Arthur touched Jesse’s cheek. “I’m sure you think those are empty words coming from someone like me, but I mean them. You live here. With your friend. And from what I can see, it’s well taken care of, within the means that you and your friend likely havefor that sort of thing. So, that makes it your home. And I’m so happy you wanted to show it to me, Jesse. I hope I can show you my home sometime as well, though it isn’t as comfortable in some ways. Because of my servants, we would have to be more careful, for example, even though they’re very lovely people. Even having you come stay for a meal, my neighbors might wonder who you are if they happen to spot you. Everyone knows everyone in my little circle. It’s... exhausting.”
Jesse tried to take comfort in Arthur’s words, tried to see his life, his home, through Arthur’s eyes. But even if Arthur was being sincere, it really only confirmed that what they had was finite. Because Arthur was Arthur Hughes. And Jesse...
Jesse was a man whose name—new or old—had no importance.
“I truly like being with you here,” Arthur said.
But Jesse couldn’t make himself believe it.
Sooner or later, if this thing between them continued, Arthur would realize how strange, howridiculous, even, it was that they were together. And when that happened, Jesse would be out of work. He’d be back where he started before even enrolling in college. Because someone as smart as Arthur wouldn’t let Jesse keep working at Putnam Press. Only a fool would keep a scorned ex-lover on their payroll, especially an ex-lover who was a man.
“Oh, Jesse,” Arthur said, threading his fingers through Jesse’s hair and pulling Jesse out of the pit of self-pity, “I think that maybe Iwillhave to leave soon, probably within the next hour or so. But I would love to see you again. Can I?”
Jesse looked into Arthur’s eyes—those spectacular oceanic pools that shimmered with mischief and care and playfulness—and found that he couldn’t say no.
Despite knowing how foolish it was, Jesse wanted nothing more than to let himself fall into them. Even though he might never resurface again.
Chapter Nine
Arthur
One and a half weeks later, Arthur was a wreck. He hadn’t seen Jesse since that one blissful Saturday they’d spent together. Between Arthur’s social obligations and Jesse’s work at the print shop, there hadn’t been time for Arthur to eventryto see the man he adored. Arthur supposed that he could have attempted to stop by Putnam Press the previous Saturday, as he had for the one prior, but Emma had requested that he take her to one of the hat shops downtown, and he hadn’t wanted to say no, especially since he’d been so busy over the last few months, thanks to his hobnobbing with the fair’s organizers every chance he’d been given. Dammit, Arthur hadn’t realized before just how tricky it would be for him and Jesse to see each other on a whim. And now that hehadrealized it, he was realizing something else, too: life without Jesse O’Connor was borderline intolerable.
Arthur needed to come up with a reason to visit Jesse at Putnam Press. He couldn’t wait for the weekend, either. He refused to. And Arthur not only wanted to visit Jesse but to spend some real time with him as well. Alone, preferably.
Standing by the front window, Arthur looked out at the street and watched a lone carriage pass by. He hadn’t seen manycarriages over the last few days. It was so blustery and frigid outside that most people (the people in Arthur’s neighborhood, at least) weren’t venturing out or traveling to other parts of the city unless absolutely necessary. If only it had been snowing outside rather than merely freezing cold. At least then Arthur would have had an excuse to take Jesse to work. Jesse could have told Arthur to be in Bridgeport at four in the morning, and Arthur would have happily braved the ice and snow in the cloak of night for the man.
Recalling how lovely it had been to travel with Jesse through Chicago’s streets in the sleigh, Arthur let out a sigh and leaned his weight against the window frame.
Charlotte came up beside him.
“Oh, Arthur, what’s wrong?” she asked.
Arthur shrugged as she placed a hand on his back.
“You were so happy last weekend. Happier than I’ve seen you in years, in fact,” she said. “But ever since then, your mood has slowly turned more... somber.”
Arthur frowned. “Yes, well, I miss Jesse.”
Charlotte smiled a pitying smile. “Ah. I see.”
“I hate that I’ve been too busy to see him,” Arthur explained.
“Go visit him at your shop, then,” Charlotte suggested. “Just be careful when you do.”
Arthur turned his face back toward the window and lifted his eyes to the white-gray sky. “But if I see him, I’ll want to kiss him,” he complained. “Even if we happen to be in the middle of the print shop.”
Charlotte chuckled.
“Jesse is a lucky man to have met someone as passionate as you,” she said sweetly, rubbing his back. Soon, she stopped to touch a finger to her lips and hummed. “It’s incredibly cold out there, isn’t it?” she mused, tapping her lips. “I wonder... what if you packed the carriage with extra blankets? It might be a nice place for youtwo to spend some time together. I’m sure Jesse would be happy to talk with you for a while in there. Maybe the two of you could even share a lunch as Patrick takes you through the city. I mean, it’s practically vacant out there. It’s not as though people from our neighborhood would see you, even if you take the carriage back up here to Prairie Avenue. And Jesse must eat lunch, right?”
Nodding thoughtfully, Arthur turned to her, a tentative, burgeoning hope fluttering in his chest. “That’s true.”
“Just tell Mr. Stevenson or whoever is in charge of the shop that you have some private business to discuss with Mr. O’Connor. Regarding the fair, perhaps.”
Arthur’s face broke into a grin, the hesitant rush of hope he’d been feeling transforming into a swell of excitement, one so intense he thought he might burst.
“Charlotte, you have the cleverest mind!” he exclaimed. “Aside from Jesse, of course.”
