Chapter Two

The table was cold, and the room was wholly clinical, not even a calming picture of some far-off landscape or waterfall adorned the wall. The only "decor" was the oversized poster outlining a diagram of the female reproductive system. A three-dimensional model sat on the mostly sterile counter alongside tongue depressors, cotton balls, lubricant, and the doctor's stethoscope. Salty tears threaten her already glassy eyes as she slipped off her underwear and placed the paper cover over her lap. She felt exposed and vulnerable - like a teen mother about to be shamed by a middle-aged doctor for her poor life choices. She knew if he was there, he would've gotten her out of there so quickly, ensuring that she had the best New York had to offer.

In truth, this particular practice came highly-rated, and she had read many wonderful reviews from trustworthy sources about the doctor. Her discomfort didn't come from the minimalistic decor and uninviting room; it came from the fact that reality was finally setting in. She was going to do this by herself - pregnancy, birth, parenthood; she was alone from the beginning, and that thought was terrifying. She should've taken Serena up on her offer to accompany her to this appointment for moral support, but Blair insisted that she needed to start doing things on her own to prepare herself for life as a twenty-year-old single mother.

The door opened to reveal a young-ish female doctor with a pretty smile encased by scarlet lips. Blair perked up at her appearance. "Good morning, Miss Waldorf," she greeted with a little too much cheer in her voice, "How are you doing today?"

"I'm okay," Blair answered quietly, "I'm anxious to see the baby." It's the first time she had spoken the word 'baby' aloud since taking seven positive pregnancy tests.

"We will get to that very shortly, but first I have a few questions. Will the father be joining us today?" She looked at Blair expectantly, and while she kept her sugary grin plastered to her face, Blair was positive there was judgment and expectation in her expression.

Blair hung her head low. She knew the question was inevitable, but it still stung nonetheless, "No, he's not in the picture anymore."

The doctor noticed Blair's obvious change in demeanor, and she lowered her voice to gently offer, "You're still within the legal limits to -" Blair shook her head vigilantly, so the doctor switched tactics, "We have resources to help you establish paternity if -"

Blair sighed and looked back at the doctor with new resolve on her face, "Dr. Harris, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but I do not need a paternity test or an abortion. I would like to continue with the appointment now, please, and I would appreciate that there be no further mention of the father."

"Of course," the doctor responded quickly, glancing at her notes, "When was your last period?"

"May 3rd," Blair answered honestly, knowing without a doubt that they had conceived this baby before they headed to the hospital to see Dorota. She swallowed hard, feeling bile rise into her throat at the realization that she had slept with him mere hours after he slept with Jenny. God, she hated him. She missed him, but she hated him. No one would ever understand.

"Blair, that puts your due date at February 7th. You're right at 22 weeks along, so you are already over halfway there. I want to put you on prescription prenatals since you missed them in the first trimester," Blair nodded, horrified that she had deprived her child of all of the added benefits that prenatal vitamins provided in the early weeks. "You're far enough along that we should be able to see the baby's sex today. Would you like to know?"

She had imagined this moment so many times, years in their future, maybe in her late twenties or early thirties. He should be there, holding her hand, squeezing it occasionally for support, smiling down at her as that small life flashed across the screen as evidence of their love for each other. Instead, her emotions fought to overpower each other - sorrow, anger, loneliness, bitterness, excitement, nervousness. Each feeling was so powerful that it was overwhelming, and she could hardly breathe. She nodded in affirmation, unable to form the words necessary.

"Lay back for me," Dr. Harris instructed gently, acutely aware of the young girl's anxiety. "This might be a little cold, but it's just the ultrasound gel that will help us get a clearer picture of your baby."

As the doctor placed the wand against Blair's barely swollen abdomen, she heard it for the first time - the rapid thump, thump of a little heartbeat screaming that life was growing inside of her. A tiny life that was equal parts her and Chuck, a living reminder she would always have a piece of him with her. She looked at the screen and was surprised to see the outline of a baby, squirming and kicking as the doctor pressed more firmly down on her stomach. Blair could no longer contain the magnitude of her feelings, and large tears fell ceaselessly from the eyes that were mesmerised by the image in front of her.

She vaguely registered the doctor's words, "Congratulations, Blair. You're having a baby girl."

XOXO

Blair held her daughter's hand as they strolled through the Parisian streets, taking in the sights and laughing at the first-time tourists with their fanny packs and selfie sticks. After a few moments, she looked down at the child who seemed lost in thought. Blair grabbed the little girl's shoulders to stop her, and knelt in front of her to look her in the eye, "I know you didn't want to come here, Cora, but I'm so happy that you are with me. You're my number one girl; you know that right?" Cora nodded softly, so Blair continued, "Tonight we'll go stay with Grampa and Pop Pop until we get an apartment of our own."

Cora studied her mother carefully, and she knew that she was trying to be strong for her sake. She always recognized Blair's fake smile by the tightness around the corners of her lips and the emptiness in her eyes. "Mommy," she addressed with an uncharacteristic hesitance in her melodious voice, "I know that you are mad at Gramma. Is it because of what she said?"

Blair could strangle her mother for dragging a child into her immature temper-tantrums. She shook her head vigorously, hoping that she was convincing enough to satisfy her daughter's incessant curiosity. Of course she'd given birth to the most observant five-year-old in existence. She answered carefully, "No, baby, sometimes Gramma just says things that she shouldn't because she's old, but I still love her very much. I just want to see my da -" she quickly corrected her misstep, "Grampa Harold. I miss him."

Cora knew her mother was lying, or at least telling a half-truth; she knew it because Blair's eyes didn't match her mouth. She had learned her mother's most obvious tells early in life. Most of the time she didn't call her on it, figuring she had a good reason for her white lies, but today wasn't one of those days. She looked past Blair's head to the bright street lights shining down on her, making the taller brunette look like an angel on earth - an angel of light with a hidden darkness that Cora had never seen. She knew it was there, though, because she had the same darkness hidden behind her angelic face. "I know she was talking about my father, Mommy."

Blair remained silent for several moments, intent to keep her cool and control her emotions. Many would call her cold and stoic, but a select few knew the raw, painful vulnerability that lived inside of her. "Cora, that's not -"

"Why won't you ever tell me the truth, Mommy? Why won't you ever talk about him?" Tears caused the little girl's eyes to shine brightly, but she didn't let them fall. She was a Waldorf, and Waldorf women kept their composure in public. "It's bad enough I don't have a daddy, but I don't even know anything about him because you won't tell me."

Blair blinked hard, feeling her crippling fear try to take control. She knew that Cora asked valid questions, and now that she understood so much, it was unfair to keep her in the dark any longer. "You're right," she hugged the child to her chest tightly, "I will, but not here. Let's go get dessert, and then I will tell you all about your father at bedtime. Sound good?"

Cora nodded enthusiastically and reached for Blair's hand again. She rubbed her thumb over her mother's knuckles in a gesture meant to communicate that she understood that this was a hard move and that she appreciated the agreement.

XOXO

"The colors are so beautiful," Cora observed as the blonde woman behind the counter greeted them. "I can't pick."

"This one is my favorite," the woman offered, scooping the fuschia concoction into a small cup. "Here, try this," she said cheerfully, handing the cup to Cora.

Cora took a generous bite and grinned, "It's delicious. What is it?"

"Hibiscus," came the reply. "I love your headband, by the way. That color coral is my favorite."

"Mine, too," Cora smiled in excitement, "Mommy says that I can only wear it in spring and summer, but I really think that it could work as a fall color if you pair it correctly."

"Well, aren't you the little fashion icon," the woman chuckled and turned to Blair to ask for her order.

Blair requested an assortment of macarons as Cora continued to prattle on, "Yes, Mommy is about to take over Gramma's fashion empire, but one day when I own it, I'm going to completely redo the entire aesthetic of the brand. It won't be Waldorf Designs anymore; it'll be Cora. Just Cora. I think it's prettier."

Blair laughed at her daughter's characteristic exuberance, pride and slight embarrassment written in her expression. She reached for the box of pastries, and apologized half-heartedly to the clerk, "I'm sorry. She's spirited, to say the least."

"Oh, no apologies, please," her accent became more apparent as she tried to appease the sophisticated American woman in front of her, "I love to see such a driven child. You must be so proud." She came from behind the counter, and while holding up a macaron, she asked Blair, "Is it okay?"

Blair nodded, and the woman leaned down to Cora's level to hand her the specialized rose treat, "Cora is such a beautiful name, much like this macaron. I'm Eva. I hope I'll be seeing you again soon, and you can tell me all about your vision for the future of your Gramma's company."

Cora took a bite and nodded, "Thank you, Eva!' She waved excitedly as Blair pulled her toward the exit. She turned to face her mother, and observed, "She's so nice, Mommy. Can we come back and see her like she said?"

"I'm sure we will, love," Blair responded absently, running through the impending conversation that was approaching way too quickly. She realized that she had forgotten to tip the kind woman, and she glanced back into the shop in time to see Eva closing out the till as a dark-haired man embraced her from behind. His face was hidden by the neon sign that had just shut off to indicate that they were now closed. Blair's heart sank at how tender he was, and the way the blonde relaxed into his touch, like she was home in his arms. There was something so familiar about his movements that Blair felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and sorrow. She shook her head and decided that it must just be because she knew her conversation with Cora would dredge up old emotions that she wasn't prepared for. She continued walking, holding tightly to her daughter, and decided that she would tip extra on the next visit they made rather than to interrupt the intimate moment between Eva and her companion.

She spared one last glance back through the window, but the couple was gone and the building was dark. She felt a shudder run down her spine as she remembered the way the man had nuzzled his nose against Eva's neck. Goosebumps pricked her skin, and she could almost feel his stumble against her cheek.

XOXO

After her nighttime bath, some playtime with Roman, and cuddles with Harold, Cora was finally nestled into her bed alongside her favorite toy, a stuffed dog she named Monkey. Blair cleared her throat, buying time to build up her courage, before she squeezed in beside the little girl, pulling her against her chest. "Tell me your name," Blair prompted.

"Mommy, you know my name," Cora whined, clearly annoyed with her mother's diversion tactics.

"No, silly," Blair corrected, "Tell me your full name."

She kept her arms folded tight across her chest, but she relented, "Cornelia Charlotte Bass Waldorf."

"And do you know the meaning of your name?"

"Well, Cornelia after you, obviously," she pointed out, "Thank you for calling me Cora though because, honestly - no offense, Mommy - but Cornelia is an ugly name."

Blair laughed and agreed, "Yeah, but Cora is a beautiful nickname, and it fits you so perfectly."

Cora relaxed against her mother's chest and conjectured, "Charlotte because it's a regal name, but why would you name me after a fish?"

Blair drew a deep breath, aware that she would never be able to take back the next words to come out of her mouth, "Your two middle names are for your father. His name was Charles Bass. We called him Chuck."

Cora sat quietly, unmoving for several moments, and Blair was afraid to speak further. A quiet voice finally spoke into the darkness, "You said was?"

"What?" Blair asked, caught off guard by the child's unexpected question.

"You said his name was Charles Bass," she emphasized carefully, but Blair could feel her little body start to quiver as she tried to swallow back tears, "He's really dead, isn't he? That's what Gramma was talking about."

Blair pulled her daughter into her lap and wrapped her arms fully around her frame, drawing soothing circles up and down her back. She could no longer control the tears that fell from her own eyes, when she gave the little girl the most honest answer she could come up with, "I don't know. He disappeared six years ago. He was hurt really badly, and no one has seen him since. There's a good chance -" she had to pause to regain her composure because as much as she was aware of the truth to the statement, she'd never been brave enough to put them into words herself. In six years, she'd never spoken it out loud, and it hurt more than she could've imagined. She pulled Cora closer and whispered, "Police believe that he's dead."

"What do you think, Mommy?" Cora tried to pull back to look at her, but Blair hid her face from view, afraid that it would scare her too much to see the sheer pain painted in her mother's eyes.

"I don't know, baby, I really don't," she swallowed, "The only thing I know is that he would be so proud of you, and he would love you so much."

"Did you love him?" Cora asked, desperate for some kind of connection to the father she'd never known.

"I did," Blair nodded in between peppering soft kisses against Cora's hair, "I did very much."

"He was a good man then?" Cora asked the question that Blair wasn't prepared for. Was Chuck a good man? Could she ever describe him as such? She knew that as Cora got older she would find out about the complicated history between her parents. How could she ever expect her to understand the whole ordeal with Jack and the Empire? How could she convince this inquisitive, impressionable little girl that a man who could do that could still be 'good'?

She pushed her back slightly and said, "Cora, look at me. Nobody is inherently 'good' or 'bad.' Everyone has some darkness in them, but they can also be very good. Your father had a big heart, but he was human. All humans make mistakes. Just like Mommy makes mistakes, so did your daddy. I just know, though, that you would have been the center of his world. You would've made him a better man, just like you make me a better woman. I love you, Cor. I know it's hard, but you are so deeply loved by so many people."

Cora nodded, understanding her mother's words on a deeper level than most children her age would be able to comprehend. "I only have one more question right now, Mommy, and then we can sleep."

"What's that, darling?"

"What did he look like? Do I look like him?"

Blair reached for her cell phone; this was one question that she had expected. She scrolled to the gallery that she kept locked by password, partly to keep them hidden from Cora, mostly to keep herself from an unhealthy obsession of studying his pictures for clues that weren't there. She clicked on one of her favorite pictures of the two of them. He had his arms securely around her waist with his chin resting on her shoulder while they both smiled at the camera. It was rare that he offered a genuine toothy smile to anyone, let alone a photo, but she had convinced him with the prospect of fulfilling a certain fantasy of his.

She handed the phone to Cora, who took it anxiously and studied the outlines of Chuck's face, his thick brows, perfectly combed hair, confident expression, and chiseled jaw. Cora smiled back at him, running her fingers longingly over the screen. "That's my dad," she said in awe, "He's handsome, Mommy."

"He sure is," Blair agreed, a sad smile spreading slowly across her face.

"Do you miss him?" Cora inquired, not diverting her gaze from the picture.

"Every day," Blair admitted, "But I see him every time I look at you." She pointed to Chuck's almond-shaped eyes and added, "Every time I look into your eyes, I see him staring back at me through you."

A/N: Thank you all so much for the positive response to the prologue. This is quite different than anything I've written before, but I haven't been able to get it out of my head.