An awkward silence settled between us all before Britta did the unthinkable.
“Hawk and I have been seeing each other,” she blurted out in a ‘give-no-fucks’ tone. “And if anyone has issues with it then that’s your problem and it means shit to me.”
“Britta!” her mom scolded.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my mouth like a ventriloquist as I looked nervously at their gobsmacked faces. “That wasn’t the plan.”
They weren’t impressed. Our goal was to ease them into the idea, not run over them with a freight train and then hit reverse. Britta, however, had gone rogue and it was now my turn to rectify the situation.
“What she means is, we—”
“What I mean is...” she interrupted. “For weeks we kept our relationship under wraps because we were both fearful of what all of you would say. Yes, Hawk is intense. Yes, he’s bossy. Yes, he’s brooding. And yes, he has a reputation as a ladies’ man, but after the last few days we’ve had, I’ve come to realize his intensity is what gets shit done. He’s bossy because a business the size of his doesn’t run itself and one false move will see a competitor come swooping in. And he broods because he’s constantly thinking of ways to improve and how to beat the assholes coming at him.”
“Britta!” her mom scolded again.
It was useless... no one could stop Britta now.
“And...” she continued, looking up at me and winking before she turned back to her stunned family, “... I don’t care about his past. I’m the only woman in his life now, and that’s how it’s gonna stay. So if you don’t like it, then you can go and get—”
“Britta!” her mom stood and pointed a finger. “If you dare say that word, I’ll—”
“Stuffed, Mom,” Brit interjected. “You can go and get stuffed.” She turned to me, an indignant frown on her face. “See how little faith they have in me?”
I cleared my throat. “You’re getting a little... passionate.”
“I thought it was great when I found out!” Slate offered, and the rest of the family turned on him.
“You knew?” Britta’s dad asked.
“Bullshit. How the hell did you know?” Harry questioned doubtfully.
Slate pointed to his sister. “Have you ever seen Britta look so smitten? She’s had the same twinkle in her eye for weeks. You would have noticed too if you paid attention.”
The family bickered, more with Slate for keeping his secrets to himself.
“And what do you have to add?” Brock asked, looking to me for a more diplomatic answer. Everyone quietened, gazes narrowed in on me.
“Well... Britta and I didn’t plan this. I guess you could say the attraction has always been there. She’s a very beautiful and smart girl.” Britta squeezed my hand, and I winked down at her. “And when she told me I was to be her fake fiancé, well, it was the start of something we couldn’t walk away from. And most importantly, I couldn’t walk away from it. We fell for each other instantly, and I got to see the passionate, protective side of Britta recently when things started to go... downhill. She has my back, and I’ll work hard the rest of my life proving that I have hers.” I turned to Mr. Valentino who’d been surreptitiously swiping at stray tears. “Mr. Valentino, I’d like to ask if it was okay—”
“Yes!” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air with excitement. “Do it!”
Everyone laughed easing the tension between us. Any judgment was gone.
I turned to Britta whose eyes were wide in anticipation. Taking both her hands, I got down one knee in front of her family. She murmured something incomprehensible, shock settling in.
“Britta Valentino, I was your fake fiancé once. Now I want to know if you’d like to make it official, and become my wife?” Retrieving my grandmother’s ring she’d fallen so deeply in love with, I held it on the tip of her finger.
Britta placed her free hand over her heart and steadied her breath. “I thought we were just confessing today... but yes! Yes, Hawk. Of course, I’ll become your wife.” She laughed out the last few words, wiping the tears cascading down her cheeks. Cupping my face, she lowered her mouth to mine and kissed me for confirmation. Her family clapped and offered their heartfelt congratulations, but all I wanted was to keep tasting Britta’s lips.
“All right, all right,” Ricky’s voice sounded over the chatter. “Break it up, you two. You may have won us over but don’t push it.”
I stood, accepting his outstretched hand. “Congrats, bro,” he offered, a smile lighting up his face. “Look after my sister or I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to the—”
“Fishes. Yeah, yeah, I know how you Italians roll.”
We worked our way through the family, hugging and shaking hands. Everyone seemed at peace with the idea, and when they all started to set the table for the Sunday feast, I stole Britta out onto the porch.