Ella Steele’s backyard, I’m sure there’s going to be a call to 9-1-1, so I make sure to creep silently past the back patio and out to the middle of the yard where there’s a small gazebo with two lounge chairs. On cooler evenings, Ella and I would sometimes sit out here and drink a beer at the end of the day while we talked, although I can’t remember the last time we did that.
After I settle into one of the chaises, I pull out my phone. I send Ella a text. Are you awake?
She answers immediately. Yup.
I’m in the gazebo. Join me.
There’s no response, but I eye the window of the master suite, illuminated by the bedside light I knew would be on. She jerks up the blind, then peers out. Although, it’s so dark out here I doubt she can see me. I flip my phone over so she can see the light, then wave it.
The blinds drop, and all I can do is wait.
In less than two minutes, Ella creeps out the sliding glass door. It was too much to hope she’d just come out in a t-shirt and panties, which is usually all she wears to bed. Instead, the glow of the patio light shows yoga pants under her t-shirt. She slipped into flip-flops, and her hair is in a messy knot on top of her head.
She carefully picks her way across the yard and up the gazebo steps, then stares down at me. Her face is shadowed, but her tone is a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “What are you doing here?”
“Had to talk about a few things regarding Lucy,” I reply, lacing my hands behind my head and leaning full back on the chaise. I nod toward the one beside me. “Pop a squat.”
Ella heaves an overly dramatic sigh and flops on the chair beside me, grumbling. “You could have called.”
“Then I wouldn’t have been able to see you,” I reply casually. “And I really wanted to see you.”
My eyes have adjusted to the dark, so I can see her whip my way. “Why?”
I frown. Why would she even ask such a question? As she can probably see enough to read my expression, I explain as simply as I can. “Because you’re beautiful. Because I miss you. Because I needed to. Take your pick.”
She averts her gaze as if she can’t look directly at me when I say stuff like that. It’s been so long since she’s probably heard me say them so spontaneously.
“Do you miss me?” I murmur into the dark, still peering her way.
This time, her body stays still, but she admits, “Parts of you.”
That’s fair enough, I suppose. I don’t challenge her because I don’t have the right to question any of Ella’s feelings. Most I can do is try to understand them and hopefully learn.
I could pry—push her to tell me those parts she likes best—but I don’t need the ego boost. More likely, there could be little she has to offer, and I don’t want the ego crush. So, I’ll let it lie for now and make it be enough she at least misses me in some ways. I can work with that.
“Lucy wants a puppy,” I say, moving away from the story of us.
“So I’ve heard,” Ella murmurs, and I can hear the amusement in her voice. “Like a million times.”
“What do you think about it?” I ask.
She shrugs. “You’re the one with the allergies. I love dogs and it’s a lot of work, but I think we could do it.”
“I don’t think you should have to do all the work.” She rolls her head toward me, but her face is shadowed. “Lucy is thirteen. She wants a pet, so she should be the one to care for it.”
“True,” Ella replies. “Sounds like you have doubts.”
“Not doubts,” I reply with a shake of my head. “More like I don’t want her to fail because I don’t want her to doubt herself. What’s the best way to make sure she succeeds, but in a way that doesn’t mean we run in and do all the work for her?”
“I hear you,” she says, her tone indicating I should go on.
I explain Kane’s idea of fostering a puppy from a service dog organization to see if it’s workable. Not only with my allergies—I’ll stock up on medications or something—but how we would manage with Lucy and the puppy going back and forth between our homes with my work schedule that varies