Page 122 of Every Chance After

She smirks slyly. “Ask me next Valentine’s Day.”

“Fine. I will.”

The server interrupts, asking if we need help picking up the game pieces. Feeling slightly bad, I gather the scattered plastic pieces from around our table and put the game back together. “Sorry, we’re fine.”

“Want to play again?” she asks.

“Yes, but not here.” I rise from my seat and extend my hand to her. “Come with me.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN

Marnie

He takesme to the Riverwalk just in time for sunset, the orangey bands of sunlight blanketing the sky and making everything shimmer—the ripples on the Cape Fear river, the reflections off of cars heading over the bridge, even his eyes look amber in the light. He wraps me up from behind, snuggling me against him while we watch the sun’s descent, saying nothing. I love the silence. I’ve learned this about him over the last month when he’s appeared at my side, helping—with Grady, I don’t have to talk. I don’t have to engage or make people comfortable or keep conversations going like I used to do with the Sullivans.

With him, I can just be.

After what I’ve shared with him, watching the sunset is the perfect chaser.

He’s the first to know that story from my perspective, the first to ask, and having shared it, I feel lighter. But also sad.

The Tripp family rotates around each other exactly as they are. Helping when needed, supporting when necessary, and loving, always.

Vague memories of what that felt like surface beneath the struggles. Mom and I were like that once. But we lost that beautiful rotation. We went lopsided until collapsing altogether. I used to push her out of my thoughts and stuff her cards in a box in anger. Now, regret compounds in the emptiness she left behind, and I feel like I’ve let her down.

I need to read her letters. Iwillread them. Just not tonight.

Once the sun fades and darkness takes over, Grady takes me to Cape Fear Games, a social club and store, where he insists on getting a fancy chess set and anything else I want.

“It’ll be the first thing that’sours,” he explains, motioning to the chessboards. “Something we play for decades during rainy days and hurricanes.”

I almost purr over his cozy idea. “That sounds lovely.”

If Grady believes in us like that, so should I.

We agree on an elegant wood set with hand-carved pieces and felt bottoms. He takes our selection to the counter while I browse the aisles. But soon, I give up on buying anything else. A shared chess set is definitely enough for me.

I find him at the counter, talking with the employees.

“Oh, yeah, my girlfriend’s incredibly talented,” he says to them, making my breath hitch on the nervous lump in my throat. “Her games are so fun and inventive. How would she go about getting them into a store like this?”

“She could reach out to the big game companies like Hasbro, but nowadays, she should get the game some attention first. Post reels of people playing her games on TikTok or YouTube and see the response. Many of the games we sell were funded by KickStarter campaigns. She should look into that, too. We do open gameplay on the weekends. She’s welcome to bring her games here for beta testing.”

“Thanks. That’d be great,” Grady says as the man hands him a card.

“Have any questions, give me a call,” he says.

“What’re you up to?” I ask behind him.

He slides the card into his pocket, shrugging. “Nothing. See anything else?”

“So many things! But, no. I want to become a chess queen first.”

He pulls out his wallet and hands over his credit card. “Just this, then.”

Once in The Beast again, I smile at Grady. “Did you call me your girlfriend back there?”

He twists in my direction, grinning. “Did I?”

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