Chapter 113 The First Day of Moving in Together
Caspian had many issues with Niamh. He didn't want to attend her birthday party, either, but the previous rumor that Finnegan would be there sparked his initial interest. Now, he had changed his mind.
Finnegan took a drag of his cigarette and said, "If you don't want to go, don't drag me into this."
"Finnegan, I need an excuse," Caspian replied, smiling. "By the way, if I remember correctly, aren’t you engaged to Niamh?"
"That was the old folks' doing, what era is it now?" Finnegan said nonchalantly flicking the ash from his cigarette. "I've never said I would marry Niamh."
"If it were me, I wouldn't marry her either," Caspian commented. "I bet the Parks family wouldn't dare to bring up your families' engagement anymore."
"Not long ago, Ms. Parks was fishing for my opinion," Finnegan mentioned. "The Parks family still harbors that thought."
"Dude, the Parks family really had the nerve to marry off Niamh to you?" Caspian panicked. "Finnegan, you've got to deal with this ASAP, don't let it come back to bite you."
Finnegan's lips quirked up slightly. "When my grandma and old Mr. Parks set up this arranged marriage for the younger generation, they didn’t specify who it had to be. The Parks family only has Niamh as a descendent, and we Abbotts aren't exactly short on people."
Finnegan had several cousins. Even if one, Oscar Abbott, was out of the picture, there were plenty of others.
Those cousins of his would likely be more than willing to marry Niamh.
Caspian had a sudden realization. "Finnegan, you're sly. What happened to that Oscar Abbott? He dared to cross you. He must’ve gotten what he deserved."
Finnegan said with an air of indifference, "For the rest of his life, he can celebrate Children's Day every day."
"What does that even mean?" Caspian didn't understand.
"His brain’s damaged, low intelligence now."
Caspian was speechless.
That was harsh, almost cruel.
It was clear, never mess with Finnegan.
...
Finally, Ophelia's workday ended, and she hesitated for a moment while buying her subway ticket. Should she head to Orchid Garden or go home? In the end, she decided to go home first; it seemed too eager to rush off to Orchid Garden right after work. Plus, she needed to change her clothes.
Riding the subway, she passed by the market and picked up some groceries before heading home. As she unlocked the door, the first thing she saw was a pair of men's shoes in the entryway. Her gaze followed into the living room, where she saw someone sitting on the couch.
Ophelia was both shocked and… pleased.
"Mr. A...Finnegan, what are you doing here?"
She started to say Mr. Abbott, but considering they were a couple now, she quickly corrected herself.
Finnegan had made himself right at home, lounging in leisurewear on the sofa and reading a book as if he owned the place.
He closed the book and said, "Since you're not keen on moving to Orchid Garden, I don't mind moving here. The bed's certainly big enough."
Ophelia was speechless.
Her eyes swept across the room and landed on the suitcase beside the wardrobe. He had really moved in. She had a suspicion that when Finnegan bought that bed, he was already planning ahead.
"Didn't take your medicine, did the wound feel any better?" Ophelia asked while changing her shoes in the foyer, also accepting the fact that Finnegan had moved in.
After all, Finnegan was injured and couldn't do much.
Her small house might not be something Finnegan, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, was used to. Maybe he'd move out on his own tomorrow.
Finnegan honestly replied, "I took the medicine, but the wound still hurts."
Ophelia muttered, "At a time like this, why don't you tough it out and say it doesn't hurt? It doesn't match your boss image."
Finnegan laughed, "I've thickened my skin enough to move in here, what do I need a boss image for?"
Ophelia couldn't help but laugh as well—his skin was indeed thick.
Finnegan looked better when he smiled, handsomer than when he had a cold expression. It also added a touch of approachability that lessened the burden in Ophelia's heart.
When Finnegan was cold, she would subconsciously treat him like her boss, reminiscent of the days she worked as his secretary.
"I bought groceries. Haven't eaten yet, have you? Then I'll just whip something up," said Ophelia. "I don't have gourmet delicacies here, can you handle that?"
This time, Finnegan wasn't picky, "Whatever you make, I'll eat."
"Then you rest, and I'll go cook." Ophelia carried the groceries into the kitchen.
Soon, the aroma of cooking wafted from the kitchen, filling the small house with a homey scent.
A small smile curled at the corners of Finnegan's lips as he made his way toward the kitchen.
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