“No, only to family.”
Jesse’s stomach tightened, and he flinched from Arthur’s lie. But Arthur continued on as though he was more than used to bending the truth when speaking to his parents.
“But, still, the newspaper is important to her,” Arthur said.
“It’s a waste of time.” Mr. Hughes scowled. “Why was this even printed? Can those tiny shops of yours really spare the ink?”
Arthur winced. He curled his shoulders forward and lowered his head, crumpling in on himself. Jesse’s heart ached for him.
“I thought it would be fun, is all.”
“Fun.” Arthur’s father rolled his eyes. “Arthur, you’re her father. Emma ought to be spending her time on things that will serve her well in the future for when she’s busy running her own household.”
Arthur pressed his lips together to form a thin line and nodded. Jesse could tell that he was metaphorically, if not literally, biting his tongue.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’ll be more cognizant of that moving forward.”
Arthur’s father nodded once. He set Emma’s article back on the desk.
“Now let’s enjoy some brandy.”
***
Hours later, Warren and Joanna Hughes left. And Arthur collapsed into Jesse’s arms the moment they were out the door.
“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath. “I should have told them the truth about Emma.”
Jesse hugged him tight. “There’s no rush.”
After a little while longer, the two went upstairs to Arthur’s bedroom, and by the time they climbed into bed, Arthur’s eyes had begun to fill with tears. Jesse’s heart cracked. He pulled Arthur in for a kiss, and Arthur choked out a sob the moment their lips collided.
“Am I failing her, Jesse?” he asked. “If I let Emma become a journalist, am I failing her?”
“No,” Jesse said, wiping tears from Arthur’s cheeks. “You’re not. I promise.”
Arthur sniffled. “I hate this. I feel like I’m never not blubbering over something.”
“You know that isn’t true,” Jesse said with a sympathetic half-smile.
“It feels true. I’m either crying because I’m happy or crying because I’m hurt or even crying because I’m overwhelmed. How little you must think of me.”
“I think the world of you,” Jesse said. “I love how passionate you are. I love how deeply you feel things.”
Arthur sniffled again. “Thank you. I wish I could find the courage to stop caring about what other people think of me, though. Aside from you. I know I pretendnotto care sometimes, like when I only wore my waistcoat for my parents tonight, but Idocare. I care so much. I feel like I’d have to completely cut my parents out of my life for me not to continue to worry about what they think of me.”
Sympathy clutched at Jesse’s heart. Cutting people out of one’s life was never easy, especially when those people were one’s parents. Oftentimes, it was painful. Even when it was the right thing to do. Or even when it was theonlything to do.
Jesse had known for most of his life that he’d never be the son that either of his parents wished him to be. It was one of the reasons that he had hoped to succeed as an engineer. He’d hoped to prove them wrong about college. About the value of education. And about his ability to succeed, too. Instead, though, Jesse had been forced to make a choice. And sincehe hadn’t ever come close to measuring up to whatever standard they had set for him, he had realized that, for him, the best choice would be to leave.
He could only imagine how hard leaving like that would be for Arthur, though. Arthur’s parents had provided him with financial support, even after he had nearly ruined the family name. Arthur’s whole life was still so tethered to his parents and to the community of Chicago’s social elite as a whole. Furthermore, Warren and Joanna Hughes were Emma’s grandparents. Arthur had so much more to lose, so much more to consider, than Jesse had ever had.
“Don’t feel like you have to do that,” Jesse said, stroking Arthur’s hair.
Arthur buried his face in Jesse’s chest. He let out a soft, muffled cry, followed by a slightly louder one. Jesse continued to hold him close.
Minutes passed before Arthur stilled. Finally, he came out from hiding, lifting his chin so that he could look into Jesse’s eyes.
“Do you want to know why Ireallywanted to exhibit in the fair?” he asked, and Jesse nodded. “I wanted to exhibit because I thought that I could improve my reputation. I had hoped—foolishly, I might add—that my being in the fair would make my parents proud of me for once, too. I thought that maybe, finally, they’d see me as more than the reckless boy I once was.”
