Chapter 21
Friday morning, two weeks after returning from the Hamptons, Lily volunteered to take Cora to school, so Blair had a rare moment alone with Louis before she left for the atelier. She sat at the large dining room table across from her fiance as Dorota served coffee and a hearty breakfast consisting of omelets, bacon, crepes, and fresh fruit. Louis scrolled through his phone, barely managing to look up when his plate was set in front of him. He mumbled a low obligatory statement of gratitude and continued to be absorbed in whatever news seemed to have him preoccupied. Blair always found his use of technology at the table to be a bit uncouth, but she let it slide most of the time, knowing that he had a lot on his mind. Today, though, she wasn't in the mood to deal with it; she wanted to talk to him, and she wanted his undivided attention. She cleared her throat, but he still didn't take his gaze off of his iPhone.
With an exaggerated eye roll, she raised her mug to her mouth, testing the temperature on her lips, but unlike the hundreds of times before, this time, she was acutely aware of her actions. She giggled softly in spite of herself, causing Louis to look up from his phone for the first time in fifteen minutes. "What's so funny?"
"Have you ever noticed the way I drink my coffee?" She asked with a sheepish smile on her face.
"No?" He answered, furrowing his eyebrows together at the strange question. "Non-fat? No whip?"
"No," she shook her head. "I mean, the way I actually drink it? The way I test the temperature on my lip before drinking it so I don't burn my tongue?"
"Huh," he said with disinterest, turning his attention back to his device. "I've never noticed that before."
Of course he hadn't noticed. It wasn't strange for significant others to miss little details like that. It wasn't like that was an accurate indicator of their compatibility as a couple. Why did it bother her so much? So what if Chuck had noticed and Louis hadn't. Chuck had always been an anomaly, picking up on her subtle quirks, recognizing her tells, being attuned to even the smallest changes in her attitude. He knew her better than anyone else in the world, clearly better than her fiance.
"Darling?" Blair asked, trying again to get Louis to put his damn phone down and listen to her. "Can we talk for a minute?"
"Of course," he replied noncommittally.
"Without distractions?" She gave him a sardonic smirk, and even he could read her displeasure with him.
"I apologize." He placed his phone on the table face down. "This entire debacle with Beatrice and Father Cavalia is about to make headlines. Mother diminished the scandal as much as she could, but once reporters caught on -"
Blair didn't really even know what he was talking about; she was so focused on Cora and her own problems that she hadn't fully listened to his rant about his irresponsible sister's affair when he arrived back in New York the previous evening. She felt a twinge of guilt that she wanted his undivided attention when she hadn't given him hers. She pushed it aside though in favor of breaching the subject she really wanted to talk about. "I've given some thought to my - our - future, and I've decided that I think I'd like to return to school for spring classes."
This caught his attention, and his head popped up suddenly, his fork clattering to the table. "What possible reason could you have to go to school?"
His tone irritated her to no end, and she had to stop herself from grinding her teeth together. "I don't think I want to work for Waldorf Designs for the rest of my life; it's my mother's company, not mine."
"You don't need to work for Waldorf Designs," he let out a sigh of relief, as if his response would hold all of the answers she was looking for. "Mother and I were talking this weekend, and your schedule will be so full with your royal duties as my wife that you won't have time for a career anyway. Your job will be as Princess of Monaco."
His smile was so wide that she nearly threw her plate across the table at him. "Do you ever listen to me?" she spat. "At what point in our relationship would you ever think that I would be happy to fill my schedule with my 'wifely duties' to the royal court? Princess is not a job! And I've already told you that I won't be moving to Monaco anyway."
"We haven't really discussed what your role will be once you become a royal, Blair. It's more than just waving at the paparazzi every once in a while." He waved his hands dismissively, like she was a child throwing a tantrum when she didn't get her way.
Oh, the condescension had her blood boiling. She pushed herself up from the table, nearly knocking her plate to the ground. Her voice remained low, but the warning in her words did not go unnoticed. "We've discussed enough – we've lived together for Christ's sake - you should know me well enough to know that I will not bow down to some antiquated traditions for a country I'm not even a citizen of. This is not up for discussion: I will live in New York with my daughter, especially during the school year. I'm willing to concede to summers in Monaco. I will be returning to school in January, and I will have a career of my own choosing. I will hyphenate my last name." She placed her hands against the table, leaning forward until she was eye level with him. "If any of that is going to be a problem, then tell me now so we can quit wasting our time."
Louis nodded, a dumbfounded look crossing his features. "We will work it out. I'll work it out."
Blair rose back onto her feet, straightening her dress with her hands. She inhaled slowly, and said, "Well, I have my dress fitting this evening. I have half a mind not to go, but since it's the last one before final alterations are made, I'm not willing to cancel."
XOXO
Chuck sat across from Pete Holmberg as the elder man studied him carefully. "Son, you're asking me to take a big risk here."
"I understand that, sir," Chuck responded, handing over the portfolio that he had spent the better part of the past two weeks drawing up and revising, "But I am the rightful heir to the company. Jack may have kept the company afloat in my absence, but gains have been negligible since my departure."
"Charles," Holmberg sighed, "Bart clearly had faith in your ability to become a business mogul like himself, but when you disappeared, you left us all scrambling to keep this company in the black. Investors pulled out left and right. Stocks dropped substantially. The board and I were ready to bring you back until that whole horrible display at your welcome back party in July. Jack may not be turning the profit that Bart did, but he offers stability and reliability. I'm not sure that you can say the same."
"Please just take some time to look at my proposal. I think that the progressive approach that I have outlined is just what Bass Industries needs to compete on the global scale. We're already a powerhouse in New York, but we still have a ways to go to become an international empire." Chuck sat up straight, looking the man in the eye to communicate both his confidence and his commitment to the project. There wasn't an ounce of fear or doubt in his countenance.
"I'll admit your plans do look promising; the numbers are realistic yet encouraging," he stood to his feet and reached out a hand to Chuck, "Let me look it over more closely, discuss it with my colleagues, and we can meet again next month. Keep your nose clean until then, kid. Stay out of trouble, and stay out of the news."
Chuck returned the firm handshake and nodded, "Thank you, sir."
As he descended the elevator, he couldn't keep the smile from spreading across his face. He rarely got excited for anything anymore - besides spending time with Cora, that is - but this small step forward felt like the beginning to redefining himself, to moving forward with his life and becoming the grown-up version of Chuck Bass, the version of himself he'd always wanted to be but had always been too afraid of failure to pursue.
Now that this meeting was out of the way, he could go meet Emilia and prepare for Cora's first sleepover tomorrow. It had taken him months to convince Blair to let him have Cora stay at his place, and he genuinely couldn't wait to spend the entire evening with his vivacious daughter.
XOXO
"Wow," Serena said from her seat on the bench outside of the private fitting room inside the Vera Wang boutique, "What did Louis say to that?"
"He didn't really say anything," Blair called from behind the door. "He just kind of said that we would figure it out, and that was that."
"Do you believe him?" Serena inquired quietly.
"I mean, I don't think he's purposely lying to me, but I also know that Sofie has a stronghold on him. I just want him to stand up to her, you know?" Blair sighed. "I just need him to be on my side."
"He loves you, B. I think he'll make whatever sacrifice necessary to be with you."
"You're right," Blair didn't sound convinced. "He's always put me first. He'll come through."
"Blair," Serena's tone was cautious, once again skirting the line between being supportive and meddling in someone else's business, "Why are you marrying Louis?"
Blair threw open the door, her hands on her hips with indignation, "What kind of question is that? Because I love him, and he loves me."
"This might not be my place, but…"
"Just spit it out, Serena. What are you trying to say?" Blair rolled her eyes as the seamstress adjusted the bodice of her dress.
"I know you love Louis," she started, "But you don't seem entirely happy. You seem to be the one making all of the sacrifices lately."
"What sacrifices have I made?" Blair asked, genuinely curious to hear her friend's response. "I'm the one who gave him a long list of ultimatums."
"You're cautious with Chuck when Louis is around; you limit his time with Cora. It's like you're trying so hard to keep from upsetting him that you're walking on eggshells."
"That's out of respect for my relationship," she explained weakly. "Louis knows that Chuck will be a constant figure in our lives, and he respects his role as Cora's father."
"You're less tense when Louis's away, Blair. You're freer, less stressed." Happier around Chuck, more like the Blair we all know and love, she wanted to add.
Blair shook her head, her lips set into a thin line, "We are not having this conversation while I am in my wedding dress. My relationship with Louis is none of your business. Now, please try to be supportive of my decisions or leave. I don't need you here anyway."
"Blair, you're getting defensive because you know it's the truth," Serena held her hands up in surrender, "Just give it some thought, okay? Don't enter into a false life because you're afraid to face your real one."
"And, what pray tell, is my real…" she trailed off as her eyes landed on an unexpected sight outside the window of the boutique, "Oh, my God."
"What?" Serena asked, following Blair's outstretched index finger to the image on the other side of the street from the shop's bay window. She had to squint her eyes to make out the figures, but sure enough, Chuck walked nonchalantly along the sidewalk, holding onto a large dog's red leash while a gorgeous raven-haired woman walked beside him, laughing at whatever he'd just said.
Shit.
XOXO
Later that evening, Chuck found himself waiting on a park bench, where he and Blair had agreed to meet so that Cora could run off some energy before they returned to Chuck's suite for the evening. He held anxiously onto the mutt's leash, excited for Cora to meet the dog he'd adopted as a surprise after their Hampton's trip. After a few moments, he heard her familiar voice before he saw her. "Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh!" she squealed, running in his direction, long brown ponytail bobbing in the wind behind her, "Daddy! Daddy!"
"Cora," he smiled broadly at her, pride swelling in his chest, "Meet Monkey."
She dropped to her knees on the ground before the dog to pet him, laughing when he licked her cheek. "Is he yours? Do we get to keep him?! Please say yes." Her words came out in a jumbled mess of giggles, squeals, and pleas.
"Yes, sweetheart, we get to keep him. He's ours."
"Can I walk him around the park?" She beamed at him, her little hands clasped together tightly.
"Sure." He handed the red leash to her, "He's gentle and well-trained, but just hold on tightly."
As Cora took off with a skip in her step, Chuck looked up to find Blair standing over him, her hands crossed over her chest, a scowl resting on her beautiful face. Shit, he thought, she must be angry that I didn't tell her about the dog. "Look, Blair," Chuck started, "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you -"
"It's fine," she growled, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, "It's none of my business."
"Well, you look really pissed right now, so, yeah, I think it's your business." He sighed, having dealt with enough Waldorf tantrums in his life that he knew he didn't want to face another one right now in the middle of a public park.
"I don't care who you screw, Chuck," she scoffed, disgust marring her features, "But you could be a little more selective in who you choose to take to bed."
He shook his head in confusion, standing to his feet so that he could face her directly, "What the hell are you talking about? I thought you were mad that I didn't tell you about Monkey."
"I don't care about the damn dog." She locked her jaw tightly, refusing to look him in the eye.
"Then, please, enlighten me on who exactly I'm screwing and why it's any of your concern." He watched her chest grow splotchy, the tell-tale sign that she was enraged beyond reason.
"Cora's teacher, Chuck, really?" She lowered her voice so that their daughter wouldn't hear, but her tone was scathing. Her eyes were deadly as they bore straight into his own. "That's low, even for you. I thought that after all of these years you would've learned to keep it in your pants."
He narrowed his eyes, his own anger surging to the surface as she threw accusations around, "Are you serious right now?"
"I saw you with her this afternoon," she stated matter-of-factly, as though circumstantial evidence proved the crime.
"And you automatically assumed I'm sleeping with her? You saw me with a woman, and that's the conclusion you drew?" He wasn't just insulted; he was hurt that she would think he would jeopardize his relationship with Cora for sex with her teacher. He thought he'd proven that he wasn't that man anymore, but clearly she still thought of him as the sex-obsessed teenager who didn't care who he hurt in the process of getting what he wanted.
"Perky breasts, long legs, gorgeous face, breathing," she taunted, "Yes, that sounds exactly like your type. Why else would you be with her if -"
"She's not Cora's teacher, Blair," he said scornfully, shaking his head in frustration, "She's her sister. They're twins. I wouldn't do that to Cora."
"Oh," she replied, her arms still crossed over her chest, her anger not dissipating in the least.
"That's all you have to say?"
"What else do you want me to say, Chuck?" she sneered, unwilling to accept his explanation.
"I can't believe that you thought that I would do that, sleep with our daughter's teacher." His voice was soft, and the pain was evident in his tone.
"You're Chuck Bass, and Eva's gone. It was only a natural assumption," she answered stubbornly.
"That's not fair," he sighed.
"It's not like I was wrong, really; I just had the name wrong." She refused to apologize, and she wasn't sure why she couldn't just let it go. He had the right to do as he pleased. If he wasn't messing around with Cora's teacher, then it really wasn't any of her business. If he wanted to bed half of Manhattan, then he could. The thought made her entire body grow hot with repulsion.
"I haven't had sex in nearly three months, Blair," he admitted, "Not that I owe you an explanation."
"So you started with the girl who looks just like your daughter's teacher -"
"Oh, my God," he threw his hands up, "I didn't sleep with her. She helped me with Monkey, with his training and medical evaluations; that's all."
She bit down on her lower lip, her heart beating hard against her chest. "But you wanted to." God, she hadn't meant to say that out loud. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment bordering on shame. Why was she antagonizing him over this?
"Yeah, Blair, I did. I wanted to sleep with her," he growled in frustration, "But I didn't. I couldn't."
"Why?" she asked quietly, her eyes seeking his for an answer that he didn't owe her.
"Monkey! Stop, Monkey!" Both of their heads turned immediately to find Cora chasing Monkey across the street as he raced after a stray cat. Tires squealed loudly, and before Blair could comprehend what was happening, Chuck was running into oncoming traffic, lifting their daughter into his arms as a car crashed into a stone building on the other side of the sidewalk; somehow he managed to keep her from hitting the ground as his own body slammed hard against the concrete. All Blair could hear after the grotesque thud of Chuck's torso colliding with the pavement was Cora's terrified scream drowned in the whirring of sirens and blaring of car horns.
XOXO
After giving his statement to the police, Chuck declined the EMT's offer to take him to the hospital to be checked out. He was sore, but it was nothing more than a few bruises and probably a cracked rib or two. Cora was understandably shaken up, but otherwise unharmed, thanks to Chuck's quick action. The driver of the vehicle explained to the police that she did everything she could to avoid hitting the child when she ran out in front of her car. No charges were filed, and Chuck offered to pay for the damages to both the vehicle and the building.
When they entered Chuck's suite a few hours later, Cora's sniffling had finally subsided, and she looked up at Blair with red, swollen eyes, "Can I please still stay with Daddy tonight?"
"I don't know, baby," Blair answered quietly, smoothing her hand down Cora's tousled hair, "Daddy's going to be really sore -"
"But -" Her little lip started to quiver, and Blair had to bite back her own tears at her daughter's distress.
"It's fine, Blair," Chuck rasped, wincing as he shrugged out of his jacket. "I want her to stay."
Blair bit her lower lip, trying to decide on the best course of action. Chuck was clearly in no state to be left alone with a child, but she didn't want to disappoint her daughter after such a traumatic experience, either. "Why don't I stay so that I can help? Cora and I can sleep in the guest room."
Chuck nodded, knowing that it was for the best. There was no way he could tend to Cora the way he would like; he could barely lift his arm without pain shooting through his side. He and Blair worked together to put Cora in bed, exhaustion taking over her small body despite her protests. They allowed Monkey to sleep with her in hopes that his presence would ward off any unwelcome nightmares that the events of the evening may inspire. Blair leaned down and kissed her gently on the forehead, "I love you, darling. I'll be in here in a bit. Try to get some sleep, and you can still have your fun day with Daddy tomorrow, okay?"
"I love you, too, Mommy," she yawned, "Thank you for letting me stay."
When Blair returned to the living room, she found Chuck stumbling with a bottle of ibuprofen, not quite able to apply enough pressure to open it. "Here," she said quietly, taking it from his hands, "Let me." She placed two extra-strength tablets into his palm and handed him a glass of water.
As he limped toward his bedroom, his hip caught the corner of the pool table in the center of the room, causing him to double over as pain shot through his torso. "Fuck!" he cursed under his breath, startling Blair from her position in the kitchen.
"I really wish you would've gone to the hospital," she frowned.
"I'm fine," he inhaled sharply, "All they would've done is give me prescription pain pills, and I don't want those anyway. It would've been a waste of time. Cora was already upset enough without having to see me in the back of an ambulance."
Her heart constricted at that admission. Chuck Bass refusing narcotics. Chuck Bass worried about his daughter's trauma instead of his own pain. He'd grown so much, even more so than she'd given him credit for. She walked toward him, gently placing her arm around his waist. "Come on."
"I'm fine, Blair," he gritted his teeth, "Really."
"Stop being such a stubborn ass," she snapped, "And let me help you."
He couldn't hide the smirk as she led him toward his bedroom. When she finally steered him into the large master bathroom, she set about filling the sink with warm water and gathering wash cloths and bandages. Chuck hadn't allowed the EMT's to even wrap his injuries, and she was sure that they needed some antibiotic ointment and thorough cleaning. "I could've lost her today," she whispered, finally admitting her biggest fear aloud as she scrubbed her hands with antibacterial soap, not looking at Chuck, "If you hadn't…I just stood there. You saved her." Tears surfaced in her eyes, and she blinked them away.
"Hey," he whispered, reaching out for her so that he could stroke his hand soothingly up and down her arms, careful not to move the right side of his body too suddenly since that was the side that had taken the brunt of the impact, "This was not your fault. She's okay; it was a freak accident. You couldn't have done anything to prevent it. I shouldn't have given her Monkey's leash. I thought he was trained well enough that she could handle him. If anything, it's my fault."
She gave him a soft smile, gently touching the wash cloth to his temple to remove the dirt encrusted in the scratches on his face. He winced when the warm fabric touched the cuts, and she said, "You saved her life, Chuck."
"She saved mine first," He smiled softly. Blair's heart ached, and she longed to hug him, to bury her head in his neck and let the emotions overtake her.
She lowered the wash cloth back to the vanity, trying to control the tremors in her movements. Clearing her throat nervously, she instructed, "Unbutton your shirt." He hissed when he raised his hands to his collar, and she quickly swatted his hands away, changing her mind in the process, "Never mind, I've got it." With trembling hands, she slowly pushed each of the buttons through their corresponding holes until she could gently push his ruined shirt from his shoulders. A gasp escaped her lips when she took in the extent of his injuries. His entire right side was covered in nasty yellow and purple bruises, the sight of which caused Blair to feel faint. "Oh, my God," she whispered, trailing her hand softly over his abdomen beside each of the blemishes without actually touching the tender flesh. He shivered underneath the weight of her scrutiny, and she pulled her hand back, asking, "Does that hurt?''
"No," he answered, his voice gravelly and deep. He could feel his entire body shaking, and it wasn't from pain.
She took a seat on the closed toilet while he stood in front of her so that she could more closely examine his injuries. After she finished cleaning and wrapping his largest wounds, her eye found a spot she had missed just above his left hip bone. It looked different than the other bruises, and the location didn't make sense given the position in which he had landed on the ground. She reached out to run her fingers over the rigid flesh, causing Chuck to stiffen in front of her. It was already healed, and understanding finally dawned on her when she took in the shape of the scar. Her mouth quivered, her chest heaving with each inhalation; her voice was barely a whisper when she said, "This is where you were shot, isn't it?"
He nodded, closing his eyes as her fingers continued to explore the tarnished flesh of his abdomen. His legs were growing weak with each soft touch, and he had to grasp her shoulders to keep from falling forward. His breath hitched in his throat and his heart knocked against his chest unsteadily when he felt her lips, feather light, graze the scar. Her kiss was reverent, and he couldn't keep himself from tangling his hand in her hair. She pulled back slowly, and he could no longer stand on his own feet when their eyes met. He dropped to his knees in front of her, still cupping her face between his hands. Tears danced in her eyes, and he could read every emotion written in them - sadness, relief, fear, hope, gratitude. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words lodged in her throat. This scar was the physical reminder of how close she'd come to losing him for good, just as she'd almost lost Cora today. This scar represented all of the pain and suffering she'd felt over the years, but it also represented how fiercely he'd loved her, how much he was willing to sacrifice to hold onto the hope of a future with her. It was the physical embodiment of their entire relationship: the heartache and the happiness, the good and the bad.
She was so overwhelmed with emotions, none of them made any sense, and she no longer had any control over herself. She needed him to know something, but she wasn't sure what she was trying to tell him. They'd always communicated best through actions and gestures, not through words. Slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her quivering lips to his temple, kissing the scratches that were scattered above his eyebrows. He let out a ragged breath, and she trailed her lips down to his cheek, lingering on the yellow bruise that sat atop his cheek bone.
His mind was hazy as his hands slid down to her neck, massaging slow circles into her skin with the pads of his thumbs. He couldn't focus on anything except the feeling of her soft lips against his heated flesh. Her mouth hovered over his lips for a brief moment, their noses touching, only the sounds of their breathing filling the room. Gently, her mouth finally covered his, and every single thought left his mind. He opened his mouth in invitation, making no move to deepen the kiss. It was tentative, exploratory, teasing. When Blair's tongue peeked out slightly, meeting Chuck's lower lip, he let out a low moan that startled them both.
She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly as he sat back on his haunches, putting distance between them. Clearing her throat, she jumped to her feet, and announced, "Well, I think you're all bandaged up now. Hopefully the ibuprofen will kick in soon." She turned around to empty the sink basin and clean up the supplies, her entire demeanor different from a few minutes earlier.
Chuck stood to his feet and approached her, standing behind her at the sink. He could see her panicked expression in the mirror, but she refused to meet his eyes as she wiped down the counter top. He raised his hands to touch her shoulders, but quickly thinking better of it, he dropped them awkwardly to his side. "Blair -" he started.
Stepping away from the sink and crossing over the threshold into his bedroom, she called, "Goodnight, Chuck. You should get some sleep."
XOXO
Chuck stumbled into bed the best he could without exacerbating his injuries. He was more confused than he had been the night they went out dancing, and Blair's reaction was even more perplexing. She had kissed him. He'd been careful to keep the distance between them, to be respectful of her boundaries, but she was the one who kept pushing them. At the park, she had acted so strangely that, at first, he was angry with her, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that her questions stemmed from jealousy instead of anger.
He shouldn't have let her help him clean up his wounds; it was just asking for trouble, and that's exactly what he got. He knew Blair. He was positive that the entire situation would cause her to shut down, to put him at arm's length again, and that one moment of weakness in his bathroom could very well undo all of the progress that they had made. He'd been so careful, but not careful enough, it seemed.
On the other hand, though, he felt a glimmer of hope pushing its way into his mind. He could no longer deny the fact that he wanted Blair. He still loved her, and not being with her felt like the cruelest form of torture. He'd resigned himself to the fact that he was lucky to even get to spend time with her, in whatever capacity she would allow. But, God, that kiss. It had felt amazing; he'd forgotten how soft and supple her lips were until they were covering his own. Nothing felt as good as kissing Blair, and he was dying for another taste. He knew that it couldn't happen again, though, because they'd both just complicated an already complex situation. He told himself it didn't mean anything to Blair; it was just a natural reaction to an incredibly emotional moment. It was more of a kiss of gratitude than of affection. If that was the case, though, why had it felt like there was some kind of hidden confession behind it? Something he couldn't quite interpret.
Nerves wracked his exhausted body as he thought about how Blair would react in the morning. She'd practically pretended like it hadn't happened in the bathroom already. He groaned, rolling onto his left side with a pillow beneath his back for support, hoping that his active mind would relent and let him get some sleep.
Blair Waldorf would always have him in a choke hold, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
A/N: I'm just as surprised as you are that I'm publishing another chapter so quickly, but inspiration struck tonight and I couldn't stop writing.