❤ Chapter Four ❤

"I look like a whale." I pouted into the narrow, floor-length mirror in front of me.

From my peripheral, I saw my mom roll her eyes. She retorted, "If by whale, you mean, you look whale-y nice, then yeah, you're right." She let out a chuckle as she sat down on my bed.

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes at the amusement in her voice. My eye roll suddenly turned into a frown as I spun to my side to examine the navy dress I was wearing, noticing that it felt a bit too tight around my waist. "I can't wear this," I protested when I saw the bulge where my stomach was. "Grandma will definitely think I'm pregnant."

"I think that's cause, last I heard, you are pregnant." My mom continued to joke in that light tone, like my issues weren't catastrophic.

I groaned in response, and started raiding my closet for a more suitable outfit, preferably one that covered my now slightly larger breasts, bumpier stomach, and wider hips. As if visiting my grandmother for an entire weekend wasn't enough of a stress, now I had to worry about how she might react if she found out about my situation. After how my grandma had treated my mom when she was pregnant at sixteen, I did not want to find out what kind of treatment I would get. Somehow, I was sure that being knocked up by an engaged man who also happened to be my ex-boyfriend was not going to be well-received. Plus, just a week ago on my thirty-third birthday, I had not been showing many signs of pregnancy. Yet, here I was now with a minor, but definitely noticeable bump. Just then, my stomach made a loud grumble as if to apologize.

I looked over my shoulder at my mom, and asked, "Did Luke leave any leftovers in the fridge? I'm starving."

"Leftovers?!" She exclaimed with mock repulsion. "What kind of mother would I be to let my starving, pregnant daughter eat only leftovers? You need a comforting, homemade breakfast that can sustain you for the six hour trip in front of us. Something a mother, like myself, cooks."

I chuckled at her ridiculous suggestion. "Have you been watching 'MasterChef' again?" I feigned a look of disapproval. We both knew that if it came down to leftovers or her cooking, the former would be the far safer choice for a pregnant lady, or any human for that matter.

"No… Yes… Maybe." My mom replied with a devious grin.

"Well," I said while shooting her a stern look. "Since the last time you attempted at making a Greek feast ended with the fire alarm blaring in the middle of the night, and Kirk running into our kitchen with a fire extinguisher, wearing only boxers and a Fireman helmet, I don't think it's wise to cook for at least another month."

My mother seemed to ponder my point, before stating, "I'll call Luke to bring over some food."

"Wise choice." I smirked.

She went off to hunt for the phone that was frequently hidden under some items of clothing or couch cushions. When I was alone in my childhood room, I shrugged out of my navy dress and slipped on a black one that had a lacey A-line skirt. Surely, the poufy material will cover my bump.

"Aha," I exclaimed at the mirror, satisfied with the result. "I've found the one!" I called to my mom.

She came back into the room with the phone in her hand. "Luke's on his way." She looked me up and down, and whistled. "Watch out Nantucket, there's a sexy, pregnant vixen in town."

"The point of this dress is to not look pregnant." I couldn't help but smile.

"Honey, your point is well made." My mom put a reassuring arm around my shoulders and pulled me in for a hug. "You don't look pregnant, trust me. Grandma will be too distracted by some bone she has to pick with me, to even begin to think her perfect Rory may be pregnant anyway."

"True, she'll probably be on your case about the renovations at the inn."

"There you go." My mom made a grimace, just as Luke's voice came from the kitchen.

"Food's here!"

"Hurray!" I wasted no time skipping into the kitchen. Food was a huge deal to a pregnant Gilmore girl.

"I didn't know if you wanted breakfast or lunch, so I brought some of each. Omelette, waffles, burgers, fries…" Luke said as he rummaged through the paper bags on the dining table. "…and, of course, coffee." He placed a burger and cup of coffee on the table and slid them toward me as I sat down.

The salty, fatty smell of the burger, combined with what seemed like an acidic aroma from the coffee drifted into my nostril and hit my stomach in an unfortunate way, instantly twisting it into knots. I held onto my stomach as a wave of nausea surfaced.

"Oh god," I let out a groan, before running off to the bathroom to throw up what must be remaining of last night's dinner.

I heard my mom exclaim through the bathroom door, "Oh my god! Is it the meat?!"

"I don't know," I spitted out, kneeling over the toilet bowl.

"Or the coffee?!"

"Maybe both?! The scent… it's just all very unpleasant." I felt a bit oozy as I flushed the toilet and cleaned myself up.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I was met with my mom and Luke's worried faces.

"I- I- can make you something else." Luke said urgently, already heading to the fridge. He looked over his shoulder and called, "What would you like? Grilled cheese? Hot dogs? Donuts?"

"It's okay, Luke. I don't feel hungry anymore…" I tried to sound reassuring. I knew he was trying his hardest to help with my appetite as he was listing my favorite foods that he normally definitely did not approve of.

"Are you sure, honey? Not even a pop tart?" My mom added, looking concerned.

Not even the sweet jelly filling and buttery pastry in pop tarts sat well with my taste buds at that moment. I realized that all I craved was something un-artificial. Before I could comprehend my sudden desire, I blurted out, "I think I want some apples."

"Apples?" My mom stared at me. "You really are my child."

❤ Jump Then Fall ❤

Ding dong.

We rang the doorbell and waited outside my grandma's cottage. The cottage was lovely with its fall foliage surrounding the front door made of a dark oak wood. The door was ornate with a delicate wreath of acorns and maple leaves, while little stone carved birds perched on the nearby window sills. This enchanting place was exactly what my grandma needed to regain her life after my grandfather's death. Although it still hurt to think of his passing, I was glad that grandma had the courage to pack up her belongings, and start a new life here in Nantucket. Amidst my thoughts, the door in front of us swung open, and we were greeted by Emily Gilmore's stressed frown, before a puff of smoke rushed out from behind her, right into our faces.

My mom and I exchanged a puzzled look as I waved the smoke away with a hand, and choked out, "Hi Grandma."

"Come on in, girls." Grandma's voice was clipped, like she was full of stress from a long day's work. It was a huge contrast to the tranquil surrounding of the cottage.

We were quickly ushered into the quaint dining room that was tastefully decorated with oak wood furniture, and golden framed photographs. The only thing out of place was the light trail of smoke drifting into the room, seeming to originate from the kitchen. Taking a sniff, I noticed it smelled like burnt food. Really burnt food.

"Mom, what's going on in here?" My mom wave her hand around, and asked Grandma, "Don't you think it's a little late for you to take up smoking as a part of a mid-life crisis?"

"Lorelai, for your information, this is the smell of your dinner." Grandma replied matter-of-factly.

"Well, does the maid often burn your meals this badly? Cause if so, this time, you might actually have a good reason to fire her."

My grandma stared at my mom like it was the rudest thing she had ever heard. Finally, she spoke, "There's no maid today. I'm cooking."

"What?!" My mom and I exclaimed in unison. I was pretty sure that, in her many decades of existence, Grandma had never stepped within inches of an oven or stove.

"I'm sorry that's surprising to you, but there isn't much for a widow to do these days." Grandma shrugged like it was no big deal. "So I've started watching some of those trashy shows they play on TV. Last week, I stumbled upon this cooking show with a ridiculously unpleasant host. After watching it for a bit, I found it quite inspiring. It's called 'MasterChef'. Have you two heard of it?" Grandma looked at us eagerly, somehow managing a straight face.

I think I spoke for both my mom and I when I say that we had never been so stunned. After a few seconds of absolute silence, I finally said, "Um, yeah, that's actually Mom's current obsession."

My mom gaped at me like I had revealed a big secret. She leaned into my ear and hissed softly, "Thanks for telling her. Now I like the same show as my mother."

Grandma looked from my mom to me and back with an intrigued smile. She turned to my mom and said, "See, Lorelai, you have more in common with me than you think." Then she stalked into the kitchen, declaring, "Sit at the table, girls. I'll bring out your food."

❤ Jump Then Fall ❤

After we spent the first ten minutes of dinner assessing the piece of burnt quiche on our plates, cooked by the very Emily Gilmore, we were still in disbelief. The so-called pie crust was the thickness of pizza dough, and hard as a brick. Tiny bits of clumpy egg mixture were floating inside the pie crust. Somehow, I had a feeling that Grandma was not supposed to add water to the egg filling. After a long struggle to cut through the crust with my butter knife, I put a piece of the blackened quiche into my mouth, and started to chew. I imagined this was what it would feel like if I was to chew dry pasta. While I was attempting to not break a tooth, my mom and Grandma were inevitably bickering.

"Since your father is providing the funds for the renovation and he is my husband, I have the legal right to check up on how the renovation is coming along. Is one lunch and a tour of the inn when I visit Hartford too much to ask for?" Grandma went on.

My mom sighed exasperatedly. "Mom, why do you care? It's my inn. Our deal was that I visit you, and here I am. Even though I said we can come during Thanksgiving, but, no, you practically forced us to come this weekend before my honeymoon."

"Oh I'm sorry that your widowed mother is such a burden to you." Judging from Grandma's increasingly unyielding tone, she was only getting started. "I get it. You don't have room for me in your life. My not even getting invited to witness your wedding was a tell-tale sign."

"What are you talking about?! You were at my wedding, Mom!" My mom put down her utensils loudly on the table and scoffed. "If you've had severe amnesia since then, I'll remind you that you were there, sitting in the front row. You talked to Luke. I hugged you. Then we had Sookie's famous salmon at the reception."

"Please, Lorelai. You know that means nothing when you had already gotten legally married the day before." Grandma glared at my mom.

"How do you know that?" I watched as my mom's face paled, and then reddened with frustration. "Yes, Luke and I eloped. But that's what we decided. It's what we wanted. It was an elopement. You don't send out impromptu, last-minute invitations for an elopement. There wouldn't even have been time for you get to Stars Hollow, because it was a spur-of-the-moment, impulsive thought. That's the textbook definition of eloping."

"It's typical Lorelai. Always so selfish. Only thinking of yourself." Grandma dismissed my mom's rant with the wave of a hand. "You and Luke have been together for nine years, your father left him a generous sum, and I was the one to encourage you to get married at our therapy sessions, for God's sake. Yet, I don't even get a phone call when you finally do legally marry."

"Oh, stop it, Mom." My mom's voice rose several decibels. "Stop acting like you care so much about Luke and I. You were never even supportive of our relationship!" By this point, I had stopped attempting to eat and was watching my mother as her hands gestured and flailed in the air. She went on, her voice hard, "You tried to sabotage us. You hated the fact that I didn't end up with a Christopher, and instead was living with a 'lowly diner owner'. My 'roommate' as you called it."

Grandma leaned into the table, and retorted, "You never even gave Richard and I the chance to get to know him! You never brought him to dinner. You hid him from us like he was an embarrassing secret."

"That's enough, Mom!" My mom stood up abruptly, sending the plates on the table cluttering in distraught. She threw her napkin on the table and said, "You don't get to talk about my relationship like that. Stop making me sound like a petulant child, like I'm so inferior to you, like I'm this horrible person who can't do anything up to your standard." Her face was now flashing shades of red as she continued with a frantic voice, "In case you haven't noticed, I was able to raise a daughter all by myself just fine!" I gulped down the last bits of food in my mouth as my mom jabbed her palm at me. "She was valedictorian. She went to Yale! She has landed great jobs since! And she even managed to not get pregnant 'til she's thirty-two!"

"Mom!" A loud protest flew out of my mouth as I stared at her dumbfounded at what she had just said.

"What?" Grandma's puzzled voice filled the room.

I could feel Grandma's glare on the side of my face, but my sight never left my mom. Her eyes widened with panic, and her mouth was slightly ajar. She mouthed the words "I'm sorry", but it was too late. Grandma was on my case.

"You're pregnant?" My grandma's tone was that of utter disbelief, even more so than when my mom and I found out that she watches "MasterChef".

"I- I- Yes," I stuttered, refusing to look her in the eyes, and opted to stare at my food.

"Who's the father?" The inevitable question came, leaving cold trails through my bloodstream. Logan's face and the miniature house with its avocado tree flashed across my mind, sending a sickening lump down my throat.

Grandma turned to my mom and asked sternly, "Who's the father, Lorelai?"

When she was met with further silence, she started, "Whoever it is, you have to get married as soon as possible. I will not have my first great grandchild be a bastard!"

"Grandma-" I started to object.

"I knew that vagabond existence of yours was leading to no good. Do you even know who the father is?"

I threw a blank stare her way, afraid that she could see it in my eyes that Logan was the father. If so, she would be planning our wedding venue and picking out china patterns in a matter of minutes. With her fall-out with the Hartford society after Grandpa's passing, she might not even know that it was much more complicated than that – that there was a French Heiress in the picture. She didn't know that he had moved on, so much so that he had deleted my number, and Odette had answered my call instead. Yet, his birthday gift could mean something entirely different. Part of me was scared to find out.

"Oh my god…" My grandma's face paled to that of a ghost. "Please tell me the father is not some bum you picked off the streets while you were prancing from city to city, homeless. He could be a serial killer, a drug addict, a pimp for all we know!"

Horrified at those prospects, I interjected, "Grandma, calm down!" Erratic breaths left my lungs as my brain started feeling extremely squished, like a heavy pressure was being applied to my temples and I couldn't think. Seeing my grandma's panic-stricken face, as if already envisioning her precious granddaughter being married off to a pimp, I could only blurt out, "It's Logan."

The creases on my grandma's face immediately disappeared as she whispered, "Huntzberger?"

I could only nod, while stealing a glance at my mom. Seeing her concerned look allowed the tense muscles in my body to gradually relax.

"Yeah, you like Logan." I gestured to my grandma, trying to ease her nerves. "Last I checked, he hasn't gotten into the prostitution business, so we're all good on the pimp front." I gave an empty chuckle that was met with Grandma's blank stare. If she didn't know about Logan's relationship status just yet, I sure won't be the one to tell her.

"Well, I have to call the Huntzbergers right away." My grandma straightened herself, looking like she was getting right down to business. She went on with a glimmer in her eyes, "It's been a while, but if we're going to be in-laws, now is the time to re-connect. It'll be a challenge getting a wedding planned before you start to show, but it's doable. We can get that gorgeous venue by the beach. I know how you youngsters these days like getting married by the beach."

"Um… actually, Grandma," I tried to stop her before she started picking out baby names. "I haven't told him yet, so I would really appreciate it if you didn't call up the whole DAR. Don't tell anyone, please."

"Aren't you going to tell him?" She cocked her head to a side. "He has a right to know."

"Oh, I will tell him," I quickly replied. "I just want to tell him in person. He should hear it from me."

"Right, that's reasonable," She said to my relief. "Hurry though, I can't guarantee that beach venue even with my connections."

Her tone was hard to read, making me anxious. I couldn't be sure that she was going to keep quiet about this news. Cold sweat formed down my back at the thought of Logan's parents, or even Logan, finding out the news from my grandma. At that instant, I acted like a coward and could only give my grandma a small, tight smile, hoping she would drop the topic. Thankfully, my mom remained quiet, and didn't cause further complications. I pretended to focus on eating my now cold quiche. Unfortunately for my nerves, I couldn't help but picture walking down the aisle in the cool, white sand toward the ocean waves, where Logan stood a few steps away, waiting for me with a carefree grin. If only things were as simple as my grandma made it out to be.

❤ Jump Then Fall ❤

"Ughh." My mom shuddered as soon as she closed the guest room door. Together, we flopped down on the immaculately made bed, letting our hair down and nerves loose. "That was probably the most disgusting food I've ever tasted."

"Cooking genes definitely do not run in the Gilmore blood," I agreed with a smirk, feeling indefinitely relieved to be out of my grandma's line of sight for the night.

"I'm sorry about spilling the beans." My mom nudged me in the shoulder, sounding remorseful.

"It's fine," I sighed and shut my eyes, while the softness of the bed settled in, allowing exhaustion to take over my body. "I had to tell her sooner or later." As I summoned the bits of energy left in me to talk, my muscles ached like they hadn't gotten nourishment in ages. My stomach caved in, letting out a groan. Nevertheless, the thought of meat created repulsive waves down my esophagus. I realized that my body desired real food, filled with the sort of nutrients and vitamins that it had been deprived of for years. With that, I turned my head against the soft bedding toward my mom, and asked, "I'm still starving. Do you think there'll be a salad or something in the kitchen?"

She gasped at me and narrowed her eyes, before replying with mock disgust. "You are no longer my daughter."

Thanks for reading and please leave a feedback!

What do you guys think about Emily finding out about Rory's pregnancy? What do you think she will do? Will she stir up drama by telling people about the news? You will soon find out :)

On a side note, I'm still very annoyed about how the ending is suppose to mean that Jess is Rory's Luke, and Logan is Christopher. What Rory and Logan had is totally different from what's between her mom and dad! I feel like the revival is trying to just erase the fact that Rory and Logan had a three year relationship. I feel like it's worse than just having her end up with Jess even though Logan was a great contender/person. Nope, instead the revival is made to feel like Logan is a terrible person, who strings Rory along while being engaged, and therefore Rory should be with Jess. :( Thoughts?

Thanks everyone for the reviews and follows/likes! You really encourage me to keep writing this story to share for you all :)

Edit: Thanks so much to the reviewers who pointed out that Nantucket is far away lol. I've changed the details accordingly. I admit I didn't watch the full revival in detail cause I was too mad at the plot. So if you spot any incongruities, please let me know! Thanks :D