Blair III

Blair scooped up her little son, Henry, in her arms and hugged him tight before setting him down and allowing him to run through Sheep Meadow like there was no tomorrow. In that way that only children could, he made friends almost instantaneously with a group of kids around his age and they all started to pretend that they were airplanes, zooming around Central Park and being a general nuisance to people trying to enjoy the unusually good weather.

She would have thought by now she would have had to pull out a proper jacket to keep herself warm but New York had been experiencing an extended summer. Chuck had thought that it would have been a good idea to take Henry to the Park to play a little. They'd given Dorota and the nanny, Cecile, the day off to do whatever they wanted. This perfect day in New York City in the middle of October was going to be their little family day.

Blair threw herself down on the red-and-white-check blanket and opened up her elegant, pink, Chinese parasol to protect her face from the Manhattan sun descending upon her. She pulled out her tablet from her Michael Kors-monogrammed travel tote and clicked on the Elle app, where there was a feature on Jenny Humphrey. Naturally the interviewer pumped Jenny for information concerning her alleged sightings around Manhattan over the past few days with a certain Belgian prince. Jenny was coy and classily dodged the questions but Blair had been hearing from more than one little birdie at Waldorf Designs that Damien Dalgaard had been at the office more than once over the past few days hanging out with Jenny. But Jenny herself hadn't admitted anything to Blair over lunch or dinner.

After she finished reading the article, Blair looked over her shoulder and spotted her husband coming over to her with two ice cream cones in his hands. He'd been gone for quite some time and she'd been missing him. He looked positively adorable in his pink Ralph Lauren shorts, purple Ralph Lauren polo and matching loafers. His chocolate brown hair was parted at the side and perfectly slicked down.

He plopped down next to her and handed her a cone.

"For you, my lady," he teased, before kissing her on her cheek. "For both my ladies." He kissed her stomach through her flowing, sheer, black DVF blouse.

Chuck had convinced himself that he and Blair were going to have a little girl. Blair hadn't given much thought to it when she had to consider whether she would have to choose her baby and her family or her burgeoning career in politics, where a lot of Edie's friends kept telling her that she had 'a real future.'

Blair licked her vanilla ice cream and then leaned her head on his shoulder. She knew that on the surface this was supposed to be a nice family outing. But she also knew that Chuck had requested this because he wanted to do something that would take her mind off of the election, which was the next day.

She had kind of been freaking out as the days went by: she'd been moody and standoffish and unapproachable and needy and pensive. Chuck, of course, knew her well enough not to worry too much about it; he just needed to allow things to run its course. But he still felt that a little family time would help a whole lot too.

"Blair! Chuck!"

Blair looked over and saw Edie Buchanan-Woodhouse and her husband shuffling over to them, two kids in tow. The little ones quickly made their way over to the group of other boisterous children and Henry while Edie, in a long, green maxi dress, and her husband, who was dressed suspiciously like Chuck, headed directly toward Blair and Chuck.

This was exactly what Blair didn't need: a pow-wow about polls and numbers with Edie. She hated sitting down with Edie and all of her insider friends and discussing things. On this day, when she just wanted to mellow her vibes, she most certainly had no interest in talking shop. Not when she was totally nervous that she might actually lose.

"Hey, guys," said Edie, standing up next to their blanket while Martin spread his blanket. "I called your house and I caught that adorable Dorota before she left. She told me that you guys were here at the Park and I pulled Martin and said, 'Darling, we have to join Blair and Chuck!' I assumed it would be in Sheep Meadow. I mean, if you want to be seen, this is sort of the place, right? It's a wonderful political move."

She sat down on her now-spread blanket and Martin handed her a cucumber sandwich, which she took very dainty bites from while she smiled at Blair, who still hadn't managed to respond to anything because she wasn't exactly thrilled by the notion of the Buchanan-Woodhouses pretty much ruining the prospect of her picnic being wonderful.

Martin dipped in his big, brown Picnic Time basket and pulled out two cigars and a lighter.

"Chuck, would you like to join me?" he asked.

Blair urgently looked over at her husband but he'd already been sucked into it: he didn't generally smoke but he had a weakness for Cubans. So he got up and the men scuttled away to talk about whatever men liked to talk about when women weren't around. Blair assumed it was something boring like sports or business. Nothing scandalous like when she got together with Serena, Jenny and Raina to gossip about Upper East Side hags like Georgina Sparks.

Edie dipped into her grey, Tory Burch tote and pulled out her own tablet. After scrolling through a couple things, she turned to Blair.

"Darling, I have something to show you," said Edie, in a tiny voice. "I got this today."

Edie turned the tablet to Blair and Blair couldn't stop herself from covering her mouth, her eyes popped open.

There she was: doing a strip tease for her then-boyfriend Chuck Bass on the stage of his club, the Victrola. She couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen then and it really seemed like a lifetime ago. Chuck, of course, was standing there all but clapping and totally overjoyed by her display and then teeny-bopper-Blair left with teeny-bopper-Chuck.

Edie stopped the video and put her tablet back into her bag.

"How old were you then?" she asked.

"I was a kid."

"Well, I'm going to be honest with you, Blair," started Edie, taking Blair's hand and squeezing it. "This doesn't look good. And this wasn't the only video that I was sent. I saw stuff of you fighting at parties with your best friend—the Van der Woodsen girl—and playing mean girl pranks and generally making a fool of yourself."

"Come on, Edie," protested Blair. "I was a foolish kid. I've changed a whole lot since high school."

"Have you?" asked Edie, one eyebrow arched. "The public doesn't know that. And this Chuck. I was sent a number of videos of him philandering with models and socialites all over New York. Public sex. Indecent exposure." Edie looked over at Chuck and Martin, who were laughing inconsolably over something while they puffed on their cigars. "Blair, look at my Martin: impeccable breeding; he's a Boston Brahmin, you know. You could hear it in his speech. Well connected. Wonderful job. No scandals. The American people don't like scandal in their politicians. Take it from me."

"Edie, those were taken years ago," said Blair, rolling her eyes.

"And what about your quickie marriage and divorce to a prince? Who doesn't want to be a princess?"

"Someone who isn't in love."

"Not good enough, Blair."

"Who sent you all these videos?"

There was an audible pause that paced for a couple beats before Edie said, "That's not important. But I'm assuming this person fully intends on leaking all of it to the media."

"How do we avoid it then? Were any threats made?"

"The threat was...that you bow out from the race gracefully."

"That's not happening," said Blair, shaking her head vigorously. "I'm sorry."

"I thought you'd say as much," said Edie. "But here's my suggestion, love: distance yourself from Chuck Bass."

"Excuse me?"

"If he loves you, Blair, he'll take the fall. Make it look like he's a philandering idiot and say that you're going to therapy to work on your marriage."

Blair looked over at Chuck, who was laughing at something Martin had said. "But that isn't true. We're...happy." She ran her hand against her stomach. "And expecting."

"Oh Blair!" lamented Edie, hiding her face with the palms of her hands and shaking her head. "This is the worst possible thing."

"How so?"

"Now you're having a baby with him? Another one? And besides that, you're just getting voted in. So what? You're going to want maternity leave or something? This is bad timing, Blair."

"I'm sorry, Edie," said Blair, with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders. "I don't take the pill."

"Whatever," said Edie, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, let's deal with the matter at hand: you need to take this bull by the horn. I've organized a little interview for you this evening. It's going to be marvellous. Barbara Walters owed my dad a favour and she's offered to do an impromptu interview with you to discuss your life and whatever. It's going to be live and it's going to be at your house, which Dorota is feverishly preparing now. I told Barbara that it's only going to be you. This is where you discuss the difficulties of your marriage. I don't like the sympathy card but people tend to respond to it. I never do. Anyway, if you address everything, you have the power. And not Ge..." She trailed off.

"Not who?"

After another pregnant pause, where Edie looked every which way except for Blair's, she relented and said, "Georgina Sparks."

"Georgina Sparks did this?" fumed Blair.

"Yes," said Edie. "She said she's a concerned New Yorker."

Blair smirked. "I'll deal with Georgina." Blair pulled herself up. "Chuck! Henry! Get over here! We have to go home!"