She exhaled and managed a weak smile. "Yeah. Yeah." She nodded. "Sure. I mean, I spent 16 Christmases here when I could have gotten away with murder without being charged as an adult, and I didn't kill either of them, right? And it's not like they're horrible people. They're just…"

"Your parents."

"Oh, God. I can't do this." She looked up at him desperately. "Why did you let me do this? I can't do this." She started to say more when the front door opened and the maid stopped mid-stride, staring at them both. "Er, hi. Rosa….Rosalita?"

"Inga."

"Right. Right. I think Rosalita is Spanish for Inga. Are you…going somewhere?"

"It's Christmas, Ms. Gilmore. I'm going home." She bowed her head slightly. "Mr. and Mrs. Gilmore have taken Ms. Gilmore out for the holiday."

"Oh." Lorelei swallowed. "Right. That's a lot of Gilmores. None of which are here. Except me. I'm a Gilmore." She nodded and smiled. "Well, have a…have a Merry Christmas, Inga."

"Thank you, Ms. Gilmore." She pulled the door closed behind her and locked it, not glancing at Lorelei as she brushed past.

"Well. That's that." Lorelei gave Luke a smile that didn't make it to the tears in her eyes before heading toward the truck "Let's go."

"Your place? My place?"

Lorelei turned back to him, her hand wrapped around the door handle. "Let's go get married."

"Married."

"Yes. I mean, I heard a rumor we were engaged. I thought we might want to take that next step."

"We do. But it's a big step."

"I see." Her smile wavered, tears still standing in her eyes. "So you don't want to marry me? Of course not. Why would you want to marry a basket case who can't keep a stupid dog alive and can't manage to keep her daughter from making a huge mistake and can't actually manage to inspire love or anything more than contempt from her parents? I mean, I wouldn't want to marry me."

"Lorelei." Luke grabbed her arms and shook her gently, stopping the flow of words. "I do want to marry you."

"Right."

"I wouldn't have waited this long to marry you if I didn't want it badly enough." He lifted one hand and stroked her cheek with his fingertips, the rough wool of the cut-off gloves rubbing against her skin. "But I'm not going to marry you in some fit of hurt and anger because your parents aren't home on Christmas."

"When will you marry me?"

"Whenever you're really ready." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Even if I have to wait forever."

"I don't think I'll make you wait that long."

He reached over and opened her door. "Good God, I hope not."