And there it was, the signature CB monogram. Like she really needed to see it to know where the flowers came from.

She was getting that air-sucked-out-of-the-room feeling again. Running her fingers along the embedded type, she thought of the hundreds of times she had received notes from this same stationary that came with the some of the best presents she had ever received—ever. She had even written on it before, when sending thank you notes to wives of business partners of Chuck, arranging for lunch and dinner dates with them—she played the role well back then.

She just stared at it for a while. Apparently, she wasn't the only one thinking. After what seemed like eons, she cracked the back flap of the envelope, like she was unearthing a fossil, slowly and carefully.

She slid the weighty card out and let out a laugh so genuine at the first words, she shocked even herself.

'Jardin du Louxembourg—seriously?

I thought these would remind you of who you really are, B.

Don't forget it.'

xxC.

She couldn't help but smile to herself. He was right. God, she couldn't even fool him a world away. Luxembourg Gardens was most definitely not her idea; it was Louis' mother, something about sentimental value to the family. Who cares? It wasn't of any sentiment to her, but she knew it would please Louis, so she obliged. Since when did she oblige for people?

Blair did something so natural she didn't realize she was doing it until she heard the ringing on the other line—and then she heard his voice.

"So, I see you got the flowers."

"You know Bass, Jardin do Luxembourg is a landmark."

He could hear the smile spread across her face a million miles away.

"Listen Waldorf, you and I both know that pitiful excuse for a park is merely for the Jack and Jill's of the world who go to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower and eat a baguette. I know how much you love Musée Carnavalet, I know what it means to you, and I just thought you would go there instead."

"What are you talking about?"

"Please. Your attempt at bluffing amuses me. I know you and your father used to stroll through there when you were a little girl."

"How do you know about that, Chuck?"

"Sixth grade; you were over the moon about it when you came back from Paris that Christmas you spent with your parents there. You told me how you three walked through there almost every night after dinner along the Seine."

She had no words. It was one of her happiest memories, after that Christmas—it became a ritual of theirs. She couldn't believe it.

When she finally found them again she muttered, "You remember that?"

"I remember everything. I remember how happy you were, you were always the happiest when you spoke of Harold. That's why I thought, something was up. I know it's something trivial, but to you Blair, something like that means something so much."

"Chuck…" She was about to say it, be the brave one this time.

He knew where this was headed and just cut her off. "Well, I just wanted to set you straight because someone has to. Take care."

Before she could say anything, she heard the click. He was gone.

"But Blair, I don't understand. We're in the middle of planning our wedding, why are you rushing home all of a sudden?" It was Louis; he heard something in her voice. He sounded concerned.

She called him the next morning. She had been spending the past few days alone in Paris while he attended to business back in Monaco.

She was twirling the stem of a peony in her dainty fingers.

"I just need a breather, honestly; all of this planning is stressing me out a bit. Don't worry Louis—a few days with Serena and Dorota and all will be fine. I'll be back in no time," she hoped that was convincing.

"Do you want company?"

"No, no, no!" She said it a little too quickly—she hoped he didn't catch on.

"Okay, Blair—Call me the minute you get home. I love you."

"Mhm. Okay me too. Ciao."

Ciao? Who was she kidding?

Serena was still in California; Dorota was wrapped up with Anna.

She was going home to see him. It had been too long and it wasn't even two months since she saw him last.

If the peonies weren't a sign enough, she knew what was—and he was the only one she had to tell, in person.

She was pregnant.

Blair knew it when she left for Monaco. It was still very early, then. Now, you could just start to see a hint of a bump, but she carried very well—so unless you were looking, she was able to hide it. There was one thing she couldn't hide for sure, and that was her glow. It was all over her face.

She wandered around Monaco and now Paris trying to make sense of it all for weeks. Chuck just did it for her in one two minute phone call.

She needed to see him.

Face to face.