"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 keptMax 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?"
Chapter 50
Daisy
"Why?Because she's not your fiancée, she's my green light."
The air left my lungs. Oh no, it was happening.
"Your green light?" Max stood, the dishes rattling as his knees hit the table. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Gatsby leaped up as well, and Tuth and Neal followed. I covered my face with my hands. This wasn't happening. I knew it would the moment Gatsby had come down those stairs this afternoon, but still, I dreaded it.
