TPCF 86

CHAPTER 86……………………….

“Why didn’t you just answer me?”

Even though she had met someone from her hometown in a strange place, not a hint of joy welled up inside her. It made her realize just how uneasy she felt around Finian.

“From the look on your face, I guess you didn’t expect to see me here?”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t that she hadn’t expected him—it was more that she had never once thought about his presence at all. But she couldn’t say that to his face, so she just nodded vaguely.

“No, wait. On second thought, that’s the kind of question I should be asking you, not the other way around.”

Letting go of Anita’s hand, Finian handed her a handkerchief. Anita wiped the sticky chocolate from her fingers with it.

“I thought you hated parties?”

Leaning casually against the fountain, he beckoned a passing waiter.

“Cheese crackers?”

“No.”

Taking a plate of grapes from the waiter, he dipped one into the chocolate fountain.

“Want some?”

“……”

There was no way the chocolate running from the garden fountain could be clean. Bugs could have fallen in, or maybe leaves from the trees. When she shook her head, Finian raised an eyebrow and popped the grape into his own mouth.

“But really, this is odd. You used to trail after Rutger all the time. What on earth are you doing here?”

Still puzzled by Anita’s presence, he tilted his head and muttered.

Did I really follow Rutger around so much that it looked like I was into him?

Anita didn’t think she had ever made it that obvious. She had never even trailed after him, for that matter.

“Oh, what’s this? You two know each other?”

A voice came from the side. Both Anita and Finian turned to see Lilliana staring at them, dressed in a silvery ball gown, her hair swept up in tight curls.

“That’s what I should be asking. Did you invite her?”

“Yeah. We went to college together.”

Lilliana’s eyes gleamed with curiosity as she looked between Anita and Finian, sharp like a fox sizing up prey. Anita instinctively sensed trouble and tried to put some distance between herself and Finian—but he was quicker, pulling her closer.

With an almost effortless motion, he draped an arm over Anita’s shoulder and said in a breezy tone,

“Well, Anita and I go way back. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

She expected him to start spouting nonsense, but Finian—who used to pester her relentlessly—surprised her with his calm, matter-of-fact manner. His hand on her shoulder carried no trace of ulterior motive, so Anita didn’t bother shrugging him off.

“Right, you said you and Rutger were childhood friends, so I guess that makes you two from the same hometown as well.”

Lilliana bobbed her head, looking faintly disgruntled. Anita couldn’t guess why she reacted that way.

“She’s obsessed with connections.”

“Hey.”

Lilliana’s warning voice was low, but Finian ignored it and turned back to Anita.

“I was the one who introduced you to Rutger. You were in the same department at university—fine arts, right?”

At those words, Anita, who had been idly looking elsewhere, snapped her gaze back to him. The moment her eyes met his, Finian’s lips curved upward, as if he’d been waiting.

“She’s just jealous of me, that’s all. Simply because I know more people than she does.”

His words carried a subtle undertone. On the surface, they sounded aimed at Lilliana, but his gaze—locked on her—made it feel otherwise. The two of them stared at each other for a long while.

The sudden standoff ended when Lilliana cut in.

“Guards! Get this man out. He wasn’t invited.”

Finian withdrew his arm from Anita’s shoulder and spoke to Lilliana.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit much? I happen to be something of a VIP.”

“I’m the host here. Why would that matter?”

“Haven’t you heard? A party without Finian Nigel isn’t a real party.”

“And you’re not embarrassed saying that yourself?”

“Not at all. Why be embarrassed about stating the truth?”

Lilliana made a gagging gesture toward Anita, then jabbed a finger at Finian.

“Anita, don’t get mixed up with someone like him. Just ignore him—it’s the only way.”

Unsure what to say in reply, Anita forced a faint, awkward smile.

She had wondered why there seemed to be so many tables and place settings compared to the number of people in the garden. Soon the answer revealed itself: guests began trickling in from who knew where, filling up the space.

Chefs rolled in carts laden with food to clear the empty tables. The newcomers, lively and cheerful, took their seats.

One of Anita’s prejudices about parties crumbled. She had expected them to be noisy, gaudy, exhausting—but this felt surprisingly ordinary. Like dining in a restaurant.

Finian and Lilliana were still bickering. Since neither seemed inclined to sit, Anita pulled out chairs and nudged each of them down into place. Too busy quarreling, they went along without resistance.

The chefs began setting dishes on their table, one of them lighting the candles in the centerpiece. Anita watched the flames flicker before speaking.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

It had been a half-impulsive decision, born from not wanting to see her father, but she still owed gratitude.

“The more people, the merrier, right?”

“See? She really is obsessed with connections.”

Finian poked at Lilliana again. Ignoring her dagger-like glare, he pulled something from his jacket pocket.

He slipped a cigarette between his lips.

“Really?”

Raised in a non-smoking household, Anita could never understand how someone could light up at the dinner table. She quietly pushed her chair back to put some distance between them.

“Give me one too.”

He offered a cigarette to Lilliana as well. And just like that, the two of them seemed to mend their quarrel—thanks to a smoke.