Maris was having a lot of time trying to find her way around the city, further proof that Rory had been right all along. She hadn't exactly given Maine a chance the last time around. But a lot could change in five years, including Maris, who had suddenly become of those "fitness" people she'd secretly despised. She would have liked to say she started taking better care of herself because of careful research, or because her grandfather's passing had been a cruel reminder that no one lives forever.

While both were somewhat true, it was the result of vanity more than anything else. Once she hit 35, she wanted to make damn sure she didn't look it.

After dashing past the library (and deciding to pick up a few books she'd asked to be held after her run so she wouldn't be weighed down) she stopped in front of a book and coffee shop to catch her breath and take a few gulps of water. Slightly warmer weather meant she was feeling uncomfortably hot sooner than she expected so she unzipped her hoodie to reveal the black and green striped sports bra underneath, the stripes were repeated on the sides of her leggings. Her hair was as short as it had been five years ago. A bob was easy to take care of, a time saver now that she was spending most of hers hunched over her laptop working on her book.

Deciding that she had enough exercise for one day, she sighed and decided to head into the coffee shop for a bit, the smell drifting out of the front door too good to ignore.

Routine was something that gave many people a sense of stability. It too, gave Rory such a thing if that was something she was actually after. Most days were completely uneventful, falling into similar patterns as the day before or the next. That, she supposed was life itself as adults. Getting up, going to work, teaching her students, home, dinner, bed. Some days had different patterns - Wednesdays generally held game night with a few friends, and Fridays she'd instituted a night in at home with cooking and concocting some new cocktail to go with. Little things ... that probably reeked of mundane adulthood.

This particular day fell on a holiday, the president's day weekend giving days on either end because god forbid students expect to pay attention on Friday. A ski trip took much of the faculty away, but Rory had managed to escape unscathed. Which left her a leisurely afternoon tucked in her favorite coffee shop with a good book.

People came and went into the shop without so much as a glance up from Rory, but as she flipped the page to a new chapter, it just so happened that she glanced up to the chime of the door. Mid-raise of her half-full coffee mug, the woman who walked into the shop stunned her beyond belief. It felt like the air itself had been sucked out of the room and in those dizzying seconds, her heart lurched, an ache in her chest as her mug went clattering down onto the saucer it paired with. The coffee spilling onto her book snapped her out of it, sort of, as she mopped it up and righted the cup all within a few seconds. Her mind was spinning so fast, she couldn't even register one feeling or another that she could actually grasp. Until she finally put a stack of napkins on the spill and looked up again.

Her heart refused to settle into a normal pace, her throat suddenly dry. It was like seeing a ghost ... if a ghost was particularly vivid and... solid. And unfairly just as beautiful as she'd been years ago. Maybe more so. Maybe she should duck out, settle herself before trying to wrap her head around what was going on ... but before she could think of that, her body was propelled out of her booth, closing some of the space between them. Her throat still dry, her head dizzy with so many thoughts and emotions, she was surprised any sound came out at all when she opened her mouth to speak. "...Maris?"

Maris had only been in town for less than a month, not long in the grand scheme of things, but long enough to get used to not running into anyone she knew. She sort of liked the idea of getting lost in a sea of strangers, but the voice she heard was anything but unfamiliar.

It stopped her in her tracks and caused her to turn more slowly than she would have liked, her small Americano suddenly feeling very heavy in her right hand.

"Rory?"

Maine was nothing if not her turf. In fact, her ex girlfriend was the first thing Maris thought of when her grandfather's lawyer informed her he had property there, but Rory was the last person she expected to see. If only because she'd sort of made peace with never seeing her again. She inwardly cringed, scolding herself for dashing into a public place in her workout clothes, knowing that this wasn't the perfectly polished Maris her ex was used to. She still took as much pride as ever in her appearance, never wavering from her tailored slacks and perfectly pressed blazers, but it seemed even more important to look one's best when running into a former flame. She had a feeling even the "messy hair, don't care" women of the world would agree with her on that and this wasn't exactly the reunion she had imagined.

"You're here," she said a bit blankly.

Of all the emotions racing through Rory like some sort of electric light show, she couldn't settle on one long enough to focus. There was this immediate protectiveness, an indignant feeling of why on earth Maris would be here of all places - in her town, in her coffee shop -- as if she owned the place. An annoyance at the shock of it all, how much she would have preferred a heads up as though she was entitled to one. Fear, or even expectation that Maris might be there for a reason, a kind of trepidation of what she might be there for, if she was seeking her out. In the middle of all that was this pang of longing that surprised her. Years had gone by, she had ... commitments, and yet she couldn't deny the deep churn in her gut that could only be described as that. The flash of that gave way to a hot kind of anger that rounded them all together, that irritated mood striking to the surface to cover everything else.

"I live here." She answered simply, her tone neutral, though her face was likely still one of utter surprise.

Their breakup had left her raw and angry and altogether heartbroken for a long time. Longer than she liked to admit. Rory had taken her sweet time getting over it, in a town she was sure Maris would never set foot in. Hell, that felt like part of their breakup terms. Along with said terms, should probably have been along the lines of if, subject one showed up in the same town as subject two, she should not be wearing fucking workout clothes like some sort of romcom meet-cute moment designed to draw the eye and attention away from the moment at hand. She was here, looking like herself but looking ... different. Surely Rory had seen her in every state of dress (and undress), yet this still threw her.

"What ... what are you doing here?" The million dollar, but obvious as hell question.

"I live here now too," she said, her stomach tightening the moment she said it. Not only was it hypocritical given their last few conversations about how much she hated this place, it also wasn't entirely true.

She had no intentions of staying in Maine.

She needed a place to write and her grandfather's (rent free) property seemed like the perfect place to do it. Since her father and stepmother were set up and perfectly content where they were, he told Maris to do whatever she liked with it.

Bought so Maris' grandparents would have a place to live out their retirement, it was far too big for one person, which was why her grandfather had stayed where he was when her grandmother passed earlier than expected. She figured she would sell the place whenever she finished, but even then she was in no real hurry. Her grandfather had left her a pretty large inheritance in his will, large enough for her to justify taking time off work to dive into her project in the first place. Not to mention the headache that would be putting a house on the market, something she, a lifelong apartment dweller knew very little about.

She winced a bit. "It's a long story." And one she wasn't sure she wanted to burden Rory with. She had always seemed to like Adam and it only seemed right to tell her the news of her grandfather's passing, but Maris' grief was raw and it was still very hard to talk about. It was one thing to look like a sweaty mess in front of your ex. A blubbering one seemed even worse.

Whatever response that would be poised, composed, altogether acceptable was definitely not the bubble of laughter that came up out of nowhere upon Maris' response. It was short, not forced and surprised her just as much as anything. Oh how she even wished that the kind of laugh it was happened to be laced with a kind of brutality of laughing at the moment, like that would somehow give her more power in this situation or something. No, it was a completely uninhibited burst of laughter at the sheer absurdity of the circumstance they found themselves in here. Maris, who had been so adamant Maine was not the place for her - was here. Now. Living here. She should be furious, and surely on some level she was, but it was rather like some middle finger from fate or something just putting them here. "Sorry," She said a second later, touching her fingers to her lips to stop anything else from coming out.

There were a million and one questions racing through Rory's mind, but not a one of them formed into actual human words in order to articulate. She liked to consider herself an articulate woman. That wasn't at all the case right now. Maris truly was one of the few people on earth who had ever been able to render Rory speechless - for better or for worse.

What was she supposed to do with this information? That was the question that raised to the forefront of her mind here and now. She wondered what she should do, what she could do. Was she supposed to just say "cool, welcome" and then go about her life? If anything was clear about their history from the very second Rory laid eyes on Maris -- she was not easy to get off her mind. "You'll have to tell me sometime." She finally said - as though her mouth had just downright ignored what else was going on in her mind and made a decision all on its own. Unfair and rude, to be honest. She didn't have any follow up immediately prepared, and probably looked a bit a fool just standing there like that.

"How long have you been here?" A safer question, maybe? Rory felt like this stuttering mess of a person, and not at all how she would have liked to be, standing in front of her ex.

She inwardly cringed at the laugh, but knew full well that she deserved it. She hadn't exactly been kind to Rory the last time they saw each other, which made their reunion all the more awkward, but she couldn't seem to walk away when there was so much left unsaid.

In the past and the present.

"Only about a month. I moved here after new year."

Though she'd gone as far as starting to look around for therapists (a big step for a woman who dreaded heart to heart talks) before leaving home, she had yet to really talk about her grandfather's death with anyone. Her father was normally the person she went to when she had something on her mind, but... she didn't want to bring him down with her. She adored her grandfather and missed him terribly but knew the loss of a grandparent was nothing like the loss of a father and she had suddenly been faced with the stark reality that one day, she would lose hers too. Yet another new worry that her eventual therapist would undoubtedly hear all about.

It would be nice to talk about it, however briefly because she had never even admitted her grandfather was gone aloud before, but Rory was hardly obligated to listen to her problems anymore. It wasn't exactly the cheeriest of topics even if they had parted on good terms, but in the brief time that had passed since they laid eyes on each other again, the coffee shop had filled and there wasn't an empty table for Maris to sit and have her drink.

"Can I sit with you?" she said somewhat awkwardly, fully expecting the other woman to give her the brush off.

A month. Rory's mind immediately concocted a series of ideas of what Maris might have done in the month that she was here in Maine. She wondered if she'd taken to walks on her favorite path through the park, or if she had found the incredible Italian restaurant - which, of course gave her a pang of loss, thinking about their trip to Italy, and the big moments in their relationship they'd had in that foreign country. Why her mind was being so cruel as to split her focus on the here and now and more pleasant memories of their history, she had no idea. But it could knock that right off, thanks very much.

She wondered how many times they may have just missed each other. She wondered if she was happy, if she was doing something she loved. There were so many questions, and the softer ones simply annoyed her - not because they weren't true, but because after all this time, she would have liked to at least be able to play the damn part of an indifferent, or even angry ex.

The question caught her off guard, a request for a seat, sure, but for more time. As much as Rory, again, would have liked to brush her off with some epic and cold response, she didn't - and again, she wasn't entirely sure that she gave entire consent for her head to nod, or for her mouth to form the words. "Sure, I'm over here." As she turned her back to the other woman, she felt her heart race, taking the moment of reprieve from looking at her to just ask herself: what the fuck?

Taking her seat again, she waited for Maris to do the same, only then realizing how long it had been since she'd spoken. "You know I'm really shitty at small talk. That hasn't changed." If only she could ask her how she was liking Maine, or how the weather had been treating her ... nope, she had to state the obvious.

"Like I'm any better?" she offered as she sat down across from her. It was meant to be self deprecating, a joke to help ease the tension for both their sakes, but it fell flat and left Maris second guessing her decisions to stay in the shop because she had no idea where to begin.

She could go home right now.

She probably should have, but it wasn't like there was much to go home to. There was no happy medium between her near empty house and her current situation that would have been too much to deal with even without her current situation. Isn't why she had been in such a hurry to send Rory away in the first place.

"Are you still at the same school?" she offered after a beat of silence. It wasn't exactly neutral territory given the fact that Rory's work had been the major catalyst in their break up, but asking about someone's work was always a polite thing to do, a cornerstone of the small talk they both hated and once upon a time, never needed.

Some things didn't change, and that was some small comfort. If Maris had somehow gotten some super power of being able to deal with shitty small talk, Rory would have considered that an extremely unfair advantage. She'd be left behind in the dust of whatever ease could be here. She supposed more of a comfort was in fact the idea that this was difficult for the both of them. The town wasn't that huge, and if they had already run into each other by happenstance, it stood to reason that it might happen again.

Best not to be continually blindsided by it? So it made sense for them to sit together, for them to break bread - or coffee - and just sit in the insanity of circumstance for a moment.

"I am, yeah." She nodded. While Rory could have left it there, not another inch given, she for whatever reason felt compelled to further explain, like she had to prove she wasn't just stagnant for all of these years. "We've expanded the campus this last year, so it's been extremely busy ... but finally settling into a normal routine again." She cleared her throat, sipping at her coffee just to cut herself off from rambling on. "What ... what brings you to Maine of all places?" It was really the loudest question in her mind, when there had been a time she didn't think she would ever see Maris here, let alone living in the town she'd come to love.

Maris nodded, pretending to listen about Rory's work, but it was a subject she would have little interest in even if it wasn't a sore one. She'd been living in a very happy school free bubble since her taking her hiatus from teaching at the beginning of the year.

"My grandfather passed away over the summer," she said, her voice more steady than she felt but quick to change gears now that the band aid had been ripped off and the hard part of the story had been told. She sipped her coffee, looking at the spout for a moment before briefly meeting Rory's eyes. "It turns out he and my grandmother had some property here? So I figured I'd come and tie up some loose ends."

It wasn't entirely true. Maris' father was even more organized than she was and had been great with handling everything with her grandfather's estate. The house needed to be sold eventually, but Maris' time in Maine had no real purpose. She hoped to finish the book, of course, but apart from that, well...her days were almost embarrassingly empty, even more so if she didn't actually manage to finish.

She tried to calm down, remind herself that even if her grandfather's death hadn't put her through the ringer that this break was good, needed and she didn't need to prove herself to anyone.

So why was she suddenly very worried about making a good impression on a woman who until five minutes ago, she was pretty sure she would never see again?

Would there be any topic for either of them that wouldn't bring with it a sting of the past? There were the sore topics - perhaps work being the biggest of them, but then the better ones, the ones that would bring a certain nostalgia ... that she was sure would be an even worse wound if opened.

What she didn't expect was what came out of Maris' mouth next, but her heart immediately dropped. She could tell just from the feel of it that her face blanched, a guttural kind of reaction. Why, amidst all of the sudden-shock grief, her feeling stuck to feeling a deep guilt that she wasn't there for Maris through it. Not that she would have known, or had any right or reason to be, but it still felt ... miserable.

"Maris, I'm so sorry." Perhaps the most genuine moment of all was this one, where guard was let down if only for a few moments to be sincere. She didn't want to press, not ask when or how it happened, not ask a million details or offer some words that were designed to make the outsider feel better, not the one in the midst of grief.

Her grandfather had always been so kind to Rory, and the love between the elder and Maris was apparent from the first moment she met him. It was something that back then, solidified even more how much she loved this woman, because she could see how much her family meant to her. Love was infectious, or something like that. Lost in her own memories for a beat, she shook her head and realized too late that whatever grief she felt was nothing that she should impose here.

Rory felt slightly struck dumb, at a loss for words or what to say in this situation. Surreal was an understatement. "I'm sorry that's the circumstances you found yourself here. It's quiet though ... so hopefully it can give you some peace, if only literally."

No one is truly prepared for the death of a loved one, but Maris supposed she should have expected it. Adam was in his 80's, after all but he had always been in relatively good health. Until he wasn't. One issue became another, then another, yet somehow it seemed to happen all it once. Much too quickly for her to wrap her head around.

"Thank you," she said softly.

The smile she offered Rory was genuine and twinged with her own sympathy because remembered how well her grandfather and ex had gotten along. Adam had always liked Rory, even made more than a few jokes abound how his granddaughter should marry her before someone else did. He'd even jokingly offered himself up as a suitor on more than one occasion.

"It's not so bad," she said after a beat of silence. "The house, I mean. It's big. A little gloomy. Very Stephen King, which I suppose makes sense given the location. If what I'm working on doesn't pan out I can always write something about some girl running around in a nightgown with a candelabra."

The revelation of Adam's death brought with it a swift grief, the kind that jolts the heart a bit along with the unexpected. Her mind reeled with questions, but none that she actually felt she had any right to ask. This whole situation was such an overwhelming one, and the news just added to that. She felt at a loss for words not because she didn't know what to say in a situation like this one, but because she was acutely aware she wasn't a part of this, of Maris' grief, of her life. The realization wasn't a selfish one, but rather just a fact. She had no right to inquire about her life, even if she'd just shown up back in hers.

Whatever their conversation might be about it, Rory let it lay with Maris' smile. Despite herself, she felt her heart wrench at the genuineness of it. However she saw any kind of reunion between the two of them (she had, less and less over the years), she didn't expect that she would feel so strongly - one way or another. She had hoped for impartial, even passive.

"Very Stephen King is probably the best description of this town." She said with a small smile of her own, her fingers circling the rim of her coffee mug just to keep them busy. "Spooky always sells well, doesn't it? Just go gothic and you can't go wrong." She looked down at her papers, shuffling them out of her way and into a neater pile - again, just keeping herself somewhat busy. "So are you writing, then?"

Maris nodded, grateful for the change of subject even if talking about her book felt almost as strange as talking about her grandfather. Most of her friends knew she was on some sort of sabbatical, but very few exactly what she was up to. She was excited about the project and to do something more for a change, but it was out of character. People had told her that her talents were being wasted on teaching on more than one occasion, but... quitting her job altogether seemed wildly impulsive and she wasn't quite sure her gamble (no matter how soft of a cushion of her grandfather's house and her inheritance provided) would pay off. If she didn't manage to finish her book before her self imposed deadline, well...her own disappointment and judgement would be harsh enough without everyone else's. She wanted people to keep thinking that she could achieve more and chose not to. Not that she'd tried and failed.

"Non fiction," she clarified though she probably didn't need to. Rory had heard her lengthy speeches on how the world needed more well researched non fiction rather than yet another bit of fluffy historical romance masquerading as a true story on more than one occasion. "I wrote something on this amazing woman who was a queer, cross dressing, opera singing, sword fighter and well, come on that warrants more than a paper, so I'm working on a book. Information on her is a bit thin, so it's been sort of a work in progress." She inwardly cringed, taking a sip of her coffee. "For a few years."

Rory wouldn't admit it, but even still, she sometimes had moments where she'd wonder what Maris was doing. She'd wonder if she was still at the school, dealing with the same people they would tease each other about. She wondered if she went to trivia nights, if she traveled. She wondered how her life was, if she was in love. Usually when her train of thought reached that topic, she quickly dropped it. She couldn't bring herself to picture anything of the sort -- which was pretty hypocritical, she supposed. Yet logic never played much of a part when she would find herself thinking of Maris, even if the times lessened as space and time stretched between them. Seeing her now felt like a wallop, hard and disorienting yet not entirely ... unpleasant. She truly wished that there was some clarity in her feelings, that she could have just slammed her laptop shut, gathered her things, and breezed out of the coffee shop without so much as a glance backwards. She wasn't built that way.

Non fiction, of course. As much as she might not like to admit feeling any which way in particular, she did. She felt proud of her, in some weird way. "That's ... she sounds incredible. And very much worth writing about." Again, she felt a pang of longing, just missing the lengthy conversations they used to have, how easy it was to be lost in the warm feeling of listening to Maris go on and on about something, someone she was passionate about. So many times she was "caught" just gazing at her, and that'd devolve into, well. No need to think about that now. "I'm glad it seems you're doing well, even if it's a shock to the system to see you here. Of all places." That last bit slipped out, and she really wished it hadn't.

Maris lowered her gaze, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Rory had every right to be surprised to see her in Maine after she'd treated it like it was the seventh circle of hell. Her little fit had been just that, childish and immature, an effort to keep talking so she wouldn't say what was really bothering her. She had loved Rory, yes. Admitted it. But it was still hard for a person like her to be vulnerable. And there was nothing more vulnerable than begging someone to stay. And doing so for your own good rather than theirs, well, that was just pathetic. She would never have been able to bring herself to do it, which is why she didn't see the point in apologizing for it.

She only felt sorry for how cruel she'd been toward Rory, but her coldness had seemed necessary at the time. People talked about amicable break ups all the time, but when you loved someone like they had one another there were bound to be hurt feelings. There had to be or there would be an urge to patch things up again and despite what she'd told her that day, Maris knew Rory had been fighting for them. She had to find a way to get her to stop.

So she settled for acknowledging her feelings with a sage nod into her coffee. "Trust me, I'm just as surprised as you are." Then she changed the subject. "So what's new with you? I might need some tips as to what to do around here."

Maybe it made sense that even if she didn't necessarily want it to, bitterness she hadn't entirely dealt with wanted to eek out. It was a shock that Maris was in Maine, that much was clear, but she also just couldn't entirely process every feeling that gave her. When Rory first moved to Maine, she tried really hard not to love it. She tried really hard not to think about what it might be like to spend her life there - to maybe even spend their lives there. She knew better than to wish for that, but it was easier said than done the more she'd settled in. With the back and forth, trying to make it work, the skype calls -- she really had begun to wonder if they could be happy there. She could see them getting a house together, spending their days off reading or walking through picturesque scenery. She could see trips to the beach even if it was cold as hell, but they wouldn't mind it because they'd rather be huddled together anyway. Actually seeing Maris here, in town, in the place she'd made her home on her own stung. It brought up all of those things she hadn't thought of in a really long time.

Rory just nodded at Maris' own surprise, favoring dropping the subject rather than digging in and making an otherwise cordial re-meet-cute intensely awkward. She wondered if she would have felt better if she had any semblance of warning that this was a possibility. Ultimately, she figured not. Either she'd hole up at home far longer than normal, or curiosity would get the best of her and she would have sought out Maris.

"Oh I've got plenty. There's great places to hike, lots of outdoorsy stuff but I don't partake in much of that. They do movies in the park in the spring and summer. I love a good escape room, and this is the best coffee shop in town..." She favored the latter of her question, because the other part was more complicated. "I'm still working at the school, otherwise..." Rory hadn't thought once about her fiancée since she saw Maris. Sitting there now, she felt guilty for that. Rory had always worn a few rings on her fingers, and her engagement ring wasn't a gaudy thing, so most didn't even recognize it as one at first. Still, her heartbeat quickened when she thought about it. Was she supposed to tell her? No, that felt presumptuous like it would even hurt, or that she'd even care. "Otherwise my day to day is pretty boring. I got a pair of cats a about a year ago."

Maris hadn't noticed Rory's ring, her eyes never really wavering from the face she'd once known by heart. She hadn't even braced herself for the possibility that a new lover would be included in the rundown she'd just asked Rory for.

She knew women as wonderful as her ex didn't stay single for long, but the world had always seemed to belong to them and only them, even now. Maris hadn't forgotten everything that had transpired between them or that they were missing five years, but... it was easy to fall into their old rhythm, one that had never included anyone else.

"I have one too!" Maris said with a grin. She'd never had pets growing up. Her father had been to prim and preoccupied for animals and she'd never really given into her desire to get a cat even after she'd moved out. She and Rory had even talked about it and there was sort of an unspoken agreement that even if Maris got one, it would be theirs, but things had never really come to fruition.

Finally becoming a pet owner had a bit to do with the loneliness she felt after her break up with Rory. It was nice to have someone to come home to that was always happy to see her (she didn't know why people wrote off cats as aloof when hers loved to hop up in her lap the moment she was still), but mostly? She'd taken the plunge because about two years ago she'd moved into an apartment that didn't require some crazy deposit or extra money added onto the rent every month to keep one.

"Why two?" she asked curiously. "Were they siblings that came as a set or..."

Perhaps one of the strangest parts of all of this was being suddenly confronted with just how little they knew about each other anymore. Once upon a time, Maris knew Rory better than anyone. Even the mundane parts of their days, Rory wanted to hear every detail about. They all made up the experience of their lives melding together, and she'd loved that. Even being bored with Maris felt good. It took her a long time to get past the feeling of sharing every bit of herself with someone. Especially being in a new place, she didn't trust anyone enough to gossip with or unload everything she was feeling. She wouldn't want the sympathy then and she certainly didn't want it now, but that had been undoubtedly the loneliest time in her life. She supposed most people going through breakups could say the same.

Eventually, she'd come out of that thick fog, enjoying colleagues, friends, starting her life in earnest. Then later, she got over the guilt for allowing herself to move on. Now they had so many years to catch up on ... did they want to catch up on those years?

"Oh yeah?" Leave it to the topic of animals to earn the first genuine, unguarded smile from Rory thus far. She could so easily let her mind wander into thinking about the pets they may have had, the ones they talked about or how attached they would have been. But it couldn't have worked with the distance. Rory knew that.

"They were a bonded pair of little monsters, and I figured I might as well get a couple so they wouldn't be lonely when I was gone all day to work." She paused to sip at her coffee, a smile still lingering on her lips. She had been through a series of terrible dates, failed attempts at relationships and an overall trying time in her life post-Maris, when she'd wandered into a pet adoption and walked out spending a small fortune in supplies for the two she took home that day. "I have a bossy little calico and a tabby lovebug. Emma and Darcy. Because I'm that predictable."

"A tabby lovebug?" Maris asked, eyebrows raised as she tried her best to keep a straight face, amusement creeping into her voice anyway. "Is that a technical term?"

She smiled, shaking her head once the urge to tease her left her system. "No, that's really commendable of you to keep together. I just have one." And Rory wasn't the only one to go for a literary name. "Byron. He's half bengal?"

Maris really wasn't looking for an exotic pet. Bengals were more wild than not and an awful lot of extra work, but Byron fit into her newly active lifestyle and had been impossible to pass up. She'd never seen a cat quite like him before and knew immediately he had to be hers. "I usually take him with me on walks, but it's too cold lately. Probably for the best, I want to make some headway with my neighbors before they peg me as the crazy cat lady who walks hers around on a leash."

Rory's grin only grew, a blush on her cheeks she didn't want to acknowledge. "Oh yes, very technical. The vet says they are a very rare sort." She smiled, shaking her head a little bit. Later, she might feel guilty how easy that was, just smiling, joking, poking fun with each other. She could get lost in it, if she wasn't careful.

"Oh wow, a Bengal. That's a handful." Her smile lingered, easier than it was before. "I really hope you call him Lord Byron." Funny how they'd both come to the decision that getting a cat was something they needed. She wondered if they'd stayed together, if they would have gotten a cat sooner, or if they would have ended up with multiple by now.

"I'm going to venture a guess that your neighbors could use a crazy cat lady walking her cat to liven up things on your street." Things in this town were generally very quiet, which of course meant that gossip ran rampant among social circles. Thank god they were slightly big enough not to be one of those "everyone knows all your business in 10 minutes" sort of towns. "That suits though, I always figured in an ideal world, your most fitting pet would be some sort of jungle cat... Like a tiger or a cheetah." Rory had always considered Maris wildly cooler than herself, and if any person could find a way to have an exotic animal, it probably would have been Maris.

"I started to, but it just made him more a diva. He lives up to his namesake, really," she joked.

Maris almost blushed at Rory's assessment of her. She didn't see herself as the sort of adventurous sort Rory did, but it was a nice image. Which is why she told her something she hadn't told anyone else. "It can be a bit awkward sometimes." Walking a cat down the street on a leash earned you some looks whenever you went out, though most curious onlookers complimented or asked questions about Byron once they got a good look at him. Bengals were rare and like most, Maris' was a stunner. "But for the first week or so I walked down the street feeling like Josephine Baker."

Okay, on good days she still did, but her current funk meant Maris hadn't had one of those in quite a while. In that moment, she realized that this afternoon, as awkward as it started was one of the best she'd had in a while, though Maris would have thought someone insane if they told her she would be spending it with her ex gossiping about cats.

Even if she knew the novelty of a wild cat on a leash would wear off eventually, she couldn't help but be a little nervous about her new neighbors. Maris had never been the sort of person overly concerned about what others thought, but she did want to fit in here and like any queer person, was nervous about the new environment she found herself in. You never knew how an area really was, a small towns didn't exactly have a reputation for being welcoming to people outside of their often narrow minded norm. She wanted to ask Rory about it, but thought better of it. Asking about queer culture (even though she was trying to sort out just how queer to openly be) might make it seem like she was trying to fish for information on how to find women which were the last thing she needed in her current state, not to mention an awkward topic when the one you were sitting across from was one you used to sleep with.

A lot.

"I notice a lot of families around though. Makes me a bit nervous. Always awkward to be in a sea of marrieds," she said, figuring a diplomatic observation might be best and maybe start Rory talking about where to find some friends who wouldn't talk her ear off about their daughter's first missing tooth.

"Oh yeah, that makes complete sense. I'm surprised he didn't demand a crown and freshly caught salmon."

There had been times, especially early on in their relationship, where Rory would catch herself just wondering how in the world the two of them managed to find each other. They were similar in many ways, but wildly different in others. Her overactive anxiety would flare up, convincing her that Maris wouldn't want anything so serious with Rory, that maybe what they had was a passing fling and nothing more. Some cruel circumstance where of course they would hook up because they were two of few women who liked women. But then something different would happen, it could have been something as simple as walking by Maris' office and catching her for a secret smile only they shared, or how Maris might unconsciously curl into her in the middle of the night, their bodies so naturally gravitating towards one another. Everything they showed each other proved to her how deep and formidable their love had been. Remembering it now felt like a fresh wound.

"Now that is a look! Next, just get a baby deer and you can add Hepburn to your image." Though of course Rory had no way to anticipate this run-in, it still did entirely surprise her how easy it was to talk with her again. How quickly that pain in her chest and uneasiness in her gut subsided as soon as they started to talk. She expected if they were going to talk, they would have awkward, stunted sentences of half-attempts at small talk. Not so, her words came easily, and the pain, while still there, wafted away to a dull ache.

Marrieds. It was such an innocuous comment, but it made Rory's heart lurch in her chest. She fidgeted a little, shifting in her seat as she leaned further back into it -- she hadn't realized that she had leaned in so much. "Yeah, it's definitely a family town, but there's plenty of single folk and young professionals." Her fingers began to peel at the label on her drink, her guilt coming in swiftly. The worst part was she couldn't tell if she was more guilty because she was talking so easily with Maris, or because she had been moving on, finally. She should tell her, but there was no way to do it and make it sound anything less than cruel and presumptuous. "There's some fun things to do, particularly with summer approaching. The town really comes alive in the summer."

Maris wrinkled her nose. Audrey had always been a bit too twee for her tastes. "Pass on becoming any Hepburn but Kate. I know she wasn't technically one of ours, but she's practically an honorary member of the tribe. I'm sure Dorothy Arzner would vouch for her." More than vouch if certain rumors about their relationship turned out to be true, but Maris had never put much stock in them. For better or worse, Spencer had always had Kate's attention.

Her distaste for the married set was well documented by now. She'd pitched a fit when her father announced his engagement to her stepmother years before and Rory had a front row seat. She may have begrudgingly come around to accepting the woman her dad had married, but she and the institution were still on shaky ground. She'd simply never seen the point and assumed people took the plunge for one of two reasons: some selfish, possessive desire to own another person or they simply wanted an excuse to have a party where they could be the center of attention while they shoved their supposedly superior love in everyone else's faces.

She knew her diatribes against marriage weren't what most people wanted to hear. She'd been scolded for them on more than one occasion, but they remained as firmly planted as ever, though she once came to the realization that if Rory really wanted to get married, she might consider it.

"Oh really? Like what?" she asked, leaning her cheek on her hand with an amused smirk on her face. "Lobster fishing or camping out at the mall before LL Bean's summer sale?"

"I'm still not convinced she wasn't." Rory replied with a shrug, a small smile now seemingly stuck to her features. How fondly this made her think back about teasing debates they'd have over old (and new) Hollywood or public figures they admired or despised. Rory's love for the more classic and even old fashioned had come from her mother, growing up on the films and music that her mother had an affinity for. Rory hadn't even been the slightest bit embarrassed the day Maris had "caught" her blasting the Beach Boys and singing (poorly) at the top of her lungs about Good Vibrations. Blame it on the California blood.

It had been a very long time since Rory could be accused of wondering what Maris might think of a situation. Surely those moments did creep in here and there - less so, the longer they had spent apart. Beyond the obvious, what would her former paramour even think about her saying yes to getting married? The fact alone that they'd been able to have open, even if rarely serious conversations about their thoughts on the whole institution ... Rory had never entirely believed in it. Coming from a single-parent household, putting a lot of reverence around a piece of paper and a ceremony felt kind of absurd. Her grandparents had been an amazing example of married longevity ... and there were indeed multiple times she herself thought if she was going to tie herself to someone else for the rest of her life or feasibly eternity, Maris was a damn good choice.

What made her say yes now? She couldn't even think of it with Maris sitting in front of her. In fact, if anyone asked her to give the name or any details about her fiancée, she probably couldn't think of a one. She was blond? Possibly?

"Oh wow, you've figured us out already." She chuckled, unable to consciously stop herself from leaning in all over again. "There is a Lobster Festival, which is pretty spectacular." She confessed with an air of mischief to her voice. "They screen movies in the park every weekend, a fair comes into town in June, so prepare to eat your weight in fried foods and stave off sideways glances from the carnie folk."

"Oh, why would I do anything but welcome the glances of an overweight Ferris wheel operator out of his non glass eye? That vaguely nauseated feeling is part of the thrill."

None of the things she mentioned really struck Maris' fancy, but for a brief moment she caught herself thinking of how nice it would be to walk around a carnival with Rory on a warm day with a funnel cake in hand.

And then she remembered.

It was like a switch had been flipped.

Subconsciously sitting up a little straighter, Maris' hand slid down to reach the phone stashed away in her hoodie. She hated people who couldn't put theirs away to have a conversation, but it suddenly seemed important to check it, if only to give off the impression that she had something to keep tabs on, something to do other than get way too caught up in a conversation with her ex. A conversation that had her thinking friendly suggestions for activities were somehow invitations to do them together.

"I should...probably go home and get dressed." Maris raised her eyes from the screen and reached up, grabbing and holding onto a bit of hair before letting go again. "I have a meeting with a professor at the college later."

Much later. Two weeks later, in fact. But Rory didn't need to know that. "He has information for my book," she explained, surprised at her own calmness.

The shift was palpable, a feeling that Rory felt she'd been warding off more than she should. What struck her was how easy it felt to belong in her company again. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that Maris, as much as she'd been her love, she'd also become her best friend for the time they spent together. Their chemistry way back then had felt immediate, so it was no real wonder why that might be again. Careful, she scolded herself, yet unwilling to draw back entirely for whatever reason. For all the "shoulds" in her mind, she couldn't entirely listen to a single one of them. She should have walked away from her upon seeing her, probably. She should have been harsher, she should have expected her heart to be stronger and shuttered to any warmth whatsoever. But Rory couldn't change who she was, and Maris was, apparently, still a spot of great conflict she'd only buried.

This was a cruel trick of the brain, where Rory too found it far too easy to imagine spending more time with Maris. They had never gone to a fair together, had they? All those quintessential couple-y moments like riding the rinky-dink ferris wheel and winning prizes for each other. She could imagine finding a spot for an outdoor movie together, sipping wine and leaning into each other, annoying others near them by heckling whatever film was playing like some sort of live-action Statler & Waldorf. Those scenarios were long gone now, and yet here she was -- somehow.

"Oh, yeah. Of course." Rory felt awkward, sitting up straighter, nearly knocking over her coffee and only righting it seconds before it tipped over onto her papers. Her synapses were firing too slowly, left flustered in a way she didn't like at all. "That's great though, for the book." She nodded.

What was there to say? They should just go about their lives now, running into each other sporadically, sure. No need to reach out, stay in touch. "It was unexpected ... but very good to see you." She somehow found herself saying, and even more unexpectedly meaning it wholeheartedly.

Their meeting may have been awkward and unexpected, but Maris had to admit Rory was right. It was good to see her again. A little too good, which is why she was headed straight to her shower when she got home and not just because of her morning run. She hoped it would help clear her head after their encounter, but considering she couldn't wrap it around the fact that Rory was actually here well, that didn't seem likely.

"Let me give you my number," she blurted out before she could really consider the ramifications of doing such a thing. Having Rory only a phone call away was probably the stupidest thing she could do if she wanted to forget their newfound proximity, but what were the odds that her ex would actually reach out?

Or that they'd even run into each other again. It was a small town but it was hardly microscopic.

Thank god her grandfather hadn't had property in Rhode Island.

After they'd swapped phones and numbers, Maris shoved hers into her sweatshirt's pocket.

"Take care," she said with a slightly solemn nod before disappearing through the front door and jogging out of sight.