave tomorrow. The rep said there were only a few seats left on my new flight, so I went ahead and bought your ticket. If you don't want to go, it's okay because I'll be able to use the ticket for something else without losing a lot of money, so that won't be a problem."

It broke Rory's heart to see the uncertainty in Logan's eyes, the doubt she had put there by rejecting his proposal. Although she was one of a select group who knew Logan was not always as self-assured as he appeared to the world, until the night of her graduation party, Rory had not seen this degree of insecurity about her—about them—for a long time, probably since those awful silent weeks when she was unconsciously punishing him for the bridesmaids. Rory frowned, then reached up and laid her hand on Logan's face. "I'm sorry I did this to you."

Logan looked confused. "Did what?"

"Made you feel so...so unsure about me." She blinked away the tears forming in her eyes. "You don't have to doubt me, Logan."

"Hey, I'm not the only one with doubts." Logan put his arm around her and pulled her close. "You thought I was screening your calls."

"I wonder how long it'll be before we stop qualifying everything we say with 'if that's okay with you' and 'if that's what you want.' I want things to start feeling normal again."

"They will."

"Going to California should help," Rory said against his shoulder. "Thank you for buying my plane ticket."

"You're not mad?"

"Not even a little."

"And Lorelai?"

Rory sighed. "She probably won't be happy, but I don't need her permission. Besides, she's promised to try to be more supportive of us, and it was her idea for me to show up here tonight. But I might need to ditch you on Thursday afternoon. Mom's going to play hooky from the inn, so we can hang out."

"I can live with that."

They sat quietly for a few moments, Rory's head on Logan's shoulder as he stroked her upper arm.

"Logan?"

"Hm?"

"I'm kind of hungry."

Logan chuckled. "Rory Gilmore is hungry? I'll alert the media." Rory pinched his side. "Ow. Between you and Honor, I'm going to be bruised."

"What are you talking about?"

"The pinching, the elbowing."

"You laughed when Colby called Paris scary," Rory said. "Although I guess Paris was a little scary when we were at Chilton."

"What are you talking about? Paris is still scary."

"And what was up with that 'it took me until spring to convince her I was the one for her' business? That's a little revisionist history there, pal. It didn't exactly happen like that."

"That's the way I choose to remember it."

Rory lifted her head and kissed his lips. "Like I said. Revisionist history."

"So I guess I have to feed you, huh?"

Rory nodded. "It will make your life more pleasant."

Logan looked at his watch. "The staff is probably gone by now, so the kitchen should be free. Plus, Dad will probably come in that way from the garage. You can munch on some Christmas cookies while we wait for him."

"Homemade by Shira Huntzberger, of course."

Logan laughed. "Maybe homemade at Shira Huntzberger's _request_."

Rory had never been in the Huntzbergers' kitchen, and her first thought upon seeing the cherry cabinets, granite countertops, stone floor and walls, and stainless steel appliances in the spacious room was that she had stepped into an advertisement for a kitchen remodeling company.

"Sookie would kill for a kitchen like this," Rory said, studying the two small chandeliers hanging over the island housing the stovetop.

"Nobody can say that Shira Huntzberger's kitchen staff doesn't have an appealing workspace. They remodeled during my last year at Yale," Logan said. "Not that there was anything wrong with the old kitchen. It probably cost more than your mom paid for her house."

"Probably cost more than she and Sookie paid for the Dragonfly."

Logan motioned for Rory to take a seat in one of the tall stools at a wide breakfast bar beside the windows. A fancy cookie tin rested on the counter, and Logan removed the top and pushed it toward Rory. She selected a candy cane-shaped cookie.

"Oh, yum. This is good."

Logan crossed the floor and took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Water, okay? Or I can probably figure out how to work the coffee machine—"

"Water's fine." Rory watched as Logan returned with the bottle. "Aren't you having anything?"

"Nah, not really hungry."

"These cookies are really good," Rory said, biting into a sugared Christmas tree.

"Is that so?" Logan swiveled Rory's chair toward him and reached in to put his hands on her hips. The height of the barstool put Rory's mouth slightly above Logan's from his standing position, and he had to tilt his head up to place a soft kiss on her lips. "Delicious," he said.

Rory rolled her eyes. "Cheesy," she muttered before taking a swig from the water bottle and putting it down on the counter. She turned back to Logan and draped her arms around his neck. "So I've been thinking—"

"You usually are."

Rory made a face, but Logan captured her lips before she could think of a retort. Without ceasing the kiss, he moved his hands from her waist to gently push her knees apart, so he could step closer to the barstool. He reached behind her to wrap his arms around her back, and Rory's right hand found its way into Logan's hair.

Eventually, Logan broke the contact, earning a little whimper of protest from Rory, and whispered against her mouth, "So what have you been thinking?"

"Can't remember," Rory said.

"God, I've missed you," Logan murmured, before rejoining their lips.

They were so focused on each other that they didn't notice the sound of the door at the far end of the kitchen or realize they were no longer alone until Mitchum cleared his throat.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said.

Logan grasped onto Rory's forearms as he turned around, which kept her her arms draped across his upper chest.

"Oh, hey, Dad," Logan said, tightening his grip when he felt Rory try to free her arms. Although she was behind him, he felt certain she was blushing at being caught by his father, and his mind flashed to the dressing room at the country club on the night of the Gilmores' vow renewal. "You get Grandpa home okay?"

Mitchum grimaced. "He gets more cantankerous every day. He wasn't even happy that I sent Jones over to plow his driveway this afternoon."

"Guess it really wasn't necessary for me to pick him up," Logan said.

"Oh, it was. He couldn't wait for the plow. He demanded we have his end-of-the-year discussion about the company before your mother and I leave for St. Croix. Retirement has not put an end to his opinions about how we should do things," Mitchum said, frowning. "So, Rory, I didn't get a chance to ask you earlier, but how are you enjoying covering the campaign?"

"It's interesting." Rory tried, and again failed, to remove her arms from Logan's grip. "I'm getting a lot of good experience, I think, but it's tiring. All the travel. And I'm not sure that presidential politics are really my thing."

"I followed Reagan a bit in '80. I remember it being grueling, and I was never on the trail full-time," Mitchum said. "Well, you've done some excellent work. I'm sure the experience will translate into many job offers once the campaign ends."

"Oh, well, thank you," Rory said as Logan squeezed her arm. "I hope so."

"Are you two planning to stay here tonight?" Mitchum asked. "I only ask because the roads are starting to ice up."

"We haven't really talked about that," Logan said. He turned around to look at Rory, which finally allowed her to free her arms. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Rory said. "I'm not really a fan of driving on ice."

"We could leave your car and take the Rover," Logan said. "Come back for the Prius tomorrow."

"Or you could just stay here," Mitchum said. "That would be the simplest thing to do. We have plenty of room, and your mother and I won't even know you're here. Unless Rory needs to get back."

"What do you think, Ace?" Logan asked.

Rory pursed her lips. "I'd have to call my mom. Let her know I'm not coming home."

"So call her," Logan said. "Dad, do you have that key for me?"

"In my study," Mitchum said.

Logan turned back to Rory. "You stay here and call Lorelai, while I go get the key," he said. "I'll be right back."

Neither Mitchum nor Logan said anything as they walked through the front hall. When they neared the study, Mitchum glanced over at his son. "So Rory's back."

Logan nodded. "She is."

"For good?"

"Yes."

"Glad to hear it." Mitchum said as he flipped on the light inside the study. "You look happy."

Logan's eyes narrowed. "I am."

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Logan," Mitchum said. "You think I'm an ogre whose sole purpose is to make your life miserable, but that really isn't the case." Mitchum walked around his desk and opened one of the side drawers. "I want you to be happy and successful. You and your sister both. Of course I want that."

"Uh, okay," Logan said.

"And I like Rory. I'm not sure I understand what happened last spring, but she's been a good influence on you," Mitchum said as he closed the desk drawer. "Here, catch."

Logan caught the key tossed across the desk. "Right," he said. "Because I couldn't possibly achieve anything on my own without Rory's help."

Mitchum frowned. "That isn't what I'm saying. I know how well you've been doing in California, and Rory hasn't been around for any of that, has she?"

"No."

"But you also can't deny that you settled down and started to take things a lot more seriously after she came along."

Logan shrugged.

"Fine, I get it. You don't want to talk to me about this. I didn't expect we'd start having heart-to-hearts now," Mitchum said. "I just want you to know I'm glad you've worked things out." He motioned toward the study door, and Logan got the lights when they left the room. "And don't worry about your mother. She'll come around about Rory. She did before."

"She'd better if she ever expects to see me. I won't subject Rory to any more of her rude treatment."

"That won't happen again."

"It'd better not," Logan said, as they retraced their steps to the front hall.

"And no more Colby Ingrams on display, either," Mitchum said. "I'll make sure of that."

"Thank you."

When they reached the staircase, Mitchum hesitated. "You know, I think I'll have a couple of those cookies before I go up. Don't tell your mother. She thinks I eat too many sweets."

"Then she shouldn't have had the cook bake the cookies in the first place," Logan said.

"That's exactly what I said."

Rory was putting her phone back in her purse when Logan and Mitchum returned to the kitchen.

"Did you talk to Lorelai?" Logan asked.

Rory nodded. "She thinks it's a good idea if I stay if the roads are getting icy."

"I just hope ice won't be a problem in the morning," Mitchum said. "I'd like to get nine holes in tomorrow afternoon."

The three of them chatted about the house in St. Croix for a few minutes. Mitchum had purchased the oceanfront property while Logan was working in London, so he had not yet had an opportunity to visit it.

"Any time you two would like to vacation there, it's yours," Mitchum said.

"We may take you up on that, Dad," Logan said. "Rory's never been to the Caribbean. It's a good thing it's not Tortola, though."

Rory laughed, and Mitchum looked puzzled.

"Sorry, Dad. Inside joke," Logan said.

After Mitchum finished his third cookie, he said, "Well, I guess I'd better head upstairs before your mother wonders what happened to me. Good to see you, Rory. And good luck on the campaign trail."

"Thanks. It was good to see you, too," Rory said.

"Logan, don't be a stranger, and try to remember to call your mother. It makes her happy," Mitchum said. "Will we see you when the baby arrives?"

"Probably, _Gramps_. Honor would kill me if I didn't come home to meet my nephew," Logan said. "Have a good time in St. Croix."

"I intend to," Mitchum said. "So I guess I'll leave you two alone. Enjoy your night."

Once Mitchum disappeared up the back staircase, a wide-eyed Rory turned toward Logan. "_Enjoy your night?_ Did your father just—"

"Tell us to go have sex? I think so," Logan said. He reached for Rory's hands and tried to pull her down from the barstool. "So I guess we'd better go upstairs. Daddy says."

"Like you haven't spent most of your life doing the exact opposite of what Daddy says," Rory said. "Okay, let me see if I've got this straight. Last night you freaked out about my father finding out about...what did you call it? Oh, yeah, our _tryst_, even though he's on the other side of the Atlantic, but tonight it's perfectly okay when your parents are right down the hall?"

Logan shrugged. "That's different. You're not _their_ little girl. Besides, they're not right down the hall. My room is on one end of the house, and my parents' room is all the way at the end of the opposite wing. It's practically in a different zip code." Logan leaned in close to Rory's ear. "You can be as loud as you want, Ace. I guarantee they won't hear a thing." Rory inhaled sharply when she felt Logan's lips brush her earlobe. "Would you rather sleep all alone in a drafty old guest room than in my nice, warm bed with me?"

Rory snorted. "Why do I suspect this isn't the first time you've used that line to talk a girl into your room?"

"Hey, that didn't happen as much as you think. You got to remember I haven't really lived here since I was about fourteen, thanks to boarding school and Yale and the Vineyard and whatever else I could find to do during the summers and school breaks. I'd go just about anywhere to avoid being here."

Rory allowed Logan to help her down from the barstool. "So does that mean your room still looks like it did ten, twelve years ago? Are there posters of '90s supermodels on the walls? Cindy Crawford, maybe? Or I know! Alyssa Milano. Is that it? Do you have pictures of your first girlfriend hanging in your room?"

Logan grinned. "Only one way to find out, Ace."

* * *

"Guess that's something else you can cross off your list of things to do before you die," Rory said as she and Logan were nestled together in his bed, her head resting on his bare chest.

Logan chuckled. "Absolutely. _Seduce Rory Gilmore in my childhood bedroom while my parents sleep down the hall_. Check."

"Probably ranks up there with _Jump off cliff in Costa Rica_ and _Sink yacht in Pacific_."

"Technically, it was the Java Sea," Logan said. "And I can assure you this was much more fun than either of those events."

"I'm sure," Rory said. "No broken ribs or collapsed lungs."

"And Honor didn't have to pay off the Indonesian Navy."

Rory lifted her head and propped her chin on her hands, so she could see Logan's face in the pale light coming from the adjoining bathroom. "Can I ask you something?" she asked.

"No, Ace, I believe we should have a strict no questions policy at this stage of our relationship. We need to see how things go before we allow questions."

Rory rolled her eyes at Logan's smirk. "Miscreant."

Logan snickered. "What do you want to know? Yes, it was good for me. Mind-blowing, amazing, the earth moved—"

"Oh, forget it." Rory felt her cheeks warm and started to roll off of Logan, but he tightened his arms around her.

"Now don't go anywhere. There's that adorable blushing again," Logan said. Rory stuck her tongue out at him, and he replaced his grin with an exaggerated sober look. "I promise I'll be good. What's your question?"

Rory hesitated, silently debating whether she should bring up a painful subject. "Well, I was wondering what you...no, never mind. It's not important."

"What? You know you can ask me anything."

"Well, then, what did you do with the ring?"

"Ring?" Logan's brow furrowed in confusion. "Oh." He took a deep breath. "You mean your—"

"I probably don't have the right to ask, considering I...well, I was just curious."

"You really want to know?"

"I think so," Rory said.

"That day, after you—"

"Shattered your heart into a million pieces."

Logan frowned. "I didn't really know what to do at first."

"We were supposed to have lunch with my parents and grandparents and then you were going to help me move the rest of my stuff back to Stars Hollow and stay the night," Rory said.

"Which obviously wasn't going to happen. I didn't know where to go, so I ended up back at Colin's apartment. Naturally, he was surprised to see me, but he figured things out when I tossed the ring in the trash and preceded to drink myself into a stupor for the next two days. At some point, Colin fished the ring box out of the garbage."

"Huh. Never would have pegged Colin as a romantic."

"I think it was probably more that he couldn't bear the thought of so much money going out with the coffee grounds and take-out containers," Logan said. "Although maybe he's more of a romantic than we thought. The box was a mess, so he called the jeweler for a replacement box."

"That was really nice of him."

"Yeah, it was. Of course I didn't know any of this until the new box arrived the day before I left for California. He said I couldn't throw the ring away like that. At the very least, he said I could sell it."

"Did you?" Rory asked.

Logan shook his head. "I thought about flinging it into the Pacific as a symbolic gesture, but I couldn't. I wasn't drunk anymore. I wasn't even angry. Not really. Just sad and depressed and tossing the ring seemed too...I don't know...final."

"So you still have it?"

"It's in my apartment in Palo Alto."

"Good."

"Good? Really?" Logan asked. "You don't think it has bad ring karma now?"

Rory made a face. "Bad ring karma? Of course not. It's the perfect ring. Beautiful and elegant, but not so big that I'd feel self-conscious wearing it. It's exactly what I would have picked if you'd taken me shopping."

Logan looked surprised. "You mean I got something right? It was just everything else I screwed up."

"Not everything."

"Ace."

"I might not have been ready for you to propose, but I loved the ring and what you said to me was sweet," Rory said. "Well, what I can remember, anyway. I was kind of in shock."

"Now I have a question," Logan said.

Rory's breath caught at the solemn expression on Logan's face. She loved him, she knew she wanted to marry him, but she still wasn't ready for him to propose again. Not yet.

When she felt Logan's chest rumble with laughter, Rory frowned and sat up, pulling the sheet over her torso. "Why are you laughing?" she asked.

"You thought I was going to propose."

"I did not!"

"Ace, your entire body tensed. You were completely freaked out again."

"So what if I did? Why is that funny?" Rory crossed her arms over the sheet. "Seven months ago, you didn't think it was so funny."

Logan smiled and shook his head. "Yeah, well, seven months ago I was proposing. Tonight I'm not."

"You're not?"

"No, you're not ready. And you won't be for a while, at least until you figure out your job situation."

"But you are?"

"I suppose I'm more ready than you." Logan groaned. "Pathetic. When did I become the girl in this relationship?"

Rory giggled. "I think you make a cute girl." She reached over and brushed her hand through his messy hair, and her smile faded. "Logan, I love you. You know that, right? You know I'm not saying I never want to marry you."

"I know."

"Because I do."

"I know." Logan pulled Rory down to lie beside him and leaned over her. After a long, tender kiss, he pulled back and stared into her eyes. "Rory, I promise that someday I will ask you again. Just not today."

"And I promise that someday you'll get a different answer."

"Good to know." Logan dropped a peck on Rory's forehead.

"So what _was_ your question?" Rory asked.

Logan smirked. "Oh, I was just going to ask how you managed to meet Christiane Amanpour in your pajamas."

"That's your question? You made me think it was something important."

"I never said it was important."

"No, but you gave me your serious face."

"Just messing with you."

"Mean," Rory said, pouting.

"But fun."

"You are so lucky I love you as much as I do."

"Oh, believe me, I know that," Logan said. "So, come on, Ace, Christiane Amanpour? What's the story? The suspense is killing me."

Rory smiled. "Well, it all started when Mom burst into my bedroom..."


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Rory glanced across the living room at her mother. Lorelai was upright, but that was all that could be said for her state of consciousness as she leaned against the arm of the sofa, her eyes closed and her chin tilted downward. Rory knew she was desperate for a bit more girl time, but the combination of too little sleep and a hectic day at the inn, followed by an emotional evening, had taken their toll on Lorelai. Sleep was winning out.

"Mom, you should go to bed," Rory said. Paul Anka lifted his head from the floor at Lorelai's feet, but Lorelai didn't react. She tried again, slightly louder. "Mom."

Lorelai jerked awake. "I'm up."

"No, you're not. You need to go to bed."

"But it's only ten-forty-five. We were going to hang out some more and watch the rest of the last movie—"

"Which we've already seen. We hung out all afternoon and yesterday afternoon and last night we watched movies until almost two, which is why you're falling asleep now. You were at the inn by eight this morning. That isn't enough sleep."

Lorelai yawned. "I had to make sure everything was perfect. I couldn't have the Wicked Witch of West Hartford complaining about the Dragonfly."

"Well, as far as I know, she had no complaints. She couldn't stop raving about Sookie's food and how charming the Dragonfly is and how she plans to recommend it to all her friends."

"More business is always good," Lorelai said. "But I'm sure she'll take credit for discovering us."

"No doubt," Rory said. "You need to get some sleep. Tomorrow is—"

"A big day. You need your rest for tomorrow, too."

"I'll go to sleep soon. But, remember, while you were at the inn this morning making sure everything was perfect, I was here in bed." Rory glanced at her watch. "And I'm not entirely adjusted to this time zone yet."

"I can stay up a little longer," Lorelai said. "Just let me take Paul Anka out first."

"Already done. He and I went out while you were falling asleep on the sofa," Rory said. "Please just go to bed. I'll take care of everything down here."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Lorelai dragged herself up from the sofa, slipping her feet back into the high-heeled shoes she'd kicked off next to the sofa. As she walked past Rory, she reached down and placed a hand on her cheek and kissed the top of the head. "It was a good night, wasn't it?"

"It was."

"Love you, kid." Lorelai paused. "Maybe I shouldn't call you that now that you're all grown up."

Rory smiled, trying to hold back the tears she once again felt rising in her eyes. She had been feeling sentimental since she'd arrived in Stars Hollow two days earlier. "I'm still your kid."

"I just hate to think of you down here all alone. You're sure you're okay?"

"Yep, definitely okay." Rory stood up, grabbed Lorelai by the elbow, and led her toward the stairs, with Paul Anka close behind. "You don't need to babysit me, and a little quiet time to decompress is probably a good thing. I'll just read until I feel sleepy. You. Upstairs. Now."

"Getting a little bossy there, aren't we, _Paris_?" Lorelai asked.

"Please, I have a long way to go before I'll come close to a Paris level of bossiness."

"Oh, I know that. I heard her tell one of the servers he filled her water glass too slowly. Poor guy was terrified of her. Medical school really has not mellowed her at all."

"You don't really think anything will mellow Paris, do you? She may not be Chilton Paris anymore, but I think it's safe to say we won't see any significant personality changes at this point."

"I thought a couple of cocktails might help," Lorelai said.

Rory grinned. "Oh, my silly mommy. Alcohol does not help with Paris. Have you forgotten the Founder's Day Punch incident?"

"How could I? The pretzel cart has never been the same. Not one of Paris' finer moments. Or yours, for that matter. I seem to recall a great deal of crying over Logan on the bathroom floor."

"Really? I remember very little from that experience."

"I'm not surprised," Lorelai said. "You were...how shall I put it...drunk off your ass."

"Thanks for the reminder. At least that was the one and only time I ever ended up passed out on the bathroom floor," Rory said. "Hard to believe that was five years ago."

A sad smile crossed Lorelai's face. "Seems like yesterday to me. My baby's not a baby anymore." She shook her head. "I can't stop thinking about the morning you left for the Obama campaign. I feel like I should have some great wisdom to impart, and I'm coming up short."

"Mom, I think I'm doing as well as can be expected when it comes to wisdom these days. Besides, this isn't the same as that morning. I was leaving then. I know Manhattan isn't exactly Stars Hollow, but you're going to be seeing a lot more of me. You'll probably get sick of me."

"Never," Lorelai said, pulling Rory into a hug. "California was just too far away."

"Well, I'm sure I'll be around a lot this summer. The freelance jobs I have lined up so far won't take up all my time until classes start in the fall."

"So I can parade you around Stars Hollow and brag about my daughter the Columbia graduate student." Lorelai yawned. "Sorry. I guess I am kind of exhausted. You're sure you'll be okay if I go to bed?"

"I'll be fine. See you in the morning, just not too early. I'm going to try to sleep in if I can."

"Well, if you're sure," Lorelai said. "Good night, hon. Come on, Paul Anka. Your doggy bed awaits."

"'Night, Mom."

After Lorelai and Paul Anka disappeared upstairs, Rory made sure the front door was locked, an action that caused another rush of the nostalgia she'd felt since arriving in Stars Hollow. Checking the doors had always been part of her nighttime routine. It's not that the town was a hotbed of criminal activity—in truth, the scariest thing to ever wander in uninvited was Kirk—but too much Jason Vorhees and Freddy Krueger at an inappropriately early age had made it impossible for Rory to rely on her mother's laissez-faire attitude toward home security. Then there was the fact that Rory had simply been born cautious. She often wondered about the genetic mutation that had prevented her from inheriting her parents' spontaneity, and once even confessed to Logan her fears that her inherent wariness made her a little boring and predictable. He told her she was crazy, that no matter how careful she was in her life, nothing about Rory Gilmore was boring or predictable. Hadn't she surprised him by kissing him first? And convinced him to help her steal a yacht? Logan believed that one of the reasons their relationship worked was because her circumspect nature balanced out his tendency to act impulsively. He convinced her to jump off scaffoldings, while she taught him the benefits of a well-constructed pro-con list. _Exactly_, she thought, _boring_.

Rory switched on the desk lamp in her old bedroom before changing from her blue silk dress to a faded t-shirt, a remnant of Logan's brief stint at Groton that had made its way into Rory's pajama drawer during their New Haven years. She washed her face and brushed her teeth in the tiny downstairs bathroom, then propped herself against the pillows on her old bed and flipped on her Kindle, hoping a few chapters might lull her to sleep, but after reading the same paragraph three times, she was ready to give up. Her mind was too wired to concentrate on the words, which in itself was odd: Rory's ability to focus on a book, in any environment, was legendary. Maybe Lorelai was right. With so much was happening, changing, in her life, maybe Rory shouldn't be alone. She glanced around the small, cozy room. Despite the familiar furniture and a few Nancy Drews, Anne Shirleys, and a dozen or so other children's books still residing on the highest shelf, little remained to remind Rory that the space had once been her private haven. The rest of her belongings—the bulk of her book collection, her knickknacks, photos and posters, Yale memorabilia, the odds and ends of her childhood—had been boxed and shipped to California, stored in Lorelai's attic, or tossed out two years ago.

Sitting alone in the quiet of her mother's house, in her beloved Stars Hollow, Rory thought about the little girl who had spent countless hours in this tiny bedroom, reading about faraway lands and dreaming of the adventures she'd have when she grew up. She wondered how that girl would feel about her life now and couldn't shake the nagging doubt that her twelve-year-old self would be disappointed that she had not—and probably never would—become a foreign correspondent. Twenty-five-year-old Rory wasn't disappointed. She'd made a few wrong turns along the way, but in general she felt satisfied with the choices she'd made and the path she found herself on. Besides, she told herself, few people ended up living the life they envisioned as children. Dreams change. Unknown passions and talents are discovered. True love arrives a good decade sooner than expected. _Not to mention, kid, that as much as we like visiting new places, we found out we really, really hate living out of a suitcase. _Stars Hollow had been home for a long time. For a while, home was New Haven and, later, Palo Alto. Very soon, Rory hoped, Manhattan would feel like home, but a sterile hotel room never could.

Rory had been surprised by how quickly she took to California. It was more than just being with Logan. From those first heady days after their Christmas reconciliation, Rory had felt comfortable in his apartment with its distant views of the Stanford campus, and after the cold autumn months in Iowa, she had appreciated the mild California climate, the coffee drinking on University Avenue, the multiple bookstores within walking distance, though the truth was they'd spent most of their time during her visit in the apartment. They had attended a New Year's Eve party hosted by of one of Logan's business partners where Rory had charmed his co-workers and their families just as she had endeared herself to the Life and Death Brigade when she'd entered that world, but they had decided to greet 2008 in private and had been home by the time midnight rolled around. After seven months apart, they felt little inclination to be around anyone but each other.

The long-distance relationship had worked for a while. For one thing, the time difference was more manageable. At most, Rory was three hours ahead of Logan, which was much easier to navigate than the constant five hours that had separated London and New Haven. They re-established a routine of two daily phone calls, along with as many texts and e-mails as they had time to send; however, unlike the London separation, they agreed never to go more than one month without seeing each other, even if it were only one day, and they took advantage of all opportunities for more frequent visits. Logan met Rory in Chicago during the first week of February and surprised her with an unexpected Valentine's Day visit in Wisconsin. Other trysts—as Rory had insisted on calling their rendezvous—occurred in exotic locations like Indianapolis and Charlotte, but Rory preferred going to California when she could. She found she was able to relax in Logan's apartment far better than she could on the road and relished sleeping in a bedroom that didn't require a keycard for entry. Logan teased her that she really visited for the chance to use a washing machine that had not recently contained the underwear of a stranger with questionable hygiene.

Still, the situation was far from ideal. While Rory and Logan were determined to survive their months apart, the question of how long Rory would remain on the campaign trail became a source of tension. She had hoped her job satisfaction would improve once she was happier in her personal life, but no matter how many weeks passed, November seemed far in the future and life on the road was draining. Logan tried to be supportive. He promised himself he would not influence Rory's decision concerning her job, but his patience waned as Rory's complaints increased. Discussions on the topic rarely progressed to arguments, with the exception of one memorable exchange that had occurred via text message as Rory rode the campaign bus. She had put an abrupt end to the near-fight with a deliberately absurd attempt at writing "butt-faced miscreant" in text speak, and they had laughed about it on the phone later that night, but their time apart and Rory's unhappiness with her job continued to cause conflict.

As much as Rory had disliked the tedium of the campaign and the separation from Logan, she also hated the idea of quitting on Hugo. Hugo had been supportive of her writing since Logan introduced them, and he hired her when she was beginning to fear no one would. The other problem was her mother. Lorelai had given every appearance of being supportive of Rory's rekindled relationship with Logan—she had said nothing about Rory's sooner than expected exit from Stars Hollow to follow him to California for New Year's—but the idea that Rory would quit her job to be with him did not sit well with Lorelai. She feared a move to Palo Alto would limit Rory's career options. Rory countered that she would simply be leaving a job she didn't like, and with Logan already settled in his career, it made sense for her to at least give West Coast living a try, whether she made the change in the spring or waited until after the election. It wasn't like Palo Alto was located in a newspaper-free zone.

With her heart and her head in conflict, Rory avoided making a choice, at least until the rapidly weakening economy made the decision for her. The number of candidates actively campaigning for president had dropped to four by March, considerably reducing Hugo's workforce, but by May, with his advertising revenue shrinking, Hugo determined he could not afford to keep more than two full-time reporters on the road. Rory had been flattered to be his first choice to handle the Democrats, but after eleven long, exhausting months, she saw an opportunity for a graceful exit. She declined the offer, allowing Bradley Gumbleton, he of the unfortunate name and missing appendix, to handle the Obama and Clinton campaigns. With excellent references, Rory packed up her life in Stars Hollow and followed her heart to Palo Alto. She settled into Logan's apartment and began the process of finding a job.

When a new position didn't come quickly, Rory questioned the logic in quitting one job before finding another, but thanks to Hugo's invitation to freelance for him, she managed to keep busy. Living in a college town as she struggled with unemployment inspired Rory to investigate how 2008's graduating seniors were faring with the anxieties of an uncertain job market, and her interviews with students and career counselors at Stanford, Berkeley, and a handful of other Bay Area colleges turned into a three-article series on Hugo's website that impressed the editors of the _San Jose Mercury News, _a newspaper that didn't have quite the circulation or name recognition as the _San Francisco Chronicle_, but was a shorter commute from Palo Alto. Rory accepted their job offer in mid-June of 2008 and had remained their main education reporter until four days ago when she filed her final story.

Rory glanced at her laptop on the desk. Other than replies to a few e-mails, she hadn't written anything since she left California. Reading wasn't an adequate distraction for her overactive mind; perhaps writing things down would help. It had been a long time since she'd poured her heart out in the Logan files. Those soul-bearing letters had been her crutch, the only thing that allowed Rory to make some sense of her jumbled emotions during those lonely seven months without Logan and, ultimately, became the catalyst that brought him back to her. Her current anxiety was nothing like that heartbreak, but writing had always been cathartic for Rory. On the other hand, as sentimental as Rory was feeling, she was afraid if she started writing, she might write all night.

Before she could decide what to do, Rory was startled by a sharp knock on the window behind her bed. She whipped her head around to find Logan smiling at her through the glass. With a scowl, she reached over the headboard to unlock the window and push it up.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You scared me to death." Rory feigned anger, but she couldn't hold back a smile.

Logan shrugged. "Sorry. I didn't want to ring the bell in case Lorelai was asleep. Other than the porch light, your light is the only one on in the house."

Rory sat back on the bed with her legs tucked under her. "And if my light had been off? What would you have done then?"

"Called your cell. I knew you couldn't be asleep yet. It's only a little past eight in California."

Rory frowned and shook her head. "You're lucky Babette didn't see you skulking around the yard and call the police."

"I wasn't worried. I'm very stealthy," Logan said. "If she spotted me, I was going to assume the position of a garden gnome."

Rory's eyes widened in amusement. "Now that I'd like to see. Seriously, Logan, what are you doing here? Because if you think you can climb through my window and have sex with me, I'm afraid you are sadly mistaken."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Logan said with a snicker.

"Last I heard you were off for a nightcap with Colin and Finn. By the way, when did Colin start using words like 'nightcap'?"

"It's the law degree. He's reached a whole new level of pretension. And I did have one drink with them at Kacey's before I realized I've spent the last two days with Colin and Finn, and as much as I treasure their friendship, I wanted to spend some time with my girl."

"And apparently give her a heart attack."

"No, I just miss you."

Rory's eyes narrowed. "Logan, you kissed me good night like an hour ago."

"I know, and tonight was great, but I feel like we haven't had more than a few minutes alone since we got off the plane Wednesday morning. It's a beautiful night. The moon is full—"

"That was last night."

"Close enough. Come outside with me."

"Now? Are you drunk?"

Logan scowled. "No, I'm not drunk. When's the last time you saw me drunk?"

"It's been a while." Rory wrinkled her brow in concentration. "Probably that afternoon at the poolside bar in Kauai."

"Uh, no, sweetie, that was you after one too many of those blue cocktails with the little umbrellas."

Rory shrugged. "They were really good, but I was not _that_ drunk."

"You threatened to take off your bikini top when we went down to the beach."

"I was joking!"

"Not that _I_ would have minded because, you know, when it comes to Rory Gilmore and nakedness, definitely a fan here, but there were children on that beach, Ace. You might have gotten us kicked out of the resort."

"I was not going to take off my top!"

"Whatever you say." Logan winked. "I do remember it coming off rather quickly once we got back to our room."

"And, as I recall, you had no problem with that," Rory said.

"None whatsoever. But, back to my original point, I have not been good and truly drunk in a very long time. You know I'm all about the clean living these days. My wild partying days are behind me."

"Wow, twenty-eight years old and such a grown up."

Logan sighed. "Happens to the best of us."

"Of course I don't know what you guys were up to last night."

"Yes, you do. I told you everything we did. At most, there was some mild inebriation when we were at Fenway," Logan said. "Very mild. I wasn't even hungover this morning."

"Well, maybe I'll get you drunk on cocktails with little umbrellas in them next week."

"If that's what you want, knock yourself out," Logan said. "Come on, Ace. Come outside. Just for a little while. Please?"

Rory saw the earnest look in Logan's brown eyes. "But I'm ready for bed."

"All you need are some pants, shoes, and a coat. I know it will be hard, but step away from the Kindle and come outside with me."

Rory smiled. "But I so love my Kindle." Logan had surprised her with the gift before they left for their Hawaiian vacation in October.

"Even though you still feel like you're cheating on your books."

"Shush!" Rory turned and pointed to the top bookshelf. "They don't need to know I'm so fickle with my affections. It'll hurt their feelings."

Logan smiled and shook his head. "You are very cute, my dorky little bookworm."

"Hey! You read as much as I do. Maybe more."

"Well, I have to do something when you make me watch _Grey's Anatomy_."

"But it's just so mockable." Rory made a little snort. "Ridiculous Post-it marriage. That may be the dumbest thing they've ever done on that show, which is really saying something since they once had Izzie perform surgery on a deer."

"Don't forget she also had sex with a hallucination of her dead boyfriend." Logan groaned. "I can't believe I just said that. See what you've done to me? You'd better come outside now before I express an opinion on Lexie's love life. My masculinity is on the line."

Rory folded her arms and looked at Logan with pursed lips. "I'm not climbing through the window."

Logan smiled in triumph. "Meet you on the front porch."

Rory closed the window and climbed off her bed, then put on the jeans and sneakers she'd worn earlier in the day before scribbling a quick note for Lorelai. In the unlikely event that Lorelai came downstairs, Rory didn't want her to think she'd been abducted. She turned on a table lamp in the living room, grabbed an old jacket of Lorelai's from the coat rack, and slipped outside as quietly as possible.

The day had been cloudless and warm, a textbook spring day, but the air had chilled after sunset, and Rory shivered and zipped up the jacket as she stepped off the porch. Silver moonlight glimmered through the trees as they quivered in the light wind, casting ghostly shadows that seemed to dance upon the lawn, and only the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the mournful bark of a dog on a nearby street broke the peaceful silence. Rory spied Mitchum's Range Rover parked along the road, but there was no sign of Logan.

"Logan?" she whispered. "Where are you?"

From behind the bushes next to the steps, an arm snaked around Rory's waist and twirled her around. Logan silenced Rory's startled gasp with his lips.

After a lingering kiss, Logan gazed into Rory's eyes. "Nice night," he said.

"It'd be nicer if you didn't appear to be trying to give me a heart attack."

"Now why would I want to do that?"

"I don't know. Changed your mind, maybe?"

"Nope. And you, my dear, look particularly stunning in the moonlight."

"Why, thank you, sir," Rory said. "I always think the full moon makes it look like the whole world is trapped in a black-and-white movie. You know, if you're in the countryside away from any artificial light and you stare at the moonlit landscape long enough, everything will start to look blue. It's called the Purkinje shift. That's why cinematographers sometimes use blue filters during night scenes."

Logan chuckled. "That brain of yours never rests, does it?"

"Not often. It's kind of exhausting."

Logan dropped another quick kiss on Rory's lips, then turned and pulled her flush against his side with his arm around her waist and led her across the dewy grass toward the road.

"Where are we going?" Rory stopped. "Do we need a flashlight?" Rory looked Logan up and down. He wore his suit from dinner, although his tie was gone and his collar was unbuttoned. "And you're not exactly dressed for a walk."

"Relax. We don't need a flashlight. Not under that moon, and walking around Stars Hollow is not exactly hiking the Appalachian Trail. I mean, unless Taylor rolls up the town's sidewalks at eleven."

Rory smirked. "He waits until midnight on weekends."

"Then let's see what this crazy old town of yours looks like under a full moon."

"Or we could just see what the yard looks like from the porch," Rory said. "I wouldn't want you to get a blister from those shoes."

"Oh, is that why you don't want to go for a walk?" Logan grinned. "Okay, lead the way, lazybones."

Rory stuck her tongue out at Logan, then took his hand and pulled him up the steps and across the porch to the sofa beneath the living room windows.

"See how comfy this is?" she asked. "I used to sit out here and read."

"It's very nice." Logan put his arm around Rory, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "So, Ace," he said, his voice low. "Do you know what tomorrow is?"

Rory shrugged. "May 29."

"And?"

"2010."

"Yes, I'm aware of what year it is. What else?"

"Saturday."

"Okay, but is there anything special about this particular Saturday?"

Rory lifted her head from Logan's shoulder and looked at him with a playful curve to her lips. "Well, let's see, it's the birthdate of Patrick Henry, John F. Kennedy, and Bob Hope. And Annette Bening, which Paris thinks is kind of fitting."

"She isn't still calling me Warren Beatty, Jr., is she?"

Rory giggled. "Not to your face. Tomorrow is also Rhode Island and Wisconsin Statehood Day, International Jazz Day—"

"Ace, you're scaring me with all this random knowledge."

"And the International Day of United Nations Peacekeepers and National Coq au Vin Day. But it's not so random. I googled the date. I was curious to know what important world events or observances fell on it."

"Right. Because National Coq au Vin Day is so crucial." Logan tapped his finger on the tip of Rory's nose. "And the reason we're so curious about this particular date?"

"Oh, I don't know," Rory said, a smile on the corners of her mouth. "Maybe because it's also the day that Rory Gilmore is going to marry Logan Huntzberger."

"It's about time."

"Hey, don't look at me. You're the one who waited more than two years to propose again. I would have said yes ages ago."

"You're forgetting I was sure you'd say yes the first time I asked. Can't blame a guy for being a little gun-shy."

Just as they had when Paris kicked Rory out of her apartment, she and Logan had settled into an easy, comfortable cohabitation after she left the campaign trail. They had always tolerated each other's quirks well, and while that didn't mean they were immune to the odd spat over the irritations of everyday life, they had never been one of those couples who argued for the sake of arguing or as some twisted form of foreplay. After suffering through the misery of seven months apart and five more of long distance, they were simply happy to be together. Logan's company continued to thrive, though he cut back on his time at the office, and Rory enjoyed her job at the _Mercury News_. While they were content on most weeknights to cook dinner together or order takeout before settling down with their laptops if they had work to do or in front of the DVR if they didn't, they made an effort to experience all the culture and dining the Bay Area had to offer on weekends, often in the company of new friends in Palo Alto or family and old friends visiting from Connecticut. Following a lengthy negotiation, Logan even consented to attend the occasional musical or play in exchange for Rory's company at a baseball game or other sporting event—without a book in her purse—and he had been pleasantly surprised when Rory came to appreciate short hikes in the Stanford Dish or the Baylands. (Alas, his attempt to introduce her to the joys of bicycling failed: _"Logan, Gilmores only participate in sports if the outfits are cute, and those helmets and the funny shorts are most definitely not."_) Yet, despite numerous conversations beginning with "after we get married" or "someday when we have kids," a timeline for those events was never discussed. It seemed they had an unspoken agreement to leave that aspect of their future undefined.

That had finally changed during their Hawaiian vacation. Other than an occasional long weekend in Napa, Monterey, or other nearby West Coast destinations, all of Rory and Logan's vacations had been spent in New England. Logan understood Rory's need to go home, and if pressed, would admit he didn't mind their visits with family and friends. He missed Honor and didn't want to be a stranger to his adorable baby nephew. They enjoyed their time with Christopher and Gigi, and Logan and Lorelai had become better friends since their early Christmas morning heart-to-heart in the kitchen. They had even shared the occasional drama-free meal with Mitchum and Shira. Still, as much as he enjoyed the family visits, Logan longed to take Rory away for a real vacation, something similar to the Christmas they'd spent together in London during her final year at Yale. He didn't think two days in Stars Hollow followed by five days in Martha's Vineyard with Honor, Josh, and a then fifteen-month-old James the previous July counted as a romantic getaway.

Which was why Logan had been prepared for an argument when he suggested a week in Hawaii to celebrate Rory's twenty-fifth birthday. He researched the trip thoroughly before mentioning it to her and had an entire list of reasons why they should go, but it had taken only one look at the website of the resort before Rory agreed to the trip.

"_Have I thanked you for bringing me here?" Rory had asked, as they looked at the waves crashing against the white sands on their third night in Kauai. She sat cross-legged on the blanket, thankful that she'd worn a flowing sundress to dinner, and leaned into Logan._

"_Several times." Logan dropped his right arm around her waist._

"_This is definitely my best birthday ever."_

"_Your birthday isn't for two days."_

"_I know, but everything so far has been perfect. The resort is amazing. The luau, the helicopter tour...everything has just been incredible, and, come on, the coffee plantation today? Heaven on earth for a Gilmore."_

"_I thought you'd like it."_

"_Like it? I loved it. And you were so right that we needed to see Waimea Canyon in person. The views when we were standing on the rim of the canyon were even more spectacular than what we saw from the helicopter. This island is just...I don't think I've ever been anywhere so beautiful. Have you ever seen anything as beautiful as Kauai?" Rory pointed toward the western sky. "Just look at that sunset, Logan." She sighed. "Kauai is magical. That's the only explanation. This is a magical island. I bet there are tropical fairies living behind the waterfalls."_

"_Rory."_

_Perhaps it was because Logan had spoken her name, something he rarely did when they were alone. Unless he was angry or particularly serious, Rory was always "Ace" or some other endearment, but something about Logan's tone made Rory turn away from the water and look at him. When their eyes met, she was slightly unsettled by the intensity of Logan's gaze, but she relaxed when his mouth curled into a faint smile as he raised his hand and placed it on the side of Rory's face, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb before leaning over to place a brief kiss on her lips._

"_Marry me," he said._

_Rory's eyes widened in surprise, but before she could reply, Logan said, "I'm sorry. That's not much of a proposal. I should have planned something more elaborate. You deserve that. If I had planned this, your engagement ring would be here instead of in my sock drawer in our apartment. It's just...we talk about the future, but we never seem to decide anything. I get that you weren't ready the first time, but that was over two years ago, Ace, and things have been so good between us...I just...I wonder what we're waiting for. Not that I won't wait. I'm not going anywhere. You know how much I love you—"_

"_Yes," Rory said._

"_Yes?"_

_Rory smiled as tears welled in her eyes. "I don't need an elaborate proposal. You did that once, and it didn't work out so well. Besides, we're alone on a beautiful Hawaiian beach at sunset. What could be more romantic?"_

"_But I don't have the ring."_

"_You don't need the ring." She put her arms around Logan's neck._

"_I don't?"_

"_Look, I'm not saying I don't want the ring. You can fish it out of the drawer when we get home, but I don't need it to say yes. I love you, Logan, and I love our life together. I've been ready to say yes for a long time."_

_Logan's eyes narrowed. "You could have said something, Ace." He brushed a tear from Rory's cheek._

"_You told me you'd ask me again someday." Rory gave Logan a playful smile. "Although now that I think about it, that was more of a statement than a question. Hmm." Logan started to protest, but Rory quieted him by placing her fingers on his lips. "I figured you'd ask when you were ready. I just had to be patient."_

"_And here I thought I was the one who had to be patient."_

"_Well, now it's time you stopped being patient and started kissing your fiancée."_

_Logan pulled her closer. "Oh, really?"_

"_You don't have a ring, Huntzberger," Rory said, grinning. "You have to seal the deal somehow."_

Rory draped her arm across Logan's waist and snuggled closer to him on the sofa. "You know, you probably shouldn't stay here past midnight," she said. "It'll be our wedding day, and it's bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony."

"Says the girl wearing the engagement ring she rejected three years ago."

"Oh, no, honey, it wasn't the ring I rejected. It was you." Rory reached up and patted Logan's face.

He chuckled. "And it's so sweet how easily you joke about my pain."

"Logan, we held our rehearsal dinner on the third anniversary of my graduation. I think we can safely say we've put that whole miserable event behind us."

"Yeah, but I also know you're not superstitious about all that wedding stuff. Except, apparently, about not sleeping together the night before. Or, as it turns out, three nights before."

"I just thought it would be nice for you not to see me all bleary-eyed with messy hair on our wedding day," Rory said. "I want to be in my dress when you get your first glimpse of me tomorrow."

"You're forgetting that I find you quite appealing all bleary-eyed with messy hair."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Whatever, but my plan was only for one night apart. You're the one who wanted to stay in Hartford the other two."

"That just made sense. I had to be at the golf club early yesterday, and we didn't get back from Boston until well past midnight last night and you were having your movie night—"

"I know. It was fine with me," Rory said. "I'm not the one complaining about not sleeping together for three whole nights. Poor you, so deprived."

"Well, just so you know, I intend to more than make up for these three nights apart on our honeymoon."

"Really? On our honeymoon? I never would have guessed that."

"Anyway, Ace, isn't the superstition that I'm not supposed to see you in your dress before the ceremony? I think as long as we haven't gone to sleep yet, I can stay past midnight. It doesn't count until morning."

"I still don't want to have to worry about you driving back to Hartford too late on a Friday night," Rory said. "Wait, didn't you drive Finn and Colin to dinner tonight? Where are they now? Tell me you didn't leave them unattended at one of Stars Hollow's fine drinking establishments."

"Finn rode with me, but Colin had his car, so I put him in charge of getting Finn back to Hartford. They left when I did."

"Oh, that's a relief. I'm not sure the town would know what to make of Finn."

"I've known him forever, and I don't always know what to make of him," Logan said. "So, Ace, how are you feeling about everything? You haven't gotten cold feet on me, have you?"

Rory shrugged. "My toes might be a little chilly." When Logan raised his eyebrows, she quickly added, "Not about marrying you. I'm on cloud nine, can't stop smiling happy about that. You know that."

"Then what's the problem?"

Rory looked down to avoid Logan's gaze. "It's just...it's stupid," she said, quietly.

"Ace." Logan reached over and gently turned Rory's chin to make her look at him.

"It's the ceremony. You know I don't really like being the center of attention. All those people looking at me. I already feel the butterflies."

"What? You've been in how many of those wacky Stars Hollow festivals? I've seen the picture of you slathered in makeup to be _Young Girl with a Dead Ferret _for the Live Art Lunatic Revue."

"Excuse me, but I was the _Portrait of a Young Girl Named Anthea_, and it was the Festival of Living Pictures."

"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Logan said. "The whole point of that was for people to stare at you."

"That was different. It wasn't me. I was pretending to be somebody else. Plus, it was Stars Hollow where everyone has known me since I was a toddler, not a Who's Who of Connecticut society."

"Since when do you care what those people think? I know you've never tried to be the life of the party, but you don't shy away from things, either. Think of all the debates and panel discussions you've done, and you were valedictorian at Chilton. And we can't forget about the famous live speech on C-SPAN."

Rory groaned. "Oh, right. Let's definitely remember that. Good times."

"It was only C-SPAN, so probably only two or three people were watching. Besides, Paris was the one who looked like a fool, not you. You know," Logan added, grinning, "we haven't watched that for a long time. Do you think Paris would watch with us? I'm thinking about asking her to do the commentary for the DVD special features."

"Don't you dare! She doesn't even know I still have it on video."

"So I shouldn't throw it up on YouTube?" Logan asked.

"Only if there's no way she can trace it back to you. I'm too young to be a widow."

"Okay, no YouTube. But back to your chilly toes, you've done all kinds of things where you've been the center of attention. Why is our wedding different?"

"It just is. It's not the same as giving a speech or being in a debate. It has nothing to do with how prepared or informed I am. It's all about how I look walking down the aisle. The dress. My hair. What if I trip?"

Logan chuckled. "Well, I'm afraid that's what you signed up for. The bride _is_ the above-the-marquee star of the show, and the aisle's the red carpet. Wouldn't surprise me to find Seacrest hanging around to ask who you're wearing."

Rory groaned. "God, I hope not. Hey, if I'm the star, what's that make you?"

"Oh, I'm just your arm candy, baby."

"I do love candy." Rory leaned in for a kiss. "I'm sorry. I know it's silly to be nervous."

"No need to apologize, but you really don't need to worry about tomorrow. You know what all those people will be thinking when you're walking down the aisle?"

"Um, the bride looks like she's going to puke?"

Logan poked Rory in the side. "They'll be thinking that you are the most gorgeous bride in the history of weddings—"

"Exaggerate much?"

"_And_ that I am the luckiest guy in the world to be marrying you."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Cheesiest, maybe. I don't know about luckiest. I think I'm getting a zit." She lifted her head and pointed to a spot along her jawline. "How lucky is that for you?"

"Where? I don't see anything." Logan brushed his fingers across her skin. "There's nothing there, Ace."

"Trust me, it's there, and it might be big and red when I wake up tomorrow."

"Really? Hmm." Logan frowned. "That does change things. I can't possibly be expected to marry someone with a zit. I have standards, you know."

"I know, and I totally understand. There is a long list of requirements for being Logan Huntzberger's wife." Rory scoffed. "Just ask your mother."

Logan kissed Rory's temple. "You are the only one who will ever meet _my_ requirements, but I also think it's safe to say my mother has come around about you."

"Oh, yes, she keeps her contempt hidden now instead of hating me openly. If she could figure out a way to substitute Colby Ingram for me tomorrow, I think she'd do it."

"No, she wouldn't," Logan said. "And she doesn't hate you. She told me this afternoon how happy she is for us. When nobody else was around, so I know it wasn't just for appearances."

"If you say so."

"I do say so. Besides, my father adores you. He thinks you're absolutely the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Oh, he does not."

"As far as Mitchum's concerned, Rory Gilmore is the only thing standing between me and a life of debauchery on a beach somewhere, frittering away my trust fund."

"Don't be ridiculous, Logan. Honor told me Mitchum is beyond thrilled that you're coming back to the family business."

"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in," Logan said.

Rory laughed. "Babe, that Pacino impression is not getting any better. You need to stop doing it."

"Really? I thought I'd nailed it."

Despite Logan's protests, Rory knew he was excited about his new position with the Huntzberger Group. His return to the family fold had followed six months of negotiations between father and son, a situation initially triggered when Mitchum contracted Logan and his business partners in Palo Alto as consultants for modernizing the Huntzberger presence in the digital world. From the beginning of that association, Mitchum had treated Logan as a peer with valuable knowledge and skills rather than a petulant boy in need of correction, and the Huntzberger men had gradually forged a positive working relationship. Once Rory decided to apply to graduate school and showed a preference for the program at Columbia, Mitchum saw an opportunity to convince his son to return to the family's newspaper empire. As Rory had predicted, Logan's success on his own gave him leverage with Mitchum, who was willing to agree to a rather detailed contract granting Logan a considerable amount of freedom in his duties and assignments. Logan also secured a guarantee that he'd be based in Manhattan for at least as long as Rory was in school, and any future relocations would occur only with his approval. Mitchum had even proposed the title of Vice President of New Media, but Logan was satisfied with Director of New Media. As a twenty-eight-year-old bearer of the Huntzberger name, he figured he had plenty of time to assume a more senior title.

"You know," Logan said, as he stroked his fingers through Rory's long hair, "it's going to take more than a zit to get me to call this off. You can't get rid of me that easily, Gilmore."

Rory grinned. "If I wanted to get rid of you, I'd just take Finn up on his offer."

Because Colin had won the coin toss for best man, Finn had given his "first runner up" toast at the rehearsal dinner. The Australian said some surprisingly mature things about his friendship with Logan and shared some amusing anecdotes from the days when Logan was in denial about the effect the quiet girl with the big blue eyes was having on him. Finn ended with his best wishes for the couple's long and happy marriage, but being Finn, he couldn't resist adding, _"Unless you've changed your mind about Logan, love. It's not too late to run off with me. Don't forget I am exotic."_

Logan sighed. "Well, if exotic is what you want, I won't stand in your way. Nothing is more important to me than your happiness."

"Nah, exotic is overrated," Rory said. "Besides, I'm used to you."

"So what you're saying is that you don't want to disrupt your routine?"

"Exactly. I've already quit my job to move to Manhattan for grad school. I need to keep something familiar around."

"Gee, thanks, Ace," Logan said. "I feel so special now."

"Glad I could help," Rory said, a playful glint in her eyes.

"Well, don't worry about your zit. It'll be okay, and someday when our children ask who that is in our wedding pictures, we'll just explain that it's Daddy and Mommy and Mommy's zit."

Rory snorted. "Oh, wait, I've changed my mind. Finn's not looking so bad after all."

Logan laughed. "I'm sure that if this imaginary zit does become real and you can't hide it with make-up, the exorbitant photographer Emily and my mother hired will airbrush it out. But I can always cut myself shaving tomorrow morning if it'll make you feel better."

"That's very chivalrous of you, but I don't think it'll be necessary," Rory said. "So you're not nervous at all? Not even a little?"

"Nope. Maybe I'll feel different in the morning, but right now I'm just excited. I think tomorrow's going to be fun. Probably a bit of a circus—"

"Yes, but an _elegant_ circus," Rory interrupted. "The elephants will be wearing chiffon."

"And I'm sure they'll look lovely. The clowns, too."

"Emily Gilmore would accept nothing less. Can you believe she had a whole list of things she wanted me to go over with the wedding planner before dinner tonight? She's a little out of control."

"No, she's too much _in_ control," Logan said. "The whole point of not letting her contribute financially was to keep her from taking over. Chris begged us to let him pick up the tab, but once you let Emily choose the wedding planner—"

"You sound like Mom. Every time Grandma called in the past two days with a seating chart issue or a napkin crisis, Mom just sat back and laughed. And then she made up an annoying, singsongy 'I told you so' jingle just to torture me."

"Sounds like Lorelai."

"She's right, though. She did warn me that letting Dad finance this shindig wouldn't stop Grandma from getting her way because he's always been a little afraid of her."

"As we all are," Logan said. "Well, at least after tomorrow your long nightmare of napkin crises will be over."

"Good thing. I've about had it with those napkins and their bad attitude." Rory sighed. "I know I could have kept Grandma from being so involved, but she really cares about table linens and centerpieces, and it was easier to let her worry about all the details when we were in California. That stuff is fun for her. It's like when I agreed to be a debutante. She's getting to do something else she never got to do with Mom. Even if Mom does get married again someday, I'm sure she won't go for a big Emily Gilmore-type wedding."

"Wasn't exactly our original plan, either."

Rory frowned. "I know, but it made Grandma so happy, not to mention I finally did something your mother approved of. And it wasn't just me, mister. You were willing to go along with it, too."

"I know. I'm not criticizing you, but we both knew things would snowball once we let them get involved."

"Well, at least I stood up to Grandma when she wanted me to add more bridesmaids."

"Yes, you did, and I'm very proud of you," Logan said, patting her hand and trying, but failing, to appear serious. "You simply refused to have more than three when five would have been much more acceptable for a society wedding with over 200 guests."

"Okay, now you're mocking me."

Logan chuckled. "Doesn't mean I'm not proud of you."

After briefly considering a spur-of-the-moment ceremony on the beach in Hawaii, an idea Logan nixed by reminding Rory how upset she'd been about her parents' impromptu wedding in France, the couple decided on a June wedding at the Dragonfly with family and close friends. Rory wanted Lane as her matron of honor, Paris and Honor as bridesmaids, and Gigi as flower girl, while Logan's groomsmen would be Colin and Finn, one of whom would be best man, and Josh. Those plans, however, had lasted only until the news of the engagement reached Emily and Shira. Once the women got over the shock of having less than a year to make the arrangements, they were adamant that a Gilmore-Huntzberger wedding came with certain expectations, and faster than anyone could say "Connecticut blue blood," the guest list had grown to include a surprisingly long list of Huntzberger relatives, a slightly shorter list of family on the Gilmore side, the DAR ladies, business associates of both Mitchum and Richard, and both families' friends from the club.

Rory was willing to compromise somewhat on the guest list if it meant keeping everyone happy, but she and Logan insisted their wedding would not be about business deals or social connections and, therefore, would not include anyone whom they would never meet under other circumstances. Yet, even without ambassadors to small European countries and other dignitaries, the guest list was still too large for the Dragonfly to handle. They finally settled on the Windsor Club when Shira reluctantly agreed to host the rehearsal dinner at the Dragonfly. Because the Windsor Club was completely booked for June, the wedding was scheduled for Memorial Day weekend after Rory, remembering the poor Sheldrakes, refused to allow Emily to use her influence to bump someone else's event. Due to the number of guests, Emily, Shira, and the wedding planner insisted they needed at least four ushers, and each woman tried, without success, to convince Rory to add two more bridesmaids for a balanced wedding party. Although she had made some good friends in California, Rory didn't consider any of them close enough to be bridesmaids. In the end, the wedding party stayed as originally planned, and two of Logan's cousins were enlisted to act as additional ushers.

"Mom was impressed with Sookie's food tonight," Logan said.

"Everyone always is. The first time Grandma tasted it she tried to talk her into to starting a catering business in Hartford."

"Did tonight make you sad we're not getting married at the Dragonfly?"

Rory sighed. "Not really. It would have been nice, but it also would have meant a lot of work for Mom and Sookie. Now they can just enjoy themselves without having to worry about making everything perfect," she said. "Not to mention that everyone in Stars Hollow might have shown up, invited or not. Kirk probably would have been selling commemorative plates or t-shirts or something. Although, now that I think about it, I'm not entirely sure he won't be doing that, anyway."

"And the Windsor Club does have significance in our history," Logan said.

"Ah, yes. The place where I threw myself at you."

"I was thinking more that it's the site of our first dance and our first kiss. They should probably hang a plaque."

Rory smiled and shook her head. "You are such a romantic."

"Would you rather I tell Emily it's where you told me that girls just want to have stringless fun?"

"Please don't. I think she'd have a stroke if she ever found out exactly how our relationship started. Grandpa, too," Rory said. "I suppose there is a certain irony about marrying you in the very place where you told me you weren't boyfriend material and that you couldn't do commitment. Clearly, you had no idea what you were talking about."

"Clearly," Logan said. "You do love to prove me wrong, don't you?"

"Well, maybe a little in this case."

"Hey, you haven't said much about last night with your mom and Lane."

"Oh, it was great. A traditional Gilmore movie night," Rory said. "We got started around six o'clock with the whole spread. Chinese food, pizza, Red Vines, chips, popcorn, fries from Luke's. Mom even put a box of Mallomars in the freezer in February, just so she could break them out last night."

Logan shook his head. "I'm thinking of reporting you to NIH. Somebody should be studying that freakish Gilmore metabolism."

"I'll have you know that Mom thinks I've gone California on her. She's disturbed by the number of fruits and vegetables I eat voluntarily, not to mention the amount of cooking I do. When you add in our hikes on the weekends, she's convinced you've been a bad influence on me."

"Lorelai has always thought I've been a bad influence on you."

"That isn't true."

"Ace."

"Okay, so there was a time when she may have thought that, but she changed her mind a long time ago."

"Well, you can tell her not to worry. What we did was more strolling than hiking, and you still balance the fruits and vegetables with a frightening amount of junk food."

"Anyway, Mom insisted on picking the movies," Rory said. "First up was the Steve Martin version of _Father of the Bride. _We watched that before Lane showed up after she and Zack got the twins to bed. Then, we watched _The Philadelphia Story_."

"About a society wedding. I'm sensing a theme."

"Mom said she was going to get _How to Marry a Millionaire_, but she decided I already knew how to do that."

Logan scoffed. "Funny."

"Exactly what I said. Next was _The Princess Bride_."

"You watched three movies?"

"Well, it was my last official movie night as a single girl, so we were shooting for four. We started _My Big Fat Greek Wedding_ after Lane left around midnight, but Mom fell asleep before it was over. I had to wake her up and make her go to bed around two."

"It sounds like you had fun."

"Yeah, it was exactly what I wanted. Just Lane and Mom, like the old days. It was perfect," Rory said. "And everything was good with golfing and your Boston road trip, right? Dad told me he had fun playing golf."

Logan nodded. "I wasn't so sure when Colin told me he wanted to include the older generations for golf, but it worked out well. I think everybody had a good time, even if Finn is still bummed we didn't do the bachelor party weekend in Vegas."

"Logan, you know I never said I didn't want you to go to Vegas. Obviously, you couldn't have gone last night, but you could have met them a few weeks ago—"

"I know, but it just never worked out with me trying to tie up all the loose ends in Palo Alto. It's okay. Nobody was really into Finn's idea of a bachelor party. I'm sure it would have resembled a remake of _The Hangover_."

"It wouldn't have been that bad."

"You have met Finn, haven't you, Ace?" Logan asked. "Look, yesterday was great. It would have been nice if the Sox had won last night, but it was fun just hanging out with the guys. Seth and Lanny even met up with us at Fenway, and I haven't seen them in over a year."

"Well, as long as you don't feel like you missed out on some rite of passage."

"I promise I don't, okay?"

"Okay."

Rory again put her head on Logan's shoulder. They were quiet for a few minutes, savoring what would probably be their last peaceful moments alone until the reception ended. Much to the disappointment of Emily and Shira, they had rejected the plans for a post-wedding day brunch, instead opting to grab a few hours of sleep in the bungalow at the Dragonfly before rising at dawn to make a Sunday morning flight from JFK to the Virgin Islands. Everyone had been surprised when the couple decided to forgo their long-planned trip to Asia in favor of ten days in St. Croix, but having just moved three time zones, they wanted something closer to home and more relaxing than a whirlwind tour of the Far East. Honeymooning at the Huntzbergers' Caribbean vacation home, which Rory and Logan had never visited, would provide them with quiet and privacy. Upon their return, they'd have five days to get settled in their Manhattan apartment—Honor had graciously offered to meet the cross-country moving van scheduled to arrive five days after the wedding—before Logan started his new job.

When Rory yawned, Logan asked, "Is that a hint that you want me to leave?"

"You know I don't _want _you to leave, but it is getting late, so you probably _should_," Rory said. "We both should try to get some sleep."

"Yeah, it will be a long day tomorrow."

Rory opened her mouth, like she was going to say something, then stopped.

"What?" Logan asked. "I didn't mean it was going to be a long day in a bad way."

"Oh, I know. I just...I feel like, well, since we decided to go with the traditional vows—"

"Because we agreed it's lame when couples write their own."

"Right, but I still feel like I should think of fabulous things to say. To you. While we're alone."

"Say hi to William and Harry for me?" Logan asked.

Rory smiled and leaned up to place a quick peck on Logan's lips. "That at least made sense when you were leaving for London, although you never did say hi to them for me."

"Ace, I assure you that, had I ever met William or Harry, I would have given them your regards. I did think it was pretty cute how you'd sometimes repeat it in our phone calls."

"Well, you know me. Always trying to be cute."

"It is one of the reasons I'm marrying you."

"I was thinking about it this afternoon, trying to figure out what I should say to you."

"And?"

Rory shrugged. "You know that part in the end of _Pride and Prejudice_ when Elizabeth tells her sister Jane that she's going to marry Mr. Darcy and Jane doesn't believe her at first, but Elizabeth says 'It is settled between us already that we are to be the happiest couple in the world.'? I want to say something like that. I want that to be us."

"Okay, I see two problems here," Logan said.

Rory frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, first of all, for some reason you think I have passages memorized from _Pride and Prejudice_."

"You read _Pride and Prejudice_."

"In, like, tenth grade. Plus, I'm pretty sure I only read the SparkNotes," Logan said. "No, wait, I bet it was so long ago they didn't even have SparkNotes. Must have been Cliffs."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, I'm sure that's just what you told your friends because you didn't think it was cool for them to know how much you like to read."

"Are you accusing me of being some kind of closeted bookworm?"

"If the shoe fits," Rory said, gesturing with her palms up. "You do realize the fact that you were so well-read was one of the things that attracted me when we met. It was one of the first things I told my mother about you."

"And here I thought you just liked me for my looks and the amazing sex."

"Don't forget the money," Rory deadpanned. "And your connections in the journalism world."

"Of course not. That goes without saying. Okay, so maybe I read _Pride and Prejudice_. Doesn't mean I can recite passages."

"Fine, you don't remember that specific part, but you said there were two problems. What's the other one?"

Logan smiled. "Ace, we don't need to _decide_ to be happy. We've been happy for a long time. How'd you put it? On cloud nine, can't stop smiling happy? I'll even raise you an over the moon."

"Over the moon, huh?"

"Yes, Ace, over the moon. I'm glad we're getting married. Excited. You know that," Logan said. "But marriage won't make us happy if we aren't already there."

"I know."

"And you don't have to think of fabulous things to say to me. I know you love me. Just like you know how I feel about you. We tell each other every day. We don't need to make a bunch of flowery, sentimental declarations."

"I know," Rory repeated.

"So let's just enjoy tomorrow and roll with whatever craziness happens, and then we'll have ten whole days in St. Croix, just the two of us. We can forget all about wedding plans and moving and new jobs and grad school and the pitter-patter of little feet."

"The _what_?"

"Oh, you mean, Emily didn't ask _you _about that?" Logan asked.

"No!"

"Well, she dropped a comment on me tonight about how she and Richard hoped it wouldn't be long before we heard the pitter—"

"Ohmigod! Are you kidding me?" Rory exclaimed. "We're not even married yet and she—she—I'm starting grad school in the fall and she already wants me knocked up? I'm pretty sure morning sickness and a master's thesis do not mix!"

"Calm down before you wake up Lorelai," Logan said. "And the rest of Stars Hollow."

"But, Logan, the last thing we need is my grandparents pressuring us to—"

Logan kissed Rory before she could build up to a full rant. When the kiss ended, he grinned at her, "Angry still works for you. I totally should've kissed you that day outside your dorm room. I really wanted to, you know."

Rory grimaced. "Don't change the subject."

"You probably would have slapped me, deservedly so," Logan said. "But it would have been so worth it."

"Logan."

"Look, you know Emily's been imagining our children since that first time you took me to Friday night dinner. We've been together a long time, and now that we're getting married, it's what they expect. I'm kind of surprised my mother hasn't said anything yet."

"But immediately when we get married?" Rory asked. "That's insane."

"You know what? It doesn't matter what your grandmother or my mother or anybody else thinks. It's nobody's business but ours. We decided we'd start _thinking _about it when I turned thirty, or when you did, and that timeline's fine with me. Okay?"

Rory nodded. "Sorry I overreacted. It's just that Grandma shouldn't have said anything."

"It's not a big deal." Logan raised his arm, so he could read his watch in the light coming through the living room window. "So I guess I should head back to Hartford."

"Probably."

"Think you'll be able to get to sleep?"

"Hope so. Nobody likes a bride with bags under her eyes."

Rory stood up and reached for Logan's hand. He followed her to the front door, where he kissed her again.

"Good night, Ace."

"See you tomorrow," Rory said. "What a lame thing to say the night before our wedding."

"Oh, I see we're back to that again. Okay, why don't you just tell me how much you love me?"

Rory made a face. "Fine. I love you, Logan, more than anything in the world," she said in a monotone.

"More than anything? Even more than coffee?" Logan teased.

"Yep, if you made me choose, I'd pick you. Although I should tell you, I'd likely be so cranky about it, you'd wish I hadn't."

Logan chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"So don't you have something to say to me?" Rory asked, dramatically batting her eyes at him.

"I do. When you're walking down the aisle tomorrow and all those people are staring at you, you should remember one very important thing."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" Rory asked.

Logan smirked. "Don't trip." Before Rory could sputter out a reply, he continued, "But even if you do, I promise I'll marry you anyway."

Rory glared at him. "You really are a butt-faced miscreant, you know that?"

"But you love me, and that is a very good thing," Logan said.

"Oh, it is, is it?"

Logan dropped his playful smile and looked into Rory's eyes. "Because I have no idea what I'd ever do without you."

Rory threw her arms around Logan's neck and whispered in his ear, "That's so much better than say hi to William and Harry for me."

**The End**

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who followed this story to the end, particularly when it took so unexpectedly long for me to finish this final chapter. I've appreciated all of your comments, story alerts, and decisions to flag it as a favorite._


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Gilmore Girls, Angst, Romance