I choke on laughter, earning a scowl from Austin. "What? I'm just glad I'm not the only one who noticed the branch up your ass."
"Are you kidding me?" His mom laughs. "He was born with it lodged up there."
"Jesus Christ," Austin mutters. "I need a drink."
The next half hour is a blur of seafood towers, red wine, and a thousand little stories about Austin as a kid, each one more humiliating than the last.
His mom is a force of nature—tiny, hilarious, affectionate, and blessed with the kind of memory that never forgets a single embarrassing detail. His dad is quieter, but with a sneaky sense of humor that I immediately love. Hereminds me a lot of Austin, or maybe Austin reminds me of him. Either way, they're two peas in a pod.
Even Sidney loosens up after a bit, trading insults with Austin with the loving familiarity that says they've been doing it their whole lives.
No one brings up the memes, or the headlines, or anything related to the last two weeks again. It's like they're determined to let me just be a girl meeting her boyfriend's family, not the woman the whole world watched "blow" the league's Golden Boy. It's the nicest anyone's been about my mortification.
After the third round of appetizers, the conversation shifts to the only Hawkes sibling not at the table. Even though Sophie lives in Chicago, she couldn't attend because of her performance schedule.
"I still can't believe she hit him," Sidney grunts, scowling at his wine. "She hasn't even answered my texts since it happened. You'd think being on fucking national television would make her less of a brat."
"Maybe she doesn't want to talk to you, Sid," their mom says, warning him with a single sharp look. "You're always giving her shit when she's already upset."
He rolls his eyes, but I can see the worry etched into the lines of his face. "She shouldn't have had to smack him on stage. She should've told us what was going on. We'd have handled it long before it got to that point."
"She handled it," Mr. Hawkes says, sounding amused and proud at the same time. "She's a grown woman now, son. She doesn't need her big brothers stomping in every time she has an issue like she did when she was a little girl."
"Doesn't mean we can't offer," Sidney mutters.
"Alright," Austin growls, tossing down his napkin. "Is anyone going to clue me in on what the fuck happened?"
His mom sighs, setting down her fork. "The little shit's been making her life hell since they were partnered for Swan Lake. He wanted the part to go to his girlfriend, and he's trying to get your sister fired. He keeps saying she's too heavy for him to lift, so he tries to drop her or 'accidentally' hurt her." She makes air quotes, her expression lethal. "Last night, he let her fall on purpose. She hit the floor so hard, she could have broken something. When he told her it wouldn't have happened if she weren't such a fat ass, she slapped him, exactly like he deserved."
"That fucker," I hiss, and all conversation halts. Heat crawls up my cheeks as I realize I just said that out loud, to his entire family.
There's a moment of complete silence, and then the whole family erupts into peals of laughter.
Mr. Hawkes pounds his fist on the table, his eyes shining. "That's my girl. Never take shit from anyone, Serena." He jerks his head at Austin. "Not even this one."
I smile weakly, relieved they're laughing. I can't believe I said that out loud!
Austin's hand finds mine under the table. He leans close, his lips at my ear. "You're perfect," he whispers, his voice thick with pride. "So fucking perfect, baby."
I glance over at him, and he's grinning at me like I hung the moon. I try to keep it cool, but it feels like my heart is doing backflips. I feel perfect, in a way I never have before.
With him, right now…this is everything.
We linger over dessert and drinks until the restaurant starts to clear out. Mr. Hawkes picks up the tab with the kind of casual flair that comes from decades of practice, and Mrs. Hawkes bundles the last of the shrimp cocktail into the world's fanciest doggy bag, winking at me as she tucks it into her purse.
I barely make it two steps out the doors before I'm blinded by a dozen camera flashes and the roar of voices shouting Austin and Sidney's names. The sidewalk is a wild mass of press and fans, all jostling for a better look or a better shot.
"Shit," I whisper, flinching as the first question is hurled at us.
"Serena, what do you say to people who think you're a gold digger?"
"Austin, is it true that Serena changed your mind about love?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Hawkes, what do you think about the inappropriate photos and your son and Miss Abrams?"
Oh my god.
I want to crawl into the nearest gutter and die.
