When Jesse reached Arthur a few feet from the bakery’s entrance, he was surprised to see that Arthur looked a bit forlorn, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. Jesse reached for Arthur’s hand, brushing their fingers together for the briefest moment before pulling back.
“Can we talk?” Jesse asked.
Arthur frowned but nodded. He stopped walking and turned to Charlotte.
“Would you mind making sure everyone orders something? I need to speak with Jesse for a minute. I’ll come inside to pay when we’re finished.”
Charlotte nodded once and continued inside. Everyone else followed, except for Emma.
“So, I can order whatever I want?” she asked.
Arthur smiled. “Whatever you want.”
“Even if it’s cake?”
“Even if it’s cake.”
“But it’s only ten in the morning.”
Arthur shrugged playfully, raising both his shoulders and his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, and a smile split Emma’s face. She hurried inside to order.
Once they were alone, Jesse said, “I’m sorry about Giuseppe.”
Arthur shrugged again, though now, he looked crestfallen instead. Upset churned in Jesse’s stomach. He hated seeing Arthur like this. But what else was there for him to say?
Jesse was still trying to think of something when Arthur swept his foot back and forth on the walkway and said, “Do you feel the same way as him? Does my paying for these things—the fair’s entrance fees, the food, the little extras like the train—bother you?”
Jesse’s immediate instinct was to reassure him, but before he opened his mouth to reply, he took a moment to really consider his response. Yes, Arthur was spending a lot of money (or, well, what Jesse thought of as a lot of money), but Jesse knew it wasn’t so that he could shove his wealth in people’s faces. Arthur only wanted everyone to have a nice time. To Arthur, the fair was a magical place, and he simply wanted to share that magic with the people closest to him.
While Jesse had been plenty bothered by Arthur’s wealth back in the winter, he found that he really wasn’t that bothered by it anymore. Jesse had seen the man behind the Hughes family name. Not only had Arthur welcomed Jesse into his home—into hislife—but he had also never made Jesse feel as thoughhishome andhislife were less. To Arthur Hughes, it didn’t seem to matter whether they spent their nights together on Jesse’s old straw-filled mattress in Bridgeport or on his own luxurious springy one. All that mattered to Arthur was that they were together.
And Jesse had begun to feel like that now, too.
“No,” Jesse replied with a slight shake of his head. “It doesn’t bother me.”
“I swear I’m not trying to flaunt my money or whatever it is that Giuseppe thinks.”
Jesse offered what he hoped was a warm and reassuring smile. “I know.”
“And I never want you to make you feel like I made you feel back in the winter when I...” He closed his eyes as though it pained him to say the words. “When I said those terrible things andsent you home.”
“Arthur,” Jesse said softly, taking a step closer. Damn, Jesse wished he could hold him. Instead, he knocked one of his shoes against Arthur’s shoe twice. “You haven’t made me feel like that since.”
Slowly, Arthur opened his eyes, meeting Jesse’s. “Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise.” He kicked Arthur’s foot harder, more playfully this time. “Let’s order some cake.”
Arthur snorted a half laugh. Jesse shook his head in bewilderment.
“What?” Jesse asked, crooking an eyebrow.
“Are you teasing me, Mr. O’Connor?” Arthur asked.
Furrowing his brow, Jesse tried to figure out what Arthur was talking about. Something related to cake? Ordering cake? Eating cake? His eyes widened the moment he realized what Arthur must have been alluding to.
“‘Qu’ils mangent de la brioche,’” Jesse replied with a smirk. “‘Let them eat cake.’ Yes?”
“You tell me.”
