The Great Gatsby, characters, and original concept belong to F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Chapter 4

When my six o'clock alarm yanked me from my sleep, I immediately sat up, disoriented and blindly swiping at my phone's screen. I didn't recognize the fish tanks that adorned the walls or the vast collection of books that spread from one wall to the other. The sound of another breath surprised me. I jerked, kicking some of the warm blankets off as I did so, and saw Jay. Memories from the previous night flooded back, as did the splitting headache. I couldn't help but smile at his sleeping form.

The sheets were so soft, and Jay looked so peaceful, I almost felt guilty leaving. However, I had to attend to Pammy, and it was unfair for Jordan to be on motherly duties for so long. As I slipped my pumps on, I gazed around the room. Jay's bedroom was in much better taste than his bar. The walls were decorated with a number of photos, and I noticed a considerable number of them were taken recently.

I slipped out the door and into the wide hallway without stirring him. When I turned around, it was as if I was seeing his house for the first time. In my drunken state, I hadn't fully absorbed the magnificence of the Gatsby home. The polished wooden floor was without scuffs and its surface was smooth, unscratched. Every few rooms, an intricately carved table sat beneath an even more complicatedly framed mirror. Gaudy and rich, I mused, but the latter trait clearly outweighed the former.

On each table sat a bouquet of flowers in a stained glass vase. I passed one and paused- daisies. I smiled and plucked one from the arrangement. Jay had always known how to charm me.

Left with no other option, I was forced to take a bus. After ten minutes of waiting at the stop, I fought for a seat to avoid standing shoulder to shoulder in the cramped aisle. While the bus bumped and jostled me about, I briefly wondered if I could have just asked one of Jay's chauffeurs for a ride. Too late now, I thought. I quickly texted Jay an explanation for my absence and then notified Jordan that I was en-route. When I exited the conversation, I noticed seven missed calls from Tom that occurred while I had been at the bar. Seeing his name unsettled me, but I knew that I'd have to talk to him at some point, so I deleted the alerts and watched the trees whiz by.

When I arrived at Jordan's house, I fumbled about for my keys as to not make too much of a fuss getting in. I was still dizzy from the events of the night, and one of Jordan's house staff opened the door as I was about to bring the key out. I laughed nervously at her critical look and commenced the walk of shame up the stairs.

It was silent on the second floor, but I knew that in fifteen or twenty minutes, Pammy would awaken and cry. My goal was to be there at her crib to shush her before she awakened Jordan. I pushed the door to my room open gently and eased myself onto the bed. My other dresses and shoes were still scattered about on the floor like some sparkly, brightly-colored explosion. With a heavy sigh, I began to clean them up, cursing the cleaning staff for being so afraid of a baby that they wouldn't enter a room with one.

I was shoving the last pair of shoes onto the rack when Pammy began to wail. Without skipping a beat, I rushed to her side and immediately began to give her the attention she demanded. Quickly, I offered the warmed bottle of milk. Her sniveling immediately changed to become the greedy suckling of a hungry baby. How did other people, without twenty four hour caretakers, handle a screaming baby all hours of the day? It was unthinkable.

After she was fed, Pammy resumed her sleep. I heaved a breath of relief and quickly stripped of last night's clothing. I craved a hot shower. As I scrubbed my skin, I was engaged in a war with my consciousness. I should have waited longer before returning to the dating scene, I thought, but Jay was worth it. Whatever relationship we had formed last night had been stronger and more passionate than what Tom and I shared over the past two years. I remembered Jay's embrace, comforted by the intensity of my feelings even after the alcohol had worn off.

I stepped out of the shower with more confidence than when I stepped in. I was a modern woman; I would not be like my mother, trapped by the expectations of society in a loveless marriage.

It was around nine when Jay called me, sounding frantic. I had passed out with my laptop open after my shower, and I was admittedly a little less than happy to be woken up again.

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone, sounding more agitated than I intended. "Hey. Jay. Yeah, sorry about that. I had to get home. Pammy needed to be fed and I didn't want her to wake up Jordan."

There was a brief silence. "You could have stayed for breakfast."

"I left at six thirty, and you were still asleep. I didn't want to wake you." I was attuned to Jay's irritation, but it seemed like an overreaction. While I wasn't the most present mother, I did make an effort to not let my child cry for hours to bed fed.

I heard some noise on the other end, and Jay's voice rose. "Did you think about how I would feel when I woke up and you were gone? Yeah, I read your text, but still. Couldn't you have gotten Jordan to take care of her for the morning?"

"No, I didn't think it was necessary," I snapped, angry that he wanted me to drag Jordan into such inconveniences after she was willing to set us up together at his request. I wasn't the seventeen year old without responsibilities anymore. "It's not the end of the world. We can have breakfast another time."

This calmed him. "All right. That's okay. Sorry." He was relaxing, realizing that he hadn't lost me again. "Hey, why don't we have lunch next Tuesday? You can come over."

"Yeah, that sounds nice." The giddiness swiftly replaced the annoyance that I had felt. "Thanks again for the fun night, Jay. I'll see you then."

"Bye, Daisy. I love you."

I hung up.

A few hours later, I found myself in Jordan's room, eagerly divulging to her all the juicy details of a night well spent. As soon as I was done, she gladly fed me the happenings of her movie night with Nick. There was a unique excitement to gossiping about our own lives. I was thanking her profusely for being Pammy's new mother when the doorbell rang.

The door had already been answered by the time we came downstairs, and our guest was standing in the main foyer, examining some photos on the wall. From my position on the stairs, he had his back to us. I noticed the flowers in his hand when he turned. I stopped, recognizing the navy polo shirt and profile.

"Tom?" I said. Jordan greeted him coolly, before excusing herself and returning to her room.

The man who was my husband just two weeks ago smiled gently at me, the same smile that first charmed me. My stomach clenched, and I felt even more lightheaded when he extended the flowers towards me. In the other hand, he held a small box.

"Daisy, I know that you wanted space and I respect that. I gave you time to cool off, but now I think I deserve a chance for you to hear me out one last time, at least." He watched my face for any indication to stop, but finding none, he continued. "I know that our relationship now isn't what you want. Why don't we try this again? Go on one more date, more if it goes well. The papers aren't finalized; you're still my wife, and I'm still your husband. Our marriage hasn't been nullified yet. We can get dinner and laugh about inside jokes like we always have."

I waited for anything about Myrtle, but like before, he seemed intent on making zero promises regarding her. Insulted, I began to turn away, when he opened the box. Inside, nestled in red velvet, was a silver chained necklace with three diamond droplets, the center being the largest. I couldn't help but turn back towards him and eye him warily.

His voice became more desperate. "We won't agree on everything, but maybe we can give it a shot one more time?"

The child sleeping upstairs was a physical token of our love. I thought about how, regardless of our shattered marriage, its foundations were still very real. "Okay," I replied, slowly taking the flowers and the box. "When?"

"Monday night," Tom answered decisively, the power returning to his stature. He knew he had won me over for the moment. It was that kind of confidence that made me love him. "Where we first met."

Jay's face floated to the front of my mind, but I pushed him away. I could love both of them, couldn't I? I just needed time to think. There was no need to tell Tom about him. It wasn't as if he discussed Myrtle with me.

"Sounds like a plan," I answered, beginning to turn back towards the stairs. Tom reached into the pocket of his pants and withdrew another box.

I recognized the silver trimming immediately, but pretended not to. Tom placed it in my hand, on top of the first, and drew me close. I could smell him- the same smell that I went to sleep breathing in every night for six years. My chest began to hurt as I clenched the boxes. Tom brought his lips to my cheeks softly and then pulled away, walking out without another word.

Later that night, I sat cross-legged on my bed, a rose gold watch on my wrist and a daisy in my hand.