A casual conversation with Lucy gave him the information he needed—her mom should be leaving the house around six that evening.
By fifteen to six, Jim and I were in my truck—thank God for tinted windows—and parked half a block down from Ella’s house. It’s where Jim, Ella, and Lucy had lived as a family before the separation. While it’s in an excellent neighborhood with gorgeous homes, they’re not the big super mansions pro-sports players usually buy to show off their money. Jim’s not a flashy kind of dude. He drives a nice car—a Range Rover—and he purchased a Mercedes for Ella. But their house is probably half the size of some of the other players’.
Who knows… maybe Ella wanted more and he refused to give it? But I somehow doubt that had anything to do with it based on Jim placing the blame for everything on himself.
Jim came prepared for a lengthy stakeout. He had a thermos of coffee and a bag full of snacks. I took one look at them, then asked if he had his camera with a telephoto lens too.
With a good-natured grin, he merely said, “The new iPhone has a great zoom feature on its camera.”
Right at six, a silver Lexus SUV pulls into the driveway. We watch as the same guy who’d been with Ella two weeks ago heads up to her front door to get her. He carries no flowers or chocolate—bad form, dude—but they’re probably past those rituals. It’s been at least two additional weeks since we realized she’s been seeing him, though we don’t know how often. I suppose their behaviors will tell us something.
I can feel Jim go stiff in the passenger seat when Ella opens the door, greeting the man with a broad smile before giving him a big hug. There’s no invitation in. Rather, he grabs Ella’s hand and leads her to his vehicle. He opens the door for her—bonus points, dude—and they pull out of the driveway.
Luckily, they go in the direction we’re already pointed, so, once they’re past us, we slowly pull onto the road to follow at a discreet distance.
“What did you make of that?” Jim asks.
“Make of what?”
“They hugged, but there was no kiss. Maybe they’re just friends.”
I know what it’s like to be friends with a girl, and ‘just friends’ don’t hold hands like they were. “It’s more than friendship,” I regretfully inform him. “But the fact they didn’t kiss does seem a little odd. I mean, they’ve been seeing each other for at least two weeks, right?”
“Maybe longer,” he says glumly.
“But it could be only once a week for all we know.”
“Or…” Jim grumbles. “It could be several times a week.”
We ride in silence as we follow Ella. Our assumption was they might be going out to a restaurant, but they head to downtown Scottsdale instead. We follow them into a parking garage, then follow at a reasonable distance on foot as they walk down near the canal where we can hear live music.
“A fucking culinary festival,” Jim grumbles when we see food stalls set up.
“Good place for a date,” I observe, and I suspect that’s why Jim grumbled. I’m guessing he hasn’t taken Ella to many places like this.
We stay several paces behind Ella and the man as they meander along while holding hands, checking out the various food offerings from some of Phoenix’s best restaurants. It’s a gorgeous evening and the crowd is thick, so we start to feel a little less conspicuous as we tail them.
“What’s Mollie doing tonight?” Jim asks as we stroll along. I can hear the tightness in his voice. Seriously doubting he cares about what Mollie’s up to, I realize he needs something to distract himself from the fact his wife is smiling, laughing, and walking hand in hand with a man who isn’t him.
“Girls’ night out,” I say. “Actually, more like a pajama party in at Blue and Erik’s house.”
Jim’s attention snaps my way, his eyes wide. “Women do stuff like that?”
I shrug. “I think they’re eating bad food and drinking wine. Pajamas are comfy, too.”
“I bet Erik’s in hog heaven.” Jim snorts. “Beautiful women in pajamas parading around his house.”
“He was banished. I think he’s crashing at Bishop’s tonight.”
“I wonder if Ella would ever do something like that?” Jim murmurs as we continue along.
Ella and her date stop at a stand serving sushi. We hang back, watching them order. While they wait for their food, they carry on a running dialogue with lots of smiles and laughter, which I imagine has to be hard on Jim. He hasn’t made his wife smile in a long time, and I’m sure he has an uphill battle to fight for even a small chance to do so again.
They’re finally handed a bamboo tray laden with sushi, two plates, a bottle of saki, and two small cups. Ella’s date leads her over to a picnic bench overlooking the canal. It’s surrounded by poles hanging with colored lanterns, providing a romantic glow. The crowd thins a little away from the food stalls, so we have to stay a bit farther away. Setting post at the corner of a donut truck, Jim peeks around every so often to check them out, giving a running commentary to me as he does.