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3rd POV
{After I told my brother that I remembered Memaw's brisket recipe, he told me to keep it to myself and not share it with anyone until he said so. I didn't know what he was planning, but I was grateful—this was a secret Memaw entrusted to me, and I wouldn't betray that trust. Phew.} — Adult Sheldon
{Oh, are you talking about your brisket? Was that your Memaw's brisket recipe? It was really delicious, Sheldon. Can you make it again sometime?} — Adult Woman's Voice
{Huh… Amy… No, that wasn't Memaw's brisket recipe. That was my Brother's brisket recipe.} — Adult Sheldon
"So, Georgie… is there anything you'd like to tell us?" Mary asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
Across the dinner table, George continued eating his meal in silence, deliberately ignoring his wife's sharp gaze.
"About what?" Georgie replied, casually glancing at Veronica instead. "Are you sure you don't want to go home yet?"
Veronica, who had been mid-bite, paused and swallowed. "I'll go home after dinner," she said, throwing Mary a polite smile.
Mary smiled back, but her expression quickly darkened as she turned back to Georgie.
"Don't change the subject!" she snapped, pointing at George's shirt—the one with George S.'sautograph scribbled across it.
"Why is George S.'s signature on your father's shirt?!"
Georgie turned toward his dad with helpless smile but George, completely unbothered, continued eating his dinner like nothing was happening.
"Why are you so calm? Your wife is terrorizing me over here!" Georgie exclaimed, pointing at Mary.
George simply shrugged and kept eating. On the other side of the table, Connie noticed the signature and the smug look on George's face.
"You're acting like you just got the president's autograph," Connie teased, smirking as she examined George's shirt again. "You're like a little kid, proudly walking around with scribbles on his clothes."
Mary faltered for a moment at Connie's unexpected remark. Meanwhile, George finally stopped eating, setting down his fork to glare at Connie.
"Listen, I met the King of Country and got his autograph. Huh! I even almost got into a fight with him! We're practically old buddies now!" George declared.
Connie stared at him, eyes wide. She slowly turned to Georgie, who remained completely unfazed, casually eating his food.
"…Yeah, it's true," Georgie confirmed, not even looking up. "Mr. S. came to the studio to evaluate me—to see if I was worthy of being his concert's opening act."
Mary swallowed hard. She temporarily ignored her husband's nonsense and focused on Georgie.
"…And?" she pressed, already suspecting that George had caused trouble.
Georgie shrugged. "What else? Obviously, I got the gig."
Mary sighed in relief. Then, her eyes snapped back to George with an icy glare.
"You caused a ruckus there, didn't you?" she accused, her voice dripping with venom.
"Wh—what?! Didn't I just tell you? We're practically old pals now!" George defended himself.
Mary did not look convinced.
"Alright, enough of that," Connie interrupted, looking at George with a smirk. "…So? Where's your brisket?"
George glanced at Georgie, who gave him a small nod.
"I haven't cooked it yet. We'll try it tomorrow," George said confidently, turning to Connie with a challenging look.
"Yeah, sure!" Connie replied, her tone teasing as she eyed George's autographed shirt again and let out a snort.
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Georgie's POV
After the chaos that was dinner, I walked Veronica to her car.
By now, she had fully embraced my 'Chaos' family. She even joined in on some of their conversations, not hesitating to banter back when necessary.
But what stood out to me the most—
Was her smile.
Despite all the chaos, she looked genuinely happy. "…You really like staying here, huh?" I commented, smirking.
Veronica giggled beside me. "Yeah. I feel really lucky to have spent the whole day with your family."
I chuckled. "I don't know what you did, but I can tell my mom already likes you."
"Yeah! I think so too!" Veronica beamed excitedly.
I opened the car door for her and leaned against it. "It's okay. You can come by whenever you want."
Veronica tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before stepping inside. "Alright… thanks for the invitation."
I leaned against the car, watching her. "…I want to kiss you.." I muttered, tilting her chin up with my fingers.
Her cheeks flushed, but her gaze didn't waver. She wanted it too.
Our lips met.
It wasn't just a soft peck.
It was deeper—our tongues meeting, the heat between us growing.
I could feel Veronica's excitement as she reached behind my head, pulling me in closer.
But I stopped her.
"We should stop," I murmured with a grin, seeing how flushed she was, her breath uneven.
I kissed her forehead, "Drive safe, okay?" I said and look at her with small smile and loving gaze.
She nodded, barely able to form words. "Uhm…" she mumbled, quickly looking away as she started her car.
I waved as she pulled out of the driveway.
"…That was one hell of a kiss you just gave her…" came a familiar voice from behind me.
I turned to see Connie lounging on the front porch, a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other.
I smirked. "You do know that'll kill you, right?" I pointed toward her cigarette.
"Hah! I could also die slipping in the bathroom!" she scoffed, taking another drag.
"Yeah, yeah. One thing I won't do is argue with a smoker about whether or not it'll kill them." I snorted, heading toward the house.
But before I could walk inside, Connie grabbed my wrist, stopping me.
"Tell me something…" she murmured, glancing through the window into the house.
"What exactly did you put in that brisket seasoning?" she asked quietly.
I turned to face her, matching her serious gaze.
"If you really want to talk…" I said, eyeing the cigarette in her hand, "…then put that out first. Or we're smoking together."
Connie raised an eyebrow.
Then, she smirked.
"Why? Do you want one?" Connie smirked, offering me her cigarette.
She clearly didn't think I'd actually take it. She was just testing me—daring me.
But when I reached out and took the cigarette from her handbag, she raised an eyebrow, now actually curious.
I held it between my lips, watching her as she waited to see if I would really go through with it.
Without hesitation, I lit the cigarette and took a single drag—smooth, practiced, like I'd done it before.
Just once.
Just enough to prove my point.
Then, I pulled it from my lips and flicked it away.
"Disgusting."
Connie's eyes widened in shock. "You brat!" she scolded, ready to lecture me.
"You gave it to me, and you didn't stop me," I pointed out, giving her a disapproving look.
She clicked her tongue in frustration but eventually sighed and stubbed out her cigarette. "Alright, let's talk." she said, crossing her arms.
I exhaled, taking a seat beside her. "I know it's not just about the brisket recipe." I said, watching her reaction.
Connie averted her gaze, but I didn't stop.
"You still don't see Dad as family."
Silence.
"I know you still consider him an outsider."
I stared at her, waiting.
"It makes me sad."
Connie still didn't respond.
And I knew she wouldn't.
So I stood up, brushing off my jeans.
"But it's okay," I said, giving her a small smile. "I know you love us. I know deep down in your heart, you love Dad too. We're family, after all."
Then, without waiting for a response, I walked away.