A pink cross, it stands out laughing at me, mocking me.
Mommy's ashamed, daddy doesn't know.
Sickness comes, cravings for hotdogs and things I swore never to let touch my lips.
I'm big and bloated, but this time I don't run for the bathroom, finger in throat, I eat big helpings and healthy food, for baby girl that grows deep inside with a sweet little smile I can't wait to see.
Chuck doesn't know, does he care?
I'm in France, no fun or wine for me, I love cat (with her black fur and smiling catty eyes) and so will baby Serena.
Months and months of sickness and the feeling of something living inside me, lucky it was nothing like Alien, but it hurt more.
Pictures and cards, friends and family, everyone came to see my baby, my Serena.
Gossip comes and but just so damn happy that it floats on by without a goodbye.
'Chuck come around at one tomorrow, we need to talk. Blair.'
There he is, black gruffly hair and angry eyes, pressed suit and hands in pockets.
He stares, mouth open, baby in his arms wiggling and giggling away.
"Chuck Bass, meet Serena Waldorf."
Tiny hands and feet, she giggles and he smiles, like the father he could be, that he might want to be.
"You should have called me sooner, Blair."
