Chapter 25
Daisy
Gatsby.
How?
Was this real?
It was pitch black out and raining hard. My heart was beating out of my chest as I stared at the man in the suit at the end of the dock. It couldn’t be. But it was. It was Emile Dumas, the boy I’d fallen for, the boy I gave my virginity to, and my heart long before my body. The boy who took the fall for a murder I committed. But he wasn’t a boy anymore. And he wasn’t Emile either. He never really was, in my eyes.
“Gatsby?” I called.
The man seemed just as frozen in shock as I was. How did he get here?
“Daisy.” I couldn’t hear him, but I saw his lips move, and I knew what he’d said.
As if triggered by his words, my legs jutted forward. One foot in front of the other, I raced toward him. He caught me in his arms, lifting me off the dock as our lips collided in the air. I didn’t want to move, wanting to stay suspended in that moment—my legs in the air, his lips on mine. Slowly, he lowered me to the ground, and our mouths pulled away. I stared up at him, taking him in.
It really was him.
I’d know those green eyes anywhere.
The rain poured all around us. I should have been freezing, but I was burning up. I gripped his forearms tightly, fearing he’d disappear if I let go.
“How?” I croaked. My chin buckled, and my eyes grew wet. I couldn’t believe it. This was impossible.
“It’s... a long story.” A half smile crossed his beautiful face. Time had only made him more handsome. He wasn’t weathered from prison, as I’d feared. If anything, he’d gotten larger, his arms, his chest. His face was more defined, but it was still him. He was still my Gatsby.
“Hey! You guys want to get out of the rain? You’ll get hypothermia!” My cousin's voice came from the darkness as they stepped onto the dock, holding an umbrella and smiling at us. “I’d offer to share, but I think it’s a bit too late.”
I shivered and looked back at Gatsby. “You want to go inside?”
He nodded. My hand slid down to lace my fingers with his. He squeezed and, together, we followed Neal back to their house.
“I’ll go get some towels. I actually have some nice ones now, thanks to my neighbor,” Neal said, but they were background noise. All I could see, hear, smell, and feel was the man with the bright blond hair and emerald green eyes. They returned with towels, and I realized that we were still at the door. We’d gotten out of the weather and stopped to take each other in again.
“Wow, this is... intense,” Neal muttered. “Here, take these. I’m going to give you guys some space. I’m sure my neighbor will let me hang out over there for a bit? ”
Neither of us responded. We were too entranced in each other.
“Go sit down in the living room so I can use my door.” Neal pushed us down the hall and when we reached the living room, I took my focus off Gatsby and gasped. I stared around the room full of flowers. Bouquet after bouquet stood tall on every available surface. Peppered in between were trays of cakes, cookies, and other sweet treats. In the corner was a chocolate fountain surrounded by strawberries. Wine chilled in buckets of ice, and a fire roared in the fireplace.
“What is this?” I looked at Gatsby as the front door closed quietly behind us. Gatsby grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don’t know. I was?—”
“I know. Come, tell me everything.” Squeezing his hand, I tugged him to Neal’s couch. Placing the towels on the seats, we sat. I turned and put my leg up, straightening my dress as I did. My clothes clung to my skin, causing goose pimples to rise on my flesh. Once I was comfortable, I looked up at him.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, his eyes hiding something. I could tell he was hesitant.
“How did you get out of prison?”
“I was exonerated.”
I shook my head, not understanding.
“I’m not guilty. They figured it out and set me free.”
I blinked. “Oh? Who do they...”
He grinned and leaned forward. “It’s okay, Daisy, they are none the wiser. Dennis Wolfsheim confessed.”
“Confessed?”
Gatsby nodded and then stood. He went to the ice bucket, pulling two champagne flutes from behind it .
“Actually, I need water.” I laughed nervously and stood. He frowned, but nodded and went to get me a glass.
“Thank you. All of this is amazing, but...” I laughed. “I’m kind of in shock, Gatsby. You’re completely free?”
“Completely free.” He stood with me, watching my every reaction, almost as if, like me, he was worried I was just a mirage, a fantasy, another dream. We sat again, and I began asking him question after question. How was jail? Were you hurt during that time? Was it hard hearing what people said about you? What did you do with the time? And in turn, he asked me about ballet school, the company I joined, and the highlights of my career. We refused to have a single moment of silence. We had so much time to make up for.
“You came back for me.” The words came out in a whisper.
“Of course I did.” He sounded almost offended at the thought that he wouldn’t. “I promised you I would. I kept my promise, and you kept yours.”
“What?” I was taking a drink right as he spoke, and I choked on the water. He took my cup quickly, and I coughed.
“I made you promise not to tell anyone about what happened that night, and you didn’t.”
“Right.” I blinked rapidly. “Of course.”
My face flushed, and I sat on the couch, my mood completely deflating, the engagement ring on my hand suddenly weighing twenty tons. I forced myself not to look at it. I didn’t want to draw attention.
I’d broken his other promise.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Do you need to lie down? Or eat something?” He sat beside me and reached for my hand. I raised my eyes to his, and as I did, I raised my hand. Slowly, both of our gazes moved to my hand, and then the ring .
His lips parted as he stared at it.
“I—”
A loud clicking came from the front room, and I pulled my hand back and we both stood, as if caught red-handed.
“Knock, knock!” Neal called loudly. They came into the living room and looked around. “Wow, you were here all night and haven’t touched a thing.”
“All night?” I blinked and looked toward the windows. The rain had stopped at some point, and the sun was rising over the lake.
“Yep. I’d love to host you longer, but I’m kind of tired, and my neighbor bought me all new bedding. I’m actually looking forward to sleeping alone.”
“Oh. Yes, I… I’m sorry we intruded so long. I should go.” I looked around with sudden clarity. What was I doing here? Max would be furious. Where was my phone, my purse?
“You have to go?” Gatsby asked, his face falling. I stared into those eyes and found myself shaking my head.
“No.” I stepped into his arms. I never wanted to go. I wanted to be wherever he was for the rest of my life. We’d lost so much time as it was.
“Why don’t you take her to your place?” Neal suggested.
Gatsby’s attention shot to Neal, and he glared at them.
“You have a place? Where?” I asked.
“Yeah, where, Gatsby?” Neal leaned against the doorframe and snickered.
“Next door?” I connected the dots. “Oh my god, Gatsby, are you living next door?” My mind was reeling so hard and fast that for a moment, it went blank. “Of course,” I whispered, still in disbelief.
Of course, he was living next door. Neal had told me so weeks ago. Back then, I’d thought it was purely coincidence, or someone trying to hurt me. I’d thought it might be the opera owner even, but never in a thousand lifetimes had I considered that it could be my Gatsby. Wait… was…
“Let’s go.” Gatsby grabbed my hand and tugged me forward.
“Really?” A giggle escaped my lips as I stumbled over my feet, abandoning any other thoughts.
“Really.”
“You’re welcome!” Neal called after us.
“The sun is coming up. I can’t believe we talked all night!” I exclaimed as we hurried through Neal’s yard and over to the one next door. I stopped short in front of the massive home. It was twice, if not three times, the size of the house Max bought across the lake. It was gorgeous. I’d never been inside a house this large. It completely overshadowed everything else around it.
“This is my home,” Gatsby said softly. “Would you like to see it?” He squeezed my hand and ran his thumb across my engagement ring. His question went deeper than simply if I wanted to see his estate. I turned my head to look across the lake. The green light on my dock flicked off. I smiled at my Gatsby.
“I would.”