AN: Thanks for your reviews, follows, and favorites. Also thank you to RBraquel for once again deciphering my mess and hearing my ideas.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

These Foolish Things

Chapter 13: The Huntzberger Family Shanghai

Connecticut – April 2005

"Know what you're havin', dearies?"

Logan jumped in his seat in surprise, his eyes drawing immediately to the woman next to the table and away from the boisterous group in the corner. Her greying hair was tied up in a bun, the fabric of her stiff polyester uniform swishing as she reached for a notepad. Her eyes flashed between Logan and his companion expectantly, her pen tapping against the paper.

Logan's eyes flicked down to the unopened menu in front of him. He thumbed through it quickly, hoping to find something that met his fancy. Truth be told he had lost his appetite; the excitement of the evening taking its toll. They'd arrived at the diner in silence, Logan growing more uncomfortable as his girlfriend looked everywhere but him. He finally couldn't watch her anymore, understanding that she wasn't going to comment on the events of the evening. His eyes eventually fell on the youth in the corner booth, while his mind searched for a way to bring up recent events.

"Yes, I do," Rory declared happily, laying her menu on the Formica tabletop, her enthusiasm surprising Logan. "I will have the 'Love Me Tender Cheeseburger,' the 'Rock N' Roller Onion Rings' and 'Higher Ground French Fries' – not the split order, the whole of both - and hmm, I don't know," she paused, tapping her chin. "I want both the 'Build Me Up Buttercup Milkshake' and the 'Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch Apple Pie.' Which do you recommend?" she asked, turning to the waitress named Darlene.

Darlene shrugged. "I prefer the pecan pie, myself."

"Hmm. This is a dilemma." Rory tapped her chin again. "You know, I'll have both. Milkshake with dinner, pie for after."

"Sure thing," Darlene replied, jotting down the order. "And what would you like?"

"Huh?" Logan shook himself from where he had been staring at Rory open-mouthed from across the table. Her order alone had him hoping he had some Tums back in his Porsche. He didn't know why he should be surprised; just yesterday, she had ordered an utterly bizarre and calorie-laden breakfast (which she admitted later was partly due to the hangover) that left the restaurant and waiter in shock.

"Oh, um, well," Logan faltered, his eyes once again returning to the themed menu. As was common in these types of kitschy, oldies-style venues, every option had an odd name, the true nature of the food only found within the description. "You know, I'll just have what she's having," he answered, closing the menu after he gave up trying to find a sandwich. "Just, uh, French fries instead of the onion rings and water instead of the milkshake."

"Oh, but you have to get a milkshake, Logan," said Rory, her blue eyes pleading. "It's all part of the charm."

"Oh, alright," he said, handing Darlene his menu. "I'll have a chocolate milkshake," shooting Rory a placating smile. "Oh, and some water for us too, please."

"One order of 'Higher Ground French Fries' and a 'Good Vibrations' milkshake, coming right up." Darlene went behind the counter, yelling their order to the cook through the window.

"Now, I get the name of the fries, but I'm a bit lost on the name for the chocolate milkshake."

"Caffeine and sugar rush," Rory replied smirking. "Hope you're ready."

"Oh, I'm always ready, Ace," he answered suggestively, Rory blushing slightly at the innuendo.

Logan spotted a stain on the table; a closer inspection found crusted food that must have been missed when the table was cleaned. Rory was insistent on their choice of venue tonight. Here they were, all dressed up (and Rory admittedly gorgeous), and instead of a nice meal like he had expected, they were sitting in a sticky diner booth surrounded by truckers. "Ace," he whispered, leaning over the table. "You sure you want to eat here? Honestly, we can go anywhere else. Go somewhere with a filet mignon instead of a beef patty, maybe. And after we can go see a movie or something."

"Logan, really, this is fine. I love these types of places!" she answered with a smile. "I think this is exactly what we need after the night we had. And look, they have the miniature jukeboxes on the tables!"

"Well, if you're sure," he muttered, sitting back as Darlene arrived with their waters.

Logan watched Rory as she took a sip from her glass before she turned to the old tabletop jukebox. She bit her lip as she flipped through the selections, her eyes searching for a song. He couldn't help but think how adorable and happy she looked, despite the earlier incident and the current scenery.

"Here, Ace," Logan said, reaching into his pocket, throwing some quarters onto the table. "Choose something good for us."

"I'm trying, I just don't know." She paused her search, frowning as she gazed above her at the speakers in the ceiling. "Someone's playing The Temptations. I have to find something just as good."

"Everyone likes The Supremes," he suggested.

Rory searched some more, her eyes widening as she laughed and inserted a quarter. "There, one of my mom's favorites, coming up." She sat back in the booth, seeming to look anywhere but him. She tapped her foot against the floor, matching the beat of the song above, while her lips mouthed the lyrics.

Logan searched for something to say to ease the palpable tension between them, but how could he possibly begin? The ride over to the restaurant was disturbingly quiet, the only real discussion happening while they decided where to go. He had known that the dinner had the potential to be disastrous, but he blindly believed Honor because the focus would be on her, or so he thought. His family would be so consumed with thoughts of a future wedding that they couldn't possibly move onto Logan's companion! He gave a soft, dark chuckle. He should have learned by now to never underestimate the Huntzbergers.

"Your milkshakes," announced Darlene, sliding the glasses on the table before leaving as quickly as she arrived.

"Yum," Rory whispered, reaching for the glass on the table. Her head still bopped along to the music as she took her first sip.

Logan should have trusted his gut. Rory was too good to take to the wolves tonight; she didn't deserve what they did to her. He didn't exactly come to her defense either during their rant, and he knew it. He hardly knew where to begin once his mother and grandfather started speaking. They had never done that to a girl he'd brought as a date before. They had made snide comments in passing, but nothing as deliberate as their words tonight. It was meant to hurt. Further surprise came from dragging his future into the discussion, a two-pronged attack, using more severe language than they ever had in front of company. It made him sick, to know that they would speak like that in front of his girlfriend. The gall of them. He didn't think there was anything he could say to Rory to apologize; words were not enough.

That's because no one has ever meant that much to you before, his subconscious tried to say, but he pushed the thoughts from his mind. Their relationship was still so new, it was too early to be feeling so strongly about the intelligent, blue-eyed beauty in front of him

"Rory, about the dinner," he began slowly, leaning over the table.

She held up her hand. "Logan, you don't have to say anything."

"But I do. That wasn't fair to you, it wasn't," he trailed off, trying to find a way to explain. "They were taking their anger at me out on you. It had nothing to do with you. Please understand," he pleaded.

Rory shrugged, looking less unruffled than he imagined. "Logan, I know a thing or two about being a disappointment to family members. I get it, I do," she said with a sigh. She smiled brightly, with a new burst of energy. "We're not going to dwell. We're going to continue to do what we have been doing. Have fun."

He frowned. Despite her smile, he couldn't help but think she was more affected than she let on. And why wouldn't she be? His family insinuated that she wasn't good enough for him, that her dreams were worthless, that she wasn't worthy to be his partner. It was absurd; she was a better student than him, more focused, and brilliant. It was apparent to everyone. He was a loser compared to her. He would be the winner of their hypothetical marriage, not her.

Logan stared at the table as he sipped his milkshake. There was another comment that disturbed him, the hint of a potential marriage. It was something that was always hinted at in the family, but Logan always saw it as an eventual necessity, not based on personal desire. When the time came, he would do his duty grudgingly, as expected.

He felt like slapping himself. His words to her as they left, suggesting that Rory would be the future Mrs. Huntzberger and that's why they were so upset – did he have to end it like that? Rory didn't think she was in this relationship for an eventual marriage, right?

Of course not. She'd even remarked that this was fun. It was still too early to think of marriage, a long-term future. Besides, Rory was the type of girl who would eventually want promises for the future, grand gestures, and love that lasted forever or some fairytale crap like that. That was decidedly not him, and she knew it. This was college, they had fun, and he liked being around her. She made him feel better about himself, and he couldn't deny that he wanted to see her happy. The time for serious things like that was for later, like in his thirties. Maybe forty if he could push it.

"I can't wait for the apple pie," Rory said, just as she finished a big slurp of her milkshake.

Logan chuckled and shook his head amusedly. He just couldn't help it. "Burgers first, remember?"

"Well, they need to hurry the heck up. A girl's gotta eat."

Oh yeah, this definitely beat an evening with his parents.

London – Mid-March 2016

Rory stared into her empty wine glass as she turned it over in her hand. She watched the remaining pale beige droplets in fascination, seeing how far she could turn the glass without losing any liquid. When she'd returned to Logan's that afternoon, she was restless, finally deciding on some wine to calm her busy mind. She'd grabbed an expensive bottle out of the cooler (not like he couldn't afford it, right?) before taking a place at his barstool. She had finished one glassful quickly enough, and she figured it was time for another. It wasn't like she had any plans for the evening.

She was halfway through the second glass when she heard the sound of his key in the lock. "Hey Ace, I'm back," Logan greeted loudly, before noticing Rory was in his kitchen. "Oh, you're here. How was the rest of your afternoon?" Logan asked, setting his briefcase next to the stairs. "Rory?" he asked again when she didn't reply, walking into the kitchen to stand next to the occupied barstool.

"Wine, Logan?" she whispered, not sparing him a glance.

"What?"

"An expensive bottle of wine," she continued with a sigh. Rory looked up at him, meeting his confused eyes with steel. "Your reasoning this afternoon. All for a bottle of wine," she reminded him, feeling dark satisfaction as he looked slightly sick.

"Rory, it was a joke."

"Ha, hilarious," she muttered, chugging the remaining bit of wine.

"It was a bad joke. I was trying to ease the tension after everything and I couldn't think of anything better. I regretted it as soon as I said it."

"You failed. You made me feel," she paused, unable to finish. Rory stood up, brushing past Logan as she walked to put her empty glass in the sink.

"Rory, I wasn't trying to embarrass you. God, I'm sorry," he said to her back. She continued to ignore him as she gathered the bottle, placing the stopper in the top. "I didn't think when I said it. We were near the restaurant when I picked you up, and I thought what the hell? I could go for some of their food. My family's share in the restaurant was no big deal."

Rory placed the bottle in his refrigerator. "Your father was there," she said to the closed doors, her hands not leaving the handle.

"He was," Logan answered flatly.

Rory turned her head, finally meeting his eyes. "Did you know?"

"Know he was going to be there?" She nodded. "Rory, the man barely tells me of his plans. Usually, he calls me on the way from the airport to tell me that he's stopping by the office," he said in exasperation. "Hey, it was fine, nothing happened," he added gently, walking closer to her.

Rory remembered the look Mitchum gave her as he shook hands with his friends. His knowing eyes had haunted her all day. She crossed her arms across her chest protectively. "Anyone could see us, know we were there together."

Logan's brows creased in confusion. "So? It's not like we haven't been out together before. I don't keep you locked in my home."

Rory broke Logan's gaze, staring at her feet. "People you know were there. People who know your family," she added, trying to hold back the fear in her voice.

"I don't give a damn what people think about you and me," he said harshly. Rory's breath caught as she met his eyes again, the seriousness in his expression alarming her.

Logan may not have cared, but she did.

"I have to get ready for tomorrow," she muttered as she walked past him, heading for the stairs.

"Rory –," he called to her back. She paused on the stairs for only a moment, waiting to hear his explanation. When nothing came, she continued on, leaving Logan alone with her biting dismissal in the kitchen.

London – June 2010

Logan studied his fingernails, trying to block out the stuffy music echoing through the hall. He had made plenty of introductions, thanked the well-wishers, and smiled at old friends, but now he was ready to leave. He wanted to go out in the city, perhaps hit up a pub for some late-night dinner (something at least more substantial than the bland finger foods), before collapsing in his hotel bed for a well-deserved rest. Tomorrow he would try to sneak out during a break, maybe visit a café and read a book. He had been gone years, but Logan always loved London. It had a different vibe than New York, and of course, most importantly: it was 3,000 miles away from the family compound.

Logan held back a yawn; he had still not fully adjusted to the time change. He had been in London only 36 hours, and in that time he was swamped with meetings between all different departments, phoning his father in-between to give first-hand accounts of the status of the company. Mitchum was appreciative, sure, if not a little antsy, and Logan was surprised at how well his father had taken to his mandatory rest. Even though he had worked for the company before, it shocked Logan just how much his father oversaw, how hands-on he was with his media empire. He supposed that the years of stress finally did take their toll on his father's heart, and now he deserved a much-needed break

Logan rolled his head, giving a sigh of satisfaction as he felt the joints crack in his neck. Not too much longer, he supposed. He had no idea that filling in for his father meant his required attendance at so many parties. No wonder Mitchum had so many tuxedos! But Logan preferred the late nights, the busy days, the constant traveling. It felt good to work hard again. It kept his mind occupied. And in the last year, he'd had more than enough time to be alone with only his thoughts to keep him company.

"Why hello," greeted a husky voice.

Logan turned to find a young woman at his side. "Er, hello."

"You're new," she stated, eyeing his figure appreciatively. "I would remember a face such as yours at one of our little shindigs."

"Well, I'm filling in for someone," he explained.

A waiter passed by, and the woman grabbed two flutes off the tray. "You looked thirsty," she said as she passed a flute to him. He muttered a small thanks. "Cheers," she said with a wink, watching him as he took a sip.

"So how long are you in London for?"

"Oh, um, for the next two weeks." Logan quickly looked at her, before turning his gaze to the crowd, determined to pass the time watching the partygoers. Soon, he reminded himself. He could go back to his hotel and warm bed soon.

"Mr. Huntzberger," greeted an older man. "I was so sorry to hear about your father. We wish him a full recovery." The man shook his hand with a smile. "Please tell him all of us at Meadowes and Phipps are keeping him in our thoughts."

Logan thanked the man, promising he would relay the message. The woman watched the exchange with wide eyes. "Huntzberger?" she questioned, looking at him in disbelief.

He shrugged. "Guilty," he said offhandedly, quite honestly surprised that she didn't know before now.

Her face morphed into a smirk. "Well isn't this just delicious? You know," she said, walking closer, "if you ever need anyone to show you around, you could always ring me."

Logan groaned internally. Great, another person who was more interested in the name. "Well, I have lived here before, but thanks for the offer," he replied, hoping to brush her off.

"Millie, what a surprise to see you here," came a new voice from behind him.

Millie's smile was strained in greeting. "Oh, hello."

"I see you've met my friend." Logan turned, taking his first glance at their new companion. Glancing surreptitiously around, Logan confirmed that the friend in question was himself, and he had to admit the strange woman's comment amused him.

"We were just chatting, weren't we?" Millie nodded to Logan, giving him a predatory smile.

"Er, yeah," Logan answered, glancing between the two women.

"I'm so glad you've kept him occupied while I was away. You know how boring these things can be."

Mille's face darkened. "Indeed."

"Have you been well?" asked the strange woman. It was apparent to Logan this was only common courtesy, as the women did not seem to be friends, and the unknown woman looked slightly bored as she stared at Millie awaiting an answer.

"Oh, same as always." Millie paused, glancing at Logan again with a frown. "I see you are doing quite well for yourself, Odie."

"Hmm, I'm sure you know how these things are." The strange woman grabbed the champagne flute out of Logan's hand, quickly downing the remaining liquid. She set the empty flute on the nearby table before she grasped Logan's elbow with a smile. "I apologize, but I've just been trying to find a time to dance all night. Darling, shall we?" she asked Logan without waiting for his answer, pulling him to the center floor. Surprised but intrigued, Logan followed along without question. This was the most entertainment he'd had all evening.

They joined together, Logan placing his hands at her sides. The woman didn't look at him. Instead, she watched the crowd gathered with a bored look. Logan used this time to study her. She was slightly tall, meeting his height with her heels. She wore a beautiful but expensive gown, one he was sure Honor would fawn over. She was beautiful and willowy in a classic sort of way, with dark brown hair and green eyes. He wondered why she was here alone, and why she'd pretended they were together.

"Nice to meet you?" he stated with amusement after studying her, curious over the night's turn of events. "Have to ask, how long have we been dating? I want to make sure we have our stories straight before we start telling people."

The woman rolled her eyes as she finally turned to face him. "Oh, you'd be thanking me profusely if you had spent any more time with her."

"You're quite certain of that, huh?"

"Millicent," she grumbled, "is an old school friend. She comes to her daddy's parties because she's looking to catch a moneyed man. You seemed to be tonight's target," she ended with a wink.

Logan looked back to where Millicent stood. She was watching them with a glare. "She did seem very determined."

"You may thank me later. I'll wait."

The woman (Odie, he reminded himself) broke his gaze, looking back among the crowd. She had a strange accent, one he couldn't pinpoint. It was as if it was a mixture, something common he knew from school friends who spent their childhoods moving around different countries. "Odie?" he asked, curious about the odd name.

Odie glared. "School nickname. I am sure you had one just as horrible."

"Logie was one, often used by my sister when I stole her doll."

"Stealing her dolls? How terrible. Your sister was too kind, Logie."

"Aw, come on. Don't you want to call me by my real name? I didn't steal your doll. If anything, I'm the victim. You stole me away from my evening."

"Oh, poor you," she replied flatly, Logan knowing full well that she didn't take him away from anything. She looked rather unaffected by his pleading. "No, I don't care to know. This is more fun, don't you think? Besides, it's only fair I know Logie when you only know me by Odie."

"If you insist."

They fell into a comfortable silence but still continued dancing, both seeming to escape the party with the other for company. After a couple more songs spent in silence, they eventually made their way back one of the numerous bars scattered around the room and ordered a drink. Both sipped their cocktails as they stood off to the side and Logan couldn't help notice that women (and men, he had to admit) passed by them without pausing. "Well, I guess this is my time to thank you. It seems people think we are together."

Odie shrugged. "It works."

"Still, it was nice of you to help little ole me," he joked.

"Oh please, you are not special. You see that man over there, the ginger?" She pointed, her head indicating a tall man in a well-fitting suit speaking with a group of men. Logan nodded. "He's a friend of the family. He's been rather annoying all night. I needed an escape. I saw you and thought, he'll do. If there's one thing I can see, it's another person looking for an escape."

Logan scratched his head. She reached for his arm, pulling his suit back to glance at his watch. She grumbled a muffled curse (in what Logan assumed was French) before she looked around the hall briefly in agitation. "I must be outside in five minutes." She finished off her drink quickly before she began to walk to the front hall.

"What, you're going to leave this awesome party?" Logan asked jokingly, following her.

"I have made alternate arrangements for the evening. I have played my part, stayed the required amount of time." She stopped and turned to face him. "Perhaps you try something similar," she suggested with a jab at his chest.

"Hey," he replied, slightly affronted. "Normally I do, but circumstances - well, I couldn't this time." He looked at her curiously. For an event such as this – why was her presence required? "Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" she fired back.

"Touché."

"Goodnight," she said with a wave before turning to leave. She stopped and shot him a teasing smirk over her shoulder. "Logie," she ended with a wink, an air of mystery in her wake.

"It was fun chatting with you!" Logan called out to her back, chuckling to himself over the night's turn of events.

London - Mid-March 2016

"So Colin is just thoroughly perturbed after this surgery. I suggested he let the experience mellow him out, not be as risky when he goes skiing now." Logan paused to take another bite. "Of course, he only thinks it means he won't be able to show off in front of other women like he used to," he ended jokingly.

Rory chuckled. Such typical male behavior. "He still hasn't found anyone? Still the everlasting bachelor?"

"I think his father's multiple marriages has put him off the whole institution."

Rory hummed in agreement, well aware of Colin's family's history. Not odd in the least, as she had met many friends over the years who felt the same.

Her thoughts returned to Naomi, as they often did lately, who several weeks ago after several martinis gave Rory the lengthy, detailed run-down of all her previous relationships. Naomi first started listing all of the men's faults, before in an almost odd moment of self-awareness, began to list off all of her own. Rory eventually had to guide her to a different topic when Naomi grew more agitated and somewhat weepy. It was clear the woman was lonely, that like many people, mistakes of the past would lead to many what-ifs when given a chance to ponder.

Perhaps she could latch onto that idea at an upcoming meeting. Naomi clearly wanted to talk, but if Rory could steer her, to focus on how her personal life intersected with her career aspirations, that could be illuminating. It would resonate with so many women who often wondered if they'd taken the best course. Rory knew already that she would. It was her nature to second guess her decisions. That's why she relied so heavily on her pro-con lists, to help eliminate that shred of self-doubt, to ensure that she made the right choices. However, that never meant she often didn't wonder in the back of her mind if she chose the right column. What if she went to Harvard, took that job offer, or said yes before she answered no? The possibilities were endless.

…But that was all before today's phone call, with Naomi's complete breakdown over the book. Rory pushed the food around her plate frowning. Maybe she had to think of alternatives. To be honest, Rory wasn't sure how much time she had left with the woman who was challenging to work with on the best of days.

"Ace?"

Rory looked up quickly, slightly apologetic to be so deep in her thoughts.

"Do you want dessert?"

"Oh, um, no," she answered, returning to her plate.

"No? A Gilmore turning down dessert?" Logan teased before his smile strained. "What's wrong?" he asked concerned.

She sighed in exhaustion. "Naomi. Her phone call today – I think she's going off the deep end."

"Hey, I know she's difficult, but you've got this." Logan cocked his head, looking at her thoughtfully. "I know you're still undecided, but this would be a great time to focus on those job interviews we discussed today. Get her out of your mind." His gaze became optimistic. "And remember, you have Conde Nast to look forward to, as well."

"If that ever happens," she muttered.

Logan reached across the table and he gently grasped Rory's hand that was next to her plate. "Listen," he said quietly. "I'm sure my father wasn't joking. He'd make a call for you."

Rory forced herself to hide her disgust. God, how awful that would be. The man that told her she didn't have it all those years ago, having to pull strings for her. "No thank you," she replied, quickly drawing her hand away and setting it on her lap.

Logan frowned at her movement, slowly returning his hand to his side of the table. Rory smiled brightly, hoping to hide her discomfort. "I'm sure it's just an oversight on their part," she replied, brushing off his offer.

Logan sat back in his chair, reaching for his wine glass and taking a long sip. Rory resisted the urge to scratch at her collar. The table had grown stuffier, and she tried to focus on anything but him. She picked at the tablecloth, pretending there was a spot that needn't be.

"Have you and Naomi discussed your next meeting?" Logan questioned stiffly after a pause.

"She said she'd give me a call."

"Well, just let me know when you're coming next so that I can make arrangements."

Right, arrangements. Code word for Odette. This was Rory's last night in London. It's why they were at their ceremonial last-night dinner at TheIvy after all. She wondered what his ritual would be after she left. Did he have the cleaning lady wash away the sins, to make it look like she was never there? Clearly, there had to be people that knew, that saw her there, that knew she was more than just an acquaintance. God, what if Odette knew about her? The thought filled her with a chill. Rory had a funny feeling that day in the club, that people recognized just who and what she was to Logan. Had they passed it on to their friends? Mitchum seemed to know something was up. The weasel could sniff out a story easily.

She started. Of course Mitchum knew. He knew from first glance that Logan's little white lie didn't hold water. He probably didn't know about the nature of his son's relationship with her these days, but he probably assumed (rightfully so) that they were more than acquaintances.

When he'd first arrived at the table, he acted in his genial, friendly sort of way, one that Rory was too familiar with. It's how the man drew people in, only to drop a bad news bombshell later. She wondered if Logan picked up on his father's behavior. He did seem slightly uncomfortable, but just to be caught having a meal with Rory and having his father bring up Odette. Plus, he knew that Rory had her problems with the man. But Logan didn't see the look Rory received after the man had left the table.

Oh god, the look. Rory laid awake the night following, Mitchum's dark eyes glaring at her from behind closed lids. She took the glare as a challenge, showing that yes, after all these years he still held the upper hand. Rory should have been confident enough that she could move on, to not give it a second thought. She was convinced the man had a deep dark side, and the knowing look meant nothing good could be on the horizon. But she had to keep the moment to herself. She couldn't involve Logan in whatever scheme seemed to be percolating within Mitchum; he had enough to worry about without worrying about his father, too.

I don't give a damn about what people think about you and me.

Rory watched Logan finish the remnants of his meal. Suddenly his comment from the other day was clear - that he wasn't only expressing concern over any possible future problems between them, but there was more to his story. More than just Finn's comments months ago in the New York City bar. The thought filled her with fear, a cold, dead weight settling in her stomach.

People knew. The only question was, how many?

New York City – September 2010

It was another boring event, another time with Logan going in his father's stead representing the Huntzberger company. Truth be told he was more annoyed his father had lied about the start time, as the speeches weren't to begin for another thirty minutes. Mitchum claimed that he was mistaken, but Logan, frustrated, hung up when his father shot off his typical, half-assed apologies. Now he was stuck here in the designated time to watch other people mingle – or in his case, drink the free booze and nibble on the hor d'oeuvres.

Having just escaped another painful conversation with casual business acquaintances of his father, Logan flicked through his phone, catching up on the box scores on ESPN from the west coast games. He looked around the hall, grimacing as he caught familiar faces.

A movement to the far left caught his eye. It was someone he recognized, though truthfully not one he would ignore if given a chance. He caught the uncomfortable posture, the pained looked behind a carefully placed expression as another person spoke. Sliding his phone into his pocket, he wandered over to the other side of the room, determined to join the familiar face before he lost his nerve.

As he grew closer to the pair, he realized the speaker was a Wall Street trader, boasting about a recent deal. Logan rolled his eyes. Apparently, the man was oblivious that his companion had no interest in banking.

"Darling, I'm sorry I'm late," he began, sliding an arm around the woman's waist and standing next to her side. "Hi, I don't believe we've met," he said, holding his hand out the man. "Logan Huntzberger."

The man's eyes bugged in surprise. "Huntzberger! You're a legend," he exclaimed, shaking Logan's hand with enthusiasm. "Zach Cooley. Yale, Class of '08."

"Ah, good. Another Yale man."

Zach fidgeted, shifting his feet as he gazed at the pair. "Well, it was great talking to you," he said mainly to the woman, "but I can see you are otherwise occupied. Have a good night." He walked briskly to another group, not sparing the pair another glance.

"Logie?" said the woman in annoyance, jabbing her elbow gently into Logan's stomach and removing herself from his side. She turned to him with an exasperated glare.

"Odie, how wonderful to see you again. Gotta tell you, was a bit shocked to see you here of all places. Didn't think I'd ever see you again. Like the dress," Logan teased, his smile widening as she rolled her eyes.

She crossed her arms. "Logie, was that necessary?"

"What? It's like you said before, you can tell if someone is looking for an escape. And as you looked like you were walking to the guillotine, I thought I'd offer my services. Like you did for me before," he said with a slight bow of his head. "Plus, I know from experience that you have about as much patience for these things as I do."

Her shoulders fell slightly as she looked off to the side. "Well, that is true."

"Listen, we have about 25 minutes until the speeches start. This room is insufferable. You want to go outside?" Logan asked, his thumb pointing to the open doors behind him. "I was going to go by myself anyway, but it would be nice to have company."

She sighed, looking around the room, pondering her answer. "Lead the way," she answered, taking Logan's offered arm.

"You attended Yale?" she asked, once they had made their way outside the hall and into the open air.

"Yes, you have a problem with that?" he joked, slightly distracted as the lights played upon her dress in the night.

"It is an acceptable school."

"Acceptable?" he responded, flabbergasted but amused. "It's one of the best schools out there! And definitely better than Harvard. Don't let people tell you differently."

She smirked and crooked her head. "Sorry, I must say Cambridge is better."

Logan whistled. "You were holding out on me. I knew you were smart, but wow. Nice Odie."

"Please don't call me that," she muttered, glancing at her feet.

"I wouldn't, but you've never told me your name. You thought it was more fun to use our atrocious nicknames." He bumped her shoulder slightly with his own. "You now know mine is Logan."

"Huntzberger, yes I know." She caught his eye, giving him a strange and unnerving look. "It's Odette."

"Ah, Odette," Logan repeated, liking the way the uncommon name rolled off his tongue. "So are you French then?" He paused, waiting for a response. She stared straight ahead, her mouth in a tight frown. "It's just you have a very distinct accent, and I know you've spoken French so," he added quickly, looking at her for an answer.

"From when I was 12, I completed my schooling in England. I stayed for university. But yes, I am French, through and through."

"Interesting." Her accent explained, he wondered over the other unknowns. "So why are you here? Long way to travel."

"I have been in town for personal reasons. My family had other arrangements, so they asked me to attend on their behalf."

Logan nodded. "Isn't it always like that though? I'm the same. In town, forced to come on my parents' behalf."

"It's alright, I fly back to Paris tomorrow."

"Paris, huh?"

"It's where I work. It is home." Odette paused, looking at him thoughtfully. "And you?"

"London, here, sometimes Connecticut, wherever they need me to be. I rack up a lot of frequent flier miles," he quipped.

"Well, you must take advantage when you can. "

They spent the next minutes talking, easily sharing stories, managing to make it inside just as the speeches started. He had to admit, he enjoyed spending the time with someone who found these events just as bogus as he did. She would quietly mock the people, and he the same, both trying to stifle their laughter. The time passed quickly, it was nearing time to depart, and Logan realized that he hadn't had this much fun with another woman in ages.

"Logan! My dear boy," exclaimed a familiar voice.

Logan cursed as he faced the Campbells, close friends of his parents from the Vineyard. "Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, hello."

"How is your father doing?" John Campbell asked sympathetically, shaking his hand.

"He's doing much better, thank you," Logan answered politely. "He's gained his strength back, and he's itching to come back to the office as soon as possible."

"Oh, we know how it can be," Mrs. Campbell added, as Logan reached out to shake her hand and offer a quiet hello. "He's always been one for work."

"That he has, but now his doctors want him to relax more, which my mother reads as more time at the Vineyard, so they're not complaining. I dare say he's even enjoying the reprieve, though he'd never admit it."

"But how good of you to step up. I know it means a lot to them," said John proudly.

Logan shrugged. "I do what I can."

"Oh how rude of me, I see that you were busy," said John apologetically as he looked to the woman standing near Logan. "Ms. DeSaulnières, it's been some time. We haven't seen your parents in, goodness, two years?" he questioned, before looking to his wife for confirmation. "But nonetheless understandable. I'm glad to see you again and that you're doing well. And how are your parents?" he asked with concern to Odette.

"My parents are well, thank you. Content to stay home for now."

"I see that you are acquainted with our young Mr. Huntzberger here," he added with a grin.

Odette hesitated, meeting Logan's eyes. "Yes, well I –"

"Logan, how long have you been hiding that you two know each other?" Mrs. Campbell queried.

"Gosh, you know," Logan shrugged, looking again to Odette to gauge her reaction. She looked as wide-eyed as him, though did he detect a trace of fear?

Mrs. Campbell looked between the two, her Cheshire-cat grin deepening at their obvious discomfort. "Well, isn't this just lovely. Come on John," she said, laying a hand on her husband's arm. "Let's leave them to it."

Logan's heart slowed as the couple departed. Letting out a sigh, he turned to the woman at his side. Odette was fidgeting, playing with the latch of her clutch, determinedly not sparing him a look. He watched her curiously, noting how she obviously pretended to look for something within her bag to pass the time.

"Odette DeSaulnières."

She met his eyes. "Yes."

"DeSaulnières, as in–,"

"Don't make it a thing," she replied shortly, closing her clutch and beginning to walk away from him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Logan asked to her back, following her as she moved near the bar at the back of the hall. "Christ, that's – "

"Oh, quiet, Huntzberger," she interrupted, fixing him with a glare. "It's not like you were forthcoming about your background either. Does it matter? We both lied."

"You're right. And I'm guessing for similar reasons," he replied understandingly.

She gave a weary sigh, her eyes sad. "It's easier if people don't know. It's just so tiring. All the questions, all the superficial comments."

"Listen, you don't have to pretend with me. I get it. If there's one thing I can empathize over with someone fully, it's this," he explained, smiling softly and touching her elbow comfortingly. "How nice of our parents to leave us with this curse of the name, huh?"

Odette gave a dark chuckle, relaxing under his touch.

"Oh fuck, my parents," he cursed in a mutter. Mrs. Campbell probably supposed they had been an item in secret, finally caught in the act. How thrilled she would be to break the news to her friends, that she had caught Logan, the elusive man a bachelor no more.

"What is it?"

"Those people, I guarantee you by tomorrow my mother and her friends will have heard about us here together. I will never hear the end of this."

"Are you their prized stud?" she teased, hiding her discomfort.

"Somewhat. Oh, this will be a nightmare," he stopped, catching her face. "Oh, no! Don't think it's because of you. Just that, you know how parents can be. I'm sorry you will have to be dragged into my mess."

She stepped back, pretending to study his form. "At least you're tolerable," she said jokingly, tapping her chin and angling her brow.

"Gee thanks," he replied sarcastically, his stress disappearing. Her reaction settled his fears, making him more at ease with the turn of events. "On the other hand," he began, smiling as she looked at him oddly.

"Why do I not like that look?"

"I was thinking - It's always nice just to be friends with someone who understands. Who is on the same page." He paused, looking out among the crowd. "Who sees beyond the façade so many seem to have here."

"Seems a bit advantageous, does it not?"

New York City – Late March 2016

"Thank god we can have a movie night again," Carolina exclaimed as brought the popcorn and two small bowls to the couch where Rory was seated. "I'm so glad you're back. It's quite annoying with you in London all the time."

Rory muttered a thank you as she was handed the snack bowl. "Well, I guess London has its perks," she replied with a grin, pouring the snack into her bowl. "Makes the visits bearable."

Carolina scoffed amusedly. "No kidding." She reached over to grab her wine glass off the coffee table, before settling back against the cushions. "Just saying, if I wasn't busy with work or with someone, I would be seeing the sights, shopping." She paused, bringing the wineglass up to her lips, giving Rory a sly, sideways glance. "Hanging out with as many sexy Brits as possible."

"It's work. It isn't like that at all."

"Hey, leave me to my fantasies, alright?"

Carolina grabbed the Roku remote, starting the movie she had chosen for the evening. Rory took a few bites of popcorn, wishing she had picked up some licorice along the way. Rory loved movie nights, but when she didn't spend them with her mother, they felt different, incomplete. Rory wasn't in the mood to venture back to Connecticut this time around, so she called her friends, asking if they were willing to take her in. "Thanks again for letting me stay on such short notice," Rory said over the credits, appreciative to her friend for opening her home to her and giving her a chance to just hang out.

Carolina shrugged. "Oh please, it's no big deal. You know I told you the door's open. I love it. It's like being in college again. I never get to do this." She quieted as the fighter jets on the screen crescendoed, waiting for a lull in the noise. "Plus, you're like one of my only friends who enjoys cheesy '80s movies."

"I mean, this movie is great though. Can't beat Tom Cruise in his prime!"

The two fell silent, content to watch the movie. Rory fidgeted. There was a reason she had called Carolina first, hoping that she had the room. One topic had lingered on her mind, and if there was one person who had the knowledge she was searching for and was ignorant enough of Rory's past and present, it was her friend Carolina. "Hey, Caro, I have a weird question for you," Rory asked hesitantly.

"Hmm," she acknowledged.

"I know you know fashion – I mean you have to working for InStyle - but how much do you know about the people? Power players, the who's who in the fashion world."

"A fair bit, I hear things around the office. Feels like I work at TMZ sometimes," she ended with a laugh.

"Do you know someone named Odette DeSaulnières?"

Carolina stopped chewing, giving Rory a strange look. "Yes," she answered slowly.

"So?" she egged on, frustrated.

Carolina shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm just really confused why you would know her name. She's not, well, someone who I think would be on your radar."

"She came up when I was researching one of my articles. Wild tangent, I know. But fashion got involved and then, you know," Rory fibbed, hoping her answer would placate her friend.

Carolina nodded, convinced. "Oh, well I wonder how best to describe her," Caro paused, grabbing a few more bites of popcorn as her gaze turned thoughtful. "So she comes from a family like the Hiltons, yeah? Huge company, socialite parents. The children are also famous socialites. Well, take that fame and combine that with the, hmm, I don't know. Think Kardashians, maybe."

"What?" Rory replied confused. A Kardashian comparison is not what she was expecting when speaking of Logan and his family's wishes.

"Well, just think, it helps if you're famous if you want to get involved in the fashion world, right? Like the Kardashians. It's kind of what they did."

"Okay, I guess I get it." Rory sat back, a bit deflated.

"So this Odette modeled a bit on Paris runways when she was young, just because she could and you know, she's also gorgeous. Now she kind of flits from fashion house to fashion house. The name gives her the edge. Rumor is she wants to start her own big line. She probably can, too. She's got everything she needs."

Rory glanced at her pants, picking the lint off, hoping to hide her discomfort. "What's stopping her, then?"

"The Hilton factor." Rory looked up quickly in confusion, meeting her friend's eyes. "A powerful, rich family, three children, first a boy and then two girls. The family gets involved, right? Passed on to the children?" she explained.

"I'm following."

"Her brother, like many sons in these families, was set to take over, leaving her and her sisters to their own lives. However, her brother was notorious in his own right, as those socialites tend to be. Died in a boating accident with some others along the Riviera when he was partying with some other well-known European socialite kids. Sketchy circumstances, drugs and alcohol involved. Was a huge deal when it happened. All over the European tabloids." Carolina ended her story with a sad look. "So she's next in line. Apparently, the family isn't big on the whole fashion, choose-your-own destiny sort of thing."

"Wow, that's gotta be tough," Rory responded sadly, suddenly overcome with the knowledge of the other woman in Logan's life.

Her friend shrugged as she returned to her snack. "You know, for that amount of money, I would do about anything. It's not like they're hurting. And you know the family business and all, at least you have a foot in, right? So much better than starting off with nothing. No student loans."

But Rory knew from experience that type of money could come with strings, expectations that people weren't prepared for, with responsibilities they didn't want. Privilege could be incredible, but like the friends she met at Chilton and Yale, it didn't always mean happiness.

"Wouldn't you just absolutely die if someone did that to you?" Carolina asked with a laugh, as Tom Cruise belted out "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling" to the crowded bar. "No scratch it. If a man belted out his love for me in a crowded bar, I'd be a goner. That takes balls. The feminist in me is screaming at the gall, but I can't help it. Maybe it's a Tom Cruise thing. I just can't resist the smirk."

"The smirk can be a powerful thing," Rory reasoned.

"I wish I knew a man like that."

"You know, I think Finn would do it if you asked him nicely," Rory said slyly, recalling Finn's propensity for pranks and ridiculousness if only for the pure enjoyment of the reactions of people around him.

"Oh Rory, I was facetious. Nothing like that happens in real life."

"Yeah, you're right," Rory replied softly. But it had happened to her.

Rory remembered that one day in lecture when Logan, Finn, and Colin burst through the doors of the hall. She was so angry to be put on the spot like that, in front of all her classmates. She remembered how she just couldn't wait to see him again to give him a piece of her mind. He could get her so worked up with his teasing eyes and smirk. It wasn't until Marty pointed out to her later that the whole point was to stake his claim. Like a little boy pulling a girl's pigtails. Immature to be sure, but Finn was right. She unknowingly had his balls. She and Loganher were just too scared to confess their feelings, choosing to hide between their jokes and jabs. But eventually, they found common ground, creating a relationship that still lasted, however tenuous, to this day.

Rory tried to force her thoughts away from Logan. She didn't want to ponder about what he could be doing now back in London, knowing that she wouldn't like the outcome. But his happy expression as she pranced around his living room, the pride he showed when he discussed her upcoming interviews, played on repeat in her memories. One thing was still clear to Rory after all this time, the one thing that she had tried so hard to forget -

She was still a goner when it came to Logan Huntzberger.

AN: Well, well, well. If you got this far, thanks for reading. See you next time for Chapter 14: Photograph

Please review if you can! I appreciate it so much. Nothing makes me want to write more than when I see a new notification!