Page 64 of Pity Play

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 apologizefor 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?”

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