Chapter Twenty-Four #3
“I thought it could be an opportunity for you to recover from that strange party you threw,” his father said.
Arthur’s cheeks warmed. So, his father was only making the offer because Arthur had embarrassed him.
Again. “Not that either of your shops are particularly impressive, but I thought that maybe this would be something. It’s a chance for us to remind our friends of your recent purchase and thereby remind them of your growing influence on Chicago’s printing industry.
” He sighed. “Like I said, it’s something. ”
Arthur frowned, furrowing his brow. He ought to have been insulted.
And he was, a little. But Arthur could see how important this was to his father.
His father wouldn’t have asked Mr. McCormick to include him in the event in this way had it not been.
Being Warren Hughes’s son, Arthur would have been invited to the private party regardless, but Mr. McCormick wouldn’t have even looked Arthur’s way while they toured the Palace of Mechanical Arts.
In all likelihood, Mr. McCormick would have had one of the fair’s organizers provide a tour and talk about each of the exhibits, including the printing presses.
Probably one of the organizers still would be there.
But now Arthur would have a chance to remind everyone, as his father had so kindly put it, that he was a business owner and that his own shops had nearly made it into the fair as well.
Arthur wasn’t sure whether he’d go as far as to say that he had any influence on the printing industry, but that was clearly something that his father had been telling himself, if only so that he could pretend that his son was known for something other than impregnating Ella Thompson out of wedlock.
Arthur forced a smile. “Thank you, Father. It’s a very kind offer. I’ll consider it.”
“Good,” his father said curtly. He shifted in his chair. “Now where’s our food?”
Arthur fought back an irritated huff. “Gertrude will be here any moment, I’m sure.”
“This is why you need more people working for you. It’s ridiculous that we have to wait so long for a couple of eggs.”
Arthur’s false smile turned strained, and he clenched his teeth.
“I’m happy with the way things are, thanks.”
His father was still sneering as Gertrude came in minutes later with several plates of food.
The rest of the meal passed without issue, though Arthur still found it incredibly tiring. After he finally showed his parents out, he couldn’t wait to flop back into bed. Quickly, he raced up the stairs to see Jesse, and when he reached the bedroom, he burst in through the door with a sigh.
“God, was it that bad?” Jesse asked, setting his book aside.
“Not really, but I’m still exhausted.” He ripped off his suit jacket and threw it over a chair. “And I’m in dire need of cuddles.”
Jesse laughed. “So, what did they want?”
“Just to invite me to a private event at the fair,” Arthur said, climbing into the bed. “It seems like they want me to talk to the families we know about my print shops.”
“Oh. That’s . . . good. I think?”
Arthur smiled and touched his lips to Jesse’s.
“It is. I think.”
Both of them chuckled. Jesse held out his arms, and Arthur melted into his embrace, resting his head on Jesse’s chest.
“I wish things were simpler,” he said. “But of course my father presented the offer in such a way that it was vaguely insulting. And of course it’s not really about me but about my parents.
My father only approached the man who is hosting the event because he’s still so embarrassed about having me for a son.
Lowly Arthur Hughes with his modest little print shops and teeny tiny staff and pitiful little investments that barely ever yield significant earnings in comparison to his own.
Oh, and we can’t forget my various other business ventures that eventually failed. ”
Jesse moved his hand through Arthur’s hair, and Arthur hummed, letting Jesse’s comforting touch temper some of his rising upset.
“Sorry,” Arthur said. “Just complaining.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Jesse said. “I can only imagine how stressful it is to be Warren Hughes’s son.”
“Yes, it can be, but I shouldn’t be moaning about my family when our name, our wealth, has enabled me to live a life of relative luxury. Or, maybe I shouldn’t even say relative. It’s a life of extreme luxury, isn’t it?”
“Just because you’re rich in one way doesn’t mean that you’re rich in every way.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Arthur looked up to meet Jesse’s eyes. “But I know you suffered more than I have. I mean, where you were raised . . . and the fact that your parents were so unkind . . .”
“It’s not a competition, Arthur.”
Jesse rubbed Arthur’s cheek with his thumb, and Arthur smiled a bit.
He turned to nuzzle his nose into Jesse’s chest, and Jesse resumed petting his hair.
Self-reproach twisted in Arthur's stomach. He thought that he’d eventually be strong enough not to keep caring about what his parents thought of him.
But he still found himself wanting to please them, pathetically craving both their approval and their love.
It seemed like he wasn’t yet strong enough not to care. Not entirely.
But, oh, how he wanted to be.