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“It's so nice of you to host Friday dinner Rory. I love spending the weekend in the city.” Emily Gilmore gestured to the maid to bring her another scotch. “Esmerelda, if you'd be so kind?”
“I'm just glad I get to see you, Grandma,” Rory said as she watched Esmerelda glumly disappear down the stairs. “It seems like the museum is really taking up a lot of your time.”
“I'm having fun. Don't you want me to have fun?”
“Of course I do. I was just teasing.” Rory checked her watch. “Mom did say she was coming, right?”
“You know your mother. Always underestimates the traffic. Then all those stairs add at least another 15 minutes.”
“It's not that bad.”
“I'd say what idiot puts the lounge on the top floor, but I do love this view,” Emily said as she stood at the large picture window, gazing out at the twinkling city lights.
“Will Paris be joining us?”
“Later. She’s at a meeting for the LGBT Center special events committee.” Rory watched her grandmother for any reaction to that detail, but Emily didn't seem to notice.
“It's so nice that she finds time to be civic minded. Giving back isn't all about writing checks, you know.”
“I do.” Rory sipped her drink and wondered if she should wait until her mother arrived to break her big news so she only had to do it once or if she should tell her grandmother now to get it over with.
“Is it still alright for me to take the twins out tomorrow morning?” Emily asked. “I know they don't actually appreciate the art, but I love walking around the MET with them.”
“Sure, that's fine.” Rory chewed on her bottom lip. “They're not twins, though.”
“Rory Gilmore. Your grandmother is not an idiot. I know full well that technically they're not twins. I just think it's funny when people assume they are, even though Jillian is so much bigger than Emily.” Emily giggled, quickly stifling it with a hand over her mouth. “I still haven't gotten used to that! Emily. Anyway, do you know what I say when people come up to me and ask if they're twins?”
“What do you say?”
“I say they were actually triplets but Jillian ate their sibling.”
“You do not.”
“I did once! The woman laughed. Then she scurried away very quickly and left me to contemplate El Greco’s ‘The Opening of the Fifth Seal’ in peace.” Emily tilted her head and looked intently at Rory. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong!”
“Then why is your foot tapping like that? And you've barely touched your drink. What's on your mind?”
“I… uh…” Rory took a deep breath and wondered which of the four speeches she'd prepared she should go with. She was torn between appealing to her grandmother’s thoroughly modern political ideals or offering statistics about human behavior, but what she ultimately blurted out was “I'm bisexual.”
Rory watched a look of confusion come over Emily’s face and mentally prepared a more in depth explanation for when her grandmother asked why she thought that or responded that she couldn't be.
“Well, of course you are,” Emily replied and suddenly Rory was the one who was confused.
“What?”
“Well, you've had serious boyfriends, so I figured you weren't fully lesbian. So that leaves bisexual.”
“Right, I…” Rory’s brow furrowed. “Why did you think the options were lesbian or bisexual?”
“Because you're in a relationship with a woman.”
“No!” Rory exclaimed. “I mean, yes, I am, but how did you know that?”
“Everyone knows that.” Emily said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“What, did Paris take out a billboard? Ad space in the Times? Skywriting?”
“Rory, stop being dramatic. Oh, it sounds like your mother is finally here,” she added as they heard footsteps clunking up the stairs.
Lorelei made it into the room, gasping for breath. Her jacket was half off, cheeks flushed and one hand was reaching for the drink Esmerelda was already offering her.
“Sorry I'm late. The traffic was so bad today. Are there more stairs? It seemed like there were more stairs.” She kissed Rory on the head and plopped down onto the couch. “What? Did I interrupt something?”
“Rory was just telling me she's bisexual,” Emily said conspiratorially.
“But we knew that already.”
“Yes.”
“Everyone knew that already.”
“Yes, but Rory didn't know that everyone knew, so she thought she had to tell us.”
“She didn't think we could figure it out?” Lorelei asked.
“I suppose not,” Emily replied. “She also explained to me that babies born three months apart to different mothers aren't twins!”
“No!”
“Yes. I'm still reeling from that revelation,” Emily said dryly.
“So you both already knew,” Rory said.
“I've had an “I love my queer daughter” bumper sticker on the jeep for months.” Lorelei grinned. “Don't hate me, but Taylor made me promise that you and Paris would be back to march in the pride parade. With the two of you on board he thinks he’ll have enough gays to make it happen this year.”
“Why do I feel like my coming out moment was a huge letdown? Aren't you supposed to be shocked or cry or something?” Rory asked.
“If it means that much to you, I can try to be shocked,” Emily said. “But why would I be upset? I love Paris.”
“She's just thrilled that you're finally involved with someone of good breeding,” Lorelei said.
“You know I have no patience for the Gellers. Terrible people. But despite them, Paris grew up to be a lovely woman.”
“My ears are burning— is that Emily Gilmore I hear?” A voice called up from the stairwell. “Don't tell me you're all the way up top?”
“Yep, we’re in the lounge! Sorry, Paris!” Rory called.
“I thought you were putting in an elevator?” Lorelei asked.
“Something something historical landmark something,” Rory grumbled. “Although sooner or later Paris is just going to bribe everyone to look the other way.”
“Hopefully sooner,” Lorelei said as a winded Paris appeared at the top of the stakes.
“Why did I do that in heels?” She gasped, stepping out of the offending footwear with a sigh. “Lorelei! Emily! It's so good to see you.” Paris gave each elder Gilmore a quick hug. “Are the twins already asleep?”
“About an hour ago,” Rory said.
“Except they're not actually twins,” Emily said. “Rory was just explaining that to me, along with other shocking revelations like the fact that she's bisexual and the two of you are in a relationship.”
“But you knew we were in a relationship,” Paris said.
“I didn't know that they knew!” Rory exclaimed.
“They thought we were in a relationship before we actually were in a relationship. A sexual one at least.”
“Paris!”
“Rory. We’re in a relationship. They know we have sex.” Before Rory could respond, Paris continued. “Actually, it's great that we’re all here together because I’ve had an idea I’d like your perspectives on.”
“Lucky for you there's nothing Emily Gilmore loves more than sharing her opinions,” quipped Lorelei.
“Lorelei, stop. Go ahead, Paris.” Emily said.
“When Rory and I decided to take our relationship to the next level, we briefly discussed what last name our family would eventually use.”
“Please tell me you're going with Gellermore,” Lorelei said. “It sounds like a long-lost Harry Potter house.”
“We’d narrowed it down to the elegant but alliterative Geller-Gilmore or just Geller, but after a lot of contemplation, I think there's another option that deserves serious consideration.”
“What other option is there?” Rory asked. “Because I'm still not down with Gellermore.”
“I think…” Paris flushed as she uncharacteristically searched for words. “At the point in the future when we legally hitch our mules to the same proverbial wagon, I think I want us… although, on second thought, perhaps we should wait to officially have this conversation until we’re officially engaged.”
There was silence as Rory looked from Paris to her mother and grandmother and back again. Paris had a smile on her face but Rory could see the tension in the way her hand gripped her glass and the other pressed against the mantel. Emily looked thoughtful, while Lorelei’s expression started out confused then became elated.
“You're getting married!” she squealed with delight, wrapping one arm around Rory and the other around a startled Paris, smashing them into a three-way hug.
“But mom, we’re not—”
“Eventually, of course,” Paris managed as she tried to wiggle out of Lorelei’s grasp.
“We haven't talked about marriage,” Rory protested.
“We discussed portmanteaus and hyphenated last names. Marriage was implied,” Paris said. “Granted, I haven't asked you yet, but as the ink is barely dry on my divorce decree I thought it best to wait a bit longer. However, my experience with Doyle taught me one should hash out the name issue well in advance, because we’d already set a date by the time I realized that idiot actually thought I was going to become Mrs. Paris McMaster.” She scrunched up her face in disgust. “It sounds like a BDSM-inspired breakfast sandwich.”
“A what?” Emily asked. “Lorelei, translate that all for me. Are they getting married?”
“I'm kinda stuck on the kinky breakfast sandwich, but I think the answer is “not yet”?” Lorelei said.
“Why do you think you'd be the one to ask?” Rory demanded, having found her voice again. Paris opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again and looked thoughtful for a moment.
“Heteronormativity, I expect, but you're absolutely right,” Paris said. “If you’d prefer to be the one to pop the proverbial question, I'm happy to sit back and wait to say yes.”
Before Rory could get a word in, Paris barreled on.
“Regardless of who does the asking, it's important that we’re on the same page when it comes to the name, especially since there are children involved. I've spoken to Doyle, and as a laid-back, glowing beacon of secure modern masculinity, he’s amenable to various options for Tim, Gaby and Jill, provided McMaster remains as part of a hyphenated surname or as an additional middle name for each of them.”
“Gabrielle Gilmore-Geller-McMaster is a lot of name, don't you think?” Lorelei asked.
“Agreed,” Paris replied. “It's the name equivalent of attaching a very long tail to a very small kite. The kite may still get off the ground, but it'll never be respected by its peers. Plus I’d like us all to have the same name, and asking Rory and Emily to take on McMaster seems beyond the pale.”
“That we can agree on,” Rory said. When Paris grinned at her she couldn't help but smile back, despite the fact that her brain was whirring a hundred miles a minute.
“Luckily, I've found the perfect solution.” Paris paused, then called down the stairs. “Clementina, I’ll give you a bonus equal to a week’s salary if you brave all those stairs down to the cellar and bring up the 2004 Screaming Eagle cab. I’d ask Esmerelda but she's been up and down twice already and I think she'd quit on the spot,” she explained to the others.
“Screaming Eagle?” Lorelei asked. “Sounds like a metal band.”
“Screaming Eagle is an excellent Napa winery. It's one of the few expensive wines people drone on about that's actually worth every penny,” Emily said.
“Wait, how many pennies are we talking?” Rory asked Paris, who shrugged.
“It's a special occasion. No one needs to count calories or pennies.”
“What makes it a special occasion?”
“Tsk, tsk, Rory. I can't believe you've forgotten.” Paris accepted the bottle of wine from Clementina, then noticed there were only three glasses on the sideboard. “Would you mind getting one more— no, no, never mind, this is fine,” She added quickly when she saw the other woman’s expression. As a relieved Clementina headed back downstairs, Paris took Rory’s glass of brandy and dumped the bit that remained into a nearby potted fern.
“I hate that plant and it's fake anyway,” Paris explained as she poured and distributed the three proper wine glasses to each of the others. “So. It is a special occasion because on this day in 2001, Rory and I had our first date.”
“We did?”
“Yes, we did. Seventeen years ago today, you took me to my first concert ever.”
“The Bangles!” Lorelei realized. “You'd really never been to a concert before?”
“I'd been to the opera and the symphony, but those hardly count.” Paris smiled at Rory. “It really was one of the best nights of my life. I remember thinking how different you and Lorelei were from me and my mom. To be truthful, I was a little jealous. That was the first of many times I thought it must be pretty great to be a Gilmore.”
“It definitely can be,” Rory agreed. She took Paris’s free hand and squeezed it.
“So. What do you think?” Paris asked.
“About what?” Lorelei asked.
“About all of us using Gilmore. Timoteo Gilmore, Gabrielle Gilmore, Jillian Gilmore, Emily Gilmore (the 2017 edition), Rory Gilmore.” Paris looked at Rory and gestured awkwardly to herself. “Paris Gilmore.”
There was a silence as the three current Gilmores processed this, each glancing around to the others.
“Won't your mother be upset?” Emily asked finally.
“Oh, absolutely livid,” Paris quipped, although there was an edge to her voice that belied her feelings.
“Fabulous,” Emily replied with a wicked smile.
“To be honest, Lorelei is more of a mother to me than my own mother has ever been,” Paris said. “And though we haven't spent as much time together, I feel like Emily and I have really started to bond since she joined the board of the Animal Rescue Society last year.”
“You— “ Rory shook her head. “Grandma, you hate animals!”
“I have three cats, a turtle and a blind Dachshund named Stevie Wonder. People evolve, Rory,” Emily said dryly.
“I've spent a lot of time thinking about this, but the answer was staring me in the face the whole time,” Paris said. “Family means everything to Rory, Rory means everything to me, and being a Gilmore is an important part of who she is. And I like who she is. A lot. So… what say you, Gilmore girls?” she asked quietly. “Can you find room for a few more?”
Lorelei looked to Emily, then they both looked to Rory, who nodded.
“If and when we get married, we’ll be Gilmores,” she said.
“I’ll drink to that,” Lorelei agreed, holding up her glass. The others followed suit.
“To more Gilmores,” Emily said, giggling at the alliteration.
“To more Gilmores,” the others chorused.
Rory looked from her mother, who was already raving about the wine even though she'd only taken a sip, to her grandmother. Emily had settled back on the sofa and was sipping her wine with a look of contentment.
Rory felt her heart jump in her chest as she caught Paris surreptitiously dabbing at her eyes even though there was a bright smile on her face.
“I never thought I'd be saying this, but Paris Gilmore has a nice ring to it,” Rory said, and Paris grabbed her and squeezed. It took a moment, but suddenly Rory realized why Paris had made such a production of asking. “You were afraid we’d say no, weren't you?”
Paris nodded. “I worry…”she trailed off for a moment, blinking back fresh tears. “I worry that this is all too much for you. That I'm too much for you. That one day you and Lorelei and Emily will realize I don't belong.”
Rory took Paris’s wine and set their glasses on the mantel so she could hold both of Paris’s hands.
“Well, it's been seventeen years since our first date, and we’ve been down strange, winding roads since then, but I’m pretty sure we both belong right here.” As Rory said the words, she felt her entire body start to buzz with how true they were. She leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Paris’s lips.
“Now, don't quote me on this, but I think Rory might be bisexual,” Lorelei said to Emily. “Wouldn't that be a shock?”
“Such a shock,” Emily agreed. “I don't think my heart could handle it.”
“You know what my heart can't handle?” Lorelei asked. “Coming up those stairs more than once a night.”
“It's good exercise.”
Rory heard her mother and grandmother squabbling in the background, but it was just background noise. She hadn’t done all the thinking that Paris had, but the writer in her was always making up stories about what life could be like. She hadn’t imagined the two of them together (except she had, but not like this) and she never thought she’d be thinking about marriage at all, much less to a woman. Proud, ambitious, thoroughly-modern Paris Geller asking to take her name was so farfetched that Rory would never have written such a thing in a book, much less expected it to happen in real life. And yet here they were.
Rory was so lost in thought, mentally traversing the places they might go far in the future, that she didn’t realize Paris had spoken.
“I’m sorry, what was that you said?”
“I was explaining that professionally, I’ll still be Paris Geller. It’s a brand.”
“Of course,” Rory agreed. “Plus think of how much it would cost to replace all the door plates.”
“Exactly!” Paris handed her back her glass of wine. “Luckily my monogram won't be changing. I have it embroidered into every piece of clothing I own.”
“That explains why the underwear I put on this morning has “property of PG” on the crotch,” Rory said.
“Oh, no,” Paris said with a flirtatious grin. “Those ones are definitely yours.”