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.