The Five Times Rory Gilmore Said: No (гет)

“Mom?”
“Yeah?”
A brittle breath edges through Rory’s teeth.
“I’m scared,” she says.
“I know, kid. But you’ve got me on your side. And I know a thing or two about babies—I can bless you with my wisdom. You can even borrow my flip-flops for when your ankles swell up to the size of grapefruits.”
Rory’s eyes are stinging, dampness clinging to her lashes. She clears her throat. “I have my own flip-flops, you know.”
“Yeah, but yours don’t have rhinestones on them.” Rory feels Lorelai pull away, but her mother’s hands just move to her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “Let me help. I tried doing this whole incubating-and-raising-a-kid thing completely on my own, and while I’m eternally grateful that it made you completely and utterly dependent on your dear mother, I—look, Rory, this is tough to do by yourself.”
“I know.”
Lorelai’s lips press into a thin smile, but then her shoulders widen and tighten. “Unless—if you want him involved, too—”
“No,” Rory spits out, the word carving a bitter taste into the backs of her teeth. Then, softer this time: “No.”