Chapter Sixteen #2
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 the absolute grandeur of 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.
“I’ll take you there, Mr. O’Connor,” Patrick said with a warm smile, coming up beside him.
Together, they ascended the stairs.
Halfway up, Patrick cleared his throat, and then, in a whisper, he said, “Mr. Hughes will be thrilled to see you.”
Jesse’s cheeks warmed. “And I, him,” Jesse replied softly.
They continued to the third floor.
Once they reached it, they walked to the end of the short hallway, and then, with a flourish, Patrick opened a set of double doors, revealing a magnificent ballroom.
It was huge. Enormous, really, compared to what Jesse had expected—spacious, its ceilings trimmed with ornate moldings, with a breathtaking chandelier hanging in the middle of the room, its lit candles causing the crystal and metal to shimmer as though they were imbued with some sort of magic.
Gorgeous string music filled the room, murmurs of conversation only a low hum beneath the perfectly played notes.
Jesse stumbled back a step as the reality of his and Arthur’s financial inequality slammed into him with enough force to expel the breath from his lungs in one fast exhale.
Even though Jesse had once been with Percy Verne, Percy had kept Jesse from seeing this part of his life.
Jesse had known then and knew now that the Verne family was wealthy.
He knew, too, that the Hughes family was even wealthier.
Still, nothing could have prepared him for this.
Dear God, no wonder Arthur had sent him away.
Palms starting to sweat, Jesse turned to leave, but the moment he lifted his foot, he spotted Arthur, and at that exact same second, Arthur’s eyes found his.
Jesse swallowed past the lump in his throat as he watched Arthur’s facial expression change from surprise to what looked like honest-to-God rapture.
Never before had Jesse seen Arthur looked so excited, so exhilarated.
Not even when talking about the World’s Fair.
Jesse felt a little spark of happiness flare to life inside him, too, but the lingering pinprick of insecurity prevented him from reciprocating the same look of unbridled excitement.
Arthur touched the shoulder of the woman beside him—Charlotte, probably—and bent low to whisper something in her ear. Something that then made her turn her head toward Jesse.
Both Arthur and Charlotte started over.
Jesse licked his lips, preparing himself to finally speak to the silly, wonderful man who had bruised his heart only to then present him with that Goddamned invitation that had been the best fucking thing to have ever been printed in the whole history of everything.
In a matter of seconds, Arthur was in front of him, close enough to touch, and Jesse’s entire body began to vibrate from the powerful, sudden urge to embrace him. Burying it, Jesse hooked his hands behind his back instead. Only then did he notice the tears in Arthur’s eyes.
“Mr. O’Connor,” Arthur began, his voice trembling slightly, “I’m pleased to see that you could make it.” Arthur paused to sniffle. He blinked a few times, very clearly trying to hold back tears. “Really, I’m so happy to see you.”
Jesse’s injured heart swelled.
“I’m happy to see you, too, Mr. Hughes,” Jesse said, taking care to keep his voice steady, though it, too, began to wobble. “It’s been too long.”
“It has been,” Arthur said, his voice cracking the tiniest bit from emotion.
Oh, this sweet, sweet man. Jesse hated how much he still liked him.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Jesse said warmly.
“Always,” Arthur said. “I will always invite you. From now on.”
Oh, fuck, how Jesse wanted that to be true.
Arthur and Jesse stared at each other for a few long seconds, the background music taking on a dreamlike essence as the notes reached Jesse’s ears, and then Charlotte let out a fake-sounding cough, pulling Jesse back into the present.
“Oh!” Arthur shook his head once, as though he, too, had fallen into the moment so completely that his reality had become as hazy as Jesse’s. “Forgive me, Mr. O’Connor. This is Emma’s tutor and my closest friend, Miss Charlotte Fields.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. O’Connor,” she said with a polite nod. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Likewise,” Jesse said, returning the nod with a small bow of his own.
Awkward conversational silence followed, from which the only reprieve was the continued music from the ensemble. After one more minute of listening to the soft song, Arthur let out a forceful breath and rubbed his hands together.
“So, Mr. O’Connor, I thought that maybe I could introduce you to some of the guests here.
Afterward, we have some, ehm, some time before a late-night meal, if you can believe it, so I was hoping that we could .
. . well, that we could leave the party for a while.
I’d love to show you my library.” He rocked back on his heels, his brow creasing with what looked to be worry.
“If you’d like, that is. If you’d rather we stay here in the ballroom, I completely—”
“I’d love that,” Jesse said. “I’d love to see your library.”
Arthur’s brilliant smile returned. “Perfect.”
Charlotte spoke up. “I thought I might spend some time talking with Miss Hawthorne. Unless you need me right now, Arthur?”
Arthur chuckled. “No, no. You’re free to roam. Actually, if you two could check on the girls, I would appreciate it. I haven’t seen them in a while.”
Charlotte nodded. She turned to leave, but Arthur caught her arm. He bent low to whisper to her, his voice barely loud enough for Jesse to hear.
“Take your time. I’ll see if Jesse and I can occupy Lizzie’s parents. No one else will notice that the two of you are gone for a bit. Trust me, I know how easy it is to vanish for an hour or two at these parties once everyone has had a bit of wine.”
Charlotte’s smile blossomed and her cheeks turned pink. “Thank you.”
He released her and turned back to Jesse.
“Are you ready to meet the people who have made my life miserable for the last thirty-six years?”
“Am I meeting your parents, then?” Jesse asked, only half serious.
Arthur laughed some more. “Not yet. Just everyone else I’ve known for forever, starting with the parents of one of Emma’s friends. We’ll save meeting my parents for later.” He nodded toward the cluster of round tables at the other end of the room. “Follow me, Mr. O’Connor.”
Before Arthur turned, he threw Jesse a wink, and then he started to cross the room.
Jesse’s face burned, and his stomach fluttered wildly as he followed.
Moving through the ocean of Chicago’s elite, Jesse couldn’t help but feel small.
The manner in which every other person carried themselves, coupled with the elegance of their clothing and Jesse’s knowledge of how much money every single one of these families had, caused his sense of shame and self-reproach to rise and crest like a wave.
Jesse held his breath as the wall of water threatened to obliterate the last vestiges of his self-worth.
And he wondered how he’d ever make it through the rest of the evening.