Love's Ultimatum - Chapter Four
Authors note: Thank you for all your lovely reviews. This is just a very short chapter to tide you over. Xoxo
There's no place like home.
But this wasn't her home, no matter how it felt. Blair reminded herself Friday evening. A knot of apprehension formed in her stomach as she stared up at the tall , upper east side brownstone.
The dark oak front door with it's oval, stained glass insert opened and Chuck stepped onto the stoup. In a navy blue suit, he looked so much like the man she'd fallen in love with years ago.
But that love had died. Painfully. And it wasn't coming back. She wouldn't let it.
A volatile cocktail of emotions churned inside her as he jogged down the steps toward her, then stopped on the pavement a foot away. "I'll take these bags. You grab the rest of your stuff."
Her gaze dropped briefly and involuntarily to his lips before she ripped it away. "That's all I brought."
She'd only brought the minimal requirements. She was only a visitor here, and she didn't want Chuck - or herself - to get the wrong idea that this was anything more then a temporary residence. "I can have Dorota bring anything thing else I need."
He didn't look pleased, but he didn't argue. His fingers covered hers on the handles of her small suitcases, sending sparks shooting up her arm. He stood too close and he smelled too good and too familiar.
Memories of happier times pushed their way forward. She battled them back, released her luggage and moved a safer distance away.
He carried her bags up the steps and she followed him pausing on the top step to turn and look at the view. Other restored brownstones lined the street, to her left she could see Central Park and the steps of the Met.
"Come in, Blair."
Dread slowed her reaction time. Turning her back on the street, she stepped into the foyer. The warm, rich, jewel-tone colors they'd chosen welcomed her exactly as she had planned. Dorota had even arranged the flowers she loved.
Gleaming hardwood floors stretched in every direction. The staircase with it's delicately carved ivory-painted spindles rose up the side wall from the center of the foyer. The formal parlor took up the front left corner of the first floor and the dining area the right.
She pulled her thoughts back to the present. "Have they finished the third floor yet?"
"They are in progress two children's rooms and a playroom."
The house had been in near perfect condition when Blair found it, but she need to add her own touch.
He climbed the stairs. "You have your choice of bedrooms - the guest or the master?"
"I'll take the front with the balcony." The one with the big bed and the master bath with the claw footed tub.
He carried her luggage into the master bedroom and set in on the bed. "You know where everything is. Help yourself."
"Thank you," she said as stiffly as if she was a stranger, instead of the one who'd chosen the décor of this room - right down to the light purple quilt on the bed and the rug under her feet.
"When you're settled in we'll go for dinner at Gianelli's"
Memories of the quaint Italian restaurant lambasted her. "Don't even think of trying to act like everything is the same, Chuck. It isn't.
"Those who know us will expect us to celebrate our reconciliation."
Unfortunately, Chuck was right. To make this look real she was going to have to face the demons from her past.
"Our pretend reconciliation," she corrected.
He inclined his head.
Resignation settled over her like a cold, wet table cloth. The charade was going to force her into places she didn't want to go.
"Give me thirty minutes." Maybe by then she'd find the courage to do what she had to do.