Emma pursed her lips. “Touché.”
After a moment, she hoisted herself up to sit on one of the worktables.
“When will my father be here?”
Jesse checked the wall clock. “Soon, I think.”
Five years had passed since Arthur had handed Putnam Press over to Jesse and Giuseppe, who had subsequently changed the shop’s name, and Arthur was eager to celebrate O’Connor and Caputo’s anniversary with everyone. Apparently, he had a surprise to unveil, something that would have merely been sweet and exciting had it not been a surprise from Arthur Hughes, which meant that it was alittle bitterrifying too. Fucking hell, the man had a penchant for showmanship.
Just then, the sound of Arthur’s loud laugh trickled in from the sidewalk. Jesse smiled to himself, excitement and nervousness making his stomach flip-flop as he turned toward the door. Arthur pulled it open with such force that the knob clattered against the outside wall. Typical.
“Let the celebration begin!” he clamored, holding up a very large bottle of wine.
Emma shielded her face with her hand. “Goodness, this is embarrassing.”
Jesse scrunched up his face. “It really is.”
Giuseppe laughed. “I like it. It’s never not fun for me to watch Arthur Hughes make a fool of himself.”
Arthur strolled into the shop. Charlotte and Claire followed, both of them carrying trays of food, and Gertrude came in last, a picnic basket that probably contained cutlery and glassware hooked over one of her forearms. Jesse stood up, and Arthur barreled into him, squeezing so tightly it probably looked as though the two hadn’t seen each other only hours before.
“I’m so proud of you,” he said into Jesse’s ear. “Five years of running your own shop.”
“Thank you,” Jesse said, melting into Arthur’s wonderfully warm (but very tight) hug.
“Really, Jesse, I’m so impressed.”
Heat rose to Jesse’s cheeks.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said. Arthur tightened his embrace even more, and Jesse fought to squirm out of it. “Or without Giuseppe. Maybe you could try hugging him for a while instead.”
“But Giuseppe smacks me away when I try to hug him.”
Arthur squeezed Jesse for a few more long seconds before finally releasing him. Jesse breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief.
“Silly man,” he chided.
Arthur smiled impishly. Behind him, Charlotte cleared her throat.
“Oh!” Arthur whirled around. “I brought food!”
“I can see that,” Jesse said.
Arthur removed the lid from the tin Claire was holding to reveal rows and rows of éclairs.
“Gertrude and I made them!” she said proudly.
Claire then set them on the table. Sunlight caught the oval-cut amethyst perched at the center of Claire’s wedding ring, and it sparkled, the purple beams of light shimmering brilliantly. Warmth swirled in Jesse’s chest. Even though his and Claire’s marriage was a ruse, Jesse still felt a sense of pride whenever he looked at Claire’s ring. After all, he had purchased it himself, after months and months and months of saving. He’d wanted to somehow thank her for saying yes to the arrangement (even though it clearly benefited both of them). More than that, though, Jesse had wanted to thank her for her friendship, too.
When Claire caught Jesse staring at the ring, she beamed at him while wiggling her fingers playfully. Jesse smiled back.
“I made some sandwiches, as well,” Charlotte said, raising up her tray. “I wanted us to have somethingbesidessweets and wine.”
“How very responsible of you,” Arthur teased.
Charlotte flicked her eyes to the ceiling, pursing her lips slightly, probably to contain her smile. Charlotte set thefood on the worktable, moving Jesse’s half-finished forme aside in the process, and then Arthur snatched one of the pastries out of the tray and inhaled it.
“I missed these,” he said while he chewed.
