Notes from the author - Hope everyone had as much of a dysfunctional and fattening Thanksgiving as I had :) you guys are awesome.

I don't own anything. Except a severe obsession with a certain Bass.

This distance is quite simply much too far for me to row.
It seems farther than ever before.
I need you so much closer.
- Transatlanticism, Death Cab For Cutie

Mornings in New York City were an event.

A trial run, perhaps, to forecast the rest of the day.

An early morning jog through the winding sidewalks of Central Park and a cream cheese-covered bagel would be considered, for most New Yorkers, a great way to start the day's commute. On the other hand, a missed subway train and a spilled Italian Roast could leave a lasting stain, no pun intended, until the sunset. Blair Waldorf-Baizen firmly believed in this notion.

So when she was awakened to a smell of complete bliss coming from the kitchen, and her comatose husband's echoing snores, she silently promised to herself it would be an early-morning-jog-and-bagel kind of day; Blair style, that is. Outdoor exercise was maddening, and bagels were for Brooklynites.

It was five minutes past eight o'clock, according to her Blackberry.

She turned to Carter.

He was like a hibernating mammal; virtuously impossible to disturb. But she had to try. He was going to be late for work, a sure sign of a terrible day for everyone involved.

"Carter, it's after eight." She rubbed his bare arm.

He barely acknowledged her, shifting only slightly.

She leaned down towards him, placing her hands strategically on his back. They began to work their magic. He shifted more, groaning placidly. Purring in his ear, she slowly coaxed him out of his alcohol-induced coma. "The investors are coming by today… You don't want to be tardy."

He rose up slowly, eyes half closed. Suddenly, he was tossing her to the other side of the bed, and he was on top of her. The genuine smile that she seemingly adored, and rarely saw, was gleaming back at her. She smiled back.

"You're the best alarm clock any husband could have."

They kissed, half-naked bodies touching. It was only then that she remembered she was still wearing her lingerie from the night before. And his hands were slipping in them.

"Meester and misses Carter – oh! I sorry, I sorry!"

Their heads snapped towards the arched doorway. Nanette's hands were up around her wrinkled face. Blair felt her cheeks, and the rest of her body, getting hot.

"I only come to tell you zat breakfast iz prepared, and ze children are ready for school." Her thick French accent stuttered.

At this, Carter reluctantly rolled to the other side of the bed. His slippers were in place, and moments later, he was shut behind the two large doors that led to the bathroom.

Blair smiled awkwardly at the quivering housekeeper.

"Thank you, Nanette. We will be out shortly."

Approximately half an hour had past; all members of the Baizen family surrounded the crystal-plated breakfast table. Alexis bounded up to her mother, as she did every morning, and wrapped her tiny little arms around Blair's tiny little waist. Her hair had been straightened by Nanette, and she looked like a cupcake in her pink polka-dotted Juicy Couture long sleeved dress.

"Mother, today is Thursday!"

Blair giggled, returning her child's embrace.

"Why, yes it is! You are so smart."

Her baby boy, Shelton, was already sitting, wide-eyed, in his oak high-chair. And he took her breath away as he did every morning. She planted a crimson kiss on his bald head, and sat down in her usual seat just across from the children. Carter stumbled in tiredly only moments later, clad in Armani and drenched in Acqua Di Gio.

"Father, today is Thursday." Alexis said matter-of-factly, grinning from ear to ear.

Carter looked at her, "Ah. So it is."

Nanette stepped forward, and instantly three chefs were filling the table with silver trays and wares.

"Zis morning's menu includes Norwegian waffles, served with a lemon whipping cream and fresh strawberries, and a roasted asparagus and goat cheese omelette. Bon appétit." With a glossy smile, the plump French maid hurried off into the kitchen.

Alexis's fork and knife were already hard at work.

"Tonight is the Sunshine Guild's benefit." Carter said, a mouth filled with egg. The napkin he kept in his lap rose to dab his lips.

Blair remembered. The Sunshine Guild of New York City was a non-profit organization, whose existence was to persuade all major cooperation's high rise buildings to convert to solar power during daylight hours. Baizen & Branson Inc. was a huge newly-acquainted investor, as well as the drink provider for the evening's festivities. The dress code for the event was notoriously strict. The men must wear a yellow tie or handkerchief, and the women must wear a matching yellow gown.

"I already had my assistant call Barney's, Bergdorf's and Bendel's to have all of the yellow gowns they have on inventory at your disposal this afternoon." He downed his orange juice.

Blair smiled. "Thank you dear, that was very thoughtful of you."

"Oh, mother! Can I please come to the party? Please?" Alexis chimed in from across the table. Blair gazed into her big brown eyes, full of excitement and wonder. Her tiny hands cupped each other, begging for an answer.

"This party is for grown-ups, darling." Blair chuckled.

Seeing the disappointment in her daughter's eyes, Blair quickly saved the conversation. "But, I've got an idea. Why don't we help Mother find something to wear, and take a day off from school?" All disappointment disappeared. Her child's eyes lit up like Christmas morning. She squealed with delight.

"Oh, yes Mother! Today is going to be so fun!" Her fork and knife hit the plate, and in a dash, she was running back to her room with her matching Juicy backpack. Blair watched her, ignoring her husband's quiet angry eyes burning into the side of her face.

Carter stabbed his waffle with his fork; the noise caused Blair to jump slightly.

"I pay $40,000 a semester for that school she goes to. You take her out of it too much." His voice was a hushed scold. Blair simply toyed with her omlette. She dared not speak; she just kept her eyes on her plate of food that hadn't been touched. Silence overtook the table. When Blair looked up, Nanette was feeding the baby, her eyes nervously twitched between Carter and Blair. Reddening with embarrassment, Blair sucked in her cheeks and put down her fork that she had yet to use.

"It's just that I don't feel like I get to spend a lot of time with the children. That's all." She didn't dare look him in the eyes, but she didn't need to, to know his reaction. He shot up from his chair, throwing the napkin in his lap on his plate.

Between a mouth full of waffle, he spat at her. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Blair?"

Blair's head dropped. Just above a whisper, she answered. "We're just gone so much, at night. And with Alexis in school, and Shelton in Nanette's care all day, I just don't feel like I'm being a fit mother. Please sit down." She glanced up for just a moment.

"And you think that's my fault, do you?" His voice rose daringly.

"That's not – that's not what I said, Carter. Now please sit down, you're scaring the baby." It was true. Shelton had begun to cry; Nanette comforted him from her stool perched next to the high chair. Next thing she knew, Carter's hand slammed up against the flute of freshly squeezed orange juice and knocked it clear off of the table, sending it slamming into the deep purple walls. Blair squeezed her eyes shut.

"Fuck it. I'll have someone run me something to eat at work." He mumbled, already taking his coat off of the back of his chair at the dining room table. Shelton began to cry louder. All Blair could do was comfort him from across the table, which she hated herself for. Paralyzed to the polished oak frame underneath her, she was genuinely terrified to get up. Something in Carter's voice demanded her to stay put.

After the slamming of the door, so loud that it made Shelton scream and her jump, Blair sighed unevenly. The perfect breakfast was now in shambles, humorlessly without her taking so much as a bite of it. She looked around the table helplessly as Nanette scrambled to fetch a broom and carpet cleaner to tidy the mess Carter made. Blair did something she rarely ever did; she rose to her slippered feet and began gathering up the untouched plates and silverware. When Nanette returned, she gasped.

"Miss Blair, please! I'vill get it v'once I am done with ze broken glass."

Blair felt hot tears of embarrassment pool her eyes, as Nanette dropped her supplies and took the items from her hands. With a watery smile, Blair shook her head. "I apologize, Nanette. He must have a terrible headache from last night."

Nanette just nodded. But Blair knew she knew.

This was not the first time Carter had been outraged in front of Nanette. Nor would it be the last.

So Blair thanked her for the lovely breakfast and returned to her bedchamber to dress herself for the day. The prospect of retail and swiping her gold card was enough to maybe salvage the day.

Maybe.

Avenue of the Americas was far too crowded. Blair, dressed head to toe in Milly Kelsey and topped off with a black pillbox hat, felt the breath of the tourists and foreigners around her and it was suffocating. Not to mention, not a single item had been purchased for the Sunshine Guild's benefit. Amidst the fanny packs and flashing disposable cameras, her little girl tugged at her hand. Blair glanced down.

Big, brown eyes begged for her attention. "I'm starving, Mother."

Looking around, Blair clutched the handles of her black Lady Dior structure bag. The options were middling. Attempt the impossible and dare walk in the nearest McDonald's during lunch hour? The answer was an obvious, resounding no. UrbanSpoon pointed her towards Two Sticks Sushi Bar on West 53rd Street.

Once in her limo, she called to reserve a table, only to hear the little Asian girl on the other end tell her that the wait was two and a half hours long. A problem, if you were anyone but Blair Waldorf-Baizen. A little name dropping and three minutes later, a booth was booked for her and her daughter.

"Mother?"

The little voice beside her sang curiously.

"Yes, darling?"

"Why is Daddy is such a bad mood all of the time?"

The question hit Blair in the face harder than Carter ever had. Her breathing became slower and quicker all at once. Children were easily distracted – if she asked the driver to take the longer route through Times Square and by Toys R Us, surely the little one would forget she ever asked it. But glancing down into Alexis's wide brown eyes, she could see she was her Mother's child. And she wouldn't take silence for an answer.

"Well…" Blair began, organizing her thoughts to explain in one sentence, to a seven year old, what Carter had become. "Daddy's just very busy with his work."

That seemed to please her enough.

They were soon arriving at a thin, black bricked building squished purposely between two larger ones. The restaurant had no sign, no indication of whether it was indeed the sushi bar of choice. Blair just knew. The driver let them out of the car, and they sauntered inside. Lighting was dim and minimal, and the Japanese hostess wore a less-than-traditional mini-Komono. "Right this way, ladies." Alexis squeezed her hand inside Blair's and she followed the pigmy hostess down a narrow hallway. The dining area was equally as dimly lit, with Gagaku music whispering out of the unseen speakers. It was crowded, but not too crowded. Blair spotted Sienna Miller and Jude Law at a table just to the right of theirs. A place to seen and be seen. It was perfect.

Alexis, with much grace, climbed into the booth seat opposite Blair. Out of nowhere seemingly appeared an equally tiny Japanese waitress.

"You'll have?"

Blair didn't need a menu, and neither did her daughter. Sushi was something they shared a liking for, thankfully. It was better than her child getting premature cellulite from a Burger King kid's meal. "A maya roll, with a cup of miso soup. And crunchy shrimp for her. Water for the both of us as well."

The waitress nodded and without a word disappeared as quickly as she came.

"Have you had fun today, Lexi?" Blair asked, noticing her daughter fidgeting.

Her little brown head nodded rapidly. "Yes, Mother. Can we get ice cream next?"

"Darling, it's frigid outside. But we'll see." Vibrations erupted from her bag, and Blair opened it to retrieve her phone. Her eyes absorbed the name Serena Van der Woodsen on the caller i.d. She couldn't answer quick enough.

"Blair Waldorf!" The sunny voice rang in her ear. Sudden happiness. Blair could practically hear the palm trees blowing in the ocean breeze. "Please, elaborate on things on the east coast and tell me they are as wonderful as they are in California!"

All troubles took a break. "Serena! You have no idea how wonderful it is to hear your voice!"

Seven months the two had been apart. The move from the Upper East Side to the 90210 was sudden – Nate had a golden opportunity to apply for a seat in the California State Senate. With his Columbia diploma, and family connections, all he had to do was sign the dotted line. And Serena, bronzed, blonde and bubbly, fit right in to the high tide scene. Blair, however, did not. Nate and Serena's wedding was beautiful to say the least. The nuptials were held on a private beach in Newport, where the couple now resided.

A beach wedding was one of the many scenarios Blair hoped she'd never find herself in. A heat index of 92 degrees, unbearable beating sun while she was wearing Marc Jacobs, and sand in her new white XXIS, Blair was all but ready for the "You may kiss the bride." It was a stunning wedding though, despite the fact that the backdrop was straight out of Abercrombie and Fitch. She was the maid of honor. And honorable it was. Serena looked otherworldly in Zac Posen, while Nate stood handsome in Ralph Lauren Gold. It was picture perfect, with the photographs to prove it.

Something was missing from the festivities, however.

Nate was without a best man.

And while Blair stood behind Serena, with the gulf breeze whipping thorough her brunette locks, her focus drifted in and out of the ceremony. She stared fixedly at the empty space behind Nate. She kept reminding herself that this, if not the only, day that was to be completely about Serena. Never mind the fact that her husband sat just three rows back in the crowd. Still, it saddened her greatly. And when Serena and Nate finally did kiss as husband and wife, Blair would be lying to say her tears were strictly accredited to their happiness. But she got through it. As she always had.

"Well, I am sunbathing by the pool and I'm four mimosas in. Oh!" The reception grumbled, and Blair heard Serena give her thanks to someone. "Make that five mimosas in!"

"How very California of you." Blair joked.

"What about you?" Serena laughed brightly. "Please tell me you're enjoying a cocktail and someone is wreaking havoc on your cuticles."

Blair looked down at her, perfected to a tee, French tips. "That sounds entrancing, but no such luck. I'm out shopping with Alexis."

"For anything in particular?"

"Another day, another dress." Blair sighed. "The Sunshine Guild Benefit is tonight. Carter arranged the meetings with the shops today."

Hearing the awkward silence mixed with that of seagulls was a good indication of how Serena really felt about Carter. Truth be told, she despised him, and Blair knew. "That was nice of him, I suppose." Serena spoke up.

"It was." Blair commented delicately.

Serena had been against the nuptials to Carter from the instant the engagement ring was slipped on her finger. Because, Blair supposed, Serena had been there many a night when Blair was reduced to nothing more than a sobbing heap of pajamas. It would have been nearly impossible to get through the whole ordeal without her. Serena thought Blair had rushed into things much too soon, before she was fully ready to commit. Blair argued it had been three years and she was as over "the C word" as she would ever be. Besides, Carter was just forming and molding his corporation. She had faith that she would grow old with someone who would bury her in diamonds and luxuries, and Carter had done just that so far. It was an elaborate marriage, if nothing else.

"Well, I call with just spectacular news." Serena chuckled, and Blair was glad in her doing so. A change in subject was growing necessary. "This time in two weeks, I'll be walking through Central Park with you, drinking cappuccinos and complaining about turning thirty. Can you believe it?"

Blair gasped louder than she intended to for such a quiet restaurant. "You're coming to New York? Why, when, I need every detail."

"I knew you'd be excited, B. Nate's coming as well, for Eric's birthday. The whole gang will be back together!"

Immense happiness. Blair couldn't contain her smile. "That is spectacular news, S." Suddenly, someone else was talking to Serena from the other side of the line. The voice she recognized was Nate's. Serena giggled, and returned to her conversation with Blair. "Nate came home early from work. Can I call you later?" She agreed and suddenly California wasn't singing in her ear anymore. The dial tone saddened Blair slightly. She missed Serena more than she let on to anyone. It was funny but not unexpected that Blair was the last of her friends to call New York her permanent residence. First, her mother and Cyrus's relocation to Paris, taking Dorota and her husband and child along. Then, Serena and Nate. Even the Danimal and that creature from the Hudson river Vanessa had packed their bags and were engaged in Seattle. It was all sort of sad how the tale of them ended.

The miso soup arrived and Blair chatted with her daughter over the most trivial of things. But still, Blair couldn't shake this impending feeling of pure loneliness.

It was something that hung over her for the remainder of the afternoon.

The car had been called. The reservations were long set. And Blair Waldorf-Baizen was minutes from stepping out into the magical New York night. Hair loosely secured in an elegant low bun, braided like a headband over the crwon of her head. Her makeup was fit for an evening , of course, with burgundy lips and silver eyes. All courtesy of Zja. His immensely popular salon required an appointment made six months in advance. But one phone call was made and he agreed to clear out his overbooked evening (better luck next time, Fergie) to accommodate the "fabulous Blair Waldorf".

The dress was a stunning Carmen Marc Valvo piece, canary yellow of course. Paired with the most stunning of diamond earrings, the look was sure to be a favorite of the evening. She knew this because she had seen the other society women of all ages longingly watch her as she exited Bergdorf Goodman with a tuxedoed man carrying the extravagant gown in tow. It was sure to be spread glossily in the Signature magazine's three page editorial on the event the following morning – with a radiant and beaming Blair staring back at the entire Upper East Side. She felt as close to a queen as ever.

"Honey, we are going to be late. It's nearly eight." Carter stood uneasy by the elevator, glancing at his Glashutte watch. He too was handsome in his Black Label suit, with a silk yellow handkerchief folded precisely in its pocket.

"I know, I know." Blair mumbled, not wanting to start the evening on the wrong stiletto. She stood as Nanette spritzed her with a bottle of Chanel No. 5, and then took her evening beaded clutch from the housekeeper's tiny hands. Thanking her, she turned her attention towards the stairs. "Alexis! Mommy and Daddy are leaving!"

Tiny feet were heard padding and suddenly down the banister flew her daughter, already dressed in her nightdress. She gasped upon seeing the two of them. "Mother, you look so beautiful!" Blair pulled her into the tightest hug she could muster without wrinkling her dress.

"Thank you, darling. Sleep tight tonight. You have to go back to school tomorrow, so I don't want to catch you waiting up for us." Alexis groaned, but accepted her mother's demands and a kiss on the forehead. Blair then turned her attention to a waiting Nanette.

"She can watch television for an hour more, then straight to bed. Shelton is probably due for a bottle soon. We shouldn't be out too, too late."

Nanette nodded, smiling and taking Alexis's hand. "You look beautiful, Miss. See you upon your return."

With the tug of Carter's hand on her elbow, Blair said goodnight and was whisked into the elevator.

The two stood silently for a moment, as Carter pressed the button to the ground level floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him watching her. His eyes drifted up and down her silhouette. Suddenly, she felt extremely self conscious. It was quite a flamboyant dress. Perhaps it did not fit her as properly as she had thought? The mere notion of the idea of an unflattering dress that would lead to an unflattering photo that would lead to many unflattering conversations amongst the upscale city streets was enough to make Blair glance at herself once more in the mirrored walls of the elevator. Now that she thought about it, the taffeta bunching was a little snug around her middle. She immediately regretted her decision. No wonder everyone was staring at her when she left the department store.

How could she have been so blind as to think - "Blair?"

Carter cleared his throat, and Blair tore her eyes from her reflection.

"Y- yes dear?" She stammered nervously.

"You look astonishing tonight. I don't know if I told you that earlier or not."

A wave of relief swept over her. She couldn't help but grin from diamonded ear to diamonded ear. "Thank you, darling. I'm incomparable to you however, sir." She joked, as they reached their destination and stepped out of the elevator together. He put his hand on the small of her back and led her to the revolving door. The entering and exiting patrons of the Crowne building all stopped to pay their respects to Mr. and Mrs. Carter Baizen. This was a moment in which Blair remembered why she married Carter in the first place.

Stability.

Outside, the limo awaited, door already opened. The two were soon seated side by side in the back of the dark limo, accompanied only by the mini bar with a library of poisons to choose from. Carter helped himself to a glass of Macallan whiskey. He offered Blair some, but she silently refused. Instead, she picked out a thirty year old bottle of Chateau d'Yquem White and filled an empty flute to the brim. The two sipped their drinks, watching the cabs mindlessly pass outside the tinted windows.

A traffic jam on Madison Avenue put their carriage at a standstill. Some twenty minutes of silence had passed, and Blair was still sipping on her same glass of wine. But suddenly, she felt Carter shift next to her. The glass he was holding lazily fell to the floor of the limo. She had seen him refill it nearly four times already. All of a sudden, his hands were fumbling with the delicate material of her gown.

She hastily set her glass down in an empty holder. "Carter, what are you doing?"

A sinister look in his already pink eyes. He continued to touch her. "Come on, we've got some time."

"Wh- what are you talking about?" She breathed as he leaned into her, his hot lips grazing the nape of her neck. It sent shivers throughout her whole body.

"We've never done it in a limo. Strange, as many as we've been in." He was now biting her. A terrible mixture of déjà vu and panic hit her all at once. It was in truth that she knew they never had made love in the back of the limousine they relied on for all means of transportation – it had not gone unnoticed, and Blair greatly preferred to keep it the way it was. The way his hands were making their way down the front of her dress and continued to rub against her bare breasts was making her remember. She never remembered, at least if she could help it.

The last time she had made it in a limousine was another scene entirely. Less forced, more close to perfection. Rougher hands, but more precise movements, knowing exactly what to touch and how to touch it. She suddenly remembered the way his lips touched the most sensitive parts of her, in contrast to how her husband was kissing her now. And the mere thought of it terrified Blair to even think about such an experience.

Carter attempted to lay her down, but something about the way the leather was rubbing against her nearly bare back and Carter's alcohol drenched breath rolling down on her was far too nostalgic. For the last time she had laid down in the back of a limo, she had been in the hands of someone who she didn't even know anymore. Quite possibly someone who didn't even exist.

Before she could stop herself, her hand drew back and landed harshly against Carter's chest.

He grew rigid at her blow.

"I can't – I'm sorry Carter, I just can't do this – I can't." She pleaded, high pitched and panicked.

Her eyes were closed, but she didn't need them to be open to feel the anger growing inside of him.

"That's unfortunate." He snarled, and shoved himself to the farthest side of the seat. The Macallan bottle was in his hand again, and he poured himself his fifth consecutive glass. Blair cautiously, but much relieved, sat upright again. "You know, I actually thought you would be good for company tonight Blair."

Blair didn't say anything. She zipped up the inch of her dress that had somehow come undone in the bustle, unable to catch her breath completely.

"I actually thought," Carter raised his voice menacingly. "That maybe you weren't all dried up. You are good for one thing. One thing and one thing only and that is fucking me, Blair. Whenever and wherever I damn well please. And now, it seems you aren't even worth that." His words lashed into her. She closed her eyes and wished away the uncontrollable sobs that threatened to swell inside her.

All was quiet for a moment.

"DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR." Deafening, his roars filled the space, along with the slamming of his glass of whiskey against the marble counter it came from. Blair flinched in fear, and nodded as fast as she could. She tensed up, waiting for the blow that was sure to strike her at any moment. But it never came. She opened her eyes slowly, to see Carter fuming away from her, pouring the remainder of the bottle of Macallan into his flask and tucking it away in his coat pocket. For this, Blair was grateful.

She wasn't bruising or bleeding. Her hair was still intact, her makeup still flawless. With a little straightening of her dress, she would be shiny and new. No indications of any slight imperfections to the outside world of any kind. It could have been a lot worse than it occurred. A part of her felt she deserved what Carter said. She had let her mind wander; something she didn't – couldn't – allow herself to do. And this was the consequence she suffered for it. Not nearly as bad as she deserved, honestly. The weight of the limo shifted and the engine died. She could hear the crowd of society awaiting her just outside the doors. Flashbulbs would blind her at any second, and people would stand behind velvet black ropes and shout at her how wonderful it was to be Blair Waldorf-Baizen. Mechanically, she reached for Carter's hand, but he jerked it free. The door opened, and Carter was out of the car before Blair could blink.

She took a deep breath, hearing her name being called by a cacophony of voices.

Time to do what she was born to do. Smiling luminously, she took the hand of the driver and stepped out onto the carpeted concrete. Photographers went insane with their cameras. The compliments and questions filled her ears, but she just made her way down the lavender row to the modern doors of the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art. She saw Carter disappear inside, and knew the night had been ruined for the both of them. All by her doing.

The crowd inside was insanely thick, and The Sunshine Guild didn't spare any cost in the decorum. Yellow fabric sheets hung vibrantly and covered the dull metal tiles of the museum in days before. Lighted perfectly, and smelling of gerbera daisies, she had to admit it was a magical setting. With no one to share the magic with. Craning her neck without so much as hinting that she was craning her neck was a hard task. She couldn't let on that there was a smidge of trouble in paradise to her surrounding cohorts. Smiling was an absolute must.

"Blair Waldorf, aren't you a vision."

The aged voice came from her right, out of nowhere completely. It was Bex Summers, a designer who came about in the same heyday as her own mother. Her designs were black to Eleanor's white. Lots of prints and lace, fit more for Ke$ha than a kept woman. But she was considered, no matter how much she rattled off her tongue, a family friend. So, Blair turned with fake expectancy and gasped.

"Bex! It's been ages. How's the new line?"

Kisses on each cheek were exchanged, Blair's Chanel perfume mixing toxically with Bex's Vivian Westwood.

"It's coming along fabulously. Just a few more sketches, and we'll be taking it to the advertisers!"

Blair pretended to care and laugh, but her eyes adverted around the ballroom searching for her husband. "That's wonderful."

"This sangria is to die for! Chilled to perfection, I'd say." Bex laughed boisterously, enjoying a swig of her third glass of the imported wine. Her attention then drew focus to their surroundings. "Speaking of, where is your timely tycoon?"

Eyes widening, Blair chuckled nervously. "Carter had to step away to the restroom. Wine runs right through him." The two shared a laugh, before Bex's index finger was pointing just over Blair's shoulder. She whipped around.

"Isn't that your Carter over there?"

Carter was standing, alone, at the bar, a fresh drink in hand. Eyes half open, eyes half closed, he fumbled in his wallet for a generous tip to a particularly attractive blonde barista.

Blair blinked. "Y- yes, I believe it is." She'd run out of excuses. "Would you excuse me?" Without really waiting for a response, she whisked herself away from an amused Bex. Once in the range of a whisper, she took him by the hand.

"What are you doing? I've been looking for you for nearly twenty minutes. We need to take our seats." She studied his twitching face, as he jerked his hand out of her own. Around them, indeed, the rest of society was taking their silk seats at the plethora of decorated long tables around the ballroom. A sure sign that dinner and the speeches were to commence. Before she knew it, he was stumbling away to find their table, without bothering to wait for his wife. Blair stood dumbfounded for a moment, but then quickly and silently followed him close behind.

Their table was second row, amongst the company of the governor of New York, patron Woody Allen, and supreme benefactor to the organization Donald Trump. The directors of the event were gathering on the stage as Carter dumped himself into his chair, and Blair pulled out her own for sitting. A few around them tried to hide their stares. Blair quickly smiled and leaned into Carter, not in the mood for smiling at all.

"Carter, this is a very important event for you. Please don't spoil it. J- just wait until we get home. You can lash out at me there, just not here, not when you are so celebrated." Under her breath, she pleaded.

He grunted and took another sip of his drink.

She took that as an understanding.

Dinner was catered by the newly opened and highly reviewed Tabla. Three courses, the first being a pumpkin rasam soup with toasted coconut sprinkled atop, followed by the main course of rice flaked halibut baked in a sun dried ginger broth. And finally, for dessert, a chocolate Thai chili soufflé that was to be the talk of the evening. While Blair enjoyed her food, the company couldn't have been colder. Her husband inhaled his meal without as much as making eye contact with her. She knew. The rest of the evening, particularly when they were in private, would not be kind to her.

Squirming in her seat, she fought to control it. That repetitive feeling that was buried deep down in her stomach, tossing and turning with every glance at Carter. If not for the 6 carat Tacori diamond that rested perfectly on her bony finger, one would assume that he loathed her. She didn't know exactly what she had done – but then again, she did. She had married Carter Baizen; her heart did not. The faint possibility that she didn't love Carter was enough to make Blair excuse herself from the table. The closing speech from The Sunshine Guild's founder was just beginning, and Blair sidled herself away from the tables to the exiting hallways that led to the rest of the closed museum. Finding the nearest bathroom, she all but threw herself inside.

Empty, thank goodness.

She couldn't reach the stall fast enough. Her knees hit the black tile, arm mechanically rising. The simple, innocent point of her right index finger. And before she knew it, it was prodding down her throat.

The heaves were unbearably painful, as they always were. Her stomach growled and ached for her to stop. But the undigested meal made its second appearance of the night, and with one swift motion of her hand on the knob, it was all gone.

She sat there for a moment, shaking uncontrollably, gasping for air.

Terrified to move, but remembering who she was and who was expecting to speak with her after the dinner was over, she gathered herself. The whole sordid routine of hiding any evidence inaugurated.

No one would suspect a thing.

"Blair, darling, there you are! Where did you disappear off to?" Bex, drunk and becoming more disorderly by the sip, was the first person she ran into when entering the ballroom once more. Her arm was slung around, most inappropriately, Carter who stared at Blair with the blankest of stares.

Blair avoided his glare. "I took a trip to the ladies room." Simply stated, she smiled brightly.

"Wasn't that soufflé wonderful, darling? If I had a few more of these in me," Bex held up her drink with her free hand. "I would have the courage to ask for second helpings!" She boomed with laughter, arm still lazily resting around Carter's shoulders.

"It was delightful. My compliments to the baker at Tabla. We should be sure to make a reservation there soon, darling." Fighting the awkwardness, she smiled almost desperately at Carter.

Much relief when he answered. "I'll be sure to relay that request to my assistant." Bex laughed, as did he and she, but something about Carter's voice sent a chill up her spine. She was pleased to find, rarely enough, that there was no drink in Carter's hands. They rested in his pants pockets.

Carter cleared his throat, eyes still mechanically on Blair. "I have a busy day at the office tomorrow. Mind if I check our coats and call it an evening?"

Yes. "No, of course not." Blair said, her voice far too high pitched and restricted to be her own.

"Good. I'll come for you shortly. Excuse me, ladies." Unwinding himself from Bex's grasp, he disappeared in the sea of suits. Bex began to drone on and on about how incredibly huge platformed sandals were to be the up-and-coming spring, and Blair merely nodded whenever she got the chance. But something else was catching her attention. A crowd was gathering by the entrance, but for what, Blair couldn't quite see. Whoever it was, was quite the guest. Practically lightening like, the cameras were going off almost synchronized. People were shouting, and then whispering amongst their circle of acquaintances. Gasps rounded about, and Blair stood at the very back of the hundreds of guest who were struggling to catch a peek. Bex's attention was caught soon after. "I wonder who that could be. You know, I heard that Brangelina were to make a grand entrance at some point during the night. Or maybe Jay-Z and Beyonce, they both wrote an enormous check earlier this week to the foundation." Blair somehow guessed that it was neither of the two. People wore looks of utter shock and disbelief. Standing as high as her Manolos would allow, she only barely made out the heads of people in front of her. Two newly signed Elite supermodels stood tall, their hands raised over their mouths discussing what was taking place.

It only took one name.

The hushed curve of someone's lips forming two perfectly pronounced syllables.

"It couldn't be…"

"He has some stones showing up here after all this time."

"Russia was kind to him, I see."

"Russia? I thought he was in Portugal."

"Who cares? I wonder if he's single…"

Two syllables, two names. A first and a last.

"Well, if it isn't Chuck Bass risen from the grave." That was all she heard, all she cared about, all she feared the most.

I know, you hate me. Chuck Bass is just sentences away and I end the chapter. There is so much that is about to happen though! Sincerely appreciate all your reviews. Just a statistic though - the first chapter had 787 hits. Imagine if all of those were reviews! I want to get to fifty before Chapter 3. Let's make it happen, Upper East Siders. Until next time...

Xoxo.