Jesse’s stomach fluttered. Or was Arthur sending him a message?
Come in your finest morning clothes.
Jesse thought back on the night when Arthur had sent him home. He recalled the comments that Arthur had made about his clothing. And he realized, then, exactly what this invitation—thisparty—really was.
It was Arthur’s way of apologizing.
Come in your finest morning clothes.
Christ, that might have been the sweetest sentence to have ever been printed on paper. Especially this poorly.
“Do you think I should go?” he asked.
“Yeah, maybe,” Giuseppe said with a shrug.
Jesse hummed. “I thought you’d be more against the idea.”
“Well, I would have been, before he talked to me, but”—he set his spoon back in the bowl—“I felt a little sorry for him earlier. And I know thatyou’restill heartbroken over the whole thing. Doesn’t make sense to me, with how short of a time that you two knew each other, but maybe sometimes... maybe sometimes when you meet someone, you somehow know that they’re the person for you.Just like howIknow that I’ll never meet anyone who I find interesting enough to pursue. So, well, maybe it does make sense, then. It’s nonsensical in its sense-making.”
Jesse laughed and shook his head. “What?”
“Ah, forget it. I’m tired.” He waved one of his hands like he was shooing away a fly. “Go to the party. Reconcile with your beau. Leave me out of your future feuds.”
Warmth rushed to Jesse’s cheeks. He chuckled some more before rereading the invitation.
Mr. Arthur Hughes requests the company of Mr. Jesse O’Connor—
The warmth from Jesse’s cheeks slowly spread, causing his whole body to flush. Again and again, Jesse reread the invitation, savoring every word, every uneven impression of ink. Uncertainty sat heavy in his stomach, even as his heart thrummed with hopeful, foolish excitement.
Mr. Arthur Hughes requests the company of Mr. Jesse O’Connor—
Jesus Christ, Jesse was going to let the man break his heart completely.
***
On the eighteenth of March at eight forty in the evening, Jesse was standing on the sidewalk in front of Arthur Hughes’s home, his stomach in knots. By virtue of showing up, he was taking Arthur back, wasn’t he? His presence would signal forgiveness. And hedidwant Arthur back. Mostly. But he was so Goddamned tired of being made to feel like he wasn’t enough.
Still, he’d been miserable for the last few weeks without Arthur.
So now, Jesse had a choice to make. He could turn back and break his own heart a little more by rejecting Arthur’s plea for reconciliation, or he could head inside to the party and thereby risk that Arthur would continue to make him feel terrible about himself, either intentionally or unintentionally, possibly,probably, leading to heartbreak then, too.
Oh, hell.
Jesse stepped onto the walkway.
He began to shake as he made his way up the stairs, his nervousness so intense that it took honest-to-God concentration to keep himself from fainting. Once Jesse reached the stoop, he forced himself to knock. Moments later, Patrick answered. Jesse tried to smile.
“Uhm . . .”
“Mr. O’Connor,” the man said with a slight bow of his head. “Good to see you again.”
“You as well, Mr. Murphy,” Jesse replied uneasily, still finding his conversational footing. “I’m here for the party? I know I’m a little late.”
Jesse had been late on purpose. Partially on purpose. Initially, it hadn’t been purposeful. Instead, Jesse had been too busy changing outfits four or five times before eventually settling on the one that he was currently wearing. But then, when Jesse had finally been ready to leave, he’d hesitated. And then, in order to justify his inevitable tardiness, he’d convinced himself that by being even later, he could further test Arthur’s willingness to keep bending social rules for him, which, he knew, was really very bratty of him, but he had still felt the need to do it.
“Everyone else is currently in the ballroom,” Patrick said, moving to the side and welcoming Jesse into Arthur’s home.
After stepping across the threshold, Jesse began unbuttoning his coat, but he paused when he looked up and registered theabsolutegrandeurof the place. Even the reception room was stunning, its walls adorned with lovely oil paintings, the floor protected by a finely woven rug. Ahead, there was a beautiful staircase, with an intricately carved rail and banister that were nothing short of breathtaking. Unease churned in Jesse’s stomach as he resumed the removal of his winter wear. Once Jesse was finished, Patrick took his belongings and left to hang them up. Heart hammering, Jesse took a few slow steps toward the staircase. With a shaky hand, he reached out to touch the carved wooden flowers that spanned the length of the post.
