Chapter Text
Rory
Logan took Rory out to a fancy restaurant. Not as exclusive as the one she had just been to with Naomi Shropshire, but upscale nonetheless. The restaurant was elegant, with lots of natural light shining through the large windows. In the back corner, a man played soft music on a grand piano, providing a mellow ambiance. The weather was so nice that the patio doors were left open, letting the diners enjoy the rooftop breeze.
While they ate, Rory filled Logan in on her bizarre lunch meeting with Naomi. Instead of discussing writing her biography project, Naomi was noticeably drunk when Rory arrived, rambling and talking about licking Rory's “juicy apple cheeks”. Logan smirked at the absurdity of her play-by-plays, but could see her obvious frustration.
“Let's talk about something else,” he suggested.
They switched topics and she decided to vent about her continued postponements with Condé Nast.
Seemingly out of nowhere, there was a loud thud as Mitchum Huntzberger grabbed a chair and placed it down at their table.
“Condé Nast? Procrastinators supreme. May I?” he said casually as he sat down uninvited. He grabbed some food off the table and popped it in his mouth. Rory froze.
Logan’s jaw tightened, but stayed silent, his eyes moving back and forth between his father and Rory. He looked at Rory, uncomfortably. His eyes seemed to be telepathically saying “I'm sorry.” Logan forced a society smile.
“Help yourself,” he said with a tight voice.
Rory's stomach twisted as Mitchum sat in front of her. Of all the people in the world, he was the last person she'd wanted to see. She couldn't remember the last time she saw him face-to-face. She tried her best to hide her urge to vomit. Breathe. She couldn't let him see that he still had an effect on her after all this time.
“I didn't know you two were still in touch,” Mitchum said to Rory, his tone polite yet pointed. He gestured lightly between them with a flick of his hand, smiling widely as his attention shifted to Logan. Rory wasn't sure, but she sensed something in his voice–a twinge of suspicion maybe.
She and Logan proceeded to fill Mitchum in on the reason she was in town–her book deal with Naomi Shropshire. He laughed with amusement. Mitchum even joked with her about needing hangover medicine. He then offered to help her out with getting her Condé Nast meeting to stick.
“What in the world?” Rory thought to herself.
And just when she thought they were in the clear, Mitchum had to say something to just twist the knife a little bit.
“Um, hey, the party next week for your uncle...Is Odette coming?” he asked, directing his question to Logan.
Logan casually replied, “She will be there.”
Then turning to look at Rory, Mitchum joked, “Gets engaged to a girl who lives in another country. Smart girl.”
He gave her a knowing look. Her stomach plummeted.
Shit.
Mitchum then headed back over to the party that he was with.
After he was out of their presence, Logan let out a deep sigh.
Rory, still trying to wrap her head around the encounter, leaned in and said, “How did this happen?”
“It's ok,” said Logan, shaking his head, acting as though it were no big deal.
“He's seen us,” Rory countered.
Logan said reassuringly, “As far as he knows, we're just friends.”
Rory stared at him, disbelief in her voice, “Of all the millions of restaurants, he walks in here?”
Logan hesitated, looking like he’s about to say something, but held back.
Rory saw his demeanor and questioned, “What?”
Logan shrugged it off, “Eh, this is one of the family holdings.”
Rory couldn’t believe her ears. “Course it is.”
Logan lifted his wine glass and tried to placate her with a joke. “Why do you think I sprung for the $300 bottle of wine?”
Rory looked at him with a furrowed brow. Confused. Why would he do this? Expose them in public, to his father? Did he want to get caught? She shook her head and sighed, pushing the thought away.
She looked over to his dad at the bar across the room, talking with whom she assumed were his colleagues. Mitchum looked over to her and they locked eyes. Rory looked away first, casually bringing a hand to her face subtly, trying to hide. After all these years, he still had a way of making her feel small, reducing her to a young, impressionable girl instead of the grown woman she was.
When they were done with their meal, Rory stood up, ready to leave. Logan, ever the gentleman, rose with her.
“I'll walk you out,” he said, buttoning up his jacket.
They walked to the elevator in silence. Rory pressed the button to go down to the lobby. They stood staring at the elevator doors, waiting. The air was thick between them, tension building with each second.
She turned abruptly and looked at Logan as he held her gaze. Rory said in a low voice, “So is that what we are? Just friends?”
Logan blinked, caught off guard. “Oh…Uh...” Logan stammered, clearly not expecting those words. Logan reflected on her question, and looked around before he answered with a smirk, “Outside of Vegas, isn’t that what we are? Why? What do you want it to be?”
“That's not fair. Don't put that on me. I'm not the one who's engaged.” She crossed her arms tightly.
He responded quietly, lips barely moving, “I can and I will. If you recall, Vegas was on you.”
Rory hissed through gritted teeth, “Because you're engaged!”
He leaned in, close to her ear, “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to leave Odette for you?” His voice broke slightly.
They stared at each other, daring the other to speak first. He stepped back again looking at the elevator doors.
Finally, Rory relented, “That’s not my decision to make.”
Logan's expression softened. He looked at her with seriousness and asked, “Did you only suggest Vegas because I was engaged? If I wasn't, would there have been a chance for us to be together?” His voice was low and unsure.
Rory glanced around nervously, biting her lip. “We're not supposed to talk about that. Especially here where anyone can hear.”
Logan threw his hands up in frustration, “There you go again, avoiding as usual.”
Just then, the elevator doors opened with a ‘Ding’.
Rory sighed, looking relieved that she was saved by the bell, “I don't know what to say, Logan. I have to go. I have a flight to catch. We'll talk later.”
“Yeah…Later.”
Her eyes lingered on Logan as the doors closed between them, reminiscent of when he left for London, except now she was the one leaving.