Or perhaps… he somehow picked up the puppy for her and wants to show it to me?
Except I know the puppies aren’t ready yet, so it can’t be that.
By the time I’m pulling the sliding glass door open, my mind has raced through a dozen possibilities as to why he’s here.
When I step onto the patio, pulling the door closed behind me, I freeze when I look out at the gazebo. The night is pitch black all around it, but Jim has managed to set up candles around the base, on the table inside, and some across the floor so it’s glowing romantically.
“What the hell?” I murmur, because for all of the things I love about Jim, he’s never been the most romantic. At least not in the latter years of our marriage.
Part of me wants to run back inside and not confront this. I just know this is going to change the feelings I have within me.
The other part wants to run to him to see what he has to say for himself.
I don’t run either way but rather walk slowly across the steppingstones. Jim stands between the two chaise lounges, the soft glow of the candles illuminating enough of him that I can see he has his hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts in an easygoing manner. I can’t see the details of his face, but I can feel the weight of his stare as I get closer.
“Nice outfit,” he says as I take a step up onto the gazebo. The smile in his voice is obvious.
I roll my eyes, doubting he can see from the candlelight, but my tone is dry. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“True.” He chuckles, reaching out for my hand. “But wondering what Mr. Ordinary would think if he knew you were sitting out here half-naked with me not fifteen minutes after your date was over.”
I pull hard—because it makes me feel guilty being here—and Jim releases my hand. “I imagine he wouldn’t like it at all. So exactly what are you doing here?”
“Trying to woo you, but it’s apparently not working,” Jim mutters as he scrubs a hand through his hair. More of his face becomes visible as my eyes adjust to the dark, and I have a stab of sympathy over the uncertainty in his expression.
I feel the need to soothe it away. “The candles are pretty.”
Sighing, Jim reaches out lightning fast to grab my hand again. “Okay… let me start over. Hi, Ella. I wanted to come spend some time with you tonight since I leave tomorrow on an extended road trip. I know I’m dropping in unexpectedly, but I feel like this is the only way to get some time with you lately.”
I’m strangely touched by his honesty and the irony of how the roles are reversed. Now, he’s the one struggling to find time with me and not the other way around.
Jim turns me slightly, indicating I should sit on the edge of the chaise. He releases my hand and does the same, so we’re facing each other, our knees almost touching.
I lean forward, cross my arms on my thighs, and ask, “Where did you get this romantic streak?”
Jim shakes his head. “It’s work, to be honest. Thinking of something unique that will make you look twice at me. I told you I’m in this to win it, but it’s not a game. I’m just trying to make you understand, Ella… that I see you.”
Those words touch me more than I ever thought possible. It’s what I’ve wanted to hear him say for years, yet there’s still a part of me that is a little jaundiced.
“I have something for you,” he murmurs and turns to a metal bucket on the floor in front of the table I had not noticed. Beside it, there are two solo cups.
My brows knit in curiosity as Jim pulls from the crunch of ice in the bucket what looks to be a champagne bottle. Holding it up, he declares, “Sparkling grape juice.”
“Sparkling grape juice?” I repeat, wondering why he made that choice.
“Come on, Ella,” he chides as he deftly unwraps the foil top, removes the wire cage, and pops the plastic cork. “Don’t you remember when we were seventeen, drinking this crap because I couldn’t score the real stuff?”
I do remember. He took me on an evening picnic by a moonlit pond. He had packed the sparkling grape juice and some oatmeal cream pies—my favorite—and