Page 10 of Betting Brett

I pretend to be offended and go after her, making her giggles ring out through the parking lot. Brett leans on his truck, watching, smiling with his arms crossed against his chest, dimple on his cheek.

“Alright,” I say as I try to catch my breath. “Let’s get home before all the ice cream we bought melts.”

I’d never seen Izzy run that fast. She bolted straight into the truck, hurrying us both up before the precious Neapolitan ice cream was ruined.

Back at Brett’s, we put away all the groceries and get settled into the living room. The atmosphere in Brett's living room is cozy and warm. The soft glow of a table lamp illuminates the room, casting a warm light over the worn-in dark leather couch and the coffee table made from a slab of live edge wood, now cleared and ready for a game night. Brett's collection of board games is impressive, a tower of multi-colored boxes all dented and worn from how often they were played with.

"How about 'The Game of Life'?" Brett suggests, pulling the colorful box from the shelf.

Isabelle's eyes light up as she claps her hands together, "Yes! I love that one!”

I chuckle, "I haven't played that in years, but I was always the best at it. Prepare to be schooled, both of you."

Brett winks at me, "Challenge accepted."

As we set up the game, I can't help but notice the easy camaraderie between father and daughter. They have inside jokes, shared memories, and a link that's enviable. It's heartwarming to see. Every time I’ve seen Brett in ‘dad’ mode, my heart immediately melts, my knees turn all gooey, and my heart starts to flutter. There was something about it that looked so… just right. It made sense. It was nice. He fits the role perfectly.

The game progresses with each of us taking on fictional careers, getting ‘married,' and navigating the ups and downs of ‘Life.' Isabelle gets genuinely excited about her game milestones, whether it's buying a house or getting a pay raise, which cracks me up. Brett and I, on the other hand, playfully compete, teasing each other about our game choices and outcomes, neither taking it too seriously.

At one point, Isabelle's luck takes a turn for the worse. She lands on a space that requires her to pay a hefty fine, depleting most of her game money. Her face falls, and she looks on the verge of tears.

Brett notices immediately. Setting his own game piece down, he turns to her, his voice gentle. "Hey, Isabelle, remember it's just a game. Sometimes things don't go our way, but it’s always fun just to play."

"I wanted to win," she murmurs, her voice quivering.

Brett pulls her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I know, sweetheart. But winning isn't everything. It's about spending time together, having fun, and learning. Every game teaches us something."

I watch the interaction, touched by Brett's gentle parenting. He's not dismissing her feelings. He’s teaching her to handle disappointment gracefully.

“It’ll be ok, just keep your head up and smile when you feel ready to.”

Isabelle snuggles into her dad, wiping away a tear. "Okay, Daddy. I'll try."

"That's my girl," Brett tells her, kissing the top of her head.

We continue the game, and as it progresses, Brett and I find ways to make it more fun for Isabelle, sometimes making silly decisions or dramatically landing on unfortunate spaces to even out the playing field. The room fills with laughter and playful banter again.

By the end of the game, it's clear to all of us that the real joy wasn't in winning or losing but in the shared experience. Isabelle, her earlier disappointment forgotten, is all smiles, basking in the warmth of a fun evening. As we pack up the game, I realize that this evening has given me a deep look into the kind of father Brett is – patient, understanding, and always putting his daughter's feelings first. It's also shown me something else. It showed me just how well we complement each other.

As I grab my keys and get ready to head out, Brett stops me. “Hey, Andy, thanks for tagging along today. It made everything a lot more fun.”

“Of course, Brett. Anytime you guys need a sidekick, call me.”

“I will… actually. Isabelle is hanging out with her mom this weekend. Why don’t you and I stay up at the cabin? Just us? Catch up, shoot the shit, drink our weight in beer?”

Make more bets?I manage to keep the inside thoughts on the inside this time, in spite of the jumping up and down and squealing that I’m doing there, too.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun. I’ve missed that. I’m down.”“Alright, good. I’ll pick you up Friday after work.”

“Perfect,” I tell him, fighting the urge to lean in for a goodbye kiss.

Driving home later, the memories of the night play in my mind. The laughter, the shared looks with Brett, and the realization that together, we make a great team.

Just like old times.

8

Brett

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