✔️ Miss Lorelai Hayden [UNDER EDITING]

[1] In

Writing a book, something I never saw myself doing throughout my thirty-two years of life, ending up being exactly what I needed. Though I've read countless novels of fiction, most of which are considered classics, I stepped out of my comfort zone and documented my life in the only world I know: the world of literature. I could only think of something so fitting for the eccentric characters in my life.

Though these lively characters still reside in Stars Hollow, my home is now the great city of London. After my book took off, I received many offers from publishing houses, magazines, press, and newspapers alike, but only one piqued my interest. How could I say no to a blast from the past?

Doyle offered me a job at the London Times, where he is currently Editor-In-Chief, to write for the features beat, knowing that was my battleground at Yale. Yale, how I never thought those times would change my life forever.

Speaking of blasts from the pasts, Logan Huntzberger is the primary one always on my mind. Years passed after my graduation where Logan and I didn't talk, didn't acknowledge each other, didn't even stand in the same room as one another. Every single time I was invited to an event I even remotely thought he'd be at I politely declined, claiming that I was very busy. That was until one fateful day a little over a year ago.

I was in Hamburg, Germany writing a freelance piece for this up and coming paper. I decided to explore, walk around downtown for a little bit, taking in all the breathtaking views that millions of people before me have. Too preoccupied with the surroundings above me, I didn't pay attention to what was in front of me. While walking past an official seeming building, my eyes elsewhere, I ran straight into someone, immediately bringing me out of my daze and apologizing; that is, until I heard it: "Ace?"

And that was that. The Vegas agreement began that night in my hotel room, over and over. Throughout our three day stay together I learned all about Odette and what Logan was up to – not that he need to tell me. I've always kept tabs on him. He revealed that he still works for Mitchum, still living in the same apartment as he was all those years ago while I was at Yale. I would never tell him this, but I already knew. I live in the penthouse in the same building. Weird? Maybe; but you know what they say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. This was the one way that I could truly avoid him, by knowing his schedule, his every move. But even after all that planning we still managed to run into each other in another foreign country; what good that did me, I guess.

Throughout the months of our random conversations – more focused on the physical aspect of our agreement – Logan found himself assuring me that Odette was just a business arrangement, his 'dynastic plan.' Having no idea why it was so important to him that I knew this, I thought nothing of it. Of course, my feelings for him rose out of their cage in the depths of my heart as soon as his hand stabilized my fall in Hamburg, but I knew he didn't feel that way about me anymore so I kept it to myself. The way he talks about her, I know he loves her. He once told me he wouldn't marry for anything else but love, and if he is still the man I knew, then he truly loves her, and I can't stand in the way of that. Who could blame them? Logan was the best thing to ever happen to me, I couldn't blame Odette for falling for him; so, I sit back, for months on end, and listen to his rambles of love while using his body to tape the shards of my heart back together as one.

The Hunztberger Publishing Group, as intimidating as they may be – 'they' meaning Mitchum – agreed to publish my book a few months ago, giving me the status I now claim in this society. While it's currently only published in Europe – they wanted to test the demographics to see how it would do before possibly wasting their resources – I walk into Mitchum's office, completing the formalities for them to have my permission to distribute and print my book in any country that they please.

After completing the paperwork, I gather my things, about to bid Mitchum a good day when he get's ahead of me, "Any message you would like me to pass on? To anyone?" he inquires, brows raised in a suggestive manner.

Mitchum has become softer, more accepting in these past years. Don't get me wrong, I still hate him for everything he put me through and continues to put Logan through, but he's let up about zero point zero seven degrees from his wrath. As far as Mitchum, or anyone, knows for that matter, Logan and I have not talked to each other since that final day at Yale where he left my heart shattered, our love story drifting off in the wind.

"Nope," I reply, it rolling off my tongue as second nature. He asks me the same question every single time with the same suggestive attitude splayed across his features.

"Alright. Well, I'll get this to Legal and they'll get the ball rolling. Have a nice day, Miss Gilmore."

I fake a smile, turning to leave his office with an eye roll as a cold shiver falls over me. Making my way quickly to the elevator, I press the button multiple times, not being able to get out of there fast enough. The dinging brings me out of my thoughts, but just as I'm about to step in and escape the weight of the Hunztbergers on my shoulders, Mitchum's assistant stops me. She doesn't say anything, only handing me a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

Confused, I step onto the elevator and press the button with the star next to it, the elevator beginning it's decent from the twenty-third floor. Cautiously, I take a sip, no longer able to deny the smell of coffee wafting right into my nose. I pull back, my curiosity growing: extra strong. I inspect the cup as if it will be able to tell me exactly what's going on. I almost let it slide, chalking it up to coincidence until I see the black marker on the side of the cup. Holding it up to the light, I rotate it so the rest of the marker is visible to me. As soon as I read it, a smirk laced with curiosity and mixed with excitement dances across my face, for the cup laid out a clue: IN. I could only begin to guess what the beautiful blonde had in store. 

Edited.