Chapter Text
Prologue
Logan
Mitchum was irritated.
Years had passed since Logan was AWOL for more than a day or two. His son had finally stepped up to the plate and was earning his place in the HPG machinery, and Mitchum had been looking forward to retiring, maybe when Logan was forty.
But a week had gone by, and Logan hadn’t shown up to the offices in London or the offices in Paris.
When Mitchum casually messaged Odette, she told him that Logan told her that he would be on a business trip to the States for a few weeks. So, she had gone home to Paris to visit her family, which was exactly where Mitchum didn’t want her to be.
Logan was always a step behind.
He’d stayed in the Life and Death Brigade far longer than Mitchum, and he’d fumbled around, trying to do things on his own for five years too many before he returned to the HPG fold.
Now, Logan needed to get married and produce a son, but he wasn’t taking it seriously enough. He was messing around with Rory Gilmore again – something Mitchum had tried to divert away by encouraging Logan to move Odette to London.
Logan had complied, but now, he’d disappeared.
Now, Mitchum stood in front of Logan’s apartment door with a weird sense of déjà vu. Mitchum wasn’t beyond dragging his son out of whatever avoidant doldrums he wrapped himself up inside, but he was bothered that he had to do it again. Now.
He knocked and waited with his patience thinning. He was more than ready to lay into Logan for shirking his duties to the family dynasty.
After a minute or two with no response, Mitchum knocked again, sharper now and with greater volume.
More time passed.
With a sigh, Mitchum pulled his key ring out of his pocket and flipped through keys with gusto until he found Logan’s apartment key. Logan probably didn’t even know Mitchum had it.
He slid the key into the lock and opened the door.
The lights were all off, the fading sunlight the only way Mitchum could see. He picked his way through the space. He still didn’t understand why his son preferred such small apartments when he could afford something much more spacious and luxurious.
The kitchen counters were full of empty takeout containers, and the sink was piled with dishes. Logan’s coffee pot was half full of what was probably stale coffee. The mingled smells hit Mitchum’s nose so hard he winced.
He huffed in annoyance when he found the living room covered in discarded clothing. The clothes were in rumpled piles and not the kind that Mitchum himself preferred with whatever woman he could tempt into spending the night with him.
Empty cocktail glasses littered the coffee table. This wasn’t a good sign.
Mitchum finally found Logan in a messy bedroom, fast asleep in his bed with the covers kicked to the floor.
With a sigh, Mitchum flipped on the light.
* * *
“Have you heard from Logan?” Shira asked as she perused the carefully curated rack of children’s clothes at Bergdorf’s.
Honor didn’t always enjoy shopping with her mother, but she knew that if she didn’t do something with her mom every few months, she would become more intrusive in Honor’s life. This was especially true if Mitchum wasn’t around or engaged in a new affair. In some ways, Honor felt sorry for her mother, especially now that Honor had her own happy family unit.
“I haven’t heard from him. Why?”
“Just curious. Your father said something about running into Logan having lunch with Rory Gilmore earlier this year, and now all of a sudden, he hasn’t shown up to work for a week.” Shira said Rory’s name with such disdain that Honor had a mini-flashback to the dinner when she told her parents that she was engaged to Josh. Her mother and grandfather had been awful and not in the way Honor anticipated.
Her belly flipped with a tinge of anxiety, but with years of experience, she played it cool. She held up a sweater with flowers embroidered on the sleeves. “This one would really go well with Sarah’s eyes.”
Shira’s face softened the way it did when she spent time with Honor’s son and daughter. Shira picked up the bottom of the sweater. “Oh, yes, it would. You have to get this one for Thanksgiving photos.”
Honor hung the sweater on the rack with the clothes they were buying. “Perfect.” Going back to studying the remaining options, she said as casually as possible, “Do you think Logan is still seeing Rory?”
“I don’t know. But she needs to go away. He’s marrying Odette in March.”
Honor swallowed and tried, “He always loved Rory, Mom.”
Shira pushed a section of clothes roughly aside but said, “And she remains not good enough for our family no matter how much your father has a soft spot for her. He helped her out with Conde Nast after that lunch.”
Honor filed this tidbit away as more evidence that her brother was still in love with Rory, but she absolutely didn’t believe her father had a soft spot for Rory. “Ah.”
For the rest of the shopping excursion, Shira diverted the topic to superficial things like the new spa she found where all the other billionaires’ wives went for month-long retreats, the new family holding in Greece, and how she wanted Thanksgiving to be orchestrated. Honor was expected to attend with her family this year, something Josh was already dreading. She had been curious whether Logan and Odette would show up, but Honor wondered if her brother would show up at all, especially now that Rory was back in the picture.
Safely Shira-free in the back of her car on the way home, Honor dialed her father’s number, something she also tended to avoid.
The line rang and rang, and then, finally, her father answered.
“Honor? Is this important?” She knew better than to expect more than this.
“Yes, it is. It’s about Logan. I heard about him not showing up to work, and I imagine your mind is going down catastrophic avenues.” Honor knew appealing to Mitchum’s compassion would be for naught.
“I have a right to worry when he starts messing up again.”
Honor rolled her eyes, grateful they weren’t FaceTiming. “If you want him to be a hard worker, to get back on board with the company, he has to be somewhat happy with his life outside of work.”
“What do you mean? He isn’t happy? He has everything he could ever want.” Mitchum sounded genuinely confused.
“Dad, you know that’s not true.” Her dad wasn’t that obtuse. Honor took a deep breath. “And I have a suggestion.”
Mitchum was quiet for a long moment, which surprised her. She checked her phone to make sure they hadn’t been disconnected. They weren’t.
“Dad? You there?”
He sighed the sigh of a man who had been sighing a lot lately. “I’m open to suggestions.”
* * *
Rory
Throughout her honeymoon, Lorelai worried about Rory.
Her daughter had dropped a bombshell the morning of her wedding to Luke, and then, they’d been too busy to address it beyond a brief hug and insufficient mom reassurances.
Lorelai hadn’t told Luke about the baby either, which left her feeling unsettled because they’d only recently started communicating better again.
So, Lorelai stewed with the information in her own head and was distracted from activities with her new husband except for times when Luke took her to bed and made her lose all sense of time and self.
Admittedly, to cope with the stress of knowing about Rory’s baby and wondering what could possibly happen next, Lorelai dragged Luke into nuptial relations more than normal.
Luke, of course, happily complied.
Now, they were fishing, something they’d planned to do together, something that Lorelai was feeling particularly magnanimous about because Luke loved to do it.
But fishing was too quiet, so while they were supposed to be enjoying hearing nature come to life as the sun rose at the lake, Lorelai was fretting about who the father of Rory’s baby was, about what Rory might do with said baby, and about what the heck Rory was going to do to provide for the baby.
Lorelai, of course, wasn’t dumb. She knew there was a chance Logan might be the father, but maybe that Peter guy was instead.
And if the baby was Patrick’s, how were they possibly going to help Rory with her baby if they couldn’t even remember anything about the father? Would the baby be just as forgettable? Would Rory forget her own child?
“Lorelai,” Luke said softly, nudging her arm.
“Huh? Yeah?” she said brightly.
Luke pointed at the water where her fishing line was taut. “You caught a fish.”
Lorelai sat up straighter. “I caught a fish!”
“Remember, you cannot keep this fish in the bathtub.”
Lorelai blew a puff of air out of her mouth. “I know that! We’re going to let her go, so she can go on living her happy fishy life in the lake after I take a selfie with her to show Rory.”
“Right.” Luke moved to help show her what to do next.
Lorelai cherished his arms around her as he guided her through each step in reeling in her fish, and when the fish broke the surface of the water in a flopping, splashing entrance, Lorelai grinned.
“She’s beautiful!” She had no idea what kind of fish it was.
“She is.” Luke said, gently managing the smaller creature with gloved hands.
“Is she okay?” Lorelai peered at her fish with its silvery scales. “The hook didn’t hurt her, did it?”
Luke gave her a look. “We aren’t using hooks, remember? You were very clear.”
She beamed. “I was.”
Once the photo was taken and the fish successfully released, they settled back in with their fishing poles, and Lorelai saw her opening.
“Luke?”
Luke took a sip of tea from the thermos. “Yeah?”
Lorelai gripped her pole and picked up her coffee. “I need to tell you something Rory told me. In the interest of being honest and given that we just started communicating better again.”
“You can tell me anything,” he assured her.
“Rory’s pregnant.”
Luke’s head turn was as much shock as she was going to get. “Oh. Is she okay? Who’s the father?”
“She hasn’t told me yet.”
* * *
When Luke and Lorelai pulled into the driveway a week and a half later, all Lorelai could think about was how much she was looking forward to a shower in her own shower and a nap in her own bed.
Luke rubbed her leg. “We’re home.”
Lorelai gazed at him with tired eyes. “Home. Home is good.”
Then, she saw Rory hurrying to the car, no doubt to greet them and help with the luggage.
Luke waved at her through the glass, and Rory gave him an enthusiastic return wave, which was different than what Lorelai expected. She expected a Rory dragging with the weight of her impending pregnancy and with the fear of how she was going to pay for a child. She didn’t even have a way to make money other than writing a memoir that publishers might or might not like.
As Lorelai opened the car door, Rory bounded around to her side and greeted her with a giant hug.
Lorelai would always take a hug from her daughter, and she held her tight. “I missed you, kiddo.”
“I missed you, too!”
Lorelai smoothed the back of Rory’s hair. “We need to talk.”
“We do.” Rory drew back. “A-and you’ll never believe who I heard from!”
In the space of a second, Lorelai’s mind flitted through several different options before she opted to say, “Who?”
“Hugo Gray!” Rory said and paused.
Lorelai frowned because this was not who she expected. “Hugo Gray, Hugo Gray. Remind me. Who is Hugo Gray?”
“He’s the one who helped me get the job on the Obama campaign. I wrote articles for him for his online magazine. He worked for the Times. And. . . Logan introduced us.” Rory’s face shifted when she said Logan’s name, and Lorelai thought she saw sadness there, but she knew better than to ask yet.
“Why did he reach out?” Lorelai leaned over to grab her purse out of the car.
Rory moved around to help Luke with bags from the back. “Well, he was reaching out to see how I was doing and what I’ve been up to lately. He kept up with my writing over the years, and he saw my New Yorker piece.”
“Your New Yorker piece is fantastic,” Luke commented with pride in his voice.
“And he just called to catch up?” Lorelai asked. Was Hugo Gray the father of Rory’s baby?
Rory hefted one of the suitcases. “Yes, and he wanted to know if I was working on anything new.”
Lorelai followed Luke toward the house. “So, you told him about the memoir?”
Rory nodded. “I did.”
“And?”
Rory’s smile reminded Lorelai that Rory hadn’t been smiling much lately. “He loved the idea. He knows some publishers who might be interested, and I told him I needed money in the meantime.”
Making it to the porch, Lorelai peeked in the window to see if Paul Anka was there. He was sitting on his little butt but stood up when he saw her, wagging his tail with gusto. “So, you asked for a job?”
Setting down the suitcase, Rory shrugged. “Well, not exactly. He told me he wanted to work with me again, and he said he’s opening up an office in Philly to expand his online company. He offered me an office and an apartment if I write articles for his company. In my spare time, I can keep writing the memoir.”
“Is he offering a salary or a 401K with this job?” Lorelai asked.
“No 401K, but he offered benefits and a salary that’ll be enough to cover the bills and save up for,” Rory glanced at Luke, “the future.”
“I told him, Rory. I’m sorry.”
“Mom!” Rory donned her apologetic face. “Luke, I was going to tell you, too. I-I was. . . I’m still wrapping my head around it.”
Luke looked at her with compassion. “I understand.”
Rory gave him an awkward side hug. “Thank you.” Then, she opened the door for them, and said, “I have dinner all ready for you.”
“You cooked?” Lorelai said skeptically, squatting to pet a wriggly Paul Anka. Was the cooking another Logan sign?
“Nope. It’s takeout from Al’s.”
Luke groaned.
Rory patted his arm. “I ordered all the safe-least-likely-to-cause-explosive-diarrhea foods and picked up a salad from Doose’s.”
“Perfect,” Lorelai said. “You get the plates, and I’ll get the drinks, and I want to hear more about this job. Like when you’re going to start.”
“Soon. I’m starting soon!”
Lorelai headed into the house and toward the refrigerator. “Soon as in next month or next year or – ”
Rory followed. “Next week! I’m already packed and was just waiting for you and Luke.”
“Waiting for me and Luke for what?” Lorelai glanced back.
“To tell you. Wouldn’t it be weird for me to just take off and leave you wondering where I went or if I’d been kidnapped or something?”