Disclaimer: All Gilmore Girls content belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino.
. . .
Humming a She Wants Revenge song under her breath, Ella leaned back against the cabinets and dried the fragile dishes. She was reminded of their days at the diner as Jess stood over the kitchen sink washing them. From her spot sitting on the counter right next to him, she could admire his profile and feel her cheeks heat up at the sight. He had grown into himself so well. But his beauty and her comfort at his presence were probably the only things keeping her nerves at bay. The dishes, her mother's, had come in the mail from Fiona only two days earlier. White faux China adorned with pinkish-red roses. Ella had taken a few moments to recognize them, since there had been no note along with them. But then she remembered family holidays when her mother would take them out, only used for the most special occasions. Even though they were chipped in some places and had been bought at a rummage sale just after her parents had gotten married.
The dishes were where the plans for the holiday truly started to form. Chris, Leo, Matthew, and Mabel all had other engagements which took them out of town for Thanksgiving. Ella and Jess were still unsure of what they were doing. Adam was going to Noah's, Fiona was going to her sister's. Still, no word from Jake. Jess was wary of staying in Stars Hollow, though his time at the community center therapist's office had been doing him well. They bounced him around to a different counselor each time he went, and talking to a complete stranger about all his issues hadn't come easy, still wasn't coming easy. But maybe just the fact that he was trying made him feel better.
On a whim, at the sight of the dishes, Ella had a wild idea. Instead of going to Stars Hollow, why not bring Stars Hollow to Philadelphia? The dishes were meant to be used. She couldn't neglect them like an instrument unplayed. Not her mother's dishes. And when she'd run it by Jess, he'd been more receptive than she'd thought he would be. Maybe he was just surprised she was open to contacting anyone from her family at all. She still seemed so standoffish about them, since the graduation ceremony. And the apartment wasn't big, but certainly they could handle a few people over for one afternoon. Julie, Michael, and their girls would be in attendance. Along with Luke and Lorelai. But, when Liz and TJ heard Luke and Lorelai were coming, they somehow managed to invite themselves.
Jess wasn't thrilled about it, and neither was Ella, but they were trying to keep level heads. Plan everything in advance and keep the day-of to a low-stress affair. It was only Monday, and they were already washing the dishes. It made Ella feel slightly more secure. And she had the whole week off, leaving plenty more time to prepare. Luke and Lorelai were also coming on Wednesday and staying the night at a motel, though Ella and Jess insisted they didn't need to help. Ella was shocked Luke was willing to be away from the diner for more than one day, let alone Thanksgiving. Maybe getting back with Lorelai after Rory's graduation had changed his outlook on life a bit.
She uttered a small sigh as she dried yet another dish, stressing herself out with the storm of thoughts raging in her head. A throb was starting behind her eyes.
"What's up?" Jess asked, handing her another plate, his hands reddish and dripping from the hot water.
Ella shook her head slightly. "Nothing. Doesn't it just seem a little bourgeois of us to have a set of dishes?"
"I don't know. I think we're exempt, considering you got these from your mom, who got them from someone else," Jess pointed out, his voice light. "Sharing is caring for the proletariat."
Snickering, she let a small smile cross her lips. "Well, it'll have to be, considering we're trying to fit eleven people in a shoebox."
"It won't be that bad," Jess continued, trying to sound reassuring. She had been quiet and fidgety all evening, and he wondered just how wound up about the event she really was. Ella had a tendency to spread herself too thin and regret it when it was already too late.
"Look at you, Mr. Sunshine," she quipped as she dried the last plate.
Jess shut off the water and watched the soapy foam begin to circle down the drain. He wiped his hands on his jeans, eyeing the tall stack of dishes which sat on Ella's other side. She was right. Even a chipped set of plates didn't look quite correct in their faded, out of date kitchen. But he only shrugged off the nerves. They were in for it, and there was nothing they could do about it. He came to stand in between Ella's legs. She brought her arms to rest on his shoulders as he shifted closer.
"I'm working on my positive outlook."
She snorted a laugh. "Good luck."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "Well, that wasn't very convincing."
"I just don't know if I'd be able to handle you waking up to a motivational tape every morning," she said, shrugging.
Jess smirked. "That's cute. But it's not 1985 anymore. It would be a motivational CD, at least."
"Maybe you could start with reading that self-help book again?" she suggested, teasing. "Maybe Luke could bring it up for you on Wednesday?"
"Touché," he replied.
"Hey," she began, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, "I kinda like that you read that book."
He scoffed. "Why?"
"I don't know," she said, searching his face for a moment. "Just seems exactly like something you would do...in a good way. Are you sure you're okay with seeing your mom and everything?"
"Yeah. I'm fine. I promise," he said matter-of-factly.
"Okay. But just tell me if you're not okay. I can kick them out without a second thought," she said with mock gravity. "There's a reason I was Luke's favorite waitress."
Jess chuckled. "Good to know."
Then, she took a deep, tired breath. Tilting his head at her, he noticed the constant tinge of pink on her cheeks, and the way she seemed to sit as though the weight of the world was on her limbs.
"You okay, Stevens?" he asked.
"Other than the sense of impending doom...yeah, I'd say I'm doing alright," she said.
Furrowing his brows, he brought the back of one hand to her cheek.
She groaned in annoyance at his needless concern. "You can't get all Mother Hen on me now, Mariano. We've got pies to bake and a turkey to roast."
"Elle, if-"
"I'm fine, Jess," she continued, swatting his hand away when he attempted to move it to her forehead. "It's just PMS. I have cramps, too. Don't worry about it."
After a moment, he finally managed an unconvinced: "Okay."
. . .
Wednesday afternoon brought flurries of snow in stray showers throughout the day. A crisp, biting wind blew through the Philadelphia air, but it still felt a bit warmer than Connecticut to Lorelai. She could already smell the fragrance of pie as they approached the door of Jess and Ella's apartment. It was odd, to say the least, standing in the dingy, grayish hallway of the building in front of the door, adorned with a rusty '7.' A flash of memory crossed her mind, sitting in the living room of her home, braiding Ella's hair. She'd warned Ella back then not to get involved with Jess, told her he was trouble. Sometimes, when she heard through the Lane grapevine about fights the two had, Lorelai wondered if she should have done more to protect Ella. She remembered nights comforting her on the couch after her mother died, feeling helpless and unable to get Ella to work through her emotions. Often, Ella would just sit there staring at the television screen, with the same glazed expression no matter what they were watching. Even after Rory fell asleep, Lorelai would stay up with her. Just to be there.
She knew what it was to be alone at such a young age. And she knew what it was to fall for a boy who didn't deserve you just to escape the isolation. Sometimes, Ella reminded her more of herself than even Rory. But Rory had been on her mind every waking second in those days. And she had, somehow, let Ella slip through the cracks. Go on a rocky path with Jess. Not that it hadn't turned out alright in the end. Even Luke approved, despite how against it all he had been at first. But Lorelai was still unsure of Jess, even after so many years. She was civil when they crossed paths, but actually spending a day inside the home Ella shared with him was a different matter entirely. All she'd ever seen of him were the angriest, nastiest moments. She didn't like the idea of Ella having to weather such a storm for the rest of her life, simply because she and Jess had been together for so long.
"You gonna knock, or what?" Luke asked, his wide, expectant eyes flicking between the door and Lorelai. His hands were full of the sides he'd made the day before. One tupperware with garlic mashed potatoes, the other with glazed carrots; he knew how much Ella liked them. She'd always taken the leftovers from the diner when they were offered.
Lorelai nodded. "Yes. Just preparing myself to right walk into a John Hughes movie."
"I told you, Lorelai," Luke said gruffly, rolling his eyes. "He's changed. They both have."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Well, you're getting the chance to. Just please knock on the damn door before my arms give out," Luke said.
Lorelai scoffed, then raised a gloved hand and knocked. She was surprised how quickly Jess came to greet them, a thin smile on his face as he took their coats and the tupperwares from Luke. He seemed rushed, and there was a pink, checkered apron tied around his hips. It stood out against his otherwise all-black t-shirt and jeans ensemble. She was surprised to see a respectable haircut on his head.
"Hey. Make yourself at home. I gotta make sure the sugar doesn't burn," he said, then hurried back into the kitchen as they took off their shoes.
"Thanks," Lorelai muttered, looking around the place.
It was surprisingly cozy, homey, considering the run-down state of the building. There were a few throw blankets draped over the back of the couch, and cacti planted in small pots on one of the end tables near the sliding glass door. Through it, she could see two mismatched armchairs next to each other on the tiny balcony. Art lined the walls. A few posters, famous photography, paintings and drawings Lorelai could recognize as Ella's from their mixture of horror and botanicals. Stepping into the living room as Luke immediately offered to help Jess, she spotted a couple pictures in small frames, sitting on the end table sans cacti.
In one, Ella sat on Jess's lap inside what looked to be a dive bar. Ella's left arm was hooked around the back of Jess's neck, and she used her free hand to gesture. Her lips were curling up at the edges as she spoke some word frozen in time. Jess had his head thrown back in laughter at whatever Ella had said. The sight made Lorelai's eyebrows raise just a touch. She didn't think she had ever heard Jess truly laugh at anything. The next picture saw Ella and Jess together in a train seat, the scenery passing them by through a small window. They were both asleep, Ella's head on Jess's shoulder, and Jess's head on top of Ella's. In another, just Ella was in the shot. She was glancing at the camera, not quite smiling but looking serene as she sat on a beach towel, the waves captured in mid-crash behind her. Still, Lorelai's surprise grew. Ella hated the ocean.
"Nice apron, by the way," Luke said, smirking at Jess as he rounded the corner to take a seat at the island.
Jess gave a sardonic grin in response, looking down at himself and blushing. "Thanks. Eleanor said it wouldn't really feel like a pie day without it."
"Oh, God, the pie days," Lorelai piped up, groaning fondly at the memory. She came over to take the stool next to Luke. She had to admit, watching Jess stir a pot on the stove in a pink apron like a portrait of Donna Reed made a giggle rise in her throat. "I don't miss those."
"You weren't the one she was waking up before the sunrise to get inside and use your oven because hers didn't have convection!" Luke argued.
Lorelai snorted. "No, but I was the one who had to hear you rant about it before you gave me my morning coffee."
"Need I remind you all that we always sold every slice?" Ella chimed in, emerging from the bedroom.
Lorelai smiled as she swiveled around on the stool. Ella wasn't wearing any makeup and she was dressed in a large flannel and leggings. Her hair was messy and down. Maybe her style had changed since the grunge-goth diner phase.
"Hey! I told you to stay in bed!" Jess said, raising his eyebrows and pointing a wooden spoon at Ella from the kitchen.
Ella rolled her eyes, going over and giving Lorelai and Luke hugs of greeting. "Why would I stay in bed when there's so much excitement out here?"
She waltzed into the kitchen next to Jess, eyes roaming over the mess of flour and spices and bowls and pie tins he had laid out next to the stove. She could tell by the smell of the apartment the apple was currently in the oven. It looked like he was working on the pecan next.
"Maybe because you just got your appendix taken out, like, twelve hours ago?" Jess said emphatically, eyes widening at her.
"What?" Luke asked.
"Is that why Jess is doing his Leave it to Beaver routine? I thought he was filling in because you were getting ready," Lorelai said, a startled lilt in her tone. "But instead you just got your organs rearranged?"
"I had a minor surgery and I'm fine now," Ella said, casual and content. The medicine they'd given her at the hospital hadn't quite worn off yet, but she had been high around parental figures more than once. She could hold her own. She could even ignore the troubling notions about gender roles deeply ingrained in Lorelai's comment, in the spirit of keeping arguments to a minimum. She glanced at the mixture Jess was beginning in the big blue bowl. "Just make sure to-"
"I'm following the recipes you gave me," Jess cut in defensively. "If you're not gonna stay in bed like you should, can you at least sit down and not backseat bake?"
Lorelai gave the two a suspicious glance. There was the bite in Jess's voice. The one she could remember so well.
Ella gave a heavy sigh through her nose. Of all the weeks to get appendicitis. Pie-making was probably her favorite part of the winter months. "Fine. But I'm playing my Joni Mitchell record and you can't complain about it."
"You're sick. You're allowed to play whatever you want. You're just not allowed to rip your stitches open," Jess said, shrugging and gaining a teasing tone again. The smirk returned.
"I'm not sick, jackass," she snapped.
Lorelai pursed her lips, looking over at Luke with eyes full of nostalgia. "Is it just me or have we been transported back to 2002?"
"Seems like it," Luke mumbled, watching them bicker like they always had.
Before Ella could turn on her heel to leave the kitchen, heading for the record player in the corner of the living room, Jess put down his spoon and stopped her with a: "Hold on."
"What?" she asked.
He took a couple steps towards her, wiping his hands on the apron before placing his palm on her forehead, feeling how warm it was. Then, he transferred the backs of his fingers to her rosy cheek. "Do you need more Ibuprofen?"
"Not for a couple hours," she replied, more honest than he was expecting. Banter aside, he could see the fatigue in her glassy eyes. "It's fine. The doctor said I could have a fever for up to forty-eight hours after surgery."
"I know. Just checking," he said, then dropped his hand as she made her way out.
Again, Lorelai's confusion deepened. She couldn't hide the crease on her forehead as she furrowed her brows at the interaction. Was Jess really playing nurse? Without complaint?
"I can't believe you got her to a doctor at all," Luke said.
Jess scoffed, looking down at the mixture as he stirred. "Only after she passed out on the bathroom floor because her fever was so high."
"What?!" Luke repeated, instantly panicked.
"Tell them every detail of our lives, why don't you, chatty Kathy?" Ella grumbled as she put the record on. "I'm fine now."
A wave of relaxation washed over her as Joni Mitchell's voice sounded. She went to the couch and threw an old blanket over herself, facing the kitchen.
"My God, Ella. It's just like that time you broke your arm," Lorelai said knowingly, going over to join Ella on the couch. She put a comforting hand on Ella's knee. "Seriously, sweetie, you can't just expect an organ to abracadabra out of your body."
"Damn, if only Jess was still doing those magic tricks," Ella teased in retaliation, narrowing her eyes at Jess as he glared at her through the opening to the kitchen.
Soon, he and Luke were enveloped in their own sporadic, monosyllabic conversation and it made Ella crack a small smile of nostalgia. She raked her hands through her hair as Lorelai began to ask about the apartment, how school was going. It was strange having such a long conversation with her. They hadn't engaged in their old, pseudo mother-daughter dynamic in a long time. Part of Ella felt as though she were back to being fifteen again. But another part of her felt so elementally different. Able to recognize how much Lorelai had helped her in a way she simply hadn't been able to comprehend as a teenager. Sure, she was beyond grateful even when she was young. But, now, she wondered if and where she would be if Lorelai hadn't been there to help her following her mother's death, or even in her life before. She probably wouldn't have gotten a job at Luke's, considering Lorelai was the one who had initially asked Luke to help the Stevens out and give them leftovers every once in a while. Who knew if Ella and Jess would have ever gotten together. The 'what-ifs' spinning around in her head only served to fill her heart with warmth for Lorelai. Not only due to the lingering effects of the hospital drugs.
"You said Rory's still following Obama?" Ella asked, leaning against the side of the couch. She had never had surgery before, and never knew how absolutely exhausted she would be afterwards.
Lorelai nodded, taking a sip of the water Luke had brought her. He was currently fighting to get in the kitchen with Jess, who was still insistent on making the pies entirely by himself.
"Yeah, she's gonna be with him until the inauguration in January," Lorelai explained. "She's Woodward and Bernsteining it up in Chicago right now. They've been making stops all around the country for months."
"Wow," Ella said, a soft smile still playing on her lips. "She's really doing it. I can't even imagine how happy she must be. I mean, I always knew she would. But it's finally happening."
"I know. Just a few steps closer to Christian Amanpour," Lorelai agreed proudly, beaming. "But, hey, you don't seem to be doing too bad yourself."
"Yeah. Only a few more months and I'll finally have that damn degree. The dean's been talking to me about teaching after I graduate, at least part-time. I don't know, though. I'm still mulling it over," Ella said, thinking back to the meetings she'd been having recently. Her own classroom, her own office, her own space to create and guide others to create. And, of course, she could still work making art for Truncheon. The more she thought about it, dreamed about it, and talked it over with Jess, the more she could see herself staying at Penn for longer than just the end of the spring semester.
Lorelai's face was unreadable for a moment, as she swallowed dryly and looked down into her drink. "And you're really happy here? This is...this is what you want?"
Ella's face fell just a touch. She had thought maybe such a question was coming. Lorelai had never loved Jess, never even liked him. Part of Ella thought it was completely understandable. An angry teenager who steals beer and pulls stupid pranks and walks out of town without a word? Dick moves, all of them. But Lorelai had never seen anything else from Jess. She had never made the effort to. She didn't know him.
As she met Lorelai's eyes once again, Ella gave a careful, sincere nod. "Really. I get to work on my art every day. I get to collect records and plant cactuses and I get to...I don't have to live for anyone else. I even get to make pies, when I don't have nine stitches in my side. I never wanted...I never wanted much else."
"I know," Lorelai replied, voice hushed with emotion. She glanced back over at her shoulder at the two men in the kitchen, now begrudgingly tag-teaming the desserts. "And Jess?"
. . .
The light was fading to an orangey glow by the time everyone had finished up dessert. Julie, Michael, and the girls had to start the drive to New Britain back almost right after, since Michael had work the following morning. Ella was sad to see them go. They were the ones who made her ache for her mother in a not altogether unpleasant way. The day Ella had lost her mother, Julie had lost her big sister. Forever, the two of them would be linked by the trauma. But not just the trauma. Julie provided a home away from home when Ella needed one. And Ella was a makeshift babysitter whenever Julie called. Julie was the only member of Ella's family who was truly reliable, the one she could count on. Aside from the family she had found in Philadelphia.
But the apartment was still lively with noise as afternoon slowly melted away into evening. Liz and TJ danced near the kitchen to the sound of the Grateful Dead record on the turntable. Off in their own strange world. Ella didn't mind. She'd been giving Jess's hand comforting squeezes all day long, noticing how his shoulders were just a touch more tense and his words came out in short, anxious bursts when he spoke to his mother. He wasn't completely miserable, though. At least, that was what he told her each time she asked.
Maybe the work of setting up the apartment and serving the food helped, keeping him busy. No matter how many times she tried to help him arrange the card tables for everyone to sit at, or put out the dishes, or clean any noticeably dirty surface, he'd only shrugged her off with some snarky remark and made her sit down. Once Luke and Lorelai got there, she could barely shift in her seat without one of the three pairs of watchful eyes landing on her in concern. It was sweet of them, really, but still made her squirm under their gaze. And pissed that she couldn't enjoy the first Thanksgiving in the apartment the way she wanted to.
Stomach as full as it could be (the surgery had left her appetite at next to nothing), she sat comfortably on the old couch, Luke and Lorelai in the folding chairs across the card table from her. Luke was busy ranting about how corrupt Black Friday and malls in general were to Lorelai, making a sentimental twinkle spark in Ella's hazel eyes. She was glad they'd had enough room to fit three tables in the space, with four seats at each. The set-up was arguably too tight, but they'd managed. Erin and Annie had only spilled two cups of milk over the course of the night.
Ella felt a sleepy calm beginning to settle in her body. Through the sliding glass doors, she could see a little sliver of the sunset. Soon, the sky would cloud over and there would be another spray of early snow. The room smelled of wintry spices and hot gravy. Jess still hadn't reached Luke's level of perfection, but he had done a pretty damn good job with dinner. And, she had to admit, the pies weren't too shabby either. It shocked her how seamlessly he had pulled it all off, in his element as he put it together. Though not without a scowl and some huffy breaths.
Ella looked back at Jess, sitting to her left. He held Doula in his arms. She sat on his lap, facing him, as his hands gently supported her back. She was a little over six months old, and almost able to sit up on her own. But, Jess figured it'd be best to keep his hands where they were for some insurance. The baby had somehow tugged the pendant of his necklace out from beneath his shirt, and was alternating between staring at it in wonderment and sucking on it. Jess was having some murmured conversation with her, and she occasionally responded with a gurgle or a coo. Even a laugh when he tickled her stomach.
Ella watched in awe. She remembered how terrified he'd been when he'd first met her nieces, at a Thanksgiving long past. But, now, he handled his sister, along with her nieces, with such ease. He had found a deck of cards for old time's sake, put on a little magic show for the kids during the lull between dinner and dessert. He'd convinced Annie the smaller half of the wishbone was still lucky when Erin had broken off the bigger half. Just because it didn't look as big, he said, didn't mean the magic wasn't as big. When he realized Ella had caught him saying it, he'd looked away with a scarlet flush and cleared his throat. Sometimes, she could really see the writer in the way he spoke.
"What about Hemingway?" he asked quietly as Doula looked up from the pendant with giant brown eyes and drool dripping down her chin.
Doula gave a little squawk of noise, then swatted one sticky hand up to pat Jess's face. He scrunched up his nose and chuckled. Then, Doula went back to marveling at the small, circular pendant.
"See?" Jess said, tossing a glance at Ella. He could feel her soft gaze. "Doula likes Hemingway."
Ella scoffed. "Then her taste is just as bad as her brother's."
"Don't listen to her," Jess said to the baby, leaning in with a conspiratory whisper. "She likes poetry. Like she can criticize anyone for their taste."
Narrowing her eyes playfully at Jess, Ella put an arm around his shoulders and inched closer to the two of them. "What about Byron, Doula?"
Doula didn't look up, instead grabbing the pocket of Jess's t-shirt in her pudgy fist.
Jess smirked pointedly at Ella.
Ella rolled her eyes. "You've taken her to the dark side already."
"If you mean the right side, then yes," Jess shot back.
Snorting a laugh, Ella pressed a kiss to Jess's cheek. Her freckled face became almost wistful. Her raspy whisper near his ear was so sincere it made Jess's stomach do a flip. "I love you."
"Love you back," Jess replied, his voice barely audible over all the others in the room.
She was almost surprised he said anything at all. She hadn't expected reciprocation with so many people around, and it made a joyful tingling spread from her center out to her fingers and toes. She ran an absent hand through the ends of his hair, a smile painted on her lips.
"Thank you for doing this, Jess," she said. "You're the fucking best."
"Language, Eleanor," Jess scolded, gesturing playfully to Doula, who still fiddled obliviously with the necklace.
Ella snickered. "Right, sorry, sorry. I'm just...you didn't have to do all this. I'm sorry about everything. I didn't mean to go and get appendicitis."
"It's not your fault," he said, eyes still trained carefully on the baby in case something unforeseen happened. He was more confident in his childcare abilities than he had once been, but there was still an untrained fear within him that she would tumble straight out of his lap. "Don't worry, Stevens. I don't do things I don't wanna do."
"Sure you don't, James Dean," she teased. "You're not a good liar."
"Look who's talking," he quipped in return, a smirk still present on his face. "Besides, it was better than scraping plates in the diner all day at Thanksgiving. After doing that a couple years in a row, it's pretty much nowhere to go but up from now on."
"It's true," she said. "Maybe I should do the dishes, just in case there's any rogue knives in the sink."
"Very funny," he deadpanned, thinking of the scar which had almost completely faded from his left hand. "But I'm still not falling for it. You're not helping me clean up. You're gonna watch Carrie and then fall asleep so we don't have to go back to the hospital with your guts spilling out."
"I'm not allowed to swear in front of her, but you're allowed to say stuff like that?" Ella asked, laughing through her words.
"Hey, I don't make the rules," Jess joked coolly.
"You really don't need to clean up by yourself," Ella continued, not budging. "My stitches aren't even in the double digits. I could at least help you put the leftovers away."
"The next time you find me passed out on the bathroom floor with a high fever, then you can tell me all about how much you want to see me cleaning the apartment," Jess said.
Her smile disappeared. Sighing through her nose in embarrassment, Ella nodded. She swallowed dryly. "Fair enough."
She couldn't have been out for more than thirty seconds or a minute. She didn't hit her head or anything. The bathmat had cushioned her fall almost entirely. But she had never passed out before. She'd felt almost as terrified as Jess sounded when he practically carried down to the car and sped to the emergency room. He was right. If the situation were reversed, there was no way in hell he'd be cleaning up alongside her. Especially not a day and a half after surgery. She had to remember the last time she hadn't been feeling like herself. With a migraine and period cramps right when she felt as though everyone was expecting the most from her. But it was just in her head. It was okay to let go every once in a while. It was okay. She reminded herself that he wasn't trying to tell her what to do. He was only asking her to take care of herself. That, she could try. She didn't ever want to put him out like this again. And she didn't ever want to see the look she had seen on his face when he'd been driving to the hospital again. Not if she could help it.
"But, if it'll make you feel better, we can have everyone over next weekend and do Thanksgiving food," Jess suggested. "Chris was pissed he was missing the pies. I don't think he'd mind if we had a do-over."
"Yeah, that sounds good, Mariano," she said. Then, after a moment's pause: "I'm sorry. I know I can get so wound up."
"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed," he teased.
"I was just excited for my pies," she admitted. "But, just for the record, you did a kickass job with them. Sorry I was freaking out."
"Don't apologize," he said with a nonchalant shrug. "So, you're not a good patient. Who cares? I was excited for your pies too. Just please don't make rhubarb. All the rhubarb makes me think about is Kirk running naked through the town square that time after Christmas."
And she felt a beaming smile spread over her face as she laughed and gave him a nod of confirmation. She pressed another kiss to his cheek and told him she would make him any pie he wanted. And she felt even more sure of the words she'd spoken to Lorelai the day before. Lorelai had been surprised to hear them, but Ella couldn't bring herself to be even the least bit shocked as they'd come out of her mouth. She felt it more confidently than she ever had before, seeing him cradle his baby sister in the aftermath of a Thanksgiving he'd put together all by himself, without being asked. Because Jess was Jess. And it was just what he did. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
. . .
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! Feedback nourishes my soul!