Summary: "You know I dreamed about you for twenty-nine years..." Blair Waldorf returns to New York at 29, and Chuck has been preparing for this chance for a lifetime.
Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Gossip Girl, Blair, or Chuck.
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It was too easy to love New York in the autumn. The trees in the city were trimmed in ombre crimson, and the slight breeze could, at any moment, sweep under those ubiquitous Burberry trench coats to provide the most delicious sort of refreshment. I was standing on the terrace of the Waldorf-Rose home, looking out over Manhattan, and that fall wind swirled around me to settle around my neck like the silk scarf I had tried to forget.
It had been twelve years. Tonight was my twenty-ninth birthday, and my life was almost how I had imagined it. I had graduated Yale in 2012, a year ahead of schedule, and then finished my MBA at the Wharton School before completing an advanced degree program at the London School of Economics while establishing my career. No one was surprised that I had a head for business, and I'd created a name for myself in real estate, seizing buildings in disrepair and restoring them to coveted properties with historical integrity and classical charm. I was Blair Waldorf, period, and it was no longer necessary to add my mother and father's successes in my introduction.
Serena said I looked liked I hadn't aged a day since my eighteenth birthday, and maybe that was true. I had embraced a new sort of lifestyle at college, with clean eating and regular exercise. I was a runner now and my mother had wrinkled her nose when I'd told her about my runs in the countryside of England. She didn't understand how I could be addicted to something other than French coffee or hand-edged lace, but I hadn't elaborated. My runs were easy to maintain, an hour each day of no thinking, just the wind on my face and the pounding of my feet beating a steady, predictable rhythm.
I hadn't wanted to come back to New York. It would be too easy to fall into my old patterns, and I'd felt my resistance slipping already when I had brunch with Serena earlier today, listening to her anecdotes about life with Brooklyn and the daily delights of marriage and children. My new office was across from the Palace Hotel and I'd positioned myself with my back against the window. There are some views that cost too much.
"Blair!"
Serena tumbled out onto the terrace, still all golden hair and rosy cheeks. She grabbed my hand and pulled me back inside, back to the preparations for the party. I'd agreed to get ready in my old bedroom but told myself that I was going back to my new apartment after the party. There were too many memories in that bedroom, and every time I walked inside it I almost thought I'd see him sitting there, broken and vulnerable and needing me.
"What are you wearing tonight?"
I pulled the dress out of my wardrobe. "I was thinking about this one," I said, watching her face light up. The dress was a dark midnight navy, a slim knee-length silk sheath with impeccable detailing. The strapless neckline had a subtle origami detail with a slight sweeping curve.
"B, it's gorgeous!" Serena clapped her hands. "You know I love my life, but you—you are the belle of the ball. Great job, killer body, a suitor that most girls in New York would die for—"
"Ben is not my suitor." I interrupted. "I told you a million times, we're just friends."
"Blair, he is head over heels for you! Didn't you say he wrote you every day you were in London?"
"Yes," I agreed, "but he's just a nice guy. That's all."
"Well," she trilled, "I think it's more than that. I wouldn't be surprised if he up and proposed to you."
"Serena Humphrey!" I gasped. "Come on! Ben and I kissed once, a long time ago. I promise you, I don't have time for dating, let alone a secret love affair."
"You might need to make time after he sees you in that dress," she retorted.
"Well," I played along, "I'm also wearing new La Perlas and the pewter Jimmy Choos."
She put her hand to her forehand and fell onto my bed.
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Later, I sat in front of my vanity in that dress, thinking about how he'd knelt before me, how he'd taken my hand and kissed a promised of someday into my lips. And just like that day, I wiped away my tears and looked down at my ruby ring. I breathed in a slow, deep intake of air and studied my reflection.
I touched my bare collarbone and paused. For a moment I felt the necklace there, but then my fingers touched the empty air and I realized I was dreaming again. It was harder to be back here than I'd anticipated. His ghost was everywhere, all around me, and I couldn't ignore him. And for the first time in nearly twelve years, I acted without thinking, pulling out the jewelry box and clasping the diamonds around my neck. The heart brushed my clavicle like a lover.
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I hesitated at the top of the staircase. I could tell by the sound of the people below that it was a lovely party, all candles and peonies and champagne. Cyrus had insisted that he give a toast in my honor, and my mother had insisted that I wait to descend the staircase. Like a second debutante ball, I thought, and my fingers closed around the banister.
I heard Cyrus talking about my accomplishments. Sometimes, when I hear about my life, it feels like another person is living it. It's not the fairy tale I'd imagined with Nate, or the one I'd believed was real with him, but it's a good life. When I introduce myself to people, their eyes flicker and I know they are glad to meet me.
I heard my cue and started down the stairs, feeling graceful in my dark silver heels. I looked perfect. I could just tell. My hair fell in loose waves down my back, my eyes were big and bright, and my legs were long and toned from running. I kept my head up and felt the necklace brush against my skin and my whole body tingled with anticipation.
Cyrus said my name and the crowd turned to me, champagne glasses raised in a toast. I smiled shyly and gave a small nod as they all drank in unison. The room had a rosy glow from the professional lighting and hundreds of candles, and I swept my gaze over the crowd, over all my friends and family, over the society of New York. And then he stepped out of the shadows and we locked eyes.
Someone handed me a crystal champagne flute and the crowd disappeared as I kept my eyes on him, sure he would vanish. Instead, he raised his own champagne glass to me and smiled, one edge of his lip curling upwards. He wore a dark navy suit that matched my dress, and my hand flew up to touch the diamond necklace around my neck. He saw my gesture and his facial expression changed, the intensity in his eyes apparent from across the room. He started to move toward me and I panicked, spinning around to grab Serena.
"Blair!" she said happily.
"S," I said, and the desperation in my voice scared me, "he's here. Cover for me."
I slipped past her and into the kitchen, navigating through the narrow hallways until I was in another ballroom. All the lights were out and the room was lit only with the hazy glow of the Manhattan moon. I touched the window's cold glass and my breath formed fog on the pane. My shoulders tensed and I knew he was there with me.
"Waldorf."
I turned to face him. "Bass."
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I've thought about our reunion hundreds of times. When he first left, I'd pictured him coming to my room in the middle of the night, whispering apologies and returning those three words before we'd make love and fall asleep in each other's arms. At Yale, I'd imagined him as a guest speaker in one of my business classes, and after his lecture he'd flirt with me over drinks and we'd make out like teenagers in his limousine, exchanging those eight letters desperately, saying them over and over between gasps for air. In London, I'd think about running into him on the street in the rain and he would wrap me in his trench coat and brush the rain and the tears from my cheeks and tell me he loved me, that he always had and always would.
Chuck—or Charles, maybe—looked better than I'd imagined. He'd filled out a little, and his shoulders were broader, but he strode toward me with that same catlike grace and his cheekbones sliced through the space between us. He was still beautiful, I saw, and the realization both thrilled me and sent a nervous chill through my bones.
He was close to me now, and he touched my waist gently with his fingertips. The motion surprised me. Then he brought his other hand up to touch the other side of my waist and, very softly, pulled me to him. Our bodies touched and I felt seventeen again, all butterflies and so very alive, wearing a party dress and his necklace.
"You're here," he said quietly, and it wasn't a question but rather an expression of muted surprise.
"It's my party," I explained, and he smirked.
"Blair, I could never forget your birthday." He lifted one hand and touched my necklace—his necklace—grazing my flushed skin with the pad of his thumb.
I reached up and caught his hand in mine. He curled his fingers around my wrist and stroked my skin. Our eyes met and I could feel my eyes welling up. I shook my head, trying to compose myself, and pulled my hand away.
"What do you think you're doing here?" I said.
"I want you," he said, his voice dark and husky. "I've been wanting you for twenty-nine years, Blair."
I wanted to say something hurtful, something that would tear him apart, make him cry, but he was stepping toward me again and touching my face and I couldn't say anything at all.
"Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life," he rasped, and his voice broke a little. "I've spent all this time building a life, but it's nothing without you in it."
"You can't do this to me!" The words burst out of me. "You can't just show up here after all this time and think it'll all be the same."
"It's not the same," he interrupted. He touched my cheeks and lifted my gaze to meet him. "It will be so much better."
My knees felt weak underneath me and I leaned into him. Our foreheads touched and his soft caramel eyes studied my expression carefully.
"If you say you haven't thought of me," he whispered, "I'll go."
"No," I said quickly, and a small smile flashed across his lips. "No," I repeated, more softly. "You know I've thought of you, Bass."
"I have a birthday present for you," he said, and he reached into his pocket. I strained to see in the dim ballroom, and then, he knelt before me. "It'll be different this time, Waldorf. Because this time, I'm ready, and I can say that I love you, and I want you to be my wife. Marry me, Blair."
My first thought was that I must be dreaming, that maybe the shock of being back in New York had resulted in a psychotic break. And then a shiver went through me and I felt him holding my hand, and I could see his eyes shining up at me. Without warning, the main lights to the ballroom sprang on and I blinked, but he was still there. Dimly, I heard a gasp in the background but I kept my eyes locked on his, and he gave me a small nod, still holding the open jewelry box with a sparkling diamond ring.
My heart was screaming yes, but my mind flashed back to the last time he'd promised me someday. He would leave again, my mind said, and then where will you be? I heard my name and I turned toward the entrance. Serena was pressed against the wall, and Chuck squeezed my hand a little tighter.
I looked back at him. He was still on one knee and I couldn't help it, a tear slipped down my cheek. I pulled my hand out of his grasp and ran out of the ballroom, pushing past Serena and wiping the tears away as I went back into my party.
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I paused just inside the decorated ballroom and took in a deep breath. I saw Ben coming toward me—Ben, with his light brown hair and clear blue eyes in an impeccable charcoal suit—and forced a smile.
"Happy Birthday!" he said, and swept me up into a hug.
I felt my smile become real and I tightened my arms around his shoulders before he set me back down.
"Blair," he said, and he tucked a stray piece of my hair behind my ear. I flinched involuntarily, still feeling Chuck's fingers on my skin.
"Ben," I said. "I'm so glad to see you."
He smiled broadly and I thought about Serena's words from earlier. I studied Ben's face carefully. He was completely focused on me. His body posture was relaxed and happy, and I realized she was right. He was in love with me. In the back of my mind, I saw Chuck kneeling before me and I pushed the image out of my mind with a sip of champagne.
Ben led me to the center of the dance floor and I let him pull me into his arms. He was so familiar. We'd been friends for almost a decade, since our freshman year of Yale. We'd kissed once, after my Wharton graduation, but I was leaving for London the next day and was happy for the excuse. Truth told, there was nothing wrong with Ben. He was handsome, successful, nice, sweet, from a prominent Park Avenue family, incredibly wealthy… there was no reason not to be with him, except that he wasn't Chuck.
"I'm so happy you're back in New York," Ben said softly, "And you know I'm here for the long haul. And I've been in love with you for years."
I jolted back and looked up at Ben. The people around us moved away and I was acutely aware of the crowd beginning to watch us. "Ben, I—"
He touched my mouth softly.
"I hated being without you," he said. "And I don't want to ever be without you again. I know, Blair, I know that you haven't had it easy. But I can make you happy."
And then, oh god, he was kneeling in front of me and holding out a diamond ring. Tears spilled down my face and Ben mistook them for encouragement.
"I love you, Blair. Will you marry me?"
The room was silent. The orchestra stopped playing and I could hear my own ragged breaths as time slowed down. Something shifted in the room and I knew Chuck was there. I looked up and there he was, standing by the ballroom door, watching me and clutching his ring box in his hand. The light from the sparkling chandeliers bounced off the polished champagne flutes and I felt my feet tingling furiously. I looked back at Ben and opened my mouth to speak when suddenly, the room blurred and I fainted.
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"Blair?"
I groaned and tried to sit up before collapsing back onto a stack of silk pillows. I winced and looked over at Serena.
"I must say," she teased, "Two proposals in one night? That's impressive, B, even for you."
"I don't know what to say," I said. "Chuck? Ben? I fainted?"
"All very dramatic," she agreed. "Audrey would have been impressed."
"I don't want drama," I said. "I just want a normal life."
"B, I hate to tell you," she said, smoothing back my hair, "But you're much too extraordinary for an ordinary life."
I smiled wryly and pulled the covers around me, shutting my eyes against the light.
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Thankfully, Serena had brought me back to my apartment. She must have known I couldn't be in my old bedroom after a night like that. I stretched in my bed before getting up. I picked up a note from Serena asking me to call her if I needed anything. I smiled.
I pattered into the kitchen and picked up my phone. 2:37 a.m. I groaned and clicked through my missed calls. Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben, Chuck, Ben, Ben—I paused. I knew that if I waited, I'd lose my nerve, so I grabbed my purse, pulled on my heels, and left the apartment.
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I knew from Serena that Chuck had maintained suite 1812 at the Palace, even when he'd been gone for months at a time. The doorman hadn't blinked when I gave him my name.
"Ah, yes, Blair Waldorf. You're on Mr. Bass's approved list."
"His approved list?" I questioned.
"Yes, ma'am. It's the list of people that are to be admitted upstairs at any time."
"A long list?" I probed.
"You and the van der Woodsens, ma'am. That's it."
"Oh," I said, but I could feel a smile on my face. I was the only woman on the list besides Chuck's family.
I headed to the elevator and found myself outside 1812. I knocked quietly, and he opened the door quickly.
We stood there for a long moment, me in his necklace and him in a rumpled suit. He leaned on the door frame and I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me.
"Don't ever leave me again," I said, and his face opened up and I was in his arms. He kissed me over and over, capturing my mouth with his and oh this, this was still the same. I felt like I was lost and found at the same time and we stumbled backwards into the bedroom, undressing each other and revealing what we'd been missing for years.
"Blair—" he said, but I kept kissing him, quieting him, because if I heard what he wanted to say I knew I'd never recover. He dipped his mouth to mine and I threaded my fingers through his hair, feeling his warm skin on mine as he entered me. We looked at each other in the dark and he touched my face as he moved inside me, and we were one, moving together, and then it built inside me and washed over us both as he pulled me closer.
After, he rolled onto his side and drew me to him, the length of his body pressed against mine. I could feel my heart beating in my chest as his breath brushed my lips. He smiled at me as one corner of his mouth turned upwards. He spoke steadily, but I knew him well enough to detect the nervousness in his voice.
"Is that a yes?"
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To be continued... Reviews are greatly appreciated!