Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a dark day in Stars Hollow. Dense gray clouds, in endless motion, obscured the late morning sun. Rain from earlier had left scattered traces of puddled water on the street, mirroring the sky above. 

They drove in near silence — Sookie behind the wheel, Lorelai slumped down next to her, the solemnity of the day feeling as heavy and thick as the dank air surrounding them. With a shuddering breath, Lorelai wound her arms around herself, trying in vain to fight the penetrating chill which seeped uninvited into her bones.

“Almost there,” Sookie muttered with a long sigh as she made the turn from Third Avenue onto Plum Street. 

The neighborhood appeared deserted. No one was walking their dog. No children were playing in the autumn leaves. The only signs of life were the dozens of crows lining the stretch of bare tree branches, resembling black leaves swaying in a nonexistent breeze. 

As The Independence Inn van came to a squeaky stop, Lorelai gazed out of the passenger seat’s window. Even though the rain had stopped hours prior to their arrival, tear-like drops leaked from the battered gutters while streaks of water stained the dirty beige shingles of the old house. It was as if the house itself was weeping, mourning the loss of its owner. 

“Shit!” Lorelai jumped in her seat as a loud bang rang out, followed by the screeching sounds of the crows as they scattered abruptly from their perch, dotting the bleak sky. “What the hell was that?”

Sookie giggled as she pulled the keys from the ignition, then her face sagged with regret. “Bill was part of the Revolutionary War reenactors. They must be giving him his final salute. Poor Bill.” Sookie shook her head wearily. “Come on. We need to get this food set up before they get here.”

Lorelai stepped carefully out of the van, joining Sookie behind the vehicle. With its large doors already opened widely, they surveyed the trays and containers stacked neatly on shelves. 

“Thanks for covering today,” Sookie exhaled, her eyes still fixed on the large quantity of food and beverages that filled the van. 

“Of course. You know I’d do anything for you, Sook. And Mia,” she chirped supportively. 

After working her way up the chain of command in housekeeping, Lorelai had finally been given a position in reception and event planning. With her talkative, friendly personality, the job came naturally to her. But she was new and green and more than anything, wanted to do a good job for Mia. This event was important. William Danes had been a lifelong friend of Mia’s, but the timing of her out-of-country trip prevented her from attending his funeral and wake. 

Lorelai put an arm around her friend’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We’re in this together. Just let me know what you need me to do.” 

“Well, Louie said the side door to the kitchen would be open. He better be right. Can you go check it out and get the lay of the land in there while I figure out what to bring in first?”

“You got it, boss.” 

Lorelai walked up the narrow driveway to a small, covered porch. She climbed the stairs, then opened the door with a gentle push. “I’m in!” she yelled. Stepping inside, she immediately noticed the contrast to the outside of the house. The kitchen was warm and bright. Light yellow floral wallpaper, yellow cabinets, and white appliances skirted the perimeter, with a large wooden oval table occupying the center of the room. 

“Ooh. A double oven. Sookie will be thrilled,” Lorelai muttered to herself as she strolled through the narrow kitchen doorway into the large, open layout combination dining/living/family room. 

As she scanned the room, her fingertips glided over the long, polished dark wood dining room table, putting her at ease. Lorelai had been nervous all morning, her stomach in knots as she put on the inn’s standard wait-staff uniform — black pants, a white button-down shirt, and black vest. 

Growing up, Lorelai had only been to one wake. It was her maternal grandfather’s when she was eight years old. She remembered it in vivid detail, feeling isolated, scared, uncomfortable, and confused. Her parents’ house, with its cold elegance, packed with strangers dressed in black. They mostly ignored the lanky girl in the frilly dark dress who sat on the edge of the stiff sofa, accepting the occasional pat on the head and utterances of, “I’m sorrys”   and “he was a great man,” that seemed to provide more comfort to the person saying it rather than the bereaved on the receiving end of the cliched comments.

But that could describe much of Lorelai Gilmore’s childhood. Feeling alone. Awkward and misunderstood. Unknown and unseen. Never quite fitting into the life, the family she was born into. 

It was different here. This was a home that was imbued with love. She could feel it. See it in the lumpy couch with the multicolored afghan that lay on top of it. In the dozens of family pictures that covered the wood-paneled walls and lined the fireplace mantel. In the worn-down, played-on, stained shag carpeting. People lived in this home. A family loved in this home. And now, the two who remain will grieve in it.

“Hey! Lorelai! Can you give me a hand here?”

“Oh, crap. I’m coming!” Lorelai shouted out, walking briskly to the kitchen where Sookie stood — her arms piled high with trays that almost reached her chin. She grabbed the trays, one by one, and placed them on the table. “Sorry, Sook. I’ll start bringing in the rest of the stuff.”

They worked quickly and efficiently, and within thirty minutes, the cold trays of bite-sized sandwiches and desserts were neatly arranged on the white linen tablecloth now covering the dining room table. The sideboard along the wall was lined with an assortment of soft drinks, beer and wine, an ice bucket, and elegant plastic drinkware. A folding tray had been assembled to hold a large silver coffee urn and the necessary condiments. The scent of fresh flowers, which had been placed on any remaining unclaimed surface, permeated the room, competing with the delicious smell of canapés warming in the kitchen’s ovens. 

Satisfied grins covered the women’s faces as they marveled triumphantly over their accomplishments. 

Sookie looked at her watch and then glanced out the large windows in the front of the house. “They should be here any minute. So, uh…” Sookie surveyed the food spread, nervously adjusting her apron. “Just remember, try to be invisible. We’ll stay in the kitchen unless food needs replenishing. I think. I don’t know. This is my first time catering a wake.”

“Sook, it’ll be fine. Mia wouldn’t have put you in charge of this if she didn’t completely trust that you could not only get the job done but do it with compassion and tact. We got this.”

Sookie inhaled deeply, then let out a loud sigh. “Right,” she nodded and grinned. “Thanks.”

“So. What was he like? Bill,” Lorelai asked wistfully as she strolled over to the fireplace mantel and studied an old family photo of a posed man and woman, a girl and boy, all dressed in coordinating Christmas sweaters, smiling widely at the camera.

“Bill was great. Everyone loved him. He had this kinda gruff exterior, but he was really just an old softy once you got to know him better,” she recollected. “That family has been through so much. Poor Luke. He must be heartbroken.”

Lorelai picked up a framed picture next to the one she’d been studying. There was an older man with his arm wrapped around a younger man, both with matching smiles and kind blue eyes. They were standing on the deck of a boat, fishing poles in hand. Behind them, shimmery silver-tipped cerulean waves and a bright blue cloudless sky. “This is him? The son? Luke?” Lorelai asked, her unpolished finger wiping away the fine layer of dust from the face of the younger man. 

Sookie joined Lorelai, gazing at the photograph. “Yup. That’s Bill and Luke. Hmm,” she squinted at the photo. “This looks fairly recent. Maybe from a year ago or so, before Bill got sick.”

“He’s, uh…handsome. Luke,” she said his name softly, almost a whisper. She placed the picture back on the mantel, her eyes skimming the other family photos, one by one. Luke’s high school graduation picture. Luke holding a track and field trophy. Luke with his mom and sister on a beach. Luke in a little league uniform with his father. 

Sookie giggled. “He’s a total hottie! I’ve had a crush on him since… forever. All the girls who went to Stars Hollow High did. Probably still do. Unfortunately for all of us, he was off the market for what seemed like forever. He had a serious girlfriend but she blew town about a year ago and Luke’s been single ever since,” Sookie said, teasingly poking Lorelai’s waist with her elbow. 

Lorelai’s eyes widened. She could feel a warm blush rising in her cheeks. “Oh, well, it’s not like I would… I mean, I have Rory. I’m too busy to date. And besides, I’m sure he wouldn’t be interested in dating a twenty-one-year-old single mom and… and… it’s not like I’m going to hit on him at his father’s wake!”

“I didn't say that!” Sookie huffed defensively, then softened. “But don’t be so sure about him not being interested. Look, Luke is a really nice guy. He’s a lot like his dad. And you’re… I mean, look at yourself! You’re gorgeous. And smart. And really funny.” 

Lorelai took Sookie’s hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “What do I need with a boyfriend when I have such an amazing best friend?” 

Sookie gazed up at her friend, head tilted, one brow peaked in a high arch. “Well…”

Lorelai rolled her eyes and laughed. “Okay. Yeah. There’s that. But… that’s what Peter Rabbit’s for. He’s quiet, reliable, and all he needs from me are two double-A batteries.”

The sound of a car door being slammed shut caught their attention, prompting Sookie to peek out of the window again. “That’s them. Quick. Let’s get the hot food trays out and then I’ll introduce you.” 

Lorelai followed closely behind Sookie as she sprinted towards the kitchen. “Introduce me? What happened to being invisible?” Lorelai asked worriedly, inhaling deeply, waiting impatiently for Sookie’s response.  

“We should at least give our condolences to the immediate family,” Sookie said as she took one of the trays out of the oven and began artfully plating the trio of appetizers onto two large platters. She paused, mini quiche hovering above the plate, adding thoughtfully, “It just seems like the right thing to do.”

“Right. Of course.” Lorelai bit her lip, her heart beginning to race in anticipation while her mind scrambled for the right words to sincerely express her sympathies. But in the forefront of her harried brain was Luke. Handsome, hot-as-hell Luke, with the dreamy eyes, the strong body, and gentle soul. Somehow she knew, through forces beyond her comprehension which defied logic and common sense, that in seeing him, meeting him, her life would be irrevocably changed. 

She pondered this a beat too long, fighting back the urge to laugh at herself, at the ridiculousness of this notion. Had she become clairvoyant or was she just sex-deprived? Or maybe she left that last Ogilvie home perm on too long. 

Sookie dusted off her hands and picked up one of the platters. “Grab the other one and just follow my lead.” 

“Jess! Jess!” They heard a woman’s voice call from inside the house. “Go wash your hands before you touch any of that food!”

“That’s probably Liz. Bill’s daughter. Come on,” Sookie whispered before heading out of the kitchen and into the main room. 

“Sookie!” Liz hollered, embracing her in an awkward hug, the platter of food still balanced in her hands. “It’s been forever! How are you?” Liz asked, releasing her. 

“I’m fine. Good. I’m so sorry about your dad. How are you ?”

“Yeah, well, thanks. I’m doing okay. Ya know, sad, of course. And Jess was a terror! He wouldn’t sit still during the service. I guess I can’t blame him. He probably gets that from me,” Liz replied with a rueful grin.

Lorelai watched the interaction, then placed her platter on the dining room table. 

“And who are you?” Liz asked, smiling warmly at Lorelai.

“Oh. Hi. I’m Lorelai. I work for Mia at the Independence Inn. I’m so so sorry for your loss.”

“Nice to meet you and thanks. I’m Liz — black sheep and constant disappointment of the Danes family, single mom to the adorable, yet trouble-making Jess,” Liz said lightheartedly. “Oh, wait. You’re her! You’re Mia’s runaway, right? You’ve got a kid who’s probably the same age as my Jess. Is she here?” Liz looked around the room.

Lorelai froze. She was used to occasionally overhearing the townspeople gossip about her, but not used to someone being so blunt, so completely unfiltered. She liked it. She liked Liz immediately. 

“That’s me,” Lorelai responded with a guarded sense of pride. “Sounds like we have a lot in common. But I didn’t bring Rory. She’s at a friend’s house.”

“Bummer,” Liz pouted before quickly recovering with a hopeful grin. “Maybe you can bring her by later. Or another day so the kids can hang out. I’ll be in town for the week.” 

“That would be nice. I’m sure Rory would love that.” 

Sookie cleared her throat. “So, uh, where’s Luke?”

“Hey, Uncle Louie! Do you remember Sookie St. James? She and I went to school together.”

Lorelai noticed the older man in the room. He answered with a curt “no” while piling a variety of food on his already full plate. 

Liz rolled her eyes and shook her head, then mumbled, “That’s my dad’s brother, Louie. He’s a pain in the ass. Don’t mind him.” She turned to Lorelai as her eyes lit up brightly. “Luke’s my brother. He’s also a pain in the ass. But I’m sure he’d say the same thing about me. Do you know him?”

“No, we’ve never met.” 

“Well, wait until he gets a look at you! You’re just his type. You’re single, right?” Liz didn’t wait for a response. “I think he’s going to fall madly in love with you — if he ever leaves the cemetery and comes home.” Liz turned back to Sookie, her green eyes now brimming with tears. “He wanted some alone time with Dad. He’s taking it pretty hard. He and my dad are… were close.” Liz wiped the lone tear that escaped and sighed. “Anyway, I better go find Jess.”  

“We’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything,” Lorelai said with a sympathetic grin. 

The house filled up quickly. Lorelai watched from the kitchen as relatives, friends, and neighbors clustered into small groups, eating and drinking and talking. Everyone there seemed to have a “Bill Danes” story to share. A memory to recount. All honoring a man who was a good father, a loyal husband, an honest business owner, and a reliable friend. 

It was thirty minutes later when Lorelai heard the room suddenly go silent and a door creak shut. She abruptly stopped arranging the mini quiches on the platter and moved to the doorway. 

As Luke weaved his way through the sea of people, some offered handshakes and muttered condolences, others, tearful hugs and friendly words of respect and admiration for his father. Luke slowly made his way to the sideboard. He grabbed a cold beer from the ice bucket, twisted the cap off, and took a long draw. 

Lorelai was mesmerized by him, studying his every move: The long fingers which wrapped around the water-beaded bottle. His full lips, slightly parted, pressed against the rim of the glass. She watched his face in silhouette— the chiseled cheekbones, squared chin, and straight nose. Her eyes trailed his Adam’s apple, which languidly bobbed as the amber liquid slid down his throat. 

He was even more gorgeous in person.

With the bottle dangling from his fingertips, he moved from the beverage station towards the kitchen, stopping directly in front of her. 

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. All she could hear was the hammering pulse in her ear. All she could see was him. Her eyes were fixed on his — his eyes on hers, locked in a penetrating stare.  

“Luke,” Sookie said, Lorelai unaware of the presence next to her, her voice seeming to come out of thin air. “I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry about your dad.” 

Luke’s eyes darted from Lorelai to Sookie, then back to Lorelai. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly. 

Lorelai opened her mouth to speak — her mind searching to find the practiced, pleasantly strung together words expressing sympathy and regret. The poetic euphemisms of comfort. The regurgitated cliches about “being at peace” and “no longer suffering.” They all teetered on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed them down, leaving only silence in the space between them. 

Luke lowered his gaze to the beer in his hand, then back to Lorelai, giving her a brief nod of acknowledgment before turning and walking away. 

“What was that?” Sookie asked, her brows knitted in a deep furrow. “I’ve never seen you speechless. You really do have a thing for him.”  

“I… I don’t know what happened. But I feel like a giant ass,” Lorelai groaned, her voice shaking as she went to sit down at the kitchen table. She dropped her head onto the table, lightly banging it repeatedly against the wood. 

“I know what happened. You just got struck by the love bus. Lorelai Gilmore is in love,” Sookie sang teasingly. “Don’t worry, sweetie. If it makes you feel any better, he was looking at you the same way.”

Lorelai lifted her head. “He was? Ugh! I can’t believe I didn’t say anything. I had it all worked out in my head but then I panicked— none of it seemed good enough. He probably thinks I’m a total moron,” she moaned, then rested her forehead back on the table. 

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to show him that you aren’t. We’re here for another two hours, so get out there with some sandwiches. And a few more cold beers,” Sookie prompted.

Lorelai didn’t move. Her heart was still pounding hard against her chest. Her hands still trembling. 

“Go on, now. Scoot.” Sookie shooed her away with a wave of her hand. 

It didn’t take long before the sting of regret, the embarrassment of having been rendered speechless, began to lessen. In her mind, she replayed the moment just prior. His stare. Those pained blue eyes, faint redness around their rims, searching for relief, comfort, understanding. Or was there something else, another explanation for his penetrating gaze? 

Maybe he’d seen it; felt the meaning, the intent of their wordless exchange. Perhaps even appreciated it, she rationalized. According to Sookie, Luke wasn’t much for small talk. Or really any talk. He was more of a ballgame-watching-beer guy. Kind of introverted, like his father. And that was him under normal circumstances. Today was anything but. 

After setting out the sandwiches and replenishing the bucket of beer, Lorelai made her way back to the kitchen. She tried to remain hidden there, only chatting with Sookie or the occasional nosy guest who wandered in, wanting to check out for themselves if the infamous Lorelai Gilmore was all she was hyped up to be. But she couldn’t focus. Couldn’t concentrate on the job she was being paid to do. Twice she put a tray of cold sandwiches in the warmed oven. 

It was all so wrong. She had no business dwelling on the way his hair curled up behind his ears or his broad shoulders that seemed to resemble those of a Greek god. And she certainly had no right to obsess over his opinion of her. But she remained preoccupied with these intrusive thoughts. They persisted until curiosity finally got the better of her. Or maybe it was the laws of physics, or chemistry, or biology —science was never one of her best subjects in school— which made her poke her head out in search of him. He was easy to spot — sitting on a big, brown leather chair at the far end of the room, sadness clouding his strong features. His head was tipped downward; a half-empty beer in his hand, while Babette, who was next to him, rambled on— her raspy voice rising above the din in the room. 

There was a history behind that worn leather chair. His mother had gotten it for his father when she was pregnant with Luke. Ever since, it had been his father’s favorite, according to Sookie, who’d heard it from Miss Patty during one of her trips out of the kitchen. Everyone there seemed to know its significance because no one had dared to sit there. Only Luke. 

“Hey!” 

Lorelai jumped. “Jeez, Sookie. No need to sneak up on me.”

“I didn’t. I said your name twice,” Sookie glared, hands on her hips. “You’re spying on him, aren’t you?”

“No. I mean, kinda. What’s wrong with me? Here’s this poor guy, grieving for his saint of a father and I’m scoping him out like I’m at a singles bar. I’m pathetic. I’m a degenerate! I’m evil!” She threw her arms in the air in frustration. 

Sookie took Lorelai’s hand and pulled her away from the doorway. “Sweetie, you’re none of those things. He’s super handsome and you haven’t been with a guy since… since Christopher?” 

Lorelai nodded reluctantly. She crossed the room to the kitchen window and peered outside. It was still dark and gloomy. The clouds were thick and gray and endless. 

“You’re lonely. Believe me, I recognize the symptoms. I haven’t had a date in over a year so I completely understand.”

“But I’m not lonely! I have Rory! There’s no time to be lonely,” Lorelai protested, turning back to face Sookie. 

“It’s not exactly the same thing. Just like being with a flesh-and-blood man is not the same as your, you know what,” Sookie whispered out of the side of her mouth.

“You mean my vibrator?” Lorelai said flatly before a teasing smile broke free. 

Sookie pressed her lips together, then pivoted to get a warm tray out of the oven. “Right. That.”

“But it’s more than that,” she said, releasing a long sigh. “I have this feeling. I don’t know. You’ll think it’s stupid, but it’s like I’ve met him before. Like I know him. There was something in his eyes. I can’t explain it. Am I crazy?”

Sookie placed the tray on the stovetop, her hands going to her hips. “You are not crazy! Maybe I’m just a silly romantic, but I truly believe in love at first sight.”

“Then maybe we’re both crazy.” Lorelai exhaled sharply. “Coffee. I need some more coffee.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Coffee will help make you less jittery,” Sookie said with a sardonic tone as she began plating the last remaining stuffed mushroom caps.

It was midday and the crowd in the house had thinned a bit as it was past lunchtime and way too early for dinner. Apparently, most people preferred to pay their respects to the bereaved with mouthfuls of food. 

Lorelai made her way over to the coffee station around one of the last remaining pockets of guests — her view of Luke inconveniently blocked. As she tried to fill her cup, the machine gurgled loudly, only producing a few sputtered tablespoons of her needed fuel. 

“Drats,” she muttered softly to herself, then headed back to the kitchen for the necessary supplies. 

After filling the urn with water from a large pitcher, she began to dump heaping scoopfuls of the finely ground beans into the top compartment. 

“You’re making that too strong,” a man’s deep voice came from behind her.

Huh? What was this? Somebody daring to question her coffee-making skills? True, she wasn’t used to this industrial-sized model, but coffee was her thing.  

Without breaking stride, she continued on her mission, making the scoops even larger in retaliation. “But I like it—” Lorelai turned her head to confront the offending stranger, her eyes growing wide upon seeing him. Luke. His tie had been loosened around his neck, the top button of his shirt, undone. His hair, soft tufts of brown waves, was sticking up a little in the front as if he’d recently run his hand through it. He stared at her intently, his blue eyes boring into hers. “...strong,” she finally said after what seemed like an eternity, the word falling from her lips as she simultaneously dropped the scooper back down into the large canister.

“Not everyone likes it that strong,” he responded, his arms folded defensively in front of him, like a symbolic barrier to his already broken heart. She ignored his guarded stance, instead, focusing on the bulging muscles that strained against the seams of his pale blue dress shirt. 

“I, uh. Sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” Lorelai stood up straighter, trying to adjust herself to his height, gathering up her courage. “Well, those people are wrong,” she retorted with a smug smile. “I happen to be an expert coffee-maker and drinker.”

“Really?” He questioned, his eyes narrowed. “Then you should at least know that the switch should be off when filling it, unless you want to start a fire.” Luke leaned in close. She could smell the beer on his breath, the woodsy scent of his aftershave. He reached his arm around her, then flipped the switch on the machine.

She blushed, fairly certain Luke could feel the heat radiating from her skin; praying silently that he’d think it was from the hot coffee urn. “Oh, shit. No wonder it smelled like something was burning.” 

Luke snorted a laugh and smiled. It was suddenly like the dark cloud hovering over him had lifted and he’d forgotten why all these people were in his house. Why he was wearing a black tie and black trousers. But just as suddenly, like his switch was flipped, the corners of his mouth curled downward and Lorelai could see the depth of his despair once more. 

She pretended not to notice— distraction being the new strategy in her effort to console him since she had already failed with her first attempt. “I guess I’m not used to something this… big,” she said in a tone way too provocative.

Crap. That sounded dirty. 

She inwardly cringed, vowing to ignore her tragic faux pas before studying his stunned expression and realizing she had said those words aloud.

His eyebrows were raised; his expression morphing from surprise into subtle amusement.

“ That came out wrong . I meant..,” she cleared her throat and continued. “See, I used to be a maid, but now I work in reception. I’m just covering for someone today. I’m also usually much better at this talking thing. I swear. I’m Lorelai, by the way.” 

“Luke.”

“Yes, I know. So Luke, how do you know so much about using extra-large coffee makers? You spend summers catering or working at a diner or something?” 

Luke moved in front of her, inspecting her handiwork. He looked back at her briefly, seemingly inspecting her as well before adding two more level scoops of coffee to the machine. He turned it back on. “Actually, I’ve repaired this machine. Twice. I work at a hardware store. I know how to… fix things.” 

Lorelai was rewarded when he turned to face her, flashing another smile — this one reached his eyes, crinkling the skin around them. It was incredible — causing a release of euphoria-producing chemicals in her brain which made her knees weak and her heart flutter. 

But she was greedy. She wanted more. Needed more. Every instinct, every cell in her body was screaming for her to do it, to make him laugh. To entertain and draw him out of his darkness. To elicit that smile once again. 

But how?

“Well, Luke, I have a few things that could use some… fixin’,” she purred, leaning closer to him, immediately seeing the confusion on his face. 

Nope. Not that.  

“Oh. Okay. Sure. What is it?” Luke asked, completely oblivious. 

“What is it? Uh….,” she stalled.

Think, Lorelai!

“Uh… I have a… a… a leaky faucet.”

God, I suck today!

“I don’t think I’m opening the store this week, so I’ll probably have some time. Just let me know when.” He looked down at his shoes as he shifted his weight back and forth from one leg to the other. 

“Sure. Great!” she exclaimed through gritted teeth, thinking that she’d have to break her faucet somehow to keep up with the ruse. 

“No problem. Your coffee should be ready now.” He gestured to the forgotten urn. 

Breathe, Lorelai. Just Breathe. 

“Oh. Right,” she nodded, then filled her cup from the tap. “Well, it seems to be working so you obviously know what you’re doing,” she forced a smile, then took a sip of the steaming liquid. “Holy crap! This is incredible! The first batch didn’t taste nearly this good. Are you a magician, too?”

Shit! It’s perfect! He’s perfect! And I am soooo screwed. 

“You grabbed the wrong coffee canister. That’s mine. Well, my dad’s, really. It’s a special brew that I made for him. He loves…,” Luke paused, seeming to be temporarily lost in thought. “He loved coffee. I don’t drink the stuff — it messes with your central nervous system.” 

Lorelai cocked her head. “Really? Hmm. My body seems to require it. In large quantities.”

“That’s called an addiction.”

“You call it an addiction. I call it a necessary dietary component. Potato. Potahto,” she said with a flick of her wrist. 

“I don’t recall coffee being part of the four basic food groups.”

“It comes from a plant, right? So, technically, that means it’s a fruit. Or maybe a vegetable? It’s a bean, so maybe it’s a protein!” Lorelai waved a finger victoriously in the air as she watched Luke, his jaw muscles straining to tamp down a grin.

“You’re a little nutty, aren’t you?” Luke grumbled as he fidgeted with the loosened tie around his neck. 

“Why yes. So nice of you to notice,” she chuckled, internally congratulating herself for finally having found the correct approach. 

“Luke. Man. I’m so sorry ‘bout your dad.” A gangly teenager had pushed between them and held out a twitchy hand to Luke. 

Luke took the kid’s hand and shook it, then lowered his head. “Thanks. Yeah. Thanks for coming. Why don’t you get some food, Kirk? There’s plenty. Over there,” Luke pointed, then looked over to Lorelai, his lips pressed together tightly, his eyes pleading for help.   

Kirk didn’t budge. This guy would probably need a giant anvil to come crashing down on him to get the hint. He continued, “He was such a great man. Mother thought so, too. Really, really great. I remember this one time when I was about eight,  —”

“Well, I should get back to work,” Lorelai interrupted. “Hey, Luke? Can you still help me with that thing? That heavy thing in the kitchen you said you’d help me with?”

Kirk scowled at her. “I can help you, miss. Luke is in mourning, in case you haven’t noticed.” 

“Oh, no, Kirk, it’s fine. I, uh, I’m the only one who knows where the thing is that she needs help with.”

“Yeah. I kinda need someone who’s, you know, good at lifting heavy things,” Lorelai improvised, then boldly took his hand in hers, feeling a jolt of electricity in their connection as she led him into the kitchen. 

It wasn’t until they reached the safety of the kitchen that Lorelai turned back to look at the man whose hand fit so perfectly in her own. His expression, a combination of surprise and relief, awe and fascination, seemed to quickly fade into a blank stare. 

She let go of his hand.

“Uh, thanks for…,” he said, motioning towards the other room before slipping his hands in his front pants pockets.

“Escaping bad or otherwise annoying situations is another specialty of mine, although usually it involves climbing out of a window.” She leaned up against the counter and took another sip of coffee. 

Luke stared at her, his head cocked, a deep crease forming between his brows.

“Speaking of specialties, how is someone who doesn’t drink coffee so good at making it? This is truly amazing!”

“Dunno. Just have a knack for it I guess,” Luke shrugged, then strolled over to the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and sank down onto one of the kitchen table chairs. He twisted the top off the bottle and took a large swig. 

“Well, mister, you should seriously consider opening up a coffee shop — I’d be your best customer.” She grinned contentedly. “You’d give me a good discount, right? Since it was my idea, after all.”

This seemed to amuse him. “Of course,” he replied with a smirk. “Ten percent?”

“I think I deserve at least twenty.”

“Okay. Deal.”

Lorelai placed the coffee mug on the opposite side of the table from him. “Ooh! And do you bake? What’s a coffee shop without some delicious desserts?”

“I do, actually. I cook, too. My mom taught me. After she died, I pretty much took over that role in the house.”

Definitely the perfect man.

“Are you any good?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m very good.” His lips curled up into a cocky grin, sending a bolt of electricity through her body. 

Once Lorelai’s mind recovered from its temporary short circuit, she responded, her arms crossed in front of her. “Well, then, you should be cooking for me .”

“You didn’t actually cook this food, did you?” He stared at her inquisitively.

“Well, duh. No. But that’s so not the point.”

“Maybe someday,” he said quietly, then took another pull from his beer. “So, where’d Sookie go?” 

Lorelai lazily scanned the room, silently praying that Sookie would stay hidden. “Oh, uh, probably out to the van to get some supplies for the cleanup. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to get all of us out of your hair.”  

“Do you like it? Working at the inn?” he asked, ignoring her latter comment.

The chair made a screeching sound as Lorelai sat down opposite Luke, any prior feelings of awkwardness around him having dissipated. “Oh, yeah. It’s great. Mia’s great. She literally saved us. I’m assuming you know about my… situation.” 

Luke, on the other hand, seemed adorably uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, small town and all. Plus, my dad and Mia go way back. And I’ve, uh, seen you around a couple of times. With your daughter.”

“Oh.” Lorelai couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice. He had seen her before. Noticed her. Her heart skipped a beat; she felt giddy and drunk, without the worry of a hangover.

“She’s cute. Looks like you,” he said shyly, his head bowed down as he picked at the label on the beer bottle. 

Lorelai couldn’t contain the wide grin that lit up her face at the mention of Rory. “Yeah? You think? I don’t see it. Except for maybe the eyes.”  

Luke brought a piercing gaze back to hers. “You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes. Yours are incredible.” His voice was low, rough, tinged with what sounded like latent desire. She felt her cheeks flush, the warmth then draining down to the rest of her body.

“When did you see me? Us?” she stuttered. “I don’t remember seeing you before.” 

“Outside my father’s store. And a couple of times at the inn — once when I came to repair that coffee urn. You were busy. Arguing with that obnoxious French guy who works there.”

“Michel. And yes, he’s super obnoxious. God, I can’t believe I didn’t notice you.”

“Yeah?” Luke quirked a brow, his lips forming a lopsided grin. 

Lorelai’s face froze. “I mean, you’re so… noticeable. Tall.” She tried to smooth down a frizzy curl that had sprung free from her ponytail, then gulped down the rest of her coffee. 

“The cooking and baking skills I got from my mom. My height came from Dad.”

He smiled briefly, Lorelai sensing that he wanted to talk about his father. That in this moment, he wanted to remember. 

“Everyone seems to have loved him.” He looked surprised by her comment, but grateful, so she continued. “I’ve been eavesdropping a bit, hearing some great stories about him.”

Luke nodded slowly. “Yup. He wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man. It wasn’t easy raising two kids alone. 

“I wish I would have known him.”

“You probably don’t remember, but you met him once.”

“I did?” she questioned, tilting her head, her eyes narrowed.

“When you first came to Stars Hollow. He brought you a crib.”

Her face brightened, delighted by the memory. “That was your dad? Oh my god, I remember him! He was so nice. Kinda quiet, like you. He had told me that it was his grandson’s but he didn’t need it anymore. He brought some toys, too. I can’t believe that was him. I don’t know how I forgot about that. That was Rory’s crib until she started climbing out of it when she was three.”

“Well, you had a lot on your mind at the time, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. Those first few months when we moved here were a total blur.” She pondered this new information, trying to recall the details. Trying to piece it together like an abstract puzzle. “So that was Jess’s crib.”

“It was supposed to be. Dad was hoping Liz would move back home once her loser husband ran out on them.”

“That must have been hard for him. Not seeing his grandson.” Her heart sank. “God, he must have thought I was a horrible person for taking Rory away from her grandparents.” 

Luke shook his head. “Not at all. Mia had told him about your background. Why you left home. The problems you had with your parents. He respected you. He knew how hard it was to be a single parent. He thought you were very brave. Smart. Kind.”

“Yeah? Jeez, I must have been on top of my game that day,” she jested, feeling herself melting under his soulful gaze. 

“I, uh, feel the same way,” Luke hesitated, his expression fraught with conflict. He licked his lips, then uttered softly, “You’re beautiful, Lorelai,” before lowering his gaze and quickly bringing the beer bottle to his lips, taking a big swig.  

Her eyes widened. “Luke, I’m —” 

There was a bang on the door. “Hey! Lorelai! You in there? I locked myself out!” Sookie shouted from outside. 

Lorelai jumped, startled by the interruption. From Luke’s confession. “I’m here! Coming!” She sprang from her chair, opened the door, and let Sookie in, grabbing one of the bags that hung from her shoulder. When she spun around to put it on the table, Luke was gone. “Shoot.”

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“It’s Luke. He was just here. We were talking and… I need to find him.”

Lorelai hurried out of the kitchen, scanning the room for Luke, but there was no sign of him. The ten or so people left in the house all had their heads turned towards the front door as the sound of a car’s engine rumbled to life. All except for Jess, who sat, legs dangling from the oversized leather chair, his nose almost pressed to the book in his hands as he read quietly. 

“Are you looking for my brother?” Liz asked Lorelai as she came to stand beside her, breaking the awkward silence in the room. 

Lorelai spun on her heels to face her. “I, uh, yeah,” she muttered, pressing her fingers into her temples, attempting to relieve the sudden headache that had struck without warning. 

“He just took off in Dad’s truck. Said he needed some air.” 

Lorelai exhaled sharply, her hands dropping by her sides. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.

Liz smiled brightly and nudged her elbow into Lorelai’s side playfully. “You guys were hanging out,” she sang. “I knew you two would hit it off! I have a sixth sense about these things.” 

“We didn’t… We were just…. talking. Did he say when he’d be back?” 

“No, but I’m sure he won’t be gone too long.”

“Okay. Good. I want to… make sure I get to say goodbye,” Lorelai said, wringing her hands together. 

“Are you guys leaving already?”

“Soon. We have to get the van back to the inn by three-thirty. And I have to pick up Rory from Mrs. Kim’s right after.”

“I have a great idea. Can Sookie take the van back by herself? You can take my car — it has a booster seat — pick up your daughter and bring her back here. Jess could really use a playdate and …. I don’t think I’ve seen my brother smile or laugh since I’ve been home. You made him do both. He’s a really good guy. And life hasn’t been fair to him. First Mom. Now, Dad. His girlfriend left him brokenhearted over a year ago. All he has left is me and, in case you haven’t heard, I’m a bit of a flake.”

“Oh, Liz. I’m sure he’s lucky to have such a caring sister. And life hasn’t been fair to you, either.” Lorelai stroked her arm caringly. 

Liz’s eyes welled up. She let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, well… So, what do you think? Will you do it? Please?”

“Let me check with Sookie. But, sure. I’d like that.” 

Liz wrapped her arms around Lorelai, embracing her tightly. “Great! I gotta make sure the two men in my life are happy!” 

Lorelai wandered back into the kitchen, dazed, questioning every decision she’d made during the last few hours. Overwhelmed with the sudden feelings she had for this man she just met. Scared to trust them. Guilty for wanting, for needing something for herself. Someone other than Rory. 

And how could she trust Luke’s feelings? He was hurting. Heartbroken. Probably confused and desperate — trying to tether his heart to hers like a lifeline. Could she be open to this, to whatever this was? Let it happen when there were three people in this scenario who were likely to end up getting hurt? 

“So, start spilling,” Sookie demanded as she pressed the foil down on the edges of an aluminum tray. 

They talked while they worked, wrapping up all the leftovers and labeling them before putting them neatly into the refrigerator. Lorelai explained what had happened in great detail, then waited for Sookie to hand down her verdict. 

Sookie slid into a chair and released a long-held breath. Her elbows rested on the now-empty table as she cradled her head in her hands. “Wow. I can’t believe it. All this time, he’s been in love with you from afar,” she said dreamily.

“That’s not what I said. Or what he said. He just said he’d seen me a few times.”

“ And said you were beautiful and brave. And the way he looked at you when he said it — it’s so romantic!”

“You weren’t even there. How do you know how he looked at me?”

“From your description,” she stated matter-of-factly, then cocked her head, eyebrows lifted. “And all this time I thought he was pining over Rachel. But it was you! Maybe that’s why Rachel moved away.”

Lorelai snapped her fingers in front of her friend’s face. “Sookie, I need you back here in the real world, okay? He just lost his father. The closest person in his life.”

“And…”

“And…,” Lorelai huffed impatiently. “He can’t possibly be thinking clearly. I’m definitely not thinking clearly. I’m supposed to believe he has feelings for me? He just met me! He doesn’t even know me.”

“He knows enough to be interested. And you were attracted to him, too, as soon as you saw his picture! And you said it yourself — that you felt something for him when you were talking to him! It’s fate, I’m telling you!” 

“What if I imagined it? Maybe I’m schizophrenic! Or he slipped some peyote in my coffee. What if I’m just lonely or miss my slutty years?” 

Sookie shook her head; frustration etched on her face.

“Maybe he’s not interested in me at all and he was just trying to be friendly because I rescued him from that strange kid, Kirk. What if he got me confused with someone else who works at the inn? That new girl, Brenda, she looks a little like me.”

“Brenda is like forty years old and has red hair and a hunchback.”

“Maybe Luke needs glasses.”

“Honey, take a breath. He’s not proposing marriage. He hasn’t even asked you out. I think you just need to stop what-iffing and see what happens.” 

“Right. Okay. You’re right. I’m making too big a deal of all of this,” Lorelai acquiesced with a shrug. 

“He’s not going anywhere and neither are you. There’s no need to rush anything. Just take it one day at a time and… listen to your heart, okay? If it’s meant to be, it will happen.”

Lorelai exhaled sharply, her features relaxing along with the tightness in her chest. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Okay. Thanks, Sook. What would I do without you?” 

“Probably die all alone at a young age from stress, fatty foods, and too much caffeine,” Sookie giggled. 

“Probably,” Lorelai conceded before hugging her friend goodbye. 

As she drove over to Mrs. Kim’s in the borrowed car, a warm coffee in hand, she pondered the consequences of letting this virtual stranger into their lives. She made her patented pro/con list in her head, considering the foreseeable possibilities. It wasn’t even close. The cons won by a landslide. 

But still. 

Lorelai parked the car in front of the familiar house of her daughter’s best friend, in the town she now considered home. She took a long sip of coffee. As the exquisite flavor, once again, hit her taste buds, a small smile played at her lips.  

Maybe, just maybe, some things were worth the risk.

Chapter Text

Luke breathed in the cool, damp air that swirled into the truck through the open window as he drove the familiar roads of Stars Hollow. He didn’t know where he was headed, just that he couldn’t go back home. Not yet. He needed to get away. From the house that no longer felt like home. From the woman who did.  

Of all the times for them to finally meet. 

He’d pictured it over the last couple of years, before he was bogged down with doctors and hospitals, work and worry. Thought about what he’d say. How he’d say it. Nothing like what had just taken place —  his compliments sounding shallow, his persona desperate and needy.

Driving on autopilot, ruminating on his conversations with Lorelai, Luke passed by the lake where he and his dad would sometimes fish. The lumber yard where they spent time searching for just the right wood for the boat they were building. The baseball field where he’d pitched a no-hitter — his father exuberantly cheering him on, beaming with pride. 

But none of these memories surfaced. They stayed buried. The pain was too fresh, the reality too overwhelming to comprehend. It wasn’t until he was parked behind Williams Hardware store that he realized where he had driven. 

With his mind in a dizzying fog, he cut the engine and climbed out of the truck, squinting up at the store’s office window. His dad’s store. His store, now. 

The town was eerily quiet for a Sunday, although it was possible, like most things going on around him today, that he’d just tuned out any extraneous noises, any movements that weren’t his own. That weren’t hers. Walking with a sense of purpose for something that remained unknown, Luke unlocked the door and climbed the stairs leading up to his father’s office. 

It was just as Bill had left it — before he had collapsed and Luke found him on the floor, barely conscious, his breathing fast and shallow. Before Luke’s world would be turned upside down, never to be righted again.

Scanning the familiar space, his gaze was drawn to his father’s desk. A black leather ledger book laid open and askew. Reading glasses, left on top, magnified the hand-printed, final entries through smudged lenses. A pencil, sharpened down to an almost useless nub, rested by a stack of unopened mail near the old, green rotary phone. On the back of the office chair, his dad’s old navy cardigan sweater hung, rumpled and pilled. 

Luke turned to the kitchen where the coffee maker was left half-filled with stale, burned coffee; his father’s favorite mug next to it with a picture of a fishing rod and the words “Reel Great Dad” written on it. Luke half expected the door to suddenly swing open and his father to step inside, grumbling about Taylor Doose harassing him to decorate his store for some upcoming holiday or Harry complaining for the umpteenth time about the fact that they didn’t sell mothballs.

Luke moved idly around the room in a daze, not sure why he was there. Searching for answers, clueless as to the questions being asked. 

When his legs finally felt the strain of his own weight and his feet ached from his stiff new dress shoes, he sat down at the desk, the office chair squeaking as he gently leaned back. He brought the sleeve of his father’s sweater to his nose, his eyelids closing as he breathed in its scent. The smell stirred up memories— some happy, others mundane, most bittersweet. He tried to block out the bad ones. To remember his father as big and strong and courageous — a fighter until the end. And he had been all those things — working throughout his illness. Through chemo. Through remission. Then again through radiation, when the cancer had returned and spread and almost all hope was lost. 

This wasn’t the first time Luke had been in the office since the beginning of his father’s end. He’d done this all before: Yesterday, when making the final funeral arrangements. Three days ago, the day after his death. One week ago, after he was moved into hospice care. Luke had driven that same route. Climbed those same stairs. Sat in that office chair, breathing in his father’s scent that lingered there. This place, this store — more than the home they lived in all of Luke’s life — was where he pictured his father. Where he felt closest to him.

The phone rang, startling Luke out of the past and back into the present.

“Hello?”

“I knew I’d find you there.”

“Liz.” Luke tilted his head back and ran his hand through his hair.

“You need to be here. It’s important.” Liz didn’t sound angry or sad or desperate. Her voice was calm, maybe even hopeful. Liz always seemed to try and find the good in everything. The silver lining. Must have been the pot she was smoking. 

“If this is about blowing off the wake—”

“It’s not. Well, kinda. It’s Lorelai. She’ll be back here any minute. With her daughter.”

Luke feigned ignorance, his heart plummeting into his stomach. “Lorelai? The, uh, girl from Mia’s inn?”

“Look, bro, I might not be the smartest person, but I’m not totally clueless. Especially when it involves matters of the heart.”

“What are you talking about?” Luke asked, continuing the charade. 

“I saw you two together. The way you looked at her and how she looked at you — there’s definitely something there.”

“Liz—”

“It’s fate! You guys are meant to be together. I can feel it in my bones!”

Luke stood. He paced the small space behind the desk, anxiously twisting the coiled cord around his fingers. “You’re imagining things. Have you been into Dad’s whiskey?” Luke stilled. “Shit, Liz. Please tell me you did not get stoned at our father’s wake.”

“I had one drink. Relax, okay? We’re talking about fate. Your soulmate.”

“Fate. Soulmate. Pshh,” he almost laughed. “That’s what you said when you met Jimmy.  Where did that get you? Broken-hearted and alone to raise a kid, that’s where.”

“There’s a reason for everything, my brother.”

Luke slumped back into the chair and exhaled. “And even if there was something there,” he admitted reluctantly, “I’m in no state of mind to —”

“Dad wanted this for you. He told me.”

“What?” His voice wobbled as he straightened his spine. 

“When I talked to him for the last time,” Liz said quietly, her voice thick with emotion.

“You’re delusional,” he scoffed. But he could feel a chill run through his body, his skin prickling beneath his clothing.

“At first, I thought he was talking about Rachel. But after seeing you two together, I’m realizing he must have meant Lorelai.”

“I just met her today. Dad was high on morphine. He had no idea what he was saying towards the end.”

“You’re wrong, Luke,” she sniffled. “Dad knew.” 

Luke was trying to wrap his brain around what she was saying. Did Dad know? He thought back to the last few days of his father’s life. He was in and out of consciousness. Sometimes completely cogent, most times, not. 

“Find her and don’t let her go.”

Luke remembered his father’s words and also had assumed he’d been talking about Rachel. But now that he thought about it, some of the other things he had said made more sense.

Liz interrupted his contemplation. “Anyway, she’s coming back to see you.” Luke could hear the excitement in her voice. 

“What did you do, Liz? You didn’t tell her any of this, did you?”

“No way, bro. That’s for you to do. But I’m telling you, I could feel Dad in the room when Lorelai said she was leaving. He was sending me a message.”

“Christ, Liz. You are stoned. And you’ve completely lost your mind.” 

Fucking Liz. It’s bad enough that his sister was reckless with her own life. Worse that she had a son along for the ride. But this — this was over-the-top crazy. Cruel, even. To use their dead father as a conduit for her nutty theories and romantic notions about destiny and her everything-happens-for-a-reason philosophy. 

“You should have seen her face after you left. She felt it too. So get your ass back here pronto or I’ll get out the old photo album and show her those pictures of you with that horrible bowl haircut and your headgear.”

“Aww, Jeez. Don’t, okay? Don’t. Say. Anything.” He wagged his finger futilely at the phone. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Good. See you soon.”

Shit. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Luke drove back to the house, his mind occupied with thoughts of his father’s final days in the hospital. High on pain medication. Lucidity, in and out as he tried to give a lifetime’s worth of advice to his only son. 

“Live your best life.”

“Don’t be afraid of loving and being loved.”

“Fight for what you want.”

"Just be happy.”

“Find her and don’t let her go.”

As he pulled up to the house, his thoughts went back to Lorelai. Beautiful, lovely Lorelai. It seemed longer than just three years ago when he’d seen her for the first time outside his father’s hardware store. Rory had broken free from her mother’s grip and pressed her chubby toddler face against the window, most likely drawn to the colorful paint chip samples which were on display. That’s when Lorelai appeared. She stood next to her daughter and peered inside the store, her hands cupped on her forehead, shielding her eyes from the bright sun overhead. 

He knew who she was instantly. His father’s description had been spot-on, yet it couldn’t compare to seeing her there, only a clear pane of glass between them. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her eyes were the color of the bluest sea; her lips formed a perfect red heart. When she smiled, his knees went weak and his breath caught in his lungs. 

Without conscious thought, he ducked behind the tower of paint cans, wanting to observe her unnoticed. If he had believed in fate, in love at first sight, or even just good luck, he might have approached her. Invited them in with some lame excuse just to have her breathe the same air that he’d been holding so tightly in his chest. But Luke wasn’t one to believe in fairy tales — life had proved itself to be anything but. So he stayed hidden until they walked away, Rory’s hand in hers as he watched their shadowed silhouettes fade away into the sunlit distance.  

After that day, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Any opportunity to go to the inn, he took — fixing the coffee urn, the toaster, a leaky faucet in one of the guest rooms. But he had never spoken or made his presence known to her. At first, because of his on-again, off-again thing with Rachel. And later, after Rachel left for good, he was afraid of being rejected, hurt again. Then, his dad got sick and that took priority over everything and everyone. 

But now that he’d met her, spoken to her, seen her up close, he saw that she was even more beautiful, wittier, smarter — more everything than he had fantasized she’d be. She exuded this energy, a life force — something he had lost over the years; his life up to this point being mostly about sickness and death, acceptance and duty. But being around her, talking with her, he could feel its slow return. It coursed through his veins, giving him strength and courage he didn’t know he had. And looking into those clear, liquid blue eyes of hers, he felt, though just briefly, unbroken. Like she’d cast some sort of spell over him, lessening his pain, making him feel not so alone in the world. 

He blew out a shaky breath and smoothed his hair down with his hand before stepping out of the truck. He made his way up the walkway towards the front door of his house, the path seeming to elongate, stretching out time, warping reality like in some sort of horror movie or bad dream. 

With a racing heart and a slight tremor in his hand, Luke slowly opened the front door. 

His eyes immediately found her. She was sitting on the couch, a beer in one hand, the other gesturing enthusiastically, engaged in conversation with Liz. There was a familiarity there, like they were two old friends catching up on each other’s lives, reminiscing about wilder, freer times gone by.   

He closed the door behind him, drawing their attention. 

“Hey,” he said, their eyes meeting, Lorelai’s lips curling into a wide smile. 

“Hey,” she said back to him. 

“You’re back!” Liz shouted excitedly from across the room before rushing over and embracing him in a tight hug. From over Liz’s head, he watched Lorelai as she rose from the couch. She had changed out of her work clothes into faded jeans and a black cable-knit sweater. Her hair was let down— long, black spiral curls hung loosely past her shoulders. 

He took a sharp breath in and released it. “I’m back,” he echoed as Liz released him. He quickly scanned the rest of the room, noting its emptiness. The people were gone. The food and drinks had been cleared away. The folding chairs and trays were neatly stacked against the dining room wall.  

“Come meet Rory!” Liz said, taking his hand and pulling him over towards his father’s leather chair where Rory and Jess sat huddled together, a book spread over their adjacent laps.

“Where’s Uncle Louie?”

“Taking a nap in Dad’s room. I told him we’d wake him for dinner, which I’ve invited Lorelai and Rory to stay for. I’m defrosting one of your lasagnas. It was either that or Miss Patty’s tuna casserole.”

“Or Mrs. Kim’s tofu meatloaf,” Lorelai added, wincing and wrinkling her nose before squatting down in front of the chair, eye level with the kids. “Rory. This is Jess’s Uncle Luke. Can you put the book down for a second and say hi?” 

Rory stared up at Luke, her big blue eyes filled with curiosity. He wondered if Rory could sense it — the fact that being around kids made him uneasy. And if Rory could sense it, maybe Lorelai could too. 

Panic started to set in — the pressure of this interaction causing his mouth to go dry and his brow to bead with sweat and the word “hi” to not sound right in his head. By the time he decided to use the word, “hello,” instead, he’d realized too much time had passed while he hovered, not saying anything, looking sweaty and panicky. 

He tried to focus. 

Hi. Hi. Hi? Hello. Hello?  

Luke swallowed hard, then pasted on a goofy grin. “Hi-llo, Rory,” he stammered using his best talking-to-little-kids voice, which sounded like his normal voice, just an octave higher. “It’s nice to meet you.” He awkwardly patted her head. Lorelai flashed him a side-eye before letting out a clipped chuckle. 

Rory crinkled her forehead, then smiled shyly. “Hi,” she said quietly before smoothing her ruffled hair down and returning her attention back to the book and Jess.

“You really have a way with kids,” Lorelai whispered with obvious sarcasm as she stood to face him. 

Luke slowly backed away from the embarrassing scene, Lorelai following, matching him step for step. “Yeah, well, I’m not used to… I … She seems… nice.”

“I promise she doesn’t bite and is fully housebroken,” Lorelai said once they were out of earshot from Rory and Jess. 

“Kids were never Luke’s thing,” Liz said, her unsolicited opinion adding to his distress. “I swear he didn’t even like me until I was eighteen.”

“I still don’t like you,” he growled, glaring at Liz. 

Liz waved him off. “My big brother— such a crack up. Gotta love him.” The phone rang, saving Liz from a brotherly throttling. “I’ll get it upstairs.”

He pivoted back to Lorelai. “It’s not that I don’t like kids,” he tried to explain. “I just don’t know what to say to them.”

“That’s okay. I get it. Believe me, children were the last thing on my mind when I got pregnant at fifteen. But it’s completely different when they’re yours. It’s love at first sight, at least it was for me.”

Luke just nodded, then glanced over to Rory. She had a sweet smile on her face as she and Jess interacted happily — Jess’s rebellious nature seemingly tamed by the younger Gilmore. He willingly shared his books and listened attentively to Rory as she spoke— a feat Luke had deemed impossible since the kid arrived in Stars Hollow a few days prior. Something about these Gilmore girls had the Danes boys instantly smitten, willing to turn their worlds upside down to keep them in their orbits. 

He refocused his attention on Lorelai as she continued. “But anyway, I got lucky. Rory’s pretty easy. Just give her a few books, some food and she’s good to go.”

“I’m sure luck had nothing to do with it,” he said, starry-eyed, Lorelai's lips curling slightly in response. 

The air grew thick between them, charged, like two magnets attracting. Or was one repelling the other? It was difficult for Luke to tell the difference. 

He wanted to believe that the tension came from a mutual need and desire; a true connection. But thinking the worst was easier. That his earlier confession was unwelcomed. That her presence here, now, was obligatory. (Out of loyalty to Mia or just pity, plain and simple.) That way there was no chance of disappointment. No risk of further heartbreak. 

Maybe he should try to clear the air. Tell her it was a mistake and that he didn’t mean what he said earlier. Or should he double down, take the risk and tell her the truth? That what he was feeling wasn’t just an attraction. It was deeper. Purer. But how could he when they just met? It would seem crazy. Impulsive. Unbelievable.

“You look… different,” he finally said to her after ruling out more meaningful topics of conversation. 

“Oh? Oh!! The outfit. The number one rule of being a mom — don’t go anywhere without an extra set of clothes. I spilled coffee on my uniform. And in your sister’s car. Thank goodness for pleather seats,” she simpered, waving her arms elegantly up and down from her thighs to her shoulders like a game show model showing off a prize. “You like?” 

Beautiful. Confident. Spectacular. What wasn’t there to like? 

Luke hesitated, proceeding with caution. He cleared his throat. “They… the clothes, uh…fit well. I’m gonna change, too.” He motioned his head toward the upstairs. “I’ll be right back.” 

Was she flirting? Was she feeling the same thing he felt? He needed a moment to collect his thoughts, but also couldn’t wait to get out of the uncomfortable clothes and mud-stained shoes which were a constant reminder of what he had done earlier in the day. He threw on a pair of jeans, his blue and black flannel plaid button-down, and black lace-up work boots. When he got back, Lorelai was sitting on the couch, while Rory and Jess were sprawled out on the floor, bellies down, heads together, giggling as they turned the pages of a book. 

“Where’d Liz go?” Luke asked as he crossed the room towards her, trying to decide if Liz’s absence should make him more or less nervous. 

“The basement. Looking for some games for the kids to play.” She shifted in her seat, a coquettish grin appearing on her face. “Do you want me to get you a cold beer? Or something to eat? Maybe tofu meatloaf isn’t as bad as it sounds.” 

“Nah, I don’t think it’s worth the risk. Anyway, you’re supposed to be off-duty. But I could get you something. Another beer?” He was nervous. He wondered if she could tell. 

Lorelai held up the half-full beer in her hand. “Still working on this one, but thanks.”

“Oh. Right.” He sat down next to her, leaving about two feet of space between them.

Lorelai scooched closer to him, her gaze flitting over to the kids before landing back on Luke. “You missed it,” she beamed, her voice a whisper as she leaned in even closer. He felt her breath on his neck. “Those two were discussing Harold and the Purple Crayon like it was War and Peace — it was totally adorable. It’s a shame Liz and Jess don’t live here. Rory and Jess really seem to be bonding.”

Luke turned towards her — their lips now only inches apart. Her face, a blur of blue eyes, pink cheeks, and red lips. She smelled of beer and coffee, vanilla and lavender. 

Luke blinked, focusing in on Lorelai’s smile which had faded; on her eyes, which had grown dark. His heart pounded. His pulse raced and his mind went blank. He could only feel, only want, only need what was now right in front of him. 

“Found them!” Liz yelled from the bottom of the stairs as Luke and Lorelai jumped apart, hearing Liz’s ascending footsteps. 

Liz shut the basement door behind her. “We’ve got Chutes and Ladders, Sorry, and Operation. I can’t believe Dad kept all this stuff,” Liz said, breathless, wiping the dust off of the boxes with her hand before putting the games down in front of the kids. 

“Thanks, Lizzie,” Jess said happily.

“Thanks, Lizzie,” Rory echoed with a giggle.

Liz blew the bangs from her eyes and placed both hands on her hips. “Guess we’re going to have to clear it all out before we sell the house.”

Luke sprang up off the couch. “Liz, not now,” Luke grumbled through a clenched jaw, his heart still beating rapidly.

“Luke, you know that’s the only thing that makes sense.” 

He held up his palm. “Not. Now.” 

“Fine, fine. But we’ll have to deal with this sooner or later.”

Sure. It was easy for Liz to give up this house, this life she’d left behind years ago without ever looking back. But as much as it pained him, he knew she was right. After all of Bill’s medical expenses and the mortgage on the house, there was barely enough money to keep the business afloat — the business that Luke depended on for his future. The house, despite all of the memories stored within its walls, was the past. The family who’d occupied it no longer existed. He knew he had no choice but to let it go, further widening the gaping hole in his heart.

There was a knock at the door. 

Liz clapped excitedly. “Ooh! That must be Carrie. I’ll get it.”

“Crazy Carrie?” Luke scoffed. 

“She’s not crazy,” Liz explained to Lorelai. “She’s my best friend. She had a thing for Luke in high school. They made out once, under the bleachers.” Liz wiggled her eyebrows.

“I did not make out with Crazy Carrie!”

Liz waved him off. “Anyway, she’s married now. And has a four-month-old daughter. So it’s all cool.” 

“I’m going to put the lasagna in the oven. Keep your crazy friend away from me, Liz,” Luke warned, shaking his finger at the unopened front door before walking quickly into the kitchen. 

He stood motionless in front of the oven. With his head lowered, his fingers laced together behind his neck, Luke let out a long, steady breath. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” Lorelai had followed him into the kitchen. 

He wanted to tell her that he was not okay. That all he wanted to do was fall into her arms and cry until his tears ran dry and the anger, pain, and resentment dried up with them. He wanted to tell her how he wished this was all a bad dream — all of it, but her. That she was the only bright spot in his dark world. But instead, he just said, “I’m fine. Thanks,” then lifted his head and switched on the oven to let it preheat. 

“Can I help?”

Luke secured the foil tightly around the edges of the cold aluminum tray, then slipped it into the warming oven. “Nope. I got it.” 

“Hey, Butch,” Carrie purred, poking her head into the kitchen. “Sorry about your dad.” 

“Thanks, Carrie,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact, hoping she wouldn’t linger. 

She walked away, but not before giving his entire body a once over. A few seconds later, he heard Liz and Carrie giggling. He rolled his eyes.

“Butch? I so want to know the origin of that nickname,” Lorelai snickered softly. 

Luke dodged the topic of his embarrassing high school nickname but made sure to quickly defend himself against the false accusation laid at his boot-covered feet. “I did not make out with her,” he stated firmly, succinctly, wanting to leave no doubt in Lorelai’s mind.

Lorelai raised her arms in mock surrender. “I believe you.”

“I shouldn’t have to defend myself in my own house!” he seethed before noticing Lorelai’s stunned expression to his obvious overreaction. 

He’d been on a low simmer all day — with Liz, with his uncle — both having given their strong opinions on what they should do about the house. The business. His father’s belongings. Now, it began to boil over. The Carrie thing had pushed him over the edge, his anger and frustration ready to explode. 

“ We’ll have to deal with it. What a fucking joke,” Luke grumbled, then began pacing the small space.

“Huh?”

“The house. Liz.”

“Oh.”

Luke peeked out into the other room, then returned to face Lorelai. His jaw was clenched and twitching; his eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “She just breezes back into town after Dad is gone and she thinks she can tell me what to do?” he fumed, trying to keep his voice low. He pounded his chest with his fist and continued his rant. “I’m the one who took care of him! Who saw him sick and frail and dying! Who cooked every night after Mom died. Who worked in the store almost every day, starting at the age of thirteen.” He paused to take a breath. “Liz left the first chance she got. And soon, she’ll be gone again. Disappear. And I’ll be left to deal with the house. The store. Everything.”

“Wow. That’s —”

“Lorelai? Is it okay if I put a movie on for the kids?” Liz shouted from the other room.

“Uh, sure. Just nothing R-rated,” Lorelai called back, gazing apologetically at Luke for the interruption. 

“Is Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory okay?”

“Yeah. Great. Rory loves that movie. Thanks, Liz.”

High-pitched cheers and clapping erupted from the other room.

Luke closed his eyes and breathed deeply, taking the opportunity to get his emotions back in check. 

After a moment of silence between them, he casually swatted the air with his hand. “Anyway. Not your problem.” But he still saw the concern and confusion written all over her lovely face.

He shook his head with self-loathing. Feeling like an idiot. Like a hothead. “Do you want me to make you some coffee?” he asked, his voice softer, gentler now, feeling a bit fearful that his raw emotion might scare her off. But also somewhat lighter, freer, since getting that grievance off his chest.  

“Absolutely. I was hoping you’d offer,” she said, tucking a long curl behind her ear. After a few seconds, she cautiously asked, “Do you want to… talk about it some more? The house? Liz? I’m a good talker but also an excellent listener.”

“No. Thanks, though. Sorry about going off like that,” he responded with genuine appreciation and regret, offering her a weak smile. 

As he filled the coffee maker, Lorelai leaned sideways up against the ledge of the countertop, watching as he meticulously measured out the finely ground beans.

“So, what’s your special recipe?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

He gratefully accepted the change in topic, in tone. “It’s a secret.” He flipped the switch, bringing the machine to life, the dark brew dripping slowly into the carafe. 

“Aww, come on, Luke. Please?” She flashed him an exaggerated pout and pressed her hands together in prayer.

He pulled a plain green mug from the cabinet above and placed it next to the Mr. Coffee. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he teased, feeling the remaining tension in his muscles melting away. 

“If my tastebuds were working properly earlier, I think it might be worth it.”

They stood in comfortable silence, their eyes connected in a steady gaze. 

As the coffee maker made its final gurgles, Luke lifted the carafe and filled the mug, a few remaining drops of liquid evaporating on the hot burner with a sizzle. “Do you want cream or sugar?” he asked, putting the pot back in its place.  

“Black is fine. Luke?” She touched his arm gently, causing a spark of heat to shoot through him. “Listen, if you want us to go, it’s totally fine. I mean, I’d understand if you wanted to be alone or just with family.” Her voice matched her touch — gentle, comforting, with a flash of heat. “Liz thought it would be nice for Jess and Rory to play, but I don’t want to be in your way or make you uncomfortable.” 

“You’re not,” he responded promptly. “And I’m not— uncomfortable, that is.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her brows knitted together as she let her hand slip from his arm.

Luke nodded. “I’m sure. But don’t feel like you have to stay. I hope Liz didn’t guilt you into it.” 

“Definitely not. I’m here for the coffee and lasagna. I have my own needs, you know,” she grinned widely.

This was the time, Luke thought, to come clean. To try and explain. Or at least apologize for having put her in an awkward position, despite the genuineness of his intentions.

“Lorelai. About before…” Luke started, his voice unsteady, his chin tipped down as he focused on his shoes.

“Which before?”

“You know— before. And also the before after that before.” Luke shook his head — this was definitely not coming out the way he intended. Even he was confused by the words tumbling incoherently from his mouth. 

Lorelai gripped the edge of the counter with one hand and brought the other dramatically to her forehead. “Whoa. I’m a little dizzy now. So there are two befores or three?”

He took a breath and tried again. “I didn’t mean to…. I wasn’t trying to…”

She dropped her hands by her side, her expression changing from playful to earnest. “Luke—”

“Yeah?” He lifted his head and met her eyes again. 

“Don’t be sorry.” 

“I —”

“Really,” she confirmed, giving his arm a gentle squeeze.

“Okay,” he nodded, relief washing over him even though her words, her actions, left him uncertain of their meaning. He wouldn’t press her for further clarification. This was enough for now. “Then you’ll stay,” he said, smiling contentedly.

“I’m staying.” She mirrored his expression, then grabbed the steaming mug from the counter and sat down at the kitchen table. 

His smile widened just a fraction. “Whiskey?” he asked before reaching on his tiptoes to the cabinet over the refrigerator. 

“Nah. I’ll stick with the strong stuff.” She tapped a fingernail on her mug.

Luke pulled out a half-empty bottle and a glass, then placed them on the table. “You know…,” he began as he poured himself a glass. “... my Dad still tried to hide this from us, even though we’re both adults. He had no clue that we’d known since we were teenagers where he kept the liquor. Beer, on the other hand, that he didn’t mind me drinking. He considered drinking beer a rite of passage for a sixteen-year-old. A symbol of a boy becoming a man. Almost like a religious tradition. 

“Like a Bar Mitzvah! Without the bad deejay, awkward boy-girl slow dancing, and horah.” 

Luke snorted a laugh.

“Oh my god, this coffee is good!” She licked her lips, her eyelids closing softly as she seemed to savor the taste of the strong brew. “I was serious before about opening the coffee shop. This stuff could make you a legend in this town.”

He smiled wryly at her suggestion. “Maybe I could combine the two businesses — coffee and hardware. We could set up a coffee bar next to the nuts and bolts.”

She cocked her head, considering it, then her face lit up. “Yeah! And you can call it, Jolts and Bolts. Or Screws and Brews. Hoes and Joes!”

Luke furrowed his brow. “Are you done?”

She pressed her lips together and raised a brow, then sighed disappointedly, “I’m out.” She shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of coffee. 

“You are a fascinating woman.” 

“Why, thank you for noticing,” she said with a coy grin.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking. Luke shared a couple of stories about his father, but mostly Lorelai talked. Telling him about her privileged childhood and her reasons for taking Rory away from all of that. 

“I, uh, have a confession to make,” she said softly, her eyes flickering down, then back up to him. 

Luke’s heart skipped a beat. They had just been laughing about the time Bill and Louie glued the gavel of the then newly-elected town selectmen, Taylor Doose, to the podium before the start of his first town meeting. Her change in tone caught him off guard. 

“I don’t know why I couldn’t say it before…,” she sighed, “...but I’m really, really sorry about your dad. And I’m sorry for not saying that earlier.” 

“Oh,” he rasped, not sure if he should be disappointed or relieved. He settled on feeling encouraged. “Thanks. And it’s okay. Honestly, it was nice to feel…” His voice trailed off.  He scratched the fine dusting of hair on his chin, trying to find the right words to convey his emotions. “Everyone was walking on eggshells around me. Like I’d break if they said the wrong thing. And I know they meant well — I’m not doubting their sincerity. But you— you made me feel… normal.” Luke swirled the tawny-colored liquid in his glass before bringing it to his lips and swallowing it down in one gulp. He grimaced as the burn of the alcohol hit his dry throat. “I’m not sure if that makes any sense, but at the time, it helped.”

“Good,” she said softly, then reached out and touched his hand, which was still wrapped around the empty drinking glass. 

Luke stiffened, her touch sending a shockwave through his body. His eyes rested on hers as one by one, she lifted each of his fingers until he released the glass. She slid it closer to her, then motioned with a tilt of her head towards the bottle of whiskey. 

He poured some whiskey into the glass.  

After drinking it down in one shot, she winced and shook her head. “Yikes. Strong.” She cleared her throat. “So, you and your dad were really close, right?” 

He liked her bluntness, how it surprisingly complimented her compassion. He liked sharing his fractured heart with her. “Uh, yeah,” he exhaled the breath he was holding, his mind still racing from the intimate gesture. “I mean, I thought we were.”

She pushed the glass back towards him, her eyes warm, her invitation to listen, apparent. So he relaxed, sliding back in his chair, feeling safe and secure in her presence. “We spent a lot of time together. I worked at the store every chance I could. We went fishing and camping together, but we didn’t really talk… about serious things. You know?”

“That doesn’t mean you weren’t close. You shared experiences. Similar passions. And looking at all the pictures in your house, you also shared a love of plaid flannel shirts.”
He grinned, cocking his head. “I guess. Although I’m not much of a talker, either. So it was a two-way street.”

“You’re talking now. To me.”

“I’m not usually like this. It’s you — you’re easy to talk to.” Luke poured himself another drink and took a sip, needing the liquid courage. “It’s also because of him.” He ran his finger along the rim of the glass. “Towards the end, when he was really sick, he did talk. A lot. About everything. Sometimes it didn’t make sense, with all the painkillers he was on. But some of it did. That last week  — I really got to know him as a person. A man. Not just a father. Isn’t that strange? To not know your parent as a person?”

“You’re talking to someone who doesn’t have the first clue as to what goes on in Emily Gilmore’s head. So, no. Not strange at all.”

“I just wish… I wish he had told me some of those things sooner,” he shrugged. “I guess I’m realizing now that I don’t want to waste time holding things in.”

She nodded understandingly, holding his gaze as if she could lift his injured soul with just her eyes.   

And maybe she could.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Luke continued, “There were a few things I could have lived without knowing — like intimate things between him and my mom. He was definitely high as a kite when he told me that stuff. Or his fling with Mrs. Slutsky after Mom died. I'm really hoping that he hallucinated that particular memory.”

“Wow! Mrs. Slutsky? She’s the crabby old lady who was wearing that awful —”

“Yup. That’s her. He said she was ‘quite the looker’ back in the day. By the way, that information does not leave this room.”

Lorelai pantomimed zipping her lips shut. “My lips are sealed. You can trust me, Luke,” she mumbled through her closed lips. 

Luke rolled his eyes. “I do trust you. I’m not sure why, but I do.”

“It’s my adorable face,” she grinned, framing her face with her hands and fluttering her long eyelashes at him.

“Must be.”

She rested her forearms back on the table, the curl of her lips sinking into a straight line. “Then you’ll believe me when I say that you did know your dad. You do. You knew the important things. Even before the —” She paused, but he knew the word she couldn’t bring herself to say —  end. “His favorite baseball team. The kind of books he liked to read. How much he loved his family. How he liked his coffee. And I think that’s amazing. I don’t have that kind of relationship with either of my parents. But that’s how I want things to be with Rory. I want us to be best friends. To share everything. When it’s age-appropriate, of course.”

“You will.”

“How do you know? Maybe she won’t want to share that stuff with me. Maybe she’ll grow up to be like my mother. Wouldn’t that be ironic?”

“She won’t. She has you as her mother.”

“Yeah, but I had my mother as my mother, and look at the way I turned out.”

He grinned, his eyes finding hers. “Well, then, your mother must have done something right.”

“Thanks. And here I thought I was consoling you.” 

“You are.”

Lorelai jerked her head back in what seemed a failed attempt to dislodge the rogue curl that had fallen over her left eye. “Can I ask you something?” 

Luke fought the urge to tuck the curl behind her ear for her before she completed the task on her own. 

“Sure,” he swallowed hard, watching as a flush swept across her cheeks and her hands fidgeted around the empty coffee mug. He knew what was coming. 

“Those things you said to me earlier today. About… your feelings. About me. Did you mean them?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, hoping his clarity of voice conveyed his sincerity. 

“How? Why? You barely know me?”

“I told you. I’d seen you before. A few more times than I admitted to. And… I just felt it. I feel it. Like I knew you before all of this. Like I’ve known you forever. It’s hard to explain,” he said sheepishly, concern rising up into his throat, tasting bitter in his mouth.

“But you don't know me!” Lorelai slammed her palms down onto the table. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes brimming with tears. 

Luke sat frozen. Confused by her outburst. Cursing himself for opening up to her and thinking they were on the same page. For risking his already broken heart. For hurting her in the process. 

“I’m sorry. That came out wrong,” Lorelai said as she got up from the table and made her way to the kitchen window. 

Luke pivoted in his chair, watching her in silhouette as she peered out the window. “Why did you come back, Lorelai?” His voice was calm, but inside, his stomach twisted into a tight knot.  

“Because!” Lorelai sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out slowly, her words coming out as a whisper. “Because I think… I think I feel the same way. About you.”

“You do?” That wasn’t the answer he had expected. 

She finally turned back to face him, her hand clenching the hair at the front of her head. “Yeah. I do. This is crazy, right?” 

Luke rose slowly and took a step closer to her. He shrugged, his lips pressed together in contemplation. “Maybe. Are you… scared?” 

Her hand fell to her side as she gazed up at him, Luke seeing the fear, the uncertainty in her eyes, wordlessly conveying her answer. 

Without conscious thought, he touched her cheek, his thumb brushing away the dampness from the single tear that had fallen. 

She took a step back so she was no longer within reach. “I think I need some fresh air. Can we take a walk or something?” she asked as his arm hung awkwardly in the now empty space. 

“Uh, sure. Let me tell Liz we’re going.”

“I’ll meet you outside,” she said, nodding, before turning and walking out the door. 

He was hopeful as he stepped outside into the cool, crisp air. Humble, as he made his way towards her, the crunch of dried, dead leaves under his feet — a reminder that winter was coming, bringing with it more cold darkness, making the reality of death impossible to ignore. But soon after, spring would come. Renewal; life returning in bright technicolor — warm and comforting and healing. 

Lorelai was leaning against the bed of the truck, arms wrapped around herself, her head tilted up to the sky. Above her, the dark clouds had parted, leaving just a small opening where the sky glowed orange and rays of sunlight streamed through, bathing her face in pale, golden light.  

Was he up there? Was this a sign? Or was this just nature and time moving forward and the light at the end of a long dark day?

Luke approached slowly, his arm outstretched, holding her black trenchcoat. “I thought you might be cold.” 

“Thanks.” She put it on and slipped her hands into the pockets, then leaned back against the truck. 

He took a place beside her, copying her stance. They both looked out into the distance, across the lawn at the old house where Luke grew up. The past, fixed and alive only in memories, and the future, undetermined and promising, merging together in this one moment. A wistful smile formed on his lips as he remembered a younger version of himself, tossing a baseball with his dad while his mom watched through the screen door. Luke inhaled the air — the memory so strong he could almost smell the scent of cherry pie wafting from the kitchen, mixing with the smells of summertime: Freshly cut grass. The leather of his baseball mitt. Chlorine and sunscreen that lingered on his skin from a day at the pool. 

They were happy then  — his parents. His family. He wished he’d known it at the time. 

“My dad…” Luke exhaled sharply. “He told me that he knew the moment he met my mom that she was the one for him.”

“How did they meet?” she asked, tilting her head towards him.

“She was eighteen. He was twenty-one. It was at a diner in Woodbridge. My dad used to hang out there with his friends. She came in one night. She had just moved to the area. Her parents were both gone and she was living with her aunt and uncle. He said she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. They talked all night. They were married six months later.”

“That’s sweet. Romantic.” 

“I’ve known that story all of my life. I just think I’m now finally understanding it.”

Luke —”

He turned to face her, squinting into the dissolving daylight— determined, suddenly fearless, ready to leap headfirst into the unknown. She was worth the risk. 

“I know I’m in no mental state to be saying this to you or for you to believe me. And I know you have Rory to consider, and I understand that she’ll always come first in your life. But, I’m hoping that you’ll give me a chance. We can take it slow. As slow as you want. Or we can just be friends. I… I just know that I want you in my life.” 

Time stood still. It seemed like minutes had passed. Hours. Days before she spoke. “Luke. I have a confession to make.”

“What?” he asked apprehensively, his bravado waning.

She chewed on her lip and peered up at him, seeming to be in a state of deep contemplation before finally saying, “I don’t have a leaky faucet.”

“Huh? Oh, that,” he let out a relieved laugh. “I kinda figured. I just thought I’d go along with it.”

“Good. Phew.” She swiped her forehead dramatically. “I feel much better now that I got that off my chest.”

“Is there… anything else you want to tell me?” he asked hopefully.

She cupped his face. Her hands felt warm against his cool skin, the fear in her eyes no longer present. “Only this.” 

Their lips met. It was soft and sweet and filled with possibility — everything a first kiss should be and more. Without hesitation, he went back for seconds. This time, he enveloped her in a tight embrace, passion, desire, and need coursing through him as their lips and tongues and breath mingled. 

He pressed her back up against the truck. Her hands slipped underneath his jacket, grasping at the flannel beneath it, their bodies melding together perfectly like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. 

God, she felt good. Like heaven on earth.  

“Luke! I think the lasagna is —,” Liz called from the kitchen porch as Luke and Lorelai broke apart, their chests heaving in unison.

“Oops. No rush. I’ll take it out of the oven. Carry on,” Liz chuckled as she went back inside the house. 

“Wow. That was some kiss.”

“Yeah?”

“You betcha. If one of us had been a frog, it would have had some serious consequences.”

He grinned. “So? Now what?”

“Well…I’m starved! And I’m pretty sure I was promised some delicious homemade lasagna.”

He took her hand in his and pulled her from the truck. “Come on. Let’s get you fed.”

They strolled hand in hand towards the house, the last light of the day fading fast. As they reached the front porch, a warm breeze swept over them so quickly that Luke barely had time to register it.

“Did you feel that?” Lorelai asked. They both had stopped abruptly; their eyes pointed up to the sky. 

“Yeah, I did,” Luke said, then turned to Lorelai, his voice rough as he tried to choke back the impending tears. “One of the last things my dad told me was that he wasn’t scared of death. That he knew my mom would be there, waiting for him.”

She squeezed his hand tighter, and with wet eyes, a cautious smile formed on her lips. “Do you believe that?”

“I… I want to,” he muttered, the words barely coming out as his emotions, his grief, finally came pouring out of him.

She folded him into her body, Luke letting his tears fall, missing his father, knowing that each day going forward would be emptier without him. 

“I’m here. I’ll be here for you,” she whispered lovingly in his ear, then placed a kiss on his damp cheek. 

They held each other as the cold darkness surrounded them, threatening to break through and thaw their newly-formed connection. But it remained hovering outside, suspended, leaving only light and warmth and comfort between them. 

They broke apart, the sounds of Rory and Jess’s laughter and the smell of homemade lasagna coming from the house beckoning their return. 

As they walked inside, with fingers intertwined, the day having completed its transformation into night, Luke hesitated. His heart was heavy, his mind racing as he recalled the day’s events. It had been a journey of sorts. A mixture of pleasure with pain, hope with grief, loneliness with feeling known. It marked the end of a life, the final chapter of William Danes’ story. But not the end of the love that existed. That would live on through Luke, never to be forgotten. Always to be treasured and revered. To be shared, passed on to those Luke considered worthy of such a precious gift. Yet still, it was an ending. 

But this day of finality also brought with it the promise of a new beginning. For Luke and Lorelai, this was where their story, their love, would start.