Chuck woke up the next morning and couldn't help but wonder what was going on in that head of hers post their conversation. He knew his was reeling.
Clearly, he was making a statement when he sent those flowers, but what statement was that? What was he really trying to say with 2,000 peonies? Be the girl I am in love with? No one knows you like I do? Even though he was telling himself he had good intentions by sending them, he really just wanted her to see how he sees her—as the most significant person in his life. Prince or no prince, Monaco or New York, together or not—she changed him; she gave him the love that he didn't think he deserved or wanted.
That's why he hung up the phone. He knew what she was going to say, something along the lines of "maybe we made a mistake, maybe we're just fooling ourselves." He knew that tone of hers. Any sentence that began with Blair saying his name like he was the only man that existed in the world had strength to it. He would've caved in a heartbeat if he let her continue the sentence.
It was true; he acted on impulse when he saw that photo in the Times. Chuck promised himself he would let her be. If they found their way back to each other that was one thing, but he needed to let her decide. He was being the good guy for a change; he detested this feeling.
It was only Monday.
Chuck spent all day immersed in appointments and meetings to keep his mind on something other than Blair. He needed a distraction and he knew just where to go.
An hour later, Chuck and Nate were two scotches into the evening, when things just started to get going at Victrola. Some good, quality burlesque ought to do the trick, right? Screw the New York Times; he was going to enjoy himself.
The woman on stage was fairly attractive, there something funny about her nose though. The woman next to her was also pretty; however, her hair was awful. He continued to look through the ensemble, surveying all of their assets and imperfections instead of actually enjoying the show.
He glanced over at Nate, who had his hands full with one of the dancers from the last act. He envied him; not a care in the world in the mind of Nathaniel Archibald. Sure, he had his own things going on, but nothing like this. This thing, whatever it was, was consuming Chuck.
He had to hand it to Nate, he tried. A summer of bar hopping and bed hopping across Eastern Europe held him over for a while until Serena called sometime between Austria and Hungary. She was busy gallivanting around L.A. on a film set in California all summer. Even though they were oceans apart as well, the girls were always in constant contact. She was the only portal he had to Blair. Serena mentioned Blair's hectic nuptial planning and a potential November date and it was at that moment, Chuck decided his trip was over.
Chuck had a glazed look over his face when he strolled over into a private room; he definitely was lost in thought. Nate thought a little one on one time with a dancer would give him a little focus, so he arranged it for him.
Chuck just sat there, sunken in the couch, he had now moved onto champagne.
The curtains parted, and the back of a chocolate haired woman was to him. She was swaying her slender hips to some vaguely familiar song. She had an exquisite La Perla crème number on: three satin pieces and a garter. Chuck traced the length of her legs to the soles of her embellished Louboutins with his eyes. He sat up a bit. She had his attention.
It was fairly dim in that room, with candles being the only source of light. She was subtle with her moves; but she wasn't stiff. Her back was still to him. This continued on for a few minutes and he was very curious of her face.
She raised her hands over her head and his eyes followed. That's when he saw it: a ruby ring on her right hand.
"Blair?"
She looked over her shoulder and smiled.
She turned around, finally. God, she was beautiful as ever. Maybe that thing was true about absence. She walked over to him and sat on his lap, like she had done a million times before. He wrapped his hands around her waist, naturally, like he had done the same amount of times.
"Wasn't as shocking as the first time was it?" She was staring right into his eyes.
His mouth was still open and he realized he needed to respond.
"Well nothing was as shocking as you ripping the headband off your head, really."
He always had an answer. She knew he was shocked.
"What are you doing here?"
"You told me not to forget who I was. The last time I was on this stage, I was me."
He had that smile on his face. The one he tried to pass of as a smirk sometimes, but it was inevitable. He had never been happier to see her.
"You came all the way here to tell me that, Waldorf?"
"Well that, amongst other things."
"I see. Well, they can wait."
He grabbed her face and pulled it to his, their lips meeting in the middle, and that was that. She was cradled in his arms and he was kissing her like a teenage boy. All the tension that had been between them the last time they saw each other was long gone.
She kissed his neck and he threw his head back, eyes closed relishing in every minute. She took off his jacket, undid his bowtie, and started unbuttoning his shirt, not breaking their kiss.
God, she was beautiful as ever. He tried to take all of her in, but was stuck on her face. Something was different, that he knew for certain. He freed her from her lingerie and was running his fingers along the nape of her collarbone.
She was straddling him now and once he entered her, she gasped for air. The rise and fall of her chest was heavy.
"Chuck..." She said it just like he was the only man in the world, and he held her tighter; closer. Her nails were digging into his back.
And the rest was history.
He let his hands roam all over her body. He knew it so well, it was like coming home. Every time he inched into her, the smell of her encompassed him, he couldn't get enough.
Her legs were wrapped around him and he realized then she still had her heels on. She was completely unaware of how sexy she was.
She was pulling his hair and he knew she was close—he was too.
Just a few more heated thrusts and she collapsed into him, just as he released. He was spent.
Her lips were at his ear, "God, I love you," she let out with a sigh.
"You have no idea."
She laid on him, cheek to chest and they just stayed there—for hours without a word.
Eyes closed, peacefully asleep.