Laughing to himself, Jesse shook his head and sighed.
“Giuseppe?” he said.
“Yeah?”
“You’re officially the worst cook in Chicago.”
Giuseppe whipped the back of Jesse’s head with a rag, which only made Jesse laugh harder. Giuseppe chuckled to himself, too.
Joking with Giuseppe had eased the pain in Jesse’s heart a little more, enabling him to eat this pathetically inept version of his favorite meal that Giuseppe had served him. Giuseppe really was a terrible cook. But Jesse was Goddamned lucky to have him as a friend.
***
One week later, in the middle of the night, Jesse was lying awake, staring at the ceiling, his heart heavy from how things had ended with Arthur. Every workday since ending things, Jesse had spent the entirety of his shift hoping that Arthur would walk into the shop to try to talk to him. He couldn’t even be sure whether or not he’d have let him. But that hadn’t stopped Jesse from hoping. Despite everything, he missed Arthur. He couldn’t pretend thatevery minute he’d spent with the man over their short time together hadn’t been special.
Never in Jesse’s whole life had he experienced something like this. He had taken months to feel comfortable around Percy. Hell, it had taken Jesse several weeks to even like Percy beyond only thinking that the man was handsome. But with Arthur, their connection had practically been instantaneous. No matter how much Jesse had tried to fight his feelings in the beginning, he hadn’t been able to. He couldn’t be sure whether it had been Arthur’s brazen flirtatiousness, his ridiculous personality, or his relentless charm that had caused him to fall for the man, but whichever it was, Jesse had fallen hard.
Jesse closed his eyes and sighed. Fuck, how he missed Arthur. Every second with Arthur had felt like a lifetime’s worth of living. Arthur’s enthusiasm for every Goddamned thing was so incredibly endearing. His intoxicating personality had made Jesse feel so invigorated, so alive. Having been close with Arthur, even for a short while, had been a little like experiencing immortality.
It was hard to believe that such a thing was over.
And now Jesse was starting to wonder whether the heartbreak and belittlement he’d surely suffer in the future should he take Arthur back might be worth enduring, if only for the opportunity to live a few thousand more lifetimes in Arthur’s embrace.
Chapter Fifteen
Arthur
On a chilly evening in late February, Arthur was reclined back on the sofa in his library, occasionally taking swigs from the bottle of wine that Jesse had left behind and frittering away the minutes until he’d have to suffer through a meal with his parents. Even though it had been weeks since Jesse had ended things between them, Arthur hadn’t yet managed to pull himself out of this hole of misery. He knew that he ought to have been trying to mend their relationship, but he hadn’t figured out how. After all, Jesse had made it clear that it would take much more than a simple apology for him to even consider having a conversation with Arthur, much less restarting their romantic relationship. And, unfortunately, every idea that Arthur had come up with over the last few weeks had been completely and woefully wrong.
At first, Arthur had considered purchasing something special for Jesse, thinking that perhaps buying him an expensive present may have shown him both how very important he was and how much he was worth in Arthur’s eyes. But then Arthur had realized (with the help of Charlotte, of course) that Jesse had been hurt in partbecauseof the comments that Arthur had made with regard to his and Jesse’s relative social and financial statuses, and so, apresent like that would have probably only blunted his chances of reconciliation even further.
After that, Arthur had considered writing Jesse a letter, but then he imagined Jesse simply tossing it into his furnace without even first bothering to read it, and so, he had reconsidered. Arthur’s boldest and likely worst idea had been for him to show up every single morning at Putnam Press and beg Jesse to have lunch with him. But Jesse might have sooner ripped up his employment contract rather than let Arthur force himself back into his life like that. And so, now, Arthur was left with nothing. No ideas. No hope. Nothing.
Well, nothing except for wine.
After heaving a very big sigh, one that was incredibly theatrical despite the fact that no one else was nearby to hear it, Arthur reached for the bottle and chugged some more. Dammit, the only thing that was holding him together now was the prospect of the fair’s organizers offering him a spot in Machinery Hall.
Arthur might never know what it was like to be loved by Jesse O’Connor, but perhaps he still had a chance to know the admiration not only of Chicago’s current residents, as well as hundreds of folks from other parts of the country, but of people who had yet to be born, too. If Arthur could somehow secure one of the final spots in the fair, then when the people of the future eventually learned about the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition, they’d learn about a man named Arthur Hughes—a Chicago-born industrialist whose wonderful exhibit had featured every major type of printing press from 1850 onward. Except for the fucking Linotype.
Despondent, Arthur lolled his head to the side and looked over at the clock. Only one hour remained before he needed to be ready for his parents’ arrival. One hour to exchange his comfortable charcoal-colored morning coat, with its single button closure andcutaway front, for his black tailcoat. One more, tortuous hour to wallow before having to put on a fake smile and pretend as though his heart hadn’t recently been shattered to pieces.
Groaning wearily, Arthur forced himself to sit up. He peeled himself off of the sofa before heading out into the hall, leaving the rest of the wine in the library. Slowly, he shuffled through the reception room to the staircase and then started for his bedroom, feeling lucky that he had a high enough alcohol tolerance not to be swaying this way and that while he ascended the stairs. On the second floor, he began to pass Emma’s room, but he stopped when he glanced inside and caught sight of her writing something, her brow furrowed in concentration. Was Emmafinallytaking her studies more seriously?
“Now that’s what I want to see,” he bellowed, trying to sound much happier than he felt. “Emma Hughes, suddenly studious!”
Emma startled, fumbling with her fountain pen and causing the ink to spatter on the paper.
“Father! Why would you scare me like that?” she asked with an irritated scoff.
“I hadn’t meant to scare you! I was only trying to be friendly!” he exclaimed, strolling into the room. “What are you writing, anyway?”
Emma’s eyes went wide as her hands flew to cover the paper. “Nothing!”
Arthur crooked an eyebrow and smirked. “Alright, well, I was merely trying to make conversation, but now Ihaveto see.”
He held out his hand, silently requesting that Emma hand over the paper. Emma scowled in response, and Arthur then curled his fingers twice, insisting that she comply. Shutting her eyes, Emma placed the paper atop Arthur’s waiting hand. He took it and began to read. At the top were the wordsEchoes throughout Chicago.Beneath the title, there were a series of what looked to be stories.News stories. Or, well, some of them seemed to be real news stories while others...
“Is Caroline Woods secretly in love with footman Benjamin ‘Charles’ Clark?” he read aloud, shaking his head in confusion. “Emma, what is this?”
