Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
LUKE
I feel terrible for upsetting Lorelai so badly. I really wasn’t making fun of her, although I guess I can see how it might have looked that way. She’s just so different than she was, it’s hard to even think of her as the same person.
Hurrying out of the ice cream parlor, I catch up to her and say, “I’ll walk with you.” She doesn’t comment.
Once we get back to the diner, I tell her, “I’m parked out back. I guess I’ll see you at home?”
Lorelai nods her head up and down but doesn’t say anything else as she gets into her car. I feel awful as she pulls away. I truly thought she’d be able to laugh at the past by now. Once she’s gone, I go back into the diner to pick up the food I’ll need to make my dad french toast for breakfast. Then I head out to my car with determination to make one last stop before heading home.
At the market, I walk to the flower department and find several premade corsages in clear plastic clamshells in the refrigerator. I pick up a delicate one made with an assortment of pink roses and baby’s breath.
Driving back to Lorelai’s, I try to think of a way to apologize for making her feel so self-conscious, but I’m coming up dry. I park in the driveway next to her car and hurry up to the front door. It’s unlocked so I don’t have to use the key she gave me.
There’s a light on in the living room, but other than that, there’s no sign of life. Picking up my phone, I text Lorelai:
Me
Please come to the living room.
She ignores my text, so I try again:
Me
I have something for you.
She doesn’t text back, but I hear some stirring from upstairs. Moments later, Lorelai walks downstairs. She’s wearing a purple robe, the likes of which I’ve only seen my grandmother wear. “All snug and ready for bed, huh?” I ask her.
“Yup.”
I walk toward her and hand her the corsage. “I figure you might want to press this so when you tell your daughter about prom you can show her proof.”
Lorelai looks so sad, I’m afraid she’s going to start crying. “I think she’ll probably be looking for an actual photograph or something.”
“Probably so,” I agree. Then I gesture toward her robe and ask, “Any chance she’ll buy this was all the rage?”
A small giggle escapes Lorelai, which seems to take her by surprise. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess she’ll be smarter than that. At least I hope she will be, but given her mother’s history, maybe not.” She looks so dejected I just want to wrap her in my arms.
“We could take a picture anyway …” I suggest .
“Luke.” Lorelai walks past me and sits on the couch. As I join her, she says, “I’m sorry about how I acted tonight. You were wonderful. I was a total train wreck.”
“No, you weren’t,” I assure her. She pegs me with a direct stare, so I confess, “I did some pretty embarrassing things as a kid, too.”
“Like what?” She leans back so she can cross her arms.
“I once peed on our neighbor’s foot because he wouldn’t give me a cookie,” I tell her. “Mr. Howard. He was eating an Oreo and wouldn’t share so I expressed my displeasure.”
“Please tell me you weren’t fourteen.” We both laugh at that.
“I was three, but I was mad.”
“Anything else?” she wants to know.
“I told my third-grade teacher that I wanted to marry her and give her babies.”
Lorelai’s eyes open wide with delight. “How did that go over?”
“It was a whole big deal.” I explain, “She sent me to the principal’s office where I got interrogated about what I knew about making babies.” Shrugging, I add, “I didn’t know how they were made, so I told the principal you needed chocolate chips and butter.”
Lorelai settles back into the cushions. “Thank you for trying to make me feel better. You are very nice, Luke. But I know what kind of kid I was and I’m sorry that I bugged you so much.”
Scooting closer to her I tell her, “You were charmingly dedicated.” Then I ask, “Now, I feel like there’s something else we might need to do before our prom date is over.”
She picks up her flowers. “You want me to put my corsage on?”
Shaking my head, I tell her, “I was thinking about a goodnight kiss. That’s a pretty standard post-prom activity and for a truly authentic experience you’ll need one of those.”
“Luke.” She moves to stand up, but I reach out and take her hand. She tries to pull away again. “You don’t have to kiss me, for Pete’s sake.”
“What if I want to?” I remember my first night here when Lorelai was drunk and thought we’d gone to the prom together. She seemed pretty determined to get a kiss. I’ve thought of that moment more times than I care to count. I may not have been interested when we were younger but that is no longer the case.
“I don’t think … I mean … You don’t… It’s not like …”
The only way to progress is to stop her from talking. I do this by moving slowly so I don’t scare her. Once my face is within inches of hers, I tell her, “I’m going to kiss you now.”
But before I can, Lorelai launches herself the short distance between us and lays one on me. It’s soft and sweet and so much nicer than I could have imagined. She quickly tries to pull out of my grasp like she can’t believe what she just did, but I don’t let her. Instead, I hold her close and tentatively deepen the kiss.
Lorelai is everything I could want in a woman except for the one small fact that she is not geographically desirable. I’m not sure how much time passes as we explore one another; I can only say that I enjoy every delicious second of our encounter.
When I finally release her, Lorelai makes no move to separate herself from me. Instead, she rests her head on my shoulder, and says, “That was very nice, thank you.”
“Thank you ,” I tell her sincerely.
“I will always remember that kiss and I’ll even tell my daughter about it.” A noticeable blush covers her cheeks. “I won’t go into detail.”
“We don’t have to stop yet,” I tell her, hoping she likes the idea of continued canoodling as much as I do. But she surprises me by shaking her head.
“We’d better not,” she says. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved it, but that one kiss is going to have to hold me.”
“Why is that?” I mean, if we both want more, why shouldn’t we enjoy ourselves?
“Because I’m not going to move to Chicago and you’re not going to move back to Elk Lake. And as much as I’d like another kiss,” she waggles a pointer finger between us, “there’s really no point.”
I disagree. But instead of saying that, I tell her, “You do have a lot going on in your life right now.”
“So do you. You need to make things right with your dad and then you need to hightail it back to Chicago.” Standing up, Lorelai adds, “I had a very nice evening Luke, thank you. I’m sorry I got a little moody there.”
I start wondering if she didn’t enjoy our kiss as much as I did. Which kind of concerns me. I’ve never had any complaints about my kissing, but maybe I’m not as good at it as I thought. “I had a great night, too,” I tell her. “Really nice.”
“Okay, then, goodnight.”
She’s about to make a beeline for the stairs so I hurry to say, “I won’t be here for breakfast tomorrow. I’m cooking for my parents.”
“No problem.” She actually sounds relieved. “I have a big day.”
“Will you be coming into Pop’s tomorrow night?”
She shakes her head vigorously. “Probably not.”
I get off the couch slowly. “I guess I’ll see you around then.”
That’s all it takes for her to turn around and run up the stairs like the hounds of hell are nipping at her heels.
What just happened here? It suddenly feels like Lorelai is totally and completely over me, which is an odd thought after all these years. The truth is that she’s stirred some feelings in me that I did not see coming.
Lorelai is nothing like the girl she was, and scarily, she’s everything like the woman I someday see myself with. How can that be?