“No? Why not?”
“Well, you wanted to be an artist.”
“I still do.” We exited his quarters, hand in hand. “In prison, I practiced on myself and a few others who let me get close enough. After I got out I had to take a break to deal with all of this.” He waved his arm out to show the house. “Once I have you back fully in my life, I plan on focusing on my career as a tattooist. All in good time.”
We walked to Neal’s and from there I sat on their couch and, with my stomach in knots, called Max from my cell phone.
“Hi, I didn’t mean to worry you. Between the rain and catching up, I just lost track of time.” I glanced at Gatsby and then at Neal. It wasn’t a lie completely. I had lost track of time catching up. I sighed happily and then returned to the phone call.
“Yes, well, after your accident just the night before, it’s kind of callous to not call and let the man you’re going to marry soon know you’re safe.”
“Yes, I know, I’m sorry, Max.” With how he put it, guilt seeped into my belly. On paper, his words were correct. However...
My phone pinged in my ear, telling me I had a text message. I pulled away to see Madame De La Rosa’s name on my screen. I clicked it and scanned the text. My eyes shot over to Gatsby, who had his phone in his hand. My mouth fell open in shock as he looked up sheepishly and grinned.
“What?” he said low.
I blinked.
“Daisy, are you listening to me?” Max said over the phone. I shook my head and looked away from Gatsby.
“Yes. Yes, of course. You want me home?”
“At some point you should, don’t you think?” he snarled.
“Yes, but actually…” I paused to read another text message that had come through. “We got the deal. The owner is going to let us perform at the Tennant. Madame said we’ve been invited to do a tour this afternoon. I think I should go.”
“A tour? I’ll go with.”
I stiffened. “What? I don’t?—”
“Nonsense. I want to meet the owner, you know that. This is the perfect opportunity. Come home, and we’ll drive together.”
The call ended, and I looked across the room. Neal had conveniently disappeared, leaving me alone with Gatsby, who was staring out the front window, looking pensive.
“I—”
“I heard. Go.” He turned back to me and forced a smile.
“You know I don’t want to.”
“Do I?” Again, the words weren’t sharp or nasty. It was more of an inward look at his own thoughts than an attack on me.
“Yes.” I went to him, spinning him around. Tightly, I squeezed his upper arms. “You do. Gatsby, I’ve only ever wanted a life with you. I only ever agreed to marry him because you weren’t an option.”
I never told him to stay in that house and get arrested for me. In fact, I’d begged him to run. He was the reason all of this time had been lost between us.
“Right.” He smiled and then looked behind me. “Let’s get you home.”
I hated to say goodbye, even for a short time. As Neal drove me back to the other side of the lake, I stared through the passenger’s side mirror at my Gatsby, watching him grow smaller and smaller.
“I had no idea,” Neal said, trying to make small talk. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have let you talk me into going to party with Max that night. He’s such an asshole. Never again.”
I drowned out their complaints with my melancholy thoughts. My heart felt like it was being pulled like taffy. I was going to be sick. I pressed my forehead to the window and tried to come to grips with returning to the place I’d called home for the last few years.
It never truly was though.
Max was outside waiting for us. We got in his car as soon as I was out of Neal’s and sped toward the Theater.
