46. Grady
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Grady
A month earns me twelve potted plants, her PM CD collection (but not her boom box, oddly), six pieces of wall art (now lining my mantelpiece), three of her favorite coffee mugs, two sets of pajamas, and all of her board games (I took one each time I stayed). Staying at hers has helped me better understand how hard it is for her to leave. Her place is cozy, safe, and unequivocally her from its rescued décor, lively plants, and eclectic everything.
But it also represents her lonely past, and it’s time to move on—a message I tenderly keep pushing. Last week, with my encouragement, she moved all three cats in (one at a time to ensure gentle transitions). Hershey’s still unsure about the dogs, but Sunkist and Triscuit love curling up against Blackbeard’s belly for their many catnaps. And Blackbeard, the least pirate-y dog ever, adores the attention. Merging our lives has gone incredibly well, though awfully slowly.
Now, we’re one week away from Memorial Day weekend, the fate of her job, and her move-out date. And for the first time since I’ve known her, Marina is stressed.
Not about her Mom. Leonie and Tilly moved into the double-wide at The Marshes the same week she handed the payment to Wade. We barely had to lift a finger to move her in. Wade, Christie, and Roy did most of the heavy labor, even helping her score extra furniture. Whether any of them scored romantic points with her remains to be seen.
Leonie has made commendable efforts to reconnect with Marina. From shopping trips to long park walks, Leonie is always ready to spend time with her girls. Marina says she doesn’t just have her mom back; she has the mom she’s always wanted. Tilly has easily warmed up to her big sister, as I knew she would. Marina has spent a lot of one-on-one time getting to know her, and Tilly adores the attention.
She’s not stressed about the G he’s on the road more than he’s at the store now. The old pier has been replaced with a wider one with a railing and bench seats for gator observation. The billboards are up. The Canteen is fully operational. And locals are loving it. Marina posts progress on Instagram daily, quadrupling her followers. Wade complained recently that he barely has time for smoke breaks anymore—that’s how busy it is.
If it’s enough to afford Marina going forward, that’s another story.
I don’t think Marina is stressed about us, either. We are as happy and desperate for each other as we were that first night, with zero signs of change.
But that’s the problem, I think. Change. Everything fell apart the last time she was on the cusp of leaving her place, and the family she thought she could count on abandoned her. If I can show her that’s not happening this time, she’ll relax into our new living situation once and for all.
So, tonight, I have a plan.
She doesn’t arrive with the boxes I hoped for but a single blanket—the quilt of many colors off her bed. “It’s my only family heirloom,” she explains, hardly setting it down.
“No, it isn’t. What about our chessboard?”
She smirks. “You know what I mean.”
“Anything else? In the truck?”
“Nope. Sorry.” She looks anguished, like this was all she could do.
“That’s okay. This quilt is special to you, so that’s a big step.”
She smiles, relieved. “It is! We could put it on the end of your bed.”
“ Our bed. Good idea.”
She slumps again. “ Our bed. I’m such a… flibbertigibbet.”
“There’s that British TV talking again,” I laugh. “It’s okay. Be as flibberty as you want.”
She curls into me. I kiss the top of her head and hold her close to me. She’s had many moments lately—that’s how I know she’s stressed.
“Thank you, Grady,” she breathes, staring at me. “I love you.”
“Love you, too. We’ll get there. But tonight, we’re going out.”
“We are?”
“Yep, I want you to stop worrying about moving or the G&G or any of it. Tonight’s about fun.”
She perks up. “Fun? Oh, Grady. That’s what I need. Is this… am I dressed okay?”
She twirls in her little summer dress, pink and soft, that moves with her. She’s worn more dresses lately, light, pretty things I can easily slip my hands under.
“You’re perfect.”
“Where are we going?” she asks as I grab my keys and wallet from the table by the door.
“It’s a surprise, but trust me, you’ll love it.”
She takes a deep breath and pushes out her usual smile. She rests her hand on her quilt, draped easily over the couch, and grabs her bag. “Okay.”
She says nothing when we pull into the driveway at Tripp Farm. We’re late, but I texted Mom and Elena with clear instructions to start without us. Marina doesn’t ask questions when we park in the crowded lot, nor does she note the familiar cars.
But at the door, she yanks me to the side. Under the soft porch light, she fidgets with her hands, looking nervous. “Grady, tell me this isn’t a proposal.”
“It’s not a proposal.”
She looks confused. “Mom’s here. Your family. Is that Wade’s truck? Are you sure?”
“Marina, tonight is not that night. Promise.”
Her tension abates in a breath.
“Not that I wouldn’t marry you,” I tack on, suddenly nervous. “I would. I will. Someday. If that’s what you want.”
“And not that I wouldn’t say yes, in a second, it’s just?—”
“Too much right now. I get it.”
“Exactly. I don’t need to be Strange-Tripp, not yet. I just need to be Strange. With you.”
My lips curl, holding her there. “That’s all I want, too.”
“Thank you, Grady… and just for the record, whatever it is, I love it.”
I chuckle. “How can you love it before you even see it?”
Her hands slide over my chest, and she grins coyly. “Because you always know what I need.”
I kiss her then. Hard and soft at once. I have to.
“Yeah, and don’t you forget it,” I say before pushing the door open and leading her inside.
Family game night greets us in a wave of light, movement, and laughter—every game station bustles with excitement. An unprecedented six tables have been arranged to accommodate the extra people, and each game is in full swing. Taylor Swift’s “Ready For It” plays through the TV, and nearly everyone sings along during the chorus. Everyone is here. Peter Pike plays next to Marigold. Ivy, Marina’s nurse from the accident, wedges between Gil and Wren at another table—she visited the clinic last week with her new puppy, Buster, so I invited her. Wade stands sheepishly with my father at the bar, both sets of arms folded but talking nonetheless. Christie and Roy sit on either side of Leonie. Tilly plays with Zoe, Zach, Tamsyn and Colin. Luke and Willow play against Elena and Jim. Mom scurries about, refilling drinks and checking the cameras on the phones perched at each table.
“Eep, Grady! Those are my games!” Marina gasps beside me, grabbing onto my arm. “They’re playing my games! Tickety-Boo ! Tic Tac Trivia ! Milk & Eggs ! Scaredy Cats ! Gosh, even Zombie Grocery Store and Play Together, Stay Together —that one needs work. How’d you—why’d you—Grady!”
“Games should be played, right? What says family better than a board game?”
Her hand goes to her mouth, probably to stifle more eeps . The soft glint of tears in her eyes tells me I’ve done a good thing.
“What’s with the phones?” she asks.
“Gil’s going to post our gameplay on YouTube and TikTok. He wants to start a Kickstarter campaign, like he did for Marigold’s comics—she’ll be able to self-publish them soon. So, who knows? Something might come from it if people enjoy them as much as our family does.”
“Do you really think they’re that good?”
I wave toward the crowd. “This is proof, isn’t it?”
“Marnie, you’re here!” Mom pipes up, gaining the room’s attention. “Your games are wonderful.”
The room claps and cheers in wild approval.
“Come, take over as Games Master,” Mom says, waving her into the room.
Marina peels out of her jean jacket, a giddy look on her face, and moves into the rambunctious group. She rounds the room with side hugs and game tips. I make my way to the bar area for a beer.
“Dad.”
“Grady.”
“Wade.”
“Grady.”
“Everything good?” I twist the cap off a bottle from the cooler beside them and take a swig.
They nod in unison. It’s not the first time Wade and Dad have connected this month. With Marina’s encouragement, Dad stopped by the G&G. Though it was awkward at first, Wade gave Dad a tour of the new store, and they bonded over the beauty of the perfect hot dog from The Canteen.
The following week, Wade visited the farm and gave Dad a hand with feeding—a good thing since I’d been called away for an emergency and couldn’t be there to help myself. They ended that visit with a couple of beers and a tentative handshake.
As far as I know, they haven’t said a word about what tore them apart in the first place. Maybe neither remembers. Or maybe it’s better to forget. For the stoic males of the Tripp family, their reconciliation is as good as it gets.
At intermission, the family eats their fill of tacos, laughing over what is now known as “The Battle of the Terrible British Accents,” brought on by Tickety-Boo . We’ve never had a more fun or boisterous family game night, which says a lot since we tend to get rowdy over them.
I no longer view family events as obligations I’d rather avoid but for what they are—chances to be together. I may have shown Marina what a real family can be, but she’s taught me to appreciate and enjoy it.
This is family. Celebrating, being together, and loving each other over all obstacles.
“If I could have your attention.” Wade’s deep, raspy voice cuts through a lull in the laughter and conversation.
All eyes across the living room turn in his direction. He still stands near the bar, beer in hand, and my father stands tall beside him.
“Thank you to Carmela and Mack for hosting.” He tips his beer toward them.
“Here, here,” everyone sings along.
“Thanks for including us ol’ coots in the festivities,” he says, gaining some laughs.
“Here, here,” shout Christie and Roy.
“Marnie, thanks for the entertainment. These games are something special, just like you,” he says, amid claps and chatter.
“Best games ever!” coo the kids.
“So much fun,” says Elena, tipping her wine glass.
Marina beams beside me, slipping her hand into mine as the crowd cheers her.
Wade clears his throat again. “I ain’t done.”
The room quiets.
Wade’s bushy brows pinch as he struggles with words. Dad lays an encouraging hand on his back, urging him on.
“I’m not one to give speeches,” he says. “But I’m not one to back down when something needs to be said, either. Marnie, you’re a miracle. You haven’t just revitalized the G&G. You’ve turned us around—Christie, Roy, and me—and given us purpose again. You’ve brought me and Mack back together. Grady’s no longer an asshole. And hell, Roy’s taking regular showers now.”
Laughter.
“The day we met… that was a hard day. But you crashing into our lives was the best thing that ever happened to us. I ain’t a father, but I’d be damn proud to call you my daughter.”
“Ah, Wade,” she mumbles beside me, tears flooding her eyes.
“Nope, don’t get mushy on me yet,” he says, wiping his tears. “I ain’t done.”
The room quiets.
“Next week’s Memorial Day Extravaganza is meant to determine whether or not the store can afford you going forward. But the truth is, Marnie, you’re better than us now. You got the store where it needs to be. You don’t belong behind the counter serving hot dogs or cleaning bathrooms, whether I can afford you or not.”
She gapes beside me. “You’re firing me?”
“Hell, no. Don’t be a numpty,” he returns with his angry glare. “There will always be a place for you at the G&G, even if I have to fire Roy and Christie and hand over my salary to make it happen. You never have to worry about having a job. But you deserve more than a job, Marnie. As your boss, I want to keep you forever. But as your… friend, I want you to pursue something better.”
“What’s better than the G&G?” she asks.
“How ‘bout helping other hurtin’ businesses?” His hand goes up submissively like he expects she might be upset over his idea. “I got a friend in Burgaw who owns a gas station laundromat combo that’s been in tough times for a while. I bragged about everything you’ve been doing for me, and he threatened to steal you away. But, of course, I told him he couldn’t steal family. Anyway, it got me thinking. So, I called him and asked how much he’d be willing to pay to get you to come in and give him an overhaul.”
Wade smirks, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He gave me a number—a dang good number—and I told him to raise it twenty percent. I think you’ll be pleased. Expect his call Monday morning.”
“Ah, Marnie Strange, Business Consultant,” Leonie says. “I can see the business cards now.”
“She’ll save your business and brighten your day,” cheers Mom, adding the tagline.
“I like Marnie Strange, Business Hero, personally,” Ivy claps. “This is fun.”
“I ain’t done,” Wade spits, bringing all eyes back to him. “One last thing.”
He clears his throat and takes a breath, fighting back rarely seen emotion.
“Just so we’re clear—you aren’t leaving the G&G. You’re moving up to part-owner.”
She gasps, hand going to her mouth.
“That’s right. I’m giving you shares in the G&G and The Marshes. Grady’s ten percent, which he gave me to hire you in the first place, and ten percent more from me. I own forty, you twenty, and the rest ten. You will always be my partner at the G&G, always be our family, and that’ll keep you coming back to make sure we’re following the rules.”
Our whole family busts into wild applause over his generosity.
With her eyes full of tears, Marina rushes into Wade’s arms for a warm, surprise embrace that makes him teary, too.
“Thank you, Wade. Thank you,” is all she manages to say, but it’s enough.
Wade holds his beer high and says loudly, “To Marnie!”
“To Marnie!” the group returns, toasting and cheering.
“Now, I’m done,” Wade announces. “Let the games resume.”
Activity continues in a flurry of gameplay and congratulations. Leonie wraps Marina up in a tight hug, saying, “You deserve it.” Others follow suit, a train of well-wishers and unabashed support.
But soon, when everyone’s attention diverts back to games and snacks, I look for her and can’t find her. I try the kitchen, the bathrooms, and even the bedrooms, thinking she might have needed some quiet. Nothing.
Catching sight of Leonie at the Tickety-Boo table, she points toward the front door, motioning for me to go outside.
I find Marina in The Beast, lying on a blanket on the truck bed. I climb in beside her, and she scoots over to make room. We stare up into the inky night speckled with stars—they are innumerable and delicate, tiny flecks of wonder, like each could hold another love story, and ours twinkles right back at them. Lying with her, relaxing under the massive universe, fills me with gratitude for my universe—her.
Many gentle moments pass. Her hand slips into mine.
“I’m going to be a business consultant,” she says softly.
“Yes.”
“I’m a business owner .”
“Yes,” I chuckle.
“I have a big, beautiful family.”
“Yes.”
She rolls over me, sitting up and straddling me. She nestles close, grinding against me through the thin fabric of her panties while my hands drift easily up her skirt. “I have you.”
“Always.”
She leans down, taking my bottom lip between hers for a tugging kiss. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” she smirks. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll move me in, once and for all, and then, we’ll spend the next forty-eight hours with our pets, on our dock, in our kitchen, in our bed, at our place.”
“Good, glad to hear you say it. I added you to the deed once the cats moved in. I knew you wouldn’t be far behind. It is our place, Marina.”
She gasps. “Grady, you didn’t have to?—”
“Darling, I wanted to. I need you to know it’s our home, our little nest.”
She giggles while her eyes well with tears.
I give her a quick kiss. “You’re always telling me to relax. Well, this is me, asking you to relax into us.”
“Okay.” Her lips press into mine with renewed desperation as she bites my lip playfully and tugs at my shirt. I smile against her, thinking we might add Beast-fucking to our impressive rotation. My hands close in against her thighs, and my thumb drifts lazily over the triangle patch of her panties. She moans at the touch.
“Think anyone would notice if we’re gone for a while?” she asks when she breaks for air.
“Fuck ‘em.”
She laughs. Then, we take each other right there, under the stars.