Blair kept her hand clapped over her mouth and her mind clear of any thoughts of Owen the whole way home to keep from being sick all over the back seat of the taxi. But when she stepped off the wood-paneled elevator and into the penthouse, her nostrils were bombarded with the putrid scent of roses, causing her stomach to churn ominously once more. The entire front hall was packed with them. Yellow roses, white roses, pink ones and red. She dropped her bag on the floor and read the notes on the bouquets. A?You?re my honey-pie. Love, S,said the note on the yellow roses. Audrey, my favorite little aristocrat, will you please be my Valentine? Love, Cary,said the note on the red roses. My darling Mrs. Rose, May our tiny daughter be as lovely and as wonderful as you are and as hopelessly happy as I am every day I spend with you. ?Your loving husband, Mr. Rose,said the note on the pink-and-white bouquet. As if one of those notes wouldn?t have been enough to make Blair puke out her already puked-out guts, she had to be bombarded withthree uniquely repulsive missives. Throwing her coat down on the floor, she staggered into the nearest bathroom to empty her stomach again. ?Mom!? she shouted, wiping her mouth on a parchment-coloredR -monogrammed guest towel. ?Blair?? her mother called back. Eleanor Waldorf wandered slowly down the hall wearing a pink boiled wool Chanel suit that had been let out at the waist to accommodate her five-months pregnant belly. Her highlighted blond bob was pulled back into a neat ponytail and she was wearing white rabbit fur slippers and carrying her portable phone. Like most Upper East Side hostesses, Eleanor spent all the time she wasn?t having lunch or getting her hair done on the phone. ?What are you doing home?? she asked her daughter. ?Are you sick?? Blair clutched her stomach and tried not to look at her mother. ?I saw the note from Cyrus,? she croaked. ?You?re having a girl?? Her mother beamed back at her, her blue eyes sparkling ecstatically. ?Isn?t it wonderful?? she cried. ?I found out this morning.? She flip-flopped up to Blair in her fur slippers and threw her arms around her daughter?s neck. ?Cyrus has always wanted a girl. And now when you come home from college you?ll have a little baby sister to play with!? Blair grimaced as her stomach did another back flip at the mention of college. ?I hope you don?t mind,? Eleanor babbled on. ?But we?re planning to turn your room into a nursery since we?re running out of bedrooms. You and Aaron will be going away to school soon anyway. You don?t mind, do you, sweetheart?? Blair stared at her mother blankly. She hadn?t wanted a stepbrother or a stepfather and she certainly didn?t want a baby sister, especially not one who was going to take over herroom . ?I?m going to go lie down,? she replied weakly. ?I?ll have Myrtle send in some bouillon,? her mother called after her. Blair slammed her bedroom door and dove onto her bed, burying her head in the depths of her extrasoft goose-down pillows. Kitty Minky, her gray Russian Blue cat, jumped onto her back and kneaded his paws into her black-and-white Fair Isle sweater. ?Help me,? Blair moaned miserably to her cat. If only she could lie there until late August and then be helicoptered to her new dorm room at Yale, skipping all the bad parts in the script of the movie that was her life, the parts that needed to be rewritten. Out of habit, she reached out and punched the playback button on the answering machine on her bedside table, keeping her eyes closed as she listened. ?Hello, Blair, it?s Owen. Owen Wells. Sorry I couldn?t call earlier. What happened? I woke up and you were gone. Anyway, Happy Valentine?s Day, gorgeous. Call me back when you have a moment. Bye-bye.? ?Hello, Blair, it?s Owen again. Did you get my flowers? I hope you like them. Call me back when you have a moment. Thanks. ?Bye.? ?Hello, Blair. I know it?s short notice, but would you like to have dinner with me? Um, this is Owen by the way. Plans on the home front have changed and I?m all freed up. So how ?bout Le Cirque this evening, gorgeous? Give me a call.? ?Hello, Blair. I got a table at Le Cirque?? Blair kicked her answering machine off the bedside table and it came unplugged. She didn?t care that Owen had the sexiest voice and was the best kisser in all of New York. She couldn?t play Audrey to his Cary anymore, not when Cary had turned out to be a lying, cheating, son-of-a-bitch, scumbagdad . She didn?t even care if Owen told Yale she was a stupid flake who wouldn?t last more than two weeks there. Fuck Owen, and fuck Yale. She grabbed her phone and dialed Owen?s cell ph............