"Sometimes it's hard to believe you're Montgomery Ward's daughter," Ezra grumbled, forcing Blair to sit back down - not for the first time that day, "He was known for being particularly easy to work with."

"I like to think I take after my grandmother," Blair snorted, unable to deny that she needed to rest for a bit - else she trip and actually fall.

Thankfully when she'd gotten up to put things away in the kitchen while the other two were unpacking in the other rooms, she'd managed to trip just as they were coming back in.

Ezra caught her before she hit the ground and managed to hurt herself even more.

"I thought you said you don't remember your grandmother?" Ezra pointed out, raising an eyebrow as he moved into the kitchen to pick up where she had left off.

"I don't," Blair admitted with a shrug, "but Dad told us stories about her. Firey, stubborn as hell, and a complete menace when she didn't get her way. She's my idol."

"Ohhhh, you're gonna be a handful," Blaise snickered, eyeing Ezra with something between pity and amusement.

"Yuuuup," Blair sang, not even remotely ashamed of the assessment.

"Regretting that contract yet, boss?" Blaise whispered loudly, snickering even harder when Ezra looked at him with a very unamused glare.

"Is there a reason you decided to channel your grandmother's... fire?" Ezra sighed, shaking his head as he put the dishes away.

Dishes, he noted, that were chipped, aged, and in horrible condition. He tried not to grimace putting them in the cabinets, making a mental note to replace them as soon as possible.

"Because she was awesome, obviously," Blair huffed, wincing as she adjusted herself on the couch.

The pain in her leg was less sharp these days, but the ache was persistent and moving wrong always aggravated it.

Who knew breaking the thigh bone was so damn inconvenient?

"Sounds like she was a force to be reckoned with when she decided she wanted something," Ezra mused, eyeing the bracelet on Blair's wrist, "Guess that's why she had a whole museum of antiques, then?"

He was surprised that Blair took to the gift like she did, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a bit proud given how much she clearly didn't care for material things.

As it was, he and Blair agreed that him gifting her something and her wearing it was more evidence for his grandfather of the validity of their relationship.

'Plus, I'll be damned if I let this thing out of my sight,' Blair had muttered under her breath, not realizing Ezra caught it.

If their relationship was real, that would have definitely gotten him brownie points.

"Yep," Blair chirped, drawing Ezra back to their conversation, "She said buying new things was easy and boring, but finding old things that already had stories was far more interesting and took real talent. She fell in love and didn't have a concept of moderation so... yeah, museum."

"No concept of moderation?" Blaise chuckled, leaning against the wall nearby with his arms crossed, "Based on your dancing decision yesterday, I'd say you definitely inherited at least some of that."

"Thank you," Blair smirked, raising her eyebrow in challenge at the man - who just shook his head and stretched.

"Want me to sort out lunch, boss?" Blaise asked Ezra, hoping for a non-physical task - his back was popping like theater popcorn, and he needed a break.

"Good idea," Ezra agreed, nodding toward Blair, "Sort it with Blair."

The rest of the afternoon passed easily. Blair helped Blaise decide on lunch, arguing about excess and fiscal responsibility while Blaise argued that no price could be placed on happiness - aka, loaded chili fries.

Ezra was forced to, for the second day in a row, eat food that made his pores cry for mercy as he swore he sweated grease. He vowed to hit the gym twice a day for the next week to make up for their terrible influence.

Blaise and Blair, of course, were caught exchanging scheming looks as they clearly planned to make Ezra's health-conscious life a difficult one.

Something that only felt fair, since Blair and Ezra were constantly teaming up to make Blaise do more work - despite the fact that, as he continuously reminded them, it was the last day of his weekend.

By the time evening came around, the apartment was fully unpacked, organized, and Ezra and Blaise both had a list of 'must replace' items that Blair was completely unaware of.

It was an undeniable success of a weekend from Ezra's perspective.

"Alright," Blaise stretched at long last, truly exhausted and in desperate need of a an decompressing evening, "I'm heading home, troublemakers."

"I think that's fair," Blair laughed, limping over and patting his shoulder like one might with a toddler, "but you did good today! So proud of you!"

"Well, thanks Ma," Blaise drawled, rolling his eyes at her teasing with a smile.

He had to admit that she did feel like the perfect balance between him and Ezra. She had a work ethic that made Blaise exhausted by proxy, but she didn't let the seriousness of it weigh her down like Ezra did. She balanced work and fun in a good way, and Blaise had to admit that Ezra had done well in finding a fake wife.

She seemed like she'd be a legitimately good balance for him in the business world.

Ezra chuckled as Blaise headed out with a casual wave, clearly in need of a small break after a busy weekend. Ezra couldn't blame him, and despite all his poking resolved to give the man a much-earned day off soon.

"So?" Ezra breathed, leaning his hip against the kitchen island with a raised eyebrow, "How are you feeling?"

Blair knew he meant more than her leg, and she glanced out through the glass doors that led to the terrace for a moment as she considered her answer.

"A bit overwhelmed," she admitted, watching the colors burst across the sky as the sun mirrored Blaise's need for rest, "It... this is all moving pretty fast."

"It is," Ezra agreed, following her gaze and trying to see the world through her eyes for a moment, "Regretting it?"

"Regret is a silly feeling," Blair snorted, flopping back against the couch without looking his way, "If you're going to regret it, don't do it in the first place."

Ezra huffed, amusement clear in his eyes as he looked at the strange woman he'd invited to stand by his side.

"Sometimes," she continued, ignoring his reaction but slowing her words to match her thoughts, "I worry I take too long to do... well, anything. I'm a decisive person, sure, but I overthink a lot... get lost in the 'what ifs.' In business, it's easier to see a clearer path, but in life? I get... stuck. This time, I worry I overcompensated a bit... but no, I don't regret it. I'm just... trying to come to terms with it all."

"You don't seem like one to drag things out," Ezra admitted, raising an eyebrow at the comment.

"Not usually," Blair chuckled, finally looking his way with a thoughtful expression, "In business, delays cost money and opportunity. In project management, it's important to move without letting small things hold everything up. In life? I... I hesitate a lot more.

I wasn't sure I wanted to be an artist, so I had a moniker to hide behind until I could decide if I was really 'good enough.' When I wanted to be an appraiser, I did it on the side because I wasn't sure it was a 'real job.'

Even with relationships... Ryan and I have been together for years, and he'd asked for marriage more times than I can count... but I always put it off.

When Dad and Jake were around it was more acceptable to drag my feet on big life decisions because I knew I had them to fall back on... and these past few years, I think that inability to move forward has held me back some."

"I think you made the right call with regards to Ryan," Ezra noted, the corner of his mouth dipping down, "and I'd argue your thoughts about being an artist and appraiser weren't really wrong either. Those are difficult things to make your actual career... it's completely reasonable to want something more traditional to fall back on while you figure out if you can actually survive off of something others consider a hobby."

"You sound like my Dad," Blair laughed quietly, shaking her head, "He said the same thing. He believed academia wasn't much better, actually, and in many ways he was right. The moment they were gone... well, that life crumpled away without their support."

"Being sabotaged by your mother is hardly the same thing as failing to make academia into a career, Blair," Ezra argued seriously, studying her, "Your academic life was impressive. Sure, some might argue that being a professor that specialized in art is unorthodox, but you didn't just teach painting classes. You were also an art history professor, and I saw that you were involved with the museum for authentications as well. It's not exactly like you were doing the 'starving artist' thing."

"Because of Jake," Blair admitted quietly, smiling as she inspected the tea in her hand, "He was the one that suggested taking my appraiser obsession and love for painting to the next level. He encouraged me to explore history, anthropology, and archeology beyond just electives. He said that by combining them into something well rounded I wouldn't be dismissed as 'just an artist.' He was right, and it was what made it possible for me to become a professor in the first place."

Ezra nodded approvingly at the advice her brother had given her, unable to argue with the logic.

"He definitely had the mind of a future CEO," Ezra said, "Artists rely on exposure, luck, and opportunity on top of skill. Adding the ability to understand the story behind historical art pieces, to authenticate and appraise them, and to teach students beyond just how to hold a brush... it gives you more credibility, networking opportunities, and a stronger foundation in the field."

"He didn't know my hands would..." Blair started before shaking her head and smiling with a bit of self-deprecation, "I swear my brother had this ability to see the future sometimes. He'd say things like 'you never know when you need your brain to pick up the slack when your body fails' and 'the older you get the more you need knowledge instead of talent.' I always thought he was just trying to sound wise... turns out he was right."

Then, she added under her breath so quietly Ezra almost missed it, "annoying ass, making me say that out loud."

"He'd be proud of you, you know," Ezra said quietly, making Blair's breath hitch.

"I hope so," she whispered, her grip on the teacup tightening.

As silence settled over the room, both of them lost in their own thoughts, Blair couldn't help but think that it was a rare person that could sit in the quiet without it being awkward.

Even after she saw him out and settled back in at the couch, opening her laptop to review the business financials she'd left from yesterday, she found herself appreciating that his presence lingered in the space.

She sludged through reports from her directors, arranged for video calls for so early in the morning it made her cry just to think about, and approved or rejected proposals for partnerships despite having a headache just from reading the first page.

Yet through it all, she found herself optimistic that - just maybe - she wouldn't have to keep struggling along in the shadows for much longer. That hope alone helped her push through until she dropped like a stone on the bed.

Perhaps, she mused as her eyes drifted closed, this fake-wife contract wasn't the worst decision she'd ever made.

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