Chapter 46
Daisy
"Thank you for letting me know." I hung up and stared out the window over at the house across the lake I'd been living in for the last few years, waiting for Gatsby.
"Who was that?" Gatsby asked, coming into the library.
"A member of the kitchen staff from across the lake. Max has been calling them, wanting to keep tabs on me. Apparently, some of his friends are stopping by today and he wants me to entertain their wives."
"Fuck that," Gatsby snarled. "You don't have to listen to him."
I swallowed. I'd left out the rest of what the kitchen-maid had told me. Max had left threats over theirs and my heads. I stood and forced a smile.
"I know, but... I should go back. Just for a little bit. The afternoon, probably. I need to make sure everything is running smoothly and?—"
"You're really going to entertain those spoiled, awful women?"
I'd told him about the people Max associated himself with and their partners. He knew how much I detested these women. But it was what he didn't know that made me get up and walk past him to head downstairs.
"Daisy," he protested.
"I haven't been home in almost two weeks. I need to go for a bit, otherwise it will rouse suspicion," I argued.
"Who cares? Once he comes home, you're going to tell him it's over, aren't you?" He followed behind me.
"I mean, yes, but..."
"Daisy." He paused to reach for my shoulders and spin me around. "Don't play with me. This was what we agreed upon."
"Yes, I know, it’s just?—"
"Just what? You love him? Surely that's not what it is. You haven't even worn that stupid ring of yours in a month."
I raised my hand.
Oh, I guess I hadn't.
I looked up into Gatsby's gorgeous green eyes. He was right, of course. I hadn't even realized.
"Where is it?" I demanded.
"Where is what?" He feigned ignorance.
"My ring," I said through gritted teeth. "I need it back." I held out my palm.
"Interesting how you only want it now that it’s been pointed out to you. You want it, take it." He dug into his jeans pocket and plucked out my engagement ring. I took it from him and slid it onto my finger. It felt heavy and foreign and guilt-laden.
"This means nothing," I protested.
"It means everything, Daisy." He turned to leave. "Go back to that house, and while you're there, figure out what life you want."
He exited before I could say more, leaving me feeling defeated. The urge to cry was so strong I decided to walk home, rather than get Neal to drive me. I returned home just in time for lunch. The staff greeted me warmly, as if I hadn't been gone.
"Hello, Miss. Your lunch guests will be here within the hour. How are you?"
"Good, thank you, Abby," I said, looking around. "How has everything been?" Nothing appeared out of place or dusty. It was like no one had left.
"Oh, fine, dear. I am glad you came home though. Mr. Stanton was getting quite..." She leaned in and whispered. "Annoying."
"Annoying?"
"He's been calling a lot. He said he can't get in touch with you. Have you not been taking his calls?"
I pulled out my cell phone. It seemed to be working just fine, but I hadn't heard from Max at all.
"I just figured he was busy. What has he been saying?"
"Well, he wants to bring Lydia home."
"She's at school." I shook my head. "We agreed?—"
"Yes, but when Mr. Stanton wants something, it doesn't matter what people agreed to. I think we both know that, dear." Her eyes dipped with sadness. "And a child should be raised by parents."
"Why? I wasn't." I turned and started toward my rooms. "I turned out just fine, and so will she."
“You and Mr. Stanton are the only family she has.”
“I—” I snapped my mouth shut and fled the downstairs, afraid that if I stayed I’d say something I shouldn’t. I tried to keep my calm until I got to my room, and the moment the doors shut, I let out a scream of frustration. Lydia returning was the last thing I needed right now. Max knew what he was doing, and despite what he thought, bringing her here wouldn't deter me from leaving.
I stormed to my closet and put on a dress that was more modest than the ones I had on the other side of the lake. Gatsby had bought me things that were tighter, shorter, more vibrant, and overall made me feel my age. All the clothes I had here, while I'd purchased them myself, aged me up.
Max wanted to be respected and treated like a peer in the business world. He wanted us to act like the men and women in their 40s and 50s, and my wardrobe reflected that. While everything had an expensive label, I'd much rather wear a cheap sundress over an overpriced and uncomfortable cocktail dress. However, the dresses I had here would cover my new tattoos, for which I was grateful. I put on a navy blue dress that framed my body, covering my shoulders and knees.
I looked like a senator's wife, not a prima ballerina.
Having taken the time to calm down, I returned to the ground floor just in time for Max's friends’ wives to pull into the drive. I put on a fake smile and greeted them like we were old schoolyard friends.
We had lunch, where they informed me of all sorts of gossip I had little interest in. They drank too much, ate too little, and laughed loudly at jokes that were more offensive than funny. I had zoned out until I heard my name, and came to attention.
"Hm?" I asked.
"Oh, sweetie, we aren't judging you. All of our husbands have women they think we don't know about." Clarissa, the wife of some tech company, smiled warmly at me.
"I'm sorry, I missed it. What are we talking about?"
"My husband told me Max took his mistress to Texas, but then her husband started to grow suspicious, so he sent her home. Only now she's blowing up his phone at all times of the day, demanding he come home. How delusional." She shook her head and laughed. "They always end up forgetting their place."
"Oh," I said softly.
"Really, don't feel weird. My husband's mistress has faked a pregnancy twice now, hoping he'd leave me.” Jada snickered and finished another cocktail. “Jokes on her though, because we have a prenup and Ted got a vasectomy the day we came back from our honeymoon.”
The conversation shifted and eventually they all left, with fake promises to return and do it again sometime. I knew they’d been sent by Max to check on me, but I didn’t really have it in me to care all that much. After they left, I wandered the house, looking at all the decor I'd purchased. At one point in time, my plan was to have this be my home. Now, I just wanted to leave and never return.
The guilt of having built this life with Max, only to drop it the moment Gatsby returned, weighed heavy in my belly. I'd never truly wanted this, but Max pinned me into a corner, and I wasn't sure how to get out.
"Are you leaving again?" Abby found me in the living room, holding a set of drapes.
"Tonight, yes."
"Do you plan on returning?" she asked, her face curious but seemingly not judgmental.
"Eventually, at the end of summer, when Max does."
"You know, I don't blame you," she said, fidgeting. "I've seen how he talks to you or touches you. We all have. We just wanted to be in the loop."
"Well, the loop is, Abby, that I never loved Max. He blackmailed me into accepting his proposal, and I've regretted it ever since. I gave my heart away years ago and it only finally came back to me. Once Max has returned from his work trip, I'll be calling our engagement off and leaving forever. "
"What about Lydia?"
"What about her?" I shrugged.
"Don't you love her, or at least care for her?" Her eyes welled with tears, and the guilt I'd harbored over the truth of my feelings toward Lydia, caused my stomach to twist so hard I had to lean against the wall.
"I care that her father has deceived and gaslit her since the day she was born. I think as she grows older, she will realize just the man he is."
"And what about her mother? What will she think of her?"
"That's not my problem to worry about. Despite how hard Max pushed me to love Lydia. I... can't. I’m not the right mother for her."
I fled, the horrible confession sending me to the bathroom to vomit again. The longer this love affair with Gatsby went on, the more guilt I felt over my words and actions. How could I say such a thing about a child?
Cleaning myself up, I went and found suitcases and packed what I could. I then called Tuth, and once they got there, I made my exit. Abby caught me as I was leaving and stopped me.
"Daisy, the staff and I talked. We're going to cover for you."
I blinked.
"You know you'll be fired when he gets home," I warned.
She nodded. "We know. We've got time to plan future employment. Perhaps the handsome gentleman across the lake you've been spending time with will consider our applications come time."
I smiled and nodded.
"I'll make sure he does."