Chapter Ten – The Pleas

The days turned into weeks as Nick, Desiree, and Evelyn watched the parties finally come to a close, the mansion becoming still and dark, with only a lone car that would come almost every other day as reporters and journalists lurked outside. Evelyn tried to keep her mind of Gatsby and Daisy, doing everything she possibly could to distract herself. She practically lived half of the time at Desiree's house (as did Nick), the family welcoming them with open arms. Evelyn gave up the idea of ever singing again in public, with the only exception being church. She went often, trusting that God would listen to her pleas for peace of mind and serenity, to take away her worries, and possibly her thoughts of Jay Gatsby, though the later never did subside, especially in her dreams.

"He's an absolute idiot," Desiree professed every time. "He's in love with a memory, an idea…something that was, and isn't. He doesn't love Daisy."

"Yes, he does," Evelyn would state before quickly changing the subject.

Having nothing better to do and not wishing to stay at home with only Gatsby's mansion and the green light across the bay to stare at, she went with Nick into the city and stayed at the library for hours. By the third day of her desperate attempt for solitude, a kindly librarian asked if she would like a small part-time job, which she readily accepted. It made the time go by easier, and she engrossed herself in her work, as well as the plots and characters in each book she selected.

Unfortunately, Gatsby called at least every day to speak with Nick, asking him each time if Evelyn was around. And every time, seeing his friend's face and how fiercely she shook her head, Nick would make an excuse.

"He really wanted to talk with you," he told her each time.

"I don't want to talk to him," she lied. "It's better this way."

There were gifts that came, small and large, simple and extravagant, all for Evelyn. All of them were either given away to those less fortunate at the church, or tossed in the trash. She wanted nothing to do with him, not while he was with Daisy Buchanan.

There was one perk (aside from her small job and time spent with the Lancaster family) that brightened her days. Every so often, she would stop by the Valley of Ashes and meet with George Wilson, chatting about everything and nothing, as if he was a close friend she had always known.

"You know, I'm sure my mother would love to meet you," she laughed one day as he told her of his childhood back West. "You remind me of my father in many ways, and I know she would appreciate a good laugh and someone to talk to."

"Why? Your step-dad ain't friendly?" he asked, handing her a soda.

She accepted and shook her head. "Not necessarily…I know she cares about him, and she needs someone to care for her…but I know she doesn't love him the way she loved my father."

"Hey, love ain't easy," he confirmed. She grimaced at this, but he didn't catch it. "Take it from me. I can't seem to get across to Myrtle. She's been acting real strange lately…she keeps visitin' her sister in the city."

Evelyn was certain that Myrtle was most certainly not visiting her sister, but she kept that to herself. It wasn't her place to get involved in others business.

"Say, how's Mr. Gatsby doing?" he asked, he words cutting through her like a knife.

"Oh, I guess he's doing all right," she shrugged. She looked at the driver who had started reading a newspaper instead of checking to see if the car was filled and ready with gas. What she wouldn't give for a moment to escape having to talk about the man who took her heart and wouldn't return her affections because of his stubbornness…

"I gotta tell ya," he beamed. "Thanks to him, I've got a new car, and he's referred me to his fancy, rich friends. Business couldn't be better!"

"I'm glad for you, George," she said truthfully, patting his shoulder.

"Miss?" the cab driver called, motioning towards the vehicle.

"Well, I'll catch up with you later," she said, embracing the man. He blushed, muttering for her to take care of herself before waving goodbye.

Sitting in the backseat, Evelyn watched as George Wilson became smaller and smaller, the Valley of Ashes becoming further away with each mile they drove back to West Egg. Her eyes moved skyward, seeing how the clouds clustered in grey misery, a soft rumble shaking the air. She bit her lip anxiously, hoping that the driver would make it to the cottage before it started raining.

Gatsby's mansion towers stood erect in the distance, causing her to sigh and look away. She couldn't wait until the trees covered her view of the house so that she wouldn't have to be reminded of him. He haunted her in her dreams, causing her to loath sleep at all times.

Arriving at the bungalow, she paid the driver and thanked him before turning away and hurrying to the mailbox. The sound of the cab's tires became faint as she opened the little hatch and took out a single envelope with her name on it. She instantly recognized the print as her mother's, bringing a smile to her lips. She sorely missed her mother, and sent most of the money she made in the city back to her in hopes of helping the family in some form. Slipping the tip of her finger under the flap, she ripped the paper apart and pulled out a slip with her mother's cursive all over the inside. Ignoring the rumble of thunder overhead, she began to read the letter, only to find its contents shocking and depressing.

My dearest daughter,

I'm afraid I have terrible news. Your stepfather has passed away. The doctor says it was his smoking habits that killed him, his lungs couldn't take it anymore. By the time you have received this letter, I'm afraid he will have already been buried. It's thanks to you that I have some money left, along with your father's savings, that I'll be able to make it by for a few months. I'm afraid I won't be able to keep the farm with what we have saved. I'm going to have to start selling some items and livestock soon.

Evelyn, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this…I was so upset, I didn't want to call you or interrupt your city life…but please contact me, darling. Perhaps I can sell the farm and move with you to the city, or if you have a better idea, let me know as soon as you can. Please don't be disheartened by this news…know that I'm all right and I love you…as did Jeremiah.

Your devoted mother,

Rebecca Berns-Keller

Lightning crackled overhead as the sky darkened, rain pelting down on her frame as it splattered over the letter. Her body shook as she re-read the contents of the paper, unable to believe what she was seeing. All this time she was here living out her life, her mother was suffering and alone. Her stepfather was dead…and there was nothing she could do about it.

A sob was caught in her throat as she felt to her knees, holding her head in her hands as she wept, getting soaked to the bone as the sky continued to throw down the unforgiving raindrops. Everything was going wrong…Gatsby and Daisy…her strong, uncontrollable feelings for him, and now this…

She was sopping wet and numb when a pair of arms gathered her up and carried her out of the rain. She as somewhere between sleep and consciousness as she felt her body become engulfed in soft warmth, the smell of chamomile and freshly baked biscuits causing her body to breathe deeply. It was so cozy all of a sudden, and all she wanted to do was curl up and forget the misfortunes that seemed to follow her around…

"Mr. Carraway is on his way over, sir."

"Thank you, Herzog. Let him in and show him the way here when he arrives, won't you?"

"Of course."

The footsteps faded, leaving her in silence. Though her body wanted to rest, her mind was now fully awake, compelling her to open her eyes and see what was happening. With a soft moan, she forced her eyelids open and was startled to find herself in a dimly lit room, covered by a soft, plush comforter. On the nightstand beside the table was a tray of tea, biscuits, and fruit. In the dark, through a flicker of lightning, she could see the silhouette of a figure sitting on a chair placed by the bedside. She gasped, edging away when the figure reached out and gently grasped her hand.

"Eve, it's me," the soothing voice spoke, stunning her in place. Getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed his free hand over hers and moved his head into the light.

"Jay," she breathed, staring into his blue eyes.

"You scared me, you know," he confessed with a chuckle, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I was on the phone and I saw you through the window…I ran out as quickly as I could and found you drenched, crying yourself into unconsciousness. You had this in your hands…" He reached for the nightstand, selecting a crumpled, moist paper. The ink bled and dripped down the sheet, making the message impossible to read. "What happened?" he asked quietly, offering her the parchment.

She heaved a sigh, shaking her head as she took it back. "…my mother wrote that letter to let me know that my…" She inhaled deeply, holding her breath for a moment as she let the news sink in again. "…my stepfather passed away recently."

His eyes widened at this, his grip on her hands tightening just a smidge. "Evelyn…I'm so sorry…"

She smiled sadly at him, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "…I need to figure out what to do about my mother now. I don't know whether she should come to the city or if I should go back and work things out with her as best as I can."

"Would you come back?" he asked suddenly, his eyes fixed on her face.

She gave a careless laugh, shaking her head. "Would it matter? The only people who might miss me are Desiree and Nick-"

"I would miss you," he said firmly, taking hold of her chin and gently turning her face towards him. He couldn't hold back his smile as he saw blush appear on her cheeks. He'd missed that…he missed everything about her. "I've already been missing you…I call you-erm, that is, I call your house every day."

"Hmm," she murmured. "I wish you wouldn't." Drawing her face away from his hand and pulling her hand out of his grasp, she pushed the covers aside and stepped out.

"What're you doing?" he asked, his brows knitting together is disapproval and confusion.

"I'm going home."

"I've already called Nick-"

"I'm getting a head start."

"Now hold on a moment!" he demanded, grabbing her arm.

She spun around to face him, her face twisted into a frown. "Please let go of me, Mr. Gatsby."

"What is with you calling me that?!" he snapped, frustrated at her sudden change of attitude. "Why are you doing this-?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" she yelled, unable to hold her tongue. He gawked at her, seeing the hurt in her glistening green eyes. "I'm doing what's best for you and for me. Aren't you happy with Daisy?"

He blinked, stunned by her words. He enjoyed his time with Daisy, whenever she was able to come over for their little rendezvouses, but felt as if the time spent with her was as if he were in a trance. He had no feeling of satisfaction, no memory contented bliss… "Of…of course I'm happy with Daisy," he stammered, realizing that he had to give an answer. Really, what other response could he give? After all this time, working so hard to finally find Daisy and win her back, he couldn't just say that he wasn't happy…couldn't he?

"Then be happy with her and stop looking for me," she said firmly, her words stinging with resentment.

"No, wait! Evelyn, please!" he pleaded, taking hold of her shoulders and pulling her towards him. Looking her in the eyes, he whispered sincerely to her, "You can't ask me to do that…I…I can't imagine life without you." She shook her head at his words, biting back a sob. "No, please, listen to me! It's the truth…I don't know how I was able to live before I met you-"

"Stop it, please, stop it!" she wept, yanking her arms from his hold. "Leave me alone and stop twisting my heart!" Bursting forth like a madwoman, she left him behind as she ran blindly, flying down a flight of stairs before recognizing the hallway and hurrying to the exit.

"Hello, Herzog. I'm here for Evelyn," she could hear Nick say at the door.

"She's right-" Herzog began, only to jump back as she collided into Nick. "…here."

Nick nearly toppled over as Evelyn grabbed onto him for support. "Eve! What-?!"

"Hurry, Nick," she begged, tugging him back towards the old Dodge parked at the front of the mansion. "Please, I want to go home. Before he comes down."

"Eve, you're starting to worry me," Nick frowned, nodding his thanks to Herzog before guiding her back through the rain under his umbrella. Helping her inside, he slipped in beside her and started the engine, glancing towards the house one last time before driving away. "Evelyn, what happened in there? I got a call from Jay saying he found you outside and-"

"I promise, I'll tell you later," she said quietly, startling him. "Just…keep driving."

Peeking through the rearview mirror, Nick dared to try and look back at the house, but all he could see were mournful, grey streaks sliding down upon the back window. "All right… let's go home."

~JG~

After hearing Evelyn's story (after he wrapped her up in a blanket and offered her tea), he suggested that perhaps she ought to call her mother and see how things were going. "Talk things out with her, she might be able to give you some advice." Of course, he wasn't simply talking about moving or returning to Kansas, but he kept his lips sealed.

"Maybe I will," she agreed, her eyes dim and dull as she offered him a thin smile.

So it as the next morning that she stayed home, sleeping in as Nick left for work once more, and she eventually rolled out of bed and called her mother.

"Tell about this Gatsby you keep mentioning in your letters," her mother asked once they had said they hellos and shared what had happened with Jeremiah.

Her throat clenched and she felt her mouth go dry at the mention of Gatsby. "…I don't want to talk about him, Mom."

"…you're in love with him, aren't you?" Rebecca said knowingly from the other side. "Don't you start denying it, young lady. What's going on? He doesn't return the feelings?"

"Oh, I don't know or care anymore!" she growled, feeling the familiar sting of tears behind her eyes as she clenched her hand into her hair.

"Darling, you need to come to grips with how you feel, confront him, and ask him about it. Otherwise, neither one of you will be at peace. If you need to come back, then come back. A visit home may do you some good."

After a few more words, they hung up, leaving her to sit on the sofa and mull over what they had spoken about. What to do…? Arising to her feet, she moved to the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and measuring cups. Baking tended to soothe her when she was distressed, and now seemed like the perfect time to keep her mind occupied.

Spooning the cupcake batter into the molds, she yelped when the phone rang, giving a breath of relief as she calmed herself. Frowning, she picked up the phone, uncertain of who to expect. "Hello?"

"Hmm, Evelyn, is it?" a gruff voice came from the other line.

She raised an eyebrow at the voice, deducing who it was. "Mr. Buchanan?"

"It's Tom to you," she heard him chuckle. "I don't suppose Nick's home?"

"He's at work in the city, I'm afraid," she answered, continuing to place the mix into the pan before sliding it into the oven. "I can give you his number if you need it-"

"I've got it, but thank you all the same…look here, Evelyn, I never did compliment you that night we were at Gatsby's."

"Compliment me on what?" she asked, beginning to set the soiled materials into the sink.

"Why, you're singing of course. You're rather good."

"Well, thank you," she said flatly.

"Haven't been singing lately, though, have you? I mean, with Gatsby not having any more parties?"

"I work at a library now."

"What? You don't like singing for other people?"

Her brows furrowed in disapproval at his questions as she wiped the counters clean, her fingers tightly clenching the cloth. "I don't like singing anymore. And I'm terrible at it."

"What're you talking about? You're-"

"Please call Nick at the office number. Sorry I couldn't be of more help to you, Mr. Buchanan. Good day." Without another word, she slammed the phone back into its cradle, fuming at Tom's scalding comments. Scrubbing away at the counters, she felt a hot tear slip down her cheek. "I don't think I can do this anymore…"

Minutes later when the cupcakes were ready, she changed into her plain brown frock, laced up her work boots, and placed her best pastries into a wicker basket. Deftly braiding her hair, she looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. "Let's get this over with." Slipping the basket onto her arm, she stepped out of the cottage and made her way down the path towards the back of Gatsby's mansion, hoping that he would be alone and in a good mood. She could feel her face and neck burn at the memory of how she had run away from him the day before. Raising her head high, she decided to swallow her pride (or what little was left of it), and opened the gate. There was no one out by the pool, but this was unsurprising. After Gatsby's last party, there were no more guests, and many of the servants had been dismissed. Cautiously, she walked up the steps of the outdoors staircase and landed on the balcony when she froze in place.

There, just inside the closed bay doors, their lips touching behind the translucent curtains, were Gatsby and Daisy. She watched them, paralyzed in place as she felt a knife run through her heart. Without another word, she spun around, the basket crashing the floor, the destroyed treats forgotten. Running as fast as she could, she slammed the door of the cottage and scrambled for her room, in search of pencil and paper.

It would end now.

~JG~

Gatsby watched Daisy leave in her car once more, as he always did when she left, but he felt hollow within. Turning away, he walked through his barren home, recalling each caress, each kiss, each whisper shared with Daisy…They were fleeting moments, but they were his now…but they didn't make him smile.

Evelyn's words echoed in his mind, her pleas ringing in his ears. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gripped at his shirt, right over his heart. She wasn't part of the plan…but he couldn't go on like this, without her standing beside him, smiling at him…But he couldn't just give up on Daisy either. She had just promised him she would tell Tom…but he had to be with her. Frankly, he didn't know if he could do it alone.

"Sir?" Herzog began.

"Not now," he frowned, waving him off as he stepped outside. As his eyes began to move towards the dock, he caught something out of the corner of his vision that he knew didn't belong there. A wicker basket rocked on its side in the breeze, rich chocolate cupcakes spilled all over the floor, some of them crushed from the fall, their frosting smearing the floor like white, sugary blood. His eyes became wide with realization as he instantly recognized who had left them there.

The phone rang frantically in the house as he stepped forth and knelt down to inspect the damage. How long had these been here?

"Mr. Gatsby, sir, it's Mr. Carraway. He says it's urgent," Herzog said, stepping outside to find his employer. He, too, noted the desserts lying on the ground, his stomach twisting in a knot. "Oh no…"

Hopping to his feet, Gatsby ran back inside, scrambling to grab the phone "Hello?! Hello, Nick?!"

"Jay! She's gone!" Nick's voice came through from the line, just as frantic as Gatsby's.

"What do you mean, 'she's gone'?!" he demanded, his voice rising in panic.

"I just got here with Desiree and we found a note in Evelyn's room! It's completely cleaned out – she's returning to Kansas to be with her mother. She said something about New York not being the place for her and it would be better this way."

Flashes of Evelyn's face passed through his mind in a second, his heart pumping faster than ever before. "Do you have any idea where she could be…?"

"My guess is the train station, the very one in the valley of ashes where I picked her up the first day. I'll bet she bought a ticket, and if Des is right, the last train for today pulls out at 6 tonight!"

"But that's ten minutes from now!" Gatsby cried, catching sight of the grandfather clock next to the phone. "Herzog!" he shouted angrily. "Bring out the car at once! Nick, meet me at the train station. I'm going to stop her!" Slamming the phone violently back into its place, he ran for the door, his blood racing as his mind whirled in fear. If she left…he just didn't know if he would be able to go on living.

~JG~

"You sure about this?" Wilson asked, seeing how broken she looked, standing by the gas pump with her.

She gave him a weak smile, her eyes red from crying. "It's the best thing for me, George. I'm not even sure if coming out here was a great idea in the first place. I guess my stepfather was right…"

"Hey, you listen here, missy," he frowned, shaking a finger at her. She blinked, startled by his sudden change of attitude. He looked so very much like her father, scolding her for thinking about giving up on something she loved. "Don't you talk like that. You're a bright girl, and no matter whacha do, you'll do great at it. And I'm glad you came ta New York, 'cuz at least I got to know you a little." He heaved a sigh, running his greased stained fingers through his dark hair. She could already see streaks of silver lining his hair, showing that he was getting on in his years. "You gotta be optimistic…that's what kept me going for a while. If there's anybody who should be down on the dumps, it's me." He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment before admitting in a low voice, "…I think Myrtle has a lover."

Her eyes widened at this, knowing that the cat was out of the bag now, but kept her lips sealed. It wasn't her place to mention anything to him, especially not now.

"I found some fancy dog collar in her bureau…she got a new dress, too. But I don't have that kind of money, and neither does her sister…I've gotta talk with her when she gets back."

"Oh George…" She went to him, throwing her arms around him as she embraced him tightly. "You deserve better."

"Maybe," he chuckled sadly. "But so do you." Returning the gesture, he patted her shoulder and nodded his head at the waiting train. "Your ride's here. You take care now, Evelyn. Send my regards to your ma."

"I will," she nodded, her lips forming a mournful smile as she pecked his cheek. "You've been so kind to me, George…I hope everything works out for you."

"Yeah, me too," he grinned back. "Take care of yourself."

"Good-bye…" With a meager wave, she turned and trudged back to the platform, her suitcases and purse at hand. Each step she took felt like she was walking on glass, making her wince as her eyes pricked with tears. "No, that's enough," she told herself firmly. "I won't cry anymore…it's not worth it. There's no reason to cry."

"Ticket, Miss?" asked the conductor as he strolled up and down, waiting for the last passengers to board.

She handed him the flimsy paper, watched him punch a hole in it, and hand her half of it back. "Best get on, we're about ready to pull out of the station," he informed her, tipping his hat as he began to walk back to his post.

She nodded dumbly, wanting to glance back and see if maybe – just maybe – someone would rush to her and beg her not to go. Frowning, she shook her head angrily. "You've been reading too many romance novels," she chided herself, gripping her belongings and stepping onto the train. "No one's coming…and by the time they find out, it'll be too late…"

"ALL ABOARD!" the conductor shouted, as the train whistle blew harshly.

She gripped the handle of the train's exterior, not wanting to enter just yet. Her heart teased at her mind, causing her to bite her lower lip in frustration. No one was coming, and even if they did, they wouldn't change her mind-

"EVELYN!"

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of her name being shouted, her head whipping around to see who it was. The sight of the garish yellow car screeching to a halt made her stomach flop, her heart flutter with a hope that she wanted to quell. Hot on the trail was a familiar old Dodge, jerking suddenly as it stopped and its riders ran out. The train was already trudging away, puffing as it moved steadily from the platform.

"EVE!" Her emerald eyes locked with Gatsby's sapphire irises, a sob caught in her throat as she watched him, Nick, and Desiree trip and leap for the platform. "EVE! DON'T GO!" Gatsby cried, his voice twisted with anguish as he pleaded. "PLEASE! PLEASE STAY!"

The platform was gone, and so was the train…and she was flying through the air. She could hear the conductor shout obscenities of disbelief, she could hear Desiree scream for fear of her life, she could see the panic and horror in Nick's eyes as she leapt off of the train…and after what felt like eons, she felt Gatsby.

What Nick saw was unbelievable. He felt frozen as he watched his childhood friend leap off of the train's outer steps, her suitcases skidding onto the platform as she furiously thrust them off. For one brief moment, she appeared to be flying, floating in the air between the accelerating train and the platform…and just as suddenly, jarring him from this incredible sight, she collided with a disheveled figure, with his arms extended and ready to catch her as she fell onto the floor.

They landed in a great heap on the platform, the locomotive now several feet away and still moving as some of the passengers and passersby poked their heads out to see what all the commotion was about.

"Eve!" Desiree cried, falling to her knees beside the two. "Are you all right?! That was insane, what you just did! You could've been killed!"

Evelyn gasped as she struggled to catch her breath, her blood racing within her as she tried to lift her body up. Two arms stopped her from moving, causing her to freeze as she realized that Gatsby lay beneath her and was embracing her tightly.

"Please don't ever do that again," he breathed into her ear, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin. Sitting up, he took her face in his hands, his thumb wiping a stray tear away from her cheek. "Why did you do that?" he whispered, his hands trembling. "Why would you just leave like that…without saying anything?"

"Because I'm not needed, or wanted," she murmured, pushing the man away as she let Nick help her up.

"Please, Eve, don't ever try that again," Nick said, hugging her before letting Desiree attack her with her own embrace, as well as a few choice words. "Look, why don't we all go home and get some rest."

"I'll call my chauffer, Nick," Desiree informed him. "I'll have Evelyn stay at my place-"

"If it's all the same, I'd rather just go back to the cottage and sleep," she said lifelessly, throwing her braid over her shoulder as she walked down the cars. Gatsby watched her with confusion and hurt in his eyes when he sensed the Desiree was glaring at him.

"This is all your fault!" she snapped, poking him harshly in the ribs.

"What-?!" he started to argue back.

"I never should have agreed to help you get back with Daisy, much less tell Evelyn anything about it! Thanks to and Mrs. Buchanan," she hissed, rubbing in the fact she was still Tom's wife. "She's crying over something that can't happen because you're too damn stubborn to admit that you like her back, because you want a mirage, not a person!" Turning on her heel, she huffed and strode towards the cars, leaving the men baffled and stunned on the platform.

"…I'm sure she doesn't mean it," Nick reassured Gatsby, though he knew very well that Desiree meant every word she said. Heaving a sigh of relief, he admitted, "I'm just glad we got to Evelyn in time."

Gatsby nodded, feeling as though he had been slapped in the face. He'd nearly lost Evelyn, and he didn't want to lose her again…but Daisy was going to be his soon. He couldn't have them both, that much he knew…he wouldn't surrender Daisy so easily, but he knew that if he ever lost Evelyn like that again…he would surely be miserable for the rest of his days.

~JG~

Evelyn slept in for most of the next day, staying in bed and not daring to look out the window. She cursed herself for being so in love with her unattainable neighbor, for surrendering so easily when she could have just gone back. She was too ashamed to even call her mother and tell her what had happened. She was just grateful she hadn't bothered to call and thought it would be best to surprise her by suddenly returning…

Desiree had stayed for the night, sleeping in her room before tucking her in the next morning, patting her hair soothingly and leaving with Nick to get back to New York.

It was well past noon when the phone began ringing, causing her to grumble and mutter as she rolled out of bed. "I'll bet it's Nick or Des, checking to see if I'm still here," she sighed aloud as she stumbled to the kitchen. Grabbing the device, she placed it to her ear. "Don't worry, Nick, I haven't left town."

"Well, that's certainly a relief."

Her eyes widened as her cheeks reddened at the sound of Gatsby's voice on the other side. "O-Oh!...I…I didn't realize…"

"It's all right, Evelyn…" He paused for just a moment, as if measuring what to say next. "…I've just recently spoken with Nick."

"…oh."

"I…asked him a favor again…tomorrow, Daisy's inviting us to lunch at her house…I was hoping Nick would come for…support." He stopped, waiting to see what her reaction would be. "…Eve?"

"Yes?" she answered calmly, though she wanted to hang up the phone at that instant.

"You got quiet."

"I was listening to you."

"Ah…well, Nick, Desiree, and Jordan are going to be there tomorrow."

"Have a lovely time," she replied, ready to finish the conversation.

"Will you come, Eve?"

She stopped, her brows furrowing at his request. His voice had lowered to a whisper, hesitant but urgent, almost pleading for an answer. "…why should I? Nick's going to be there, and Daisy's telling Tom she wants you, right? Why do you need me there?"

"I can't do this alone."

"You're not alone, Jay."

"I need you-!" he implored, stopping suddenly as he realized what he had confessed.

Her heart soared and fell to oblivion all at once, the corners of her mouth turning up though tears scarred her face. Shaking her head, she answered, "No, you don't, Jay Gatsby…"

"Please, Eve," he pleaded.

For a minute, then two, there was nothing but silence, each one listening to the sound of the other's breathing.

"…what time is Nick going over?"

A/N: I own nothing except the OCs, typos, and the madness that ensues. Thank you all for your reviews, I really appreciate them and they've helped me continue writing. I apologize for not having this up until now, but with Thanksgiving (happy belated Thanksgiving to you all, by the way), the last weeks of classes, and getting ready for Christmas, it's been crazy with me. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and please let me know what you thought of it. Until next time! :)