Chapter 49
Daisy
"I have to tell you something," Gatsby started the morning after we'd been caught in my dressing room of the Theater. He'd been shaken up after speaking to Lilly, but he'd refused to tell me what they'd said to each other. Whatever it was had him pulling away from me. He requested I leave him alone, and I went to bed without him. He'd joined me sometime in the night, but rather than wake me to make love, as he usually did, he didn't even pull me in for an embrace.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched and head hung.
“What? You can tell me anything.” My stomach twisted with nerves. I knew he had a lot of darkness in his past, and I’d spent this summer bracing for it. Whatever he had to confess, I could take it.
“I-I did something to your phone. I blocked Max’s number. All of his calls, texts, and voice messages were sent to my phone instead of yours.”
I let out a small gasp. That was it? A million other horrid, haunting, psychotic ideas had gone through my head. This was nothing. I crawled across the bed and wrapped my arms around him and pressed my chest to his back.
“Oh, love. I don’t care. I’m sure it gave me a summer of peace. Did he say anything interesting?” I leaned around and kissed his cheek.
“He’s coming back today.”
I stiffened.
“Oh.” I pulled away and frowned. So this was why he seemed so upset. "I guess I should go home then."
"Is that the plan? Go home?"
I sighed. "That's not what I meant. I just... need to rip the bandage off. Get this done and over with." I pulled on his shoulder to fall to the bed, and then swung my leg over him, straddling him. I bent to kiss him. "Then we can ride off into the sunset."
He didn't seem convinced, and if I were being honest with myself, I wasn't either. My hands shook as I got dressed and started downstairs to leave. My palms were clammy, and I thought I could throw up. If I moved fast, I was sure I would.
I called for Tuth to take me back, and when they came through the door an hour later, Neal appeared out of nowhere.
"I thought maybe it was smarter that you don't go alone," my cousin explained. I hugged them tightly and thanked them.
"Yes, why don't we all go?"
Everyone's attention turned to the cold, chilling voice. Gatsby, dressed in a gorgeous fitted suit, his hair slicked back, and looking every bit like the billionaire he was, came down the stairs. His eyes were hard, and almost dead looking. A shred of unease slid down my spine.
Was this Gatsby or Emile ?
Which would be worse today?
I nodded, and we agreed to take separate cars. Gatsby and I rode silently to the other side of the lake, where we parked and waited for Tuth and Neal. I'd spent the ride trying to figure out his intentions for coming today. It was hard to distinguish the difference between Emile and Gatsby when he was like this. It wasn't an actual psyche split, the two. I had no doubts that the love of my life was mentally cognizant. He didn't dissociate. There weren't really two men inside him; there was one, just fighting to not be so vulnerable.
If only he'd tell me why he had to shed Emile, why he keeps that door locked. If he'd let me in, maybe I could help him.
Tuth and Neal pulled up beside us and we went inside together, none of us saying a word. We sat in the living room, waiting for Max to arrive. I sat with Tuth, while Neal sat with Gatsby on the other side of the room, attempting to converse with him. Gatsby gave them nothing. He sat stiffly, back straight, hands gripping the arms of his chair, glaring at the open doorway.
With every minute that passed, the tighter my stomach grew. I couldn't do this. What was Max going to do? Where was he? It had been hours since we’d gotten here, and still Max had not appeared. I stood suddenly.
"I need to go," I announced.
"Go where, Daisy?" Max's voice came from the door and I let out an involuntary yelp, covering my mouth.
"Max, you're home." I swallowed the nerves.
"Yes, and so are you, finally. How was your vacation?"
I tightened my lips and blinked rapidly. "What do you mean?" My words came out high pitched.
"I think we all know. Hello Tuth, Neal." He nodded to them, working through the room. "Gatsby, interesting to see you here."
Neal stood. "Gatsby is my friend."
"I'm sure," Max said curtly. "It's about time for dinner. Shall we eat, Daisy?"
"Um…" My heart was beating out of my chest. I couldn't think. Tuth, Neal, and Gatsby all stood. I shook my head at Max. "Alone? That wouldn't be polite to ask them to leave," I argued nervously.
"I didn't realize you cared so much about proper etiquette," Max taunted. "Our staff hasn't prepared food for guests."
"Why don't I host?" Gatsby blurted. Everyone turned to him. He adjusted his suit jacket and nodded to Max. A slow, false smile spread over his face. "I'd love to have you for dinner."
Something about his words made Max react. "Like hell I'd ever eat at your house." He looked around the room, and it was clear that no one was leaving. He scowled. "If everyone wants to eat, let's go out. I can get us reservations."
"Are you sure we should go out?" I squeaked. The idea of a public outburst was mortifying. Who knew what Max would reveal if he felt threatened?
"We could go upstairs," Max suggested. "Give everyone a full tour of the place. Has everyone seen the room I had designed before I left? I’m sure you’d all find our plans for this place interesting."
My blood ran cold.
The nursery.
I shook my head. "No, let's just leave. I'm hungry," I lied.
Max made me drive with him, and Tuth, ever on duty, refused to drive with Gatsby and Neal. I thanked them with my eyes, and they nodded. Tuth's presence in the car kept Max from doing or saying anything. Instead, he stewed in his anger as he drove us to the restaurant.
The parallels to the story that was constantly mirroring our lives wasn't lost on me. I pushed the book out of my mind. This wasn't a fantasy. This was real life, and I couldn't keep pretending otherwise.
We parked, and Max put his hand on my thigh. His firm grasp caused my dress to rise slightly, revealing my tattooed knees. My eyes shot to his. His were bulging from their skull.
"You got tattoos?"
I gulped. "Yes," I whispered.
"Is that an issue?" Tuth interrupted. "Because I can think of a few things you've done that I don't like either."
Max opened and shut his mouth and tore his hand from my body. He leaped out of the car and slammed it, storming into the restaurant. Gatsby's vehicle pulled in next to us, and he followed behind Max, striding confidently ahead. The rest of us walked in like we were walking to our deaths.
Max secured a private room for us to dine, and the dinner was just as awkward as I'd expected. The only sound was that of cutlery scraping against china. During the main course, the sound of rice sizzling came from over our heads. We all looked up.
"It's raining," the waiter explained as she refilled our wine glasses. "It looks like a thunderstorm might happen."
Great. Rain.
Our steaks were brought, and my eyes shot to Gatsby. He was a vegetarian. I'd spent all summer with him, and not once had he taken a bite of meat. I wanted to say something, but the way Max and Gatsby were staring each other down kept me quiet. Did Max know this information? Was he waiting for me to confess that I knew about Gatsby's dietary preferences, thus revealing our affair ?
It was like watching a stand-off between the two. Max on one end of the table and Gatsby on the other.
"How was your trip?" Gatsby asked, stabbing the steak and cutting it. My breathing hitched. Was he going to eat it? Wouldn’t that make him sick?
"Fine. Although, I think you had more fun than I did."
Gatsby cut off a piece of the steak and brought it to his lips. He popped it into his mouth and began to chew, a closed smile on his lips. He finished and reached for his wine, lifting it to the table.
"That I did."
The gall. Everyone stared at him in shock. Did he really just challenge Max Stanton?
I watched in pure abject horror as Max reached for his drink and toasted with Gatsby. He set the glass down sharply and then cleared his throat.
"Care to tell me why you were fucking my future wife, Gatsby?"