Chapter 13
When Chuck returned to the Empire later that morning, he found Eva applying the finishing touches on her make-up in the bathroom vanity. Her expression was unreadable, except for the thin tight line stretched across her lips indicating the tension in the muscles in her jaw. She glanced at him from her reflection, but she didn't speak. Her motions became a bit more aggressive as she dusted off her blush brush and returned it to its case. She lowered her eyes to the sink and turned the faucet on, shoving her hands into the stream and scrubbing soap into her flesh until it was red and tender. By the time she dried them on the hand towel, Chuck still hadn't said a word to her. She glowered at him for a brief moment before letting out a dramatic sigh and pushing past him into the bedroom.
"Eva," he finally said, following her back into the bedroom, "I'm sorry."
"I forgave you the first night you left me alone in this strange city," her accent clung heavily to each word, "But twice?"
"You don't understand. Blair -"
"You're still connected to her. I see it when you're together; I can feel it when I'm in the room," she lowered her eyes to her hands, picking imaginary make-up remnants from beneath her nails.
"It's not like that! She's -" his voice was loud and erratic, lacking the control that he typically maintained when talking to Eva. His fears came to fruition as he watched her lift her small suitcase onto the bed and stuff a handful of clothes into it. In his many years with her, he'd never seen her so agitated. Her demeanor was always so mild, but now her emotions were evident in every jerky movement. "Eva, stop. Listen to me."
She paused her movements, her silky blonde hair concealing her blue eyes from him. In the beginning, he'd loved the way she looked at him - like he was inordinately valuable to her, like he was worthy of her affections just because of who he was. She never looked at him with disgust, but with deep ocean eyes filled with wonder and adoration. Her light coloring directly mirrored her angelic presence, and he had believed in his ability to be a better man solely because she saw it in him. Now, as her hands stilled and her face slowly raised so that he could finally see the storm brewing behind her gaze, he felt the weight of her disappointment in him. He'd allowed his past with Blair to overshadow his treatment of the woman who'd stuck by his side for the past six years. Something eerie ghosted over her face, and there was solid resolution in her expression that terrified Chuck. "She's your daughter, isn't she?" A single solitary tear slid down her cheek before silently spilling onto the silk duvet in front of her. She'd sensed it early; Cora's age made the deduction fairly obvious, but then when she recalled the girl's almond eyes and snarky smirk, she knew why they were so familiar. She whispered sadly, "I always thought you would make a wonderful father. Now it's time that you prove it."
"Eva, please, just wait -"
"I want to go home, Chuck. I loved our life, our little shop, but your life is in New York. It always has been."
"Don't leave," he begged, grabbing her hand to pull her to him, but she yanked out of his grasp. His voice held a desperate plea, "Everybody leaves."
"You're Chuck Bass, and that means something different now." She zipped the suitcase and walked to him. "Don't forget it, and don't forget me." She leaned up and planted a sweet kiss against his lips and exited the suite before he could say another word.
Chuck dropped onto the bed, utter exhaustion wrecking his body. In the matter of a two hour span, he'd managed to gain a daughter and lose his girlfriend. His hands raked over his face, trying to make sense of it all. He ached for Eva, but he couldn't say that he blamed her. He'd pushed her so far away since his first encounter with Blair that he was honestly surprised she hadn't left him sooner. He made a mental note to transfer the shop into her name and pay off the mortgage in full. She'd saved his life, but more than that, she'd reignited his desire to live. He owed her everything, and he committed himself to making sure she lived the comfortable, happy life she deserved.
It was quiet and dark throughout the suite - the kind of Sunday morning that he used to crave after a night of debauchery. Heavy thoughts crept in on him in the stillness of the room, and he felt himself being consumed by the darkness in his mind. Two days from now he was set to meet a child who shared his DNA - a child he had created the night that he thought he was going to propose to the love of his life. Soon his contemplations manifested vivid and detailed images of the what-could've-beens that he couldn't help but let them in. It was torture, but a delicious kind of pain that hurt so deeply he knew it would leave lasting scars.
He closed his eyes and pictured Blair pregnant with a visibly swollen bump. He placed his hand against her abdomen and smiled at the twinkle in her eyes as happy tears rolled down her cheeks. His lips placed butterfly kisses across the spot where they'd first heard the steady heartbeat of the little life they had created. A few months passed, and he whispered "I love you" against her ear after the doctor announced, "Congratulations, you're having a baby girl."
A little girl, a baby Blair. Pigtails and tutus, ribbons and tea parties, and Daddy, will you dance with me?
"Chuck, it's time," she groaned between contractions, clutching her stomach in her hands as she desperately relied on the breathing techniques she'd learned in the lamaze classes she'd dragged him to. He held her hand tightly, squeezing it in encouragement, while he listened to the doctor's instructions: Push, push. That's it, Blair. One more big push. He pressed his lips to her sweat-soaked forehead and within seconds, a beautiful cry announced the birth of their daughter. He watched tears flow from Blair's eyes while she struggled to get Cora to latch onto her breast, and he wished she could see what he saw - the strongest, most powerful woman who had ever walked the earth. He was in awe of the woman before him, one who could give life and then nourish that life with sustenance.
Hours later, and it was their first night as parents. Blair slept on her side, overwhelmed by the exhaustion of childbirth, so Chuck just sat and watched her, feeling his heart ache from pride and love. Cora stirred in her bassinet, and he lifted her small body into his arms, shushing her quietly to keep from waking Blair. He held her close, snuggling her against his bare chest as the doctor had urged him to do to promote bonding. He thought she smelled like lavender and warm milk, her brown wispy hair soft as butterfly wings against his jawline. He looked from his daughter to his fiancé and decided that there had never been a man richer in love than he.
A year passed, and Cora spoke her first words: da-da of course, much to Blair's chagrin. She rolled her eyes and whined, "It's just because the D sound is so much easier to make than the M sound." A month later, he held her small hands in his as she took her first steps, tumbling to her bottom after the third attempt, a startled cry emanating from her round lips. He picked her up, kissed the top of her head, and he made her a promise that he intended to keep: I'll always be here to catch you when you fall.
Just like that, the images continued to flash in his mind: her second birthday, her first day of preschool, her loose tooth that she was scared to lose. In each of those memories, he was by Blair's side; they were a team as they kissed boo-boos, chased away monsters, and read bedtime stories. Cora was abundantly loved by both of her parents, and she was the happiest child in the world.
But, a short while later, Chuck was transported back to his cruel reality - a reality in which he didn't know his own child, and she didn't know him. He didn't know her favorite color or food; he couldn't tell any silly stories about the words that she humorously mispronounced. He didn't know if she preferred sleeping with a nightlight or an open window. He'd never endured the fear of losing her in the store or trying to manage her spiking fever. There were firsts and lasts that he'd never experience with her. He hated every single thing about himself at that moment, but above all, he hated that he was the parent that he always promised himself he'd never become: a worthless absentee father.
XOXO
Blair had two important conversations she had to have, both of which she was incredibly nervous to broach. Louis wouldn't handle the truth well, and she had half a mind to avoid him until he left for Monaco tomorrow evening. In the back of her mind, though, she knew she owed him an explanation. He was her fiancé, and if she'd learned anything from her time with Chuck, it was that open communication and honesty had to be at the forefront of their relationship. She decided that Louis didn't get a choice in the matter; it was her decision, and since he was engaged to her, he would just have to deal with it.
The impending conversation with Cora was a bit trickier, and she was terrified that the little girl would develop grandiose ideas about having a perfect little family with her mommy and daddy. She had to figure out a way to explain Chuck's existence to her realistically and gently while maintaining her expectations. Cora could read her like a book, and Blair wouldn't be able to sugarcoat her fears. Unlike other children her age, Cora wouldn't be easily appeased.
Blair had worried briefly that Chuck would try to fight her for Cora - that he would use all of his resources, power, and money to launch a legal battle that would destroy her daughter. After their meeting earlier this morning, she realized that those fears were unfounded. Watching the emotions flicker like lightning bolts across Chuck's face had told her everything she needed to know. He was capable of ripping her heart to shreds, but he would never consciously do that to Cora. She trusted him, even when he didn't deserve it, and that scared her deeply. Years ago, she had trusted him, too, and she knew all too well how that story ended.
There had been something about that small tear clinging to his eyelashes that caused her breath to hitch in her throat. He hadn't tried to justify himself to her. She'd seen guilt in his expression, but she also saw regret and heart-rending sadness. He didn't verbalize his remorse, but she was certain that it was eating him alive.
She shook her head, admonishing herself silently for letting herself get caught up in empathizing with Chuck's circumstances. He brought this on himself.
She hated him.
She hated the conflicting emotions he dredged up in her and the fear that his mere presence inspired in her.
She hated the pain that her daughter had endured for years on end because of his absence.
She hated the way he still held some kind of power over her.
She hated how weak he made her feel.
She hated him mostly because he stripped away the hope of their future; he stole her dreams and crushed them beneath his feet.
"Blair," she heard Louis's heavy accent shake her from her reverie. She groaned internally, shifting her bag onto her shoulder as he approached with a look of haughty disdain on his face. "We need to talk."
"Mommy!" Cora ran around the corner just as Blair started to respond, wrapping her small arm around her mother's waist. Blair lowered herself to the ground and embraced her daughter in a tight, full body hug. She inhaled her hair, letting the familiar scent of lavender and honey calm her nerves.
She looked up at Louis from behind Cora's curls and said curtly, "Later." As she pulled back from her daughter, she noticed Cora's left eyebrow furrow lower than her right in the exact way that Chuck's did when he was particularly focused on something. She swallowed back her laugh at the realization that she was constantly discovering new similarities between Cora and her father. She stroked her hand affectionately against Cora's cheek and asked, "Mommy/daughter date today? I need some Cora time."
"Oh, I would love that, Mommy!" Cora cooed, clapping her hands together. "Can we feed the ducks today?"
"Of course, my love," Blair agreed, "But, first, breakfast. I'm thinking crepes. How does that sound?"
"Ah, I'm so excited! I'll go get dressed," she offered Blair her biggest smile filled with gratitude before bounding up the stairs to her bedroom.
Blair turned back to Louis, whose face held a look of disbelief. She tried to walk past him with a quick peck on his lips, but he stepped into her path blocking her ascent up the stairs. She sighed, "I said we would talk later. I need to help Cora."
"Dorota can help her," he reminded her, "You can't avoid this conversation, Blair."
"What do you want me to say?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest in frustration.
"You told me that it would be good press to go to that party last night," he hissed, "But instead a half dozen cameras caught you slapping Chuck Bass across the face at his own welcome home party. How is that for publicity, Blair? What do you think the papers are saying this morning? I warned you that we needed him as far away from us as possible. I'm not going to let your past affairs drag the Grimaldi name through the mud."
"You warned me?!" Her voice was filled with indignation. "You warned me? This is your mother talking, I know it. Sophie will find any excuse to blame bad press on me. Did you ever stop to think about why I slapped him? Did you even think to ask if I'm okay?" She looked toward the stairs, careful to keep her voice low, "This conversation is finished. Imagine if Cora had just heard your words. Think about someone besides yourself for a change."
He grabbed her wrist before she could leave, "I'm sorry. I am, but you're a Grimaldi now, Blair. You would do well to remember what that means."
She narrowed her eyes at him, ripping her arm out of his grasp, and spat, "I'm still a Waldorf, and, title or not, Waldorf women don't bow down before men."
XOXO
The material of Cora's blush colored dress swished around her legs as she skipped into the creperie. Dorota had pulled her hair into two symmetrical twin braids down the back of her head, topped off with cream ribbons at the ends. Blair's heart beat unsteadily in her chest, watching her spirited daughter examine the various options through the display window. She chose a strawberry and hazelnut crepe, and Blair led her to an isolated table toward the back of the restaurant.
It was time. She had no more time to waste and no reason to wait. How does one broach the topic of a resurrected father? She watched Cora dig into the pastry with whipped cream dotting her upper lip in the shape of a white mustache. She laughed and handed a napkin across the table to her. "Good, I take it?"
"It's delicious. Thank you, Mommy," Blair's chest swelled with immeasurable pride. This little girl was absolutely spoiled; she had the finest toys, clothing, and accommodations that money could buy. She was rarely told no, and there was a time that Blair had worried that she overcompensated for Chuck's absence and that she would accidentally create a materialistic brat (not unlike herself, she thought sardonically). But Cora was an incredibly gracious child, never taking her privilege for granted. Blair didn't know where she acquired her sense of compassion, but she learned something new about kindness and consideration from the little girl every day.
"Cora," Blair started carefully, hiding her trembling hands in her lap. She drew a deep breath to keep her voice even and steady, lest Cora read her anxiety.
"Yes, Mommy?" She answered absently, creating a smiley face out of the remaining chocolate chips on her plate.
"Cora, look at me. Mommy has something important to talk to you about." The child immediately dropped her fork and looked up at her mother anxiously. She found warmth in Blair's eyes, and her worries disappeared. Blair patted the seat beside her, "Come sit beside me, sweetie."
She did as her mother instructed, and her bare legs swung idly from the taller seat next to Blair. Blair reached out to caress her cheek before taking her hand in her own. "Cora," she began and paused, still unsure how to initiate the conversation, "Do you remember when I told you that no one knew what happened to your father?"
Cora's big brown eyes shone brightly and she nodded her head in affirmation. Blair continued cautiously, never taking her eyes off of Cora's face. She whispered her next response quietly, unable to keep the quivering from her voice this time, "He's alive, baby. Your daddy's alive."
Blair watched Cora's eyes widen and her little mouth drop open. As if in slow motion, her chest started to heave and her lip trembled. "Mommy? Does -" She couldn't get her statement out before large tears spilled over her eyes, and she was sniffling uncontrollably. Blair immediately pulled her into her lap, wrapping her arms tightly around her little body. Cora continued to cry against her mother's neck for several moments, while Blair brushed her hand over her head in soothing motions. Cora pulled back slightly, her face ruddy from the onslaught of tears, and she choked out in the most pitiful voice, "He didn't want me?"
Blair felt panic rising into her chest. The last thing she'd ever wanted Cora to feel was unwanted and unloved. "Oh, my darling. Listen to me carefully," she gripped her shoulders firmly, willing her to believe her next words, "He didn't know about you. Mommy didn't know about you until he was already gone," she knew she would never be able to take back her next words, but her daughter desperately needed to hear them, "He knows about you now. He just found out, and he wants to meet you."
Cora studied her mother for a moment, and she could see the fear reflecting behind the tears in Blair's eyes. She slowly let a smile spread across her lips, and threw her arms around her mother once more. "He really does? I get -" A small sob escaped her lips as she tried to give words to her thoughts, "I get to meet my daddy?"
Blair nodded and said, "Tuesday." She watched Cora's hopeful eyes give way to elation, and she was no longer capable of restraining her own emotions. She let her tears spill from her eyes as she leaned forward and kissed her daughter's head. "He's going to love you so much."
Through her quiet sniffles, Cora murmured,"Thank you for bringing my daddy back, Mommy. I love you." Somehow she recognized her mother's silent need for reassurance; she needed Blair to know that, no matter what, she would always be her daughter.
Oh, God. Blair closed her eyes and hugged Cora close to her body. "I love you, angel. So much - more than anything else in this world."
XOXO
It seemed like it took years for Tuesday to arrive. Blair and Louis had gotten into yet another argument over Chuck's presence in New York, and when she finally confessed that she was going to tell him about Cora (only a white lie, considering he actually already knew), Louis became so enraged that he stormed out of the house. He later texted her and told her that she needed to consider her decision carefully. Her response had been a terse, "I already have." She wasn't sure what it meant for the status of their engagement, if he would come around and accept Chuck's role as Cora's father, but she couldn't worry about it now. Her priority was Cora, and she wouldn't allow Louis's temper tantrum to take her attention away from her daughter.
Cora woke Blair up at 5:33 am by bouncing onto the bed and excitedly yelling, "I am meeting my Daddy today!" Blair smiled at her, never having seen her daughter so eager for anything in her life, and she prayed to all the gods in the universe that Chuck wouldn't disappoint her. "C'mon, Mommy, help me pick out an outfit! I want my hair in curls like it was on the day that we took those Mommy/Daughter pictures. Oh, and I want to wear my Tiffany necklace that you said is just for special occasions, and I think I should wear my Sophia Webster Mary Janes with the butterflies -"
Blair's heart clenched tightly. You know I adore all of God's creatures and the metaphors they inspire, but those butterflies have got to be murdered. She shook her head free of the long lost memory and said, "Slow down, kiddo. Breakfast and a bath first, then we can start getting ready."
XOXO
Chuck had barely slept for the past two nights. He had talked to Eva a couple of hours after her departure and was able to talk her into at least using the Bass Jet to return to France. He told her multiple times that he was sorry that his past interfered with their relationship, but she told him that she felt like they had been heading for a break up for a long time. She said that they had spent the past year living like roommates rather than lovers, and he found that he agreed with her completely. Still, he'd never wanted to hurt her. He didn't tell her that he transferred a million Euros into their joint account before removing his name from it, but he hoped it would be some sort of penance for the pain he caused her.
It was now 9:40 am. He wasn't due at the Waldorf penthouse until 11, but the waiting had his nerves on edge. He tried writing Blair a letter to say all of the things he'd wanted to say at their meeting, but the blank page taunting his inability to form the right words just made it worse. He then tasked himself with cleaning the watches in his impressive collection, but they just mocked him with the slow tick of each minute hand. He finally gave up and left his suite for a walk around Manhattan, which is how he found himself standing in the middle of FAO Schwarz. Blair loved gifts; surely Cora did, too.
This presented an utterly foreign predicament. What kinds of toys did a five-year-old little girl like? He lifted an LOL doll from the shelf and scoffed at the image of a big-headed cartoon girl on the case wearing fishnets and a mini-skirt. Blair would not approve. He returned it to the shelf and walked to the stuffed animal aisle. There were countless teddy bears, but he felt like they were entirely too cliché. They lacked personality and connection. He needed something that felt meaningful, but he had no idea what that might be.
He made his way back down the doll aisle, and a pink and blue striped box caught his attention. Inside the box rested a doll with brown hair pulled back into an elegant bun by blue ribbons. She wore a dress of blue tulle with delicate iridescent butterflies adorning the tutu of the dress. The doll reminded him of the Blair he'd met in kindergarten. He read the inscription on the box: Madame Alexander Butterfly Ballerina. He laughed to himself when he realized that, once again, he was drawn to the connection between Blair and butterflies.
He paid for the doll and persuaded the clerk to wrap the gift for him in a beautifully ornate rose gold wrapping paper topped with a pink bow. His next stop was the florist from which he used to always get Blair's flower bouquets. He purchased a large and small bouquet of peonies from the vendor and hailed a cab, barking the Fifth Avenue address to the driver.
XOXO
Cora adjusted her dress over her lap for the upteenth time in the last thirty minutes. She studied the lilac print of her Un Deux Trois dress, subconsciously adjusting the jeweled belt at her waist. The dress had been a gift from Lily, and she'd never worn it before. It looked adorable with the Sophia Webster shoes she'd chosen. "Are you sure he'll like my dress, Mommy?"
"Purple's his favorite color, baby," Blair grinned, pushing a rogue strand of hair back from Cora's face, "You look lovely."
The elevator chimed, and it sounded like an ominous bell warning of enemy invaders. Blair and Cora's world was about to be torn upside down when the intruder entered their home - the home that they'd shared, just the two of them, for the past five years until Louis moved in over the summer. Blair selfishly wanted to keep it that way, but as her eyes took in Cora's hands clasped tightly in her lap and her questioning gaze filled with intrigue and wonder, she knew that it was time to tear it all down and let him in.
She walked slowly toward the elevator to greet him, wiping her sweaty palms against her fitted skirt. He stood in the foyer, holding a gift and two bouquets of peonies, and she felt her knees buckle at the sight. His hair was styled to the side, carefully coiffed with just the right amount of product. She could see the nerves peeking out behind his eyes, and she noted that his knuckles were white with the force with which he clutched the flowers. He looked up at her, and offered her a shy, "Hey."
"Hi," she returned with a nearly imperceptible smile.
He held out the larger bouquet to her and said, "I'm sorry for the things that I said Saturday…and Sunday."
She took them with a slight nod of acceptance. "She's right through there," she pointed around the corner, "And she's excited and anxious. I'm warning you, Chuck, do not let her down. I swear to God if -"
He heard the panic in her words, and he understood it - he deserved it. He hadn't given her a single reason to trust that he wouldn't hurt Cora with the same cruelty that he'd used to destroy her. He swallowed his pride and stepped slightly closer to her so that he could look her directly in the eyes. "I promise you, I will not hurt her. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I'm here for the long haul, Blair. I hope that one day you can forgive me, but even if you can't, I will do everything I can to make up the past five years to that little girl."
She believed him, and she knew that he was telling the truth. For everything that Chuck Bass was, she never doubted that he would be a present father. He had experienced a lifetime of pain at the hands of Bart and Elizabeth, and he would never inflict that same hurt on his own offspring. She didn't need to tell him so, though. She let his words hang in the air unacknowledged so that they could echo in his own mind, and she directed him into the sitting room.
He felt as though his legs moved so slowly that they seemed to be weighed down by cylinder blocks. The world was hazy as he made his way toward the other room with a single-minded focus. Only one thing mattered in that moment, but he couldn't have prepared himself for the sight that awaited him.
He studied her as if he was seeing her through snapshots: one after the other, in rapid succession, offering him a mere glimpse of different parts of her. His heart clenched with each image, and his eyes didn't know where to look as they struggled to memorize every single piece of her in the span of a second. Her chestnut hair, her wide eyes, her button nose. Her rosy cheeks and small shoulders. Her slender neck and elvish ears. He couldn't breathe. He felt his lungs fight for oxygen, and his body refused to move closer. He was glued in place just staring at her; his whole body shook so violently that he was afraid he would vomit before he even spoke a word to her. It was like he was suspended in air and being pulled down by gravity all at the same time.
Her sparkling eyes found him standing in the doorway, and she immediately burst into tears, leaping from the sofa and running toward him. She wrapped her arms around his legs and cried into his slacks. Her soft sobs brought him to his knees in front of her, and her arms automatically worked their way around his neck. He hugged her to him, stroking her hair softly after dropping her gifts to the ground, nuzzling his face into her hair and inhaling deeply as his heart pounded in his ears. Tears tumbled ceaselessly down his cheeks, and he had to consciously force himself from sobbing out loud. He swiped at his eyes quickly and pulled back from her to get a closer look at her angelic face. He saw that she had the lightest freckles sprinkling across her nose and cheeks, so faint that they were barely visible. She was Blair - everything about her was everything he loved about Blair. He felt like he was dying at the same time that he was just waking up to discover all that the world could offer him. He'd experienced a lot in his twenty-five years, more than most experience in a lifetime, but nothing would ever compare to this moment.
Cora smiled up at him and reached out to touch his cheek with her small hand. "You're my Daddy," she whispered in awe, clearly overcome with emotions that she didn't quite understand at her young age.
"I guess I am," he rasped out over the knot forming in his throat.
She hugged him again, her small teardrops falling onto his neck. "I knew you weren't dead," she murmured, "I knew it."
Blair stood in the back of the room, her hand pressed against her heart as she watched their interaction. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. This was the image that she had dreamed of since she saw those two pink lines on the pregnancy test. It hurt badly because there had been so many possibilities, so much potential for it all to have turned out differently. She couldn't quite place her emotions, but it felt like she was watching them through a thick glass window - an outside observer to an intimate moment. She was certain that she had watched this same exchange - the soft hug and murmured words - in her imagination over the years, but each time it ended with them putting Cora in bed as a couple before retreating to their bedroom to reaffirm their love for one another. She blinked the tears away, reminding herself that pondering the what-ifs of life did nothing but amplify the pain.
Cora traced her hand over Chuck's face, trailing her finger from his nose across his cheekbone and around the lines of his jaw. Her touch was feather light, but it caused him to shiver all over. He still couldn't quite comprehend that she was his daughter - his and Blair's daughter. She was the product of the truest love he'd ever known, the culmination of what was supposed to be his forever love story. After her exploration of his features, she grinned at him, and said, "You're even more handsome than your photo."
He laughed out loud, "Well, I don't know about that, but you're more beautiful than I could've ever imagined."
"Mommy says I have your eyes," she beamed.
"You're your mother made over if you ask me."
Blair had to turn her head away as the tears finally won out and spilled forth without restraint. Life was so unfair. What she would've given to experience this moment under different circumstances.
He finally picked up the small bouquet from the ground and offered it to Cora. He cleared his throat, not quite sure how to address her, "I got these for you."
She looked at them quizzically before scrunching her nose and announcing, "Peonies? I think they're beautiful, but Mommy hates them. She says that they're the most hideous flower -"
Blair stepped forward, horrified, "Cornelia!"
Cora dropped her face, "I'm sorry -"
"It's okay," Chuck assuaged quickly, looking up at Blair, "I understand." And he did. Peonies used to be Blair's favorite flowers – that is, until their presence was tainted by their association with him. It stung, but he understood Blair's aversion. It dredged up too many painful memories. He picked up the neatly-wrapped box and handed it to her, "Let's try this instead."
She tore at the paper excitedly and smiled when she pulled out the doll. "I love butterflies," Cora told him. "Mommy says they're just pests -" Her eyes caught Blair's look of warning, and she redirected her words, "They match my shoes. Look."
"So they do," Chuck grinned. "I've always loved butterflies, too." He looked up at Blair as he said it, but she refused to meet his gaze. As it was, she could feel his eyes linger on her for a moment longer before turning his attention back to Cora.
Cora turned to Blair and asked, "Can I show Daddy my room, Mommy?"
Chuck inhaled deeply at that word - Daddy - spoken in her sweet little voice. It broke something inside of him, and he couldn't control the violent flip-flop in his stomach. She bestowed it upon him as if it was something more than a title; it was who he was to her. It was his role in her life. It was her innocent admission that she didn't hold any grudges against him, and she was merely happy that he was with her now. He didn't deserve to be a part of this little girl's life; she was too perfect for him, and he couldn't quite understand how she could share the same genes that resided in his wretched body. He promised her, though, that she would never have to worry about fighting for her father's affection. He knew he loved her already; he'd loved her the moment he found out about her existence, but now, he was simply consumed with a love more powerful than he could've ever fathomed.
Blair nodded, and Cora reached out to take Chuck's larger hand in her smaller one to lead him up the staircase. Blair stayed behind in an effort to give them a little privacy and regain her composure. Her reaction had to be the result of seeing her daughter's dreams come to fruition and nothing to do with the tenderness with which Chuck approached her, the affection that she saw glinting in his dark eyes. He was never this soft, and it was a little unnerving to watch.
Cora led him into a room decorated in a tasteful range of soft pink and white hues. A large pink canopy covered her oversized bed, and the walls were adorned with various paintings surrounded by silver swirling stars. Her stuffed animals were neatly organized on a shelf in the corner, and a bookshelf sat next to it filled with dozens of children's books, many of which seemed a little too sophisticated for a five-year-old. He smiled with pride, noting that Cora wasn't a typical child. She pulled him toward a huge Victorian dollhouse on the far wall and kneeled down in front of it. He sat with her and waited for her to explain.
"This is my favorite toy," she said, lining the dolls in front of her, "Gramma Lily gave it to me for my last birthday." She pointed to each of the dolls, "This is the mommy. This is the little girl, and this," she handed him a male doll, "is the daddy. They're a happy family."
He studied the three dolls and the striking similarities weren't lost on him. They were essentially plastic replicas of Blair, Cora, and Chuck. His heart ached for her, and he hated himself for every ounce of pain that she'd suffered in her short life. He didn't know how to talk to her, to explain to her that he would've been there every minute of her life if only he'd known. He didn't want to make grand declarations that were too heavy for her little mind, so he just picked up the smallest doll and asked, "Is this one you?"
She looked at him for a minute and shook her head, "Don't be silly. When you play with dolls, you play make believe. That's Sarah. She's five, like me, but she gets in trouble a lot more than I do. She's pretty mischievous."
"Oh, I see," he chuckled and picked up the Mommy doll. "Does she get in trouble with her mommy a lot?"
"Yes," Cora laughed, "Her mommy's very strict, kind of like mine."
"Your mommy's strict?" He asked, genuinely intrigued to learn what Blair was like as a mother.
"A little," Cora answered, "She's not mean or anything, but she makes sure that I use my manners and keep everything tidy. It's not so bad, though. She spends a lot of time with me, just us, and she usually lets me have anything I want. She thinks she's tough on me, but she's really not. I never get in trouble, not like Sarah anyway."
Chuck smiled, his expression filled with sadness and admiration for the woman who'd raised such an exceptional little girl, "So I guess she's a pretty great mommy, huh?"
"The best ever," Cora agreed. She set the dolls to the side and looked up at Chuck, studying him for a length of time. He watched her eyes rove over his face, and he could tell that her mind was lost in deep thought. Her lip began to quiver, and she lowered her eyes to her lap, "Will you always be here, Daddy? I don't want you to leave."
He tentatively reached out to her, pulling her into a loose embrace, careful to remain aware of any silent boundaries she set between them. "Hey," he soothed, "I just got here. I'm not going anywhere - now or ever."
"Promise?" She sniffled against his shirt.
"I promise," he whispered, "I promise with all my heart. I will always be here for you."
"You know, she missed you," Cora told him quietly, as if she was divulging a well-kept secret, "She'll never tell you, but I think she missed you a whole lot while you were gone."
Thump thump, thump thump. All he could hear was his heart thudding against his chest. He finally choked out, "I missed her, too."
"Well," Cora grinned, "Now that you're here, you'll get to see her all the time – and me, too!"
"Yes," he smiled, "I will."
"I'm so happy you're here, Daddy," Cora confessed, resting her head against his chest as he held her in his lap, "I don't think I've ever been this happy."
In the hallway outside Cora's bedroom, Blair sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands. It was all too much, and she wasn't sure that she could handle more days like this one. Listening to the conversation between Cora and Chuck had felt like an invasion of privacy, but she couldn't resist giving in to her curiosity. She had wrongly worried that Chuck would say or do the wrong thing and hurt Cora. In the deeper parts of her mind, she knew that those concerns were unfounded, but it helped her cope with her overwhelming emotions to find new ways to fuel her anger with him. She could handle anger and frustration; she could even handle dealing with the many ways that he had hurt her. What she couldn't handle was the way she kept finding herself softening toward him, the nostalgia of being near him. She needed to hate him. She wanted their relationship to be one of mere tolerance for Cora's sake. She found herself wanting to forgive him, but it wasn't possible. The scars ran too deep. No matter how much he tried, he would never be able to erase the wounds completely. He could make it up to Cora - children offer grace by their very nature - but he would never be able to make amends with Blair. She refused to open her heart to him only for him to break it into pieces all over again.
She wiped her eyes and stepped into the room, "Ready for lunch, Cor?"
"Only if Daddy can join us," Cora smiled widely.
"Of course," Blair forced out, gritting her teeth painfully. She would never be free of Chuck Bass now, so time to get used to his presence.