The night before had started off wonderfully and ended- well, he didn't want to say that he hadn't enjoyed it, but it had certainly left him shaken. Confused. Conflicted. Definitely ashamed. He didn't even know what he could say to Nick, he didn't know how he could look him in the eye-
So he'd repeated his offer to Maryanne. If he had company, they wouldn't have to talk about it. If their guest also brought her child with her, well- that would definitely mean they could avoid discussing anything unsavoury. It was a foolproof plan.
Despite whatever Maryanne was planning on wearing, Gatsby had dressed as he was comfortable swimming, in a suit appropriate to his own era. He'd brought out a few towels, a jug of ice tea and two glasses- what did babies need? Well, Maryanne could tell him and he'd find something, if need be.
He sat at the side of the pool, with his legs hanging over the edge, staring into the water, watching the way the sunlight danced across the ripples. He couldn't think of it as his place of death. It was a new beginning.