Gilmore Girls: Wish Upon a Snow

Chapter 41

Rory had been sweating for two weeks.
It was unseasonably hot for a New England fall, and Rory and Lorelei sat on the front porch stairs with their pant legs rolled up, leaned back on their palms.
"I feel fat," Rory sighed, blowing a piece of sweaty hair away from her face.
Lorelei turned her head, squinting one eye at the light. "Well, you're not," she said shortly. The ends of her ponytail clung desperately to the back of her neck.
"That was convincing," Rory laughed.
Lorelei was quiet for a moment, gazing out at the driveway. Her heart ached a little, hoping for Luke to drive up at any moment.
Rory glanced at her, worry creeping in to her stomach.
"Mom?" She asked.
Lorelei did not respond, knowing exactly where the conversation was going.
"Mom," Rory repeated.
Lorelei sighed, "you just wait until you have a kid that says 'mom' forty times in a row."
"I said it twice," Rory snipped, "where do you think Luke is?"
Lorelei propped her chin up in her hand, balancing her elbow on her knee.
"Do you think my shins look tanner?" She asked vaguely.
"Yes."
"Really?" Lorelei asked brightly, tilting her leg from one side to the other, trying to notice a difference.
"No," Rory said, "your legs don't look any tanner, sorry. I really want to know where you think he is."
Lorelei opened her mouth, but was interrupted by Rory's phone ringing. She was secretly grateful.
Rory struggled to pull the phone out of her pocket and glanced at the screen.

PARIS

Rory's stomach seized, and her heartbeat was in her throat. She fumbled with the phone before answering.
"Hello?" She asked, slightly out of breath.
"Rory! How the hell are ya?" Paris asked distractedly from the other end of the line.
"Well, I will probably be better after I hear whatever it is you are about to tell me," Rory sighed, running her hand through her hair.
Lorelei wrinkled her nose, watching Rory carefully.
"Ah, see, I'm always the one with the answers, aren't I? Anyway. The baby looks great. No genetic abnormalities we could see. Do you want to know the gender?"
Rory inhaled sharply. Lorelei lunged toward her, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder.
"Hang on one sec, Paris," Rory said, muting the phone. She looked at Lorelei. "Do I want to know the gender?"
Lorelei removed her hand. "God, Rory. Don't do this dramatic concerned breathing like something is wrong. You're going to give me a heart attack. I don't know, do you want to know the gender?"
Rory made a face, suddenly unsure. "I don't really know," she said. The question had caught her off guard. There had been so many questions surrounding the father of the child that Rory had not really had much time to obsess over the gender.
Lorelei shrugged. "Well, you can always find out later, so if you're not sure, say no for now."
Rory nodded, relieved. "What would I do without you? Such a voice of reason."
"Yeah, yeah. Figure out who the dad is, Jerry Springer."
Rory glared at her, taking the phone off of mute and putting the phone back to her ear.
"Paris?" She asked.
There was muffled noise on the other end, as if someone had put the phone face down.
Rory waited. Finally, after two minutes, someone picked up the phone.
"Rory?"
"Hey, Paris. Sorry about that. No, I don't want to know the gender."
Paris made a noncommittal noise. "Weird. I would've thought that you would want to know. Not knowing is very 'in' right now, though."
"Paris!" Rory asked, her voice sounding somewhat strangled, "Who is the dad?"
Paris sighed.
Rory was trying to control her breathing.
"Alright, Rory. Are you sure you want to know?"
"Yes," Rory squeaked out.
"Okay, well. We obviously got samples from both male subjects."
"And?" Rory asked, her fingertips white as they gripped the phone.
Lorelei put her face in both hands, rubbing her temples.
"Subject B is the father...with 99.9 percent certainty," Paris said, it sounded as if she was reading off of something.
"Oh my god, Paris. Which is which? Who is B?" Rory asked, her stomach felt like eels tumbling over one another. Her heart was pounding, and Rory felt horribly sick. She could feel the grilled cheese she had eaten for lunch slowly working its way back up. The sun was suddenly too bright, and Rory was desperately uncomfortable, sliding backwards from the stairs on to the porch to get out of the direct sun.
There was a bit of rustling on the other end of the line. After a short pause, Paris sighed.
"Logan is the father, Rory."