Chapter Ten
Jesse
Lying naked with Arthur in bed, Jesse planted a smattering of kisses on Arthur’s shoulder as he brought Arthur close to orgasm, his hand working fast on Arthur’s cock.
It was the third Saturday that they had spent with each other now, and every second of it so far had been as blissful as the previous two.
Jesse tried not to worry about the eventual, inevitable end of things and instead, fought to keep focused on how much fun he and Arthur had been having together.
Arthur’s toes curled. His beautiful, thick brows knitted together. Jesse kissed Arthur’s shoulder once more. He knew that Arthur was close.
Moments later, Arthur’s breath hitched as his cock began to pulse. Jesse continued to stroke Arthur through his release, and then he sat up on his elbow to press a soft kiss to Arthur’s lips.
“Thank you,” Arthur said in a breathy tone. It was something he always said after Jesse pleasured him. And each time, it made Jesse’s stomach swoop.
“Let me clean you up,” Jesse whispered before climbing out of bed.
After they were both clean, Jesse pulled the blankets up to their shoulders, and they cuddled close, exchanging soft kisses as the sun sank toward the horizon.
“Giuseppe will be home soon,” Jesse said.
Arthur hummed.
“Can I meet him before I head back?” he asked.
Jesse’s stomach sank. Giuseppe was as nice as they came.
But, sometime in the last week or so, Giuseppe had come to the realization that he’d briefly worked for Arthur, though the two had never met.
Years back, Giuseppe had been employed at a steel mill that had crumbled under Arthur’s leadership.
Some of the workers, like Giuseppe, hadn’t even realized that the mill had been sold in those last few months of its lifespan.
Giuseppe had only recently learned this fact when Jesse had been blathering on about Arthur’s past business ventures to him.
Arthur had bought the mill for relatively cheap.
He had hoped to save the crumbling, mismanaged company from failing and instead make it profitable again.
But with many steel mills switching over to something called the Bessemer process, Arthur’s mill had been too far behind technologically and financially to catch up.
Arthur hadn’t managed to switch the mill over to the more advanced production process before it began bleeding too much money to keep it open.
Giuseppe was still upset over the mill having been closed so suddenly.
Which then made the prospect of Giuseppe and Arthur meeting even more terrifying than it would have been otherwise.
“Uhm . . .” Jesse’s voice faltered. “I’m not sure if it’s the right time.”
“Why not?” Arthur frowned. “Is it because of that business with the mill? I told you, I’d only purchased it because I thought I could keep it running. I wanted to save it. Does he think I wanted to lose thousands of—”
“I know. I explained that to him, but still—”
“You can’t hide me from him forever.”
“You’re hiding me from your family forever,” Jesse retorted without thinking.
When Arthur’s face fell. Regret slammed into Jesse with the force of an iron press, knocking the breath out of him. Dammit. Arthur was only treating their relationship with the kind of cautious care that was required. And Jesse knew that. Oh, why had he said those words?
“You’re right,” Arthur said with a weary sigh.
“It isn’t fair of me to expect you to introduce me to your friend when you haven’t met anyone in my life aside from Patrick.
And even then, Patrick thinks that you’re someone involved with the fair’s creation.
It’s hypocritical of me, Jesse. I’m sorry. ”
Remorse twisted in Jesse’s stomach.
“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But you’re right,” Arthur said. “I ought to introduce you to the members of my household. At the very least, I ought to introduce you to Charlotte.”
“Arthur, I know how careful we have to be. It makes sense for you to have to meet Giuseppe eventually, but I know we can’t be ourselves around most other people.
I know how lucky we’ve been, too. We’re fortunate that no one here in Bridgeport seems to care very much about my comings and goings. But we shouldn’t be careless.”
Arthur moved a hand through Jesse’s hair.
“We won’t be,” he said. “Let me figure out a way to introduce you to Charlotte. I may have to wait to introduce you to Emma so that I can explain this to her properly, but I promise you that I will let you into my home—into my life—just as you’ve let me into yours.”
Jesse peered up at him through his lashes. “Don’t be foolish, Arthur.”
“I’m not being foolish. Or, well, maybe I am being foolish, but who cares?
I know that we could probably keep things the way they are now, with me coming to see you once or twice a week, but it’s not fair this way.
It probably feels to you as though I’m forcing you to shoulder the risk alone.
” Arthur sat up on his elbow. “Look, Jesse, I’ve kept a tiny staff for years.
I only employ three people. And I trust them.
I treat them well, and I like to believe that I have earned their loyalty and respect in return.
I truly believe that none of them would tell people outside our household about the two of us.
Not only because they could lose their employment, but because they’re good people.
Good, loyal people with kind hearts. Let me have you over for a little while this coming Thursday.
We can have dinner. Afterwards, the two of us can play cards. ”
“Are you sure?” Jesse asked, crooking an eyebrow.
Arthur smiled sweetly. “I’m sure.”
Jesse took a moment to reflect on Arthur’s promise.
All those years ago, he had fallen for a man who, on the surface, was so much like Arthur Hughes.
Charming and wealthy and stylish. One of the sons of Chicago’s most prominent families.
But Arthur continued to prove how very unlike Percy he was in so many other respects.
And Jesse so badly wanted to trust him.
Arthur’s words hung in the air for a few more seconds. Jesse then lunged forward and kissed Arthur with such violent ferocity that it sent the man tumbling backward. Both of them fell into a fit of laughter as Jesse climbed on top of him. He pushed a hand through Arthur’s hair.
“Sweet, silly man,” Jesse said. “I hate how much I like you.”
“You hate it so much that you’ve practically pummeled me in a fit of passion.”
Jesse planted one more kiss on Arthur’s lips before climbing off of him.
He still had one more worry, though. One that he hadn’t yet been able to shake. And Arthur’s continued sweetness—his willingness to welcome Jesse into his life—emboldened Jesse to voice it.
“Arthur,” Jesse began, tentatively, “if something were ever to . . . happen, and things between us . . . ended . . . then what would that mean for me? You know with regard to . . . Putnam Press?”
“What do you mean?” Arthur asked.
“I’m worried that you might not want me . . . working there anymore.”
“Good Lord, Jesse. Do you think that I would force you to find other work?”
“I know that’s probably silly, but—”
“It is silly. I’d never hurt you like that. I know how much you like working there. I know how skilled of a compositor you are. Oh, Jesse, I promise I would never, ever make you leave Putnam.”
Jesse let out a long breath of relief.
“Thank you, Arthur.”
“Besides, who says this ever has to end?” Arthur asked.
He captured Jesse’s mouth in a kiss.
Sometime later, while Jesse was resting his head on Arthur’s chest, Arthur sweetly playing with his hair, he heard Arthur exhale a lively sigh.
“Do you have to leave soon?” Jesse asked, craning his neck to look up at him.
Arthur was never not dramatic whenever he had to return home.
“No, no, not yet,” he said. “But I was thinking about the shop. Which, well, made me think about the fair as well.”
“Ah.” Jesse tapped Arthur’s chest twice with his index finger. “I hope you hear some news soon.”
“Me too.”
“Are you worried?”
“Mmm . . . somewhat.” Arthur caught Jesse’s finger mid-poke and then raised Jesse’s hand to kiss it.
“I know I’ve impressed the fair’s organizers over the last few meetings that I’ve had with them.
They must see how knowledgeable I am now, thanks to you, and I hope they know how much I care about the fair itself as well.
But I wish I had something else that could really put me ahead of the others who want to showcase their businesses, especially since I’ve been told that there are folks who can pay more than I can for a spot in Machinery Hall.
Alas, I am only a novice when it comes to printing presses.
I could never come up with something new.
Not like so many of these true innovators that will be showcasing their latest creations at various halls in the fair.
All I know about printing presses I learned from you.
And, of course, I know nothing of engineering. ”
Jesse pondered this for a moment. He might be able to help Arthur in this regard. Possibly. Maybe. He hadn’t looked at his old sketch of the modified Gordon Jobber in years, but he remembered having thought that he’d been close to coming up with something interesting. Something innovative.
“I might have something for you,” Jesse said.
He slid out of bed and headed toward his desk. Halfway there, he heard Arthur chuckling from behind him, and he couldn’t fight back a smile.
“Oh, God,” he sighed as he opened the top drawer. “Now what are you laughing about?”
Arthur climbed out of bed and started over to him. Before Jesse could begin rummaging in earnest, Arthur wrapped him up in a backward embrace and kissed his cheek.
“I was noticing your furry behind,” Arthur murmured into his ear.
Groaning wearily, Jesse hung his head. “Will you ever stop making me feel like my face is on the verge of melting off completely?”
“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” Arthur said, laughing some more. “I like your bum.”
“Arthur, please,” Jesse begged, but now he was laughing too.
“Please what?” Arthur lowered a hand to squeeze one of Jesse’s butt cheeks. “It’s so firm!” Humming, he kissed Jesse’s neck a few times, keeping one of his hands planted on Jesse’s backside. “Apologies, but I love this bum of yours.”
Cheeks burning, Jesse spun around to face him. He caught Arthur’s mouth in a kiss but then took Arthur’s bottom lip between his teeth, issuing a silent warning before letting the man go.
“Will you please let me find what I wanted to show you?” Jesse asked, pulling away.
“Yes, yes, fine,” Arthur said.
After turning back around, Jesse continued to look through his desk.
“Here it is,” Jesse said, pulling out a piece of paper.
He uncurled it and used both a paperweight and an inkwell to hold it flat. Arthur studied it for a bit.
“Is this . . .” Arthur started to say.
“It’s a sketch of a Gordon-style press,” Jesse said.
“But I modified it. I once thought that maybe, somehow, I could change the press so that the operator could start it and then walk away to make a new forme or work on a Grasshopper or something.” He pointed to the portion he’d added to the front of it.
“It could have a platform here. And a roller for feeding the paper onto the bed over here. I’m not convinced I’ve figured out the foot pedal yet, but there must be a way—”
“You thought all of this up yourself?” Arthur asked.
Jesse huffed an uncomfortable half laugh, a small swell of pride unfurling in his chest.
“It’s not that impressive. I can’t yet figure out how to make it work without having someone constantly press the foot pedal.
And I haven’t thought of a way to remove the paper from the bed once the printing is finished, either.
” He handed the paper to Arthur. “Still, it’s something new, right?
Or something that’s close to being something new.
I wonder if Mr. Burnham or his colleagues might like it. ”
“Jesse, this is spectacular,” Arthur said. “God, how sweet of you.”
Blushing, Jesse rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Do you want to keep it?” he asked. “I’m not sure when you’ll be meeting with those people next, but maybe you could . . . show it to them.”
Jesse’s heart thundered as he waited for a response.
Arthur’s eyebrows rose momentarily, and then, slowly, his face fell and he pursed his lips.
“Hmm . . . I suppose I could.”
Arthur smiled warmly. But his slow speech and neutral tone of voice had betrayed him.
Because Jesse knew from the monotone nature of Arthur’s reply—so much the opposite of his typical pattern of speech—that he must not have been exactly thrilled with the idea.
And Jesse couldn’t blame him. Because his stupid half-formed invention was exactly that—half finished. It wasn’t enough.
“I know it’s not ready to be patented,” Jesse said, a heavy feeling of embarrassment and shame settling in his stomach. “But I thought that maybe the idea itself was . . . something.”
“It is, Jesse,” Arthur said. “I certainly couldn’t have come up with something like this.
Actually . . .” He paused and tapped his lips “If you can figure out how to make it work, I could potentially hire a machine shop to make it in time for the exhibit.” Arthur’s eyes brightened, and his smile widened.
“Yes, I could unveil it at the fair! Oh, now that would be something! Even if we couldn’t cobble together a patent in time, it would still be fantastic! ”
Jesse’s heart fluttered from a mixture of nervousness and excitement, even as his stomach was still twisting from self-reproach over having shown Arthur the half-finished creation in the first place.
“I’ll, uhm, I’ll try,” Jesse said, putting as much confidence into his words as he could muster.
Arthur took Jesse’s face in his hands, letting the sketch of the modified printing press flutter to the floor.
“What a remarkable man you are, Mr. O’Connor.”
Jesse shut his eyes to bask in the magnificence of Arthur’s words. And, for maybe the first time since they’d met, he let himself believe in them. He let himself believe that maybe Chicago’s wonderful and wonderfully eccentric Arthur Hughes really, truly thought that of him.
Jesse touched his lips to Arthur’s.
And then, in the middle of his too-tiny bedroom, in the middle of his too-tiny home, Jesse O’Connor, a man who often felt as though he had nothing, let himself fall in love with a man who had everything.
And he prayed that he was enough.