Over the next several weeks I was kept very busy. I didn't go into the office. I didn't even check my email. I stayed at home and worked on my house. I also conferred with my mother and Ranger and his mother about our upcoming reception. The invitations were sent and I was busy opening wedding presents and sending thank you notes out as fast as I could.

Ranger didn't even ask me if I planned to return to work. I'll be honest with you, it never crossed my mind. I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to go back to that. I guess it sort of depended on whether or not my husband pulled his head out of his ass and admitted that he wanted to stay married to me. Besides he had someone to do the paperwork that he hated so much now, so he was pretty much free to meet with potential clients himself. If they missed me doing research, nobody said anything. Probably the only one who really missed me was the ever diligent Rodriguez. Well, Tank probably missed me. I think I had a clear understanding of what he needed these days.

In any case, I didn't want to be in the office. I didn't want to be near any memories of OUR past. I was working diligently on creating new memories and that was difficult enough to do knowing that my entire world could shatter if I watched the video that Ranger oh so definitely didn't want me to watch. I could only do what I could do. I think Ranger knew that I was at a point of crisis. I know I knew it.

When I wasn't working on the house, I went shopping with Lula or met Padma at the baby stores. Gabe would go with her any time she wanted him to, but I think she knew I liked to gaze wistfully at the tiny little garments and imagine that Ranger and I would someday have a little body to put in them.

I also met with Dickie's attorney. I was his heir. He left me everything including the house he lived in, the house we had lived in and the house he died in. He also left me the office building he worked out of as well as several others throughout the city. He was a bit of a real estate mogul. All of the business buildings were in prime locations. The attorney said I shouldn't have any trouble selling any of the business or most of the houses. Let's be frank, the house he died in probably would have problems selling in anywhere else in the world even when the economy was good, but in Trenton…land of 'the family', I probably wasn't going to experience any problems selling.

After digging through Dickie's real estate holdings, cash, bonds, and all other assets it turned out that I was doing all right financially. When it came down to it, I was about as wealthy as my husband was and should he decide that he wanted out of our marriage, I was no longer going to be forced to take his money or anything else from him. If I chose, I could go somewhere he wouldn't find me for a very long time. I wondered how long it would take to get him out of my mind and heart. I wondered if that was even possible.

I puttered about the mansion filling the empty spaces but not too much. This was Ranger's home too and it needed to reflect both of us. The lines stayed clean. There was no clutter. The only place we seemed to have stuff was in the home theater where I'd been working to diligently replace the movies that had been blown up and in the library where I'd been replacing books. I'd even managed to secure copies of Nights in Rodanthe and He's Not That Into You. I'd also begun to collect music, but I hadn't gotten as far with that.

Ranger came home nightly and walked all over the house looking for the differences. Often they were subtle and he'd have to ask, but usually he could identify enough of the changes that I'd beam at him while I finished preparing dinner.

My father dropped by one day to deliver some wedding gifts that had gone to their house instead of ours. A lot of our older relatives and neighbors still believed that as my parents it was their job to make sure we got those gifts. Mom always waited till they had a few sitting around the house before motoring over to our house to deliver them. This was the first time that my father had been given this assignment though.

"Hi Daddy," I smiled taking a few of the bags full of presents from him.

"Be careful with the Wal-Mart bag, I think that one has some fragile things in it."

"Okay," I nodded. I carried the bags into the library and set them gently on the large table. "I appreciate you going out of your way to bring these by, but you know Ranger or I could drop by the house and pick them up on our way home some time."

"I know…I felt like the drive," he shrugged and looked around the room. "You've done a lot since the last time I was here."

"It's ever evolving," I smiled in agreement as I looked around the room. "It takes a while to make a house a home."

"You need that touchstone that makes it home."

"Yea, I suppose so," I agreed. "But most of my things were destroyed when Joyce blew my house up."

"She's just Joyce now," he grinned at me.

"She's in a home for the criminally insane," I winced. "It seems a little cruel to keep calling her names under the circumstances. Even Batman didn't discuss the Joker when he was in the asylum."

"Right," he grinned. "In any case, your touchstone doesn't always have to be a thing. Sometimes it's a person."

"Oh yea," I raised a brow at him.

"Yea…your mother is my touchstone. When I was doing special ops back in the day I always knew as soon as I saw her that I was home. It really had nothing to do with the housing unit we were currently living in. She was home."

I smiled, "yes…I guess the house just becomes more familiar and comfortable."

"What made your other house a home?"

"It just felt right," I sighed.

"Does this one feel right," he asked.

"Sometimes it feels more right than others," I admitted. "It's a work in progress."

"Like your marriage," he asked.

I swallowed, "all marriages are a work in progress, aren't they Daddy?"

"True, but yours is maybe a little more of that than most?"

I sighed, "What's going on Daddy?"

"Do you have any coffee?"

"Of course," I nodded and headed for the kitchen. "Today I'm serving Caramel Drizzle."

"Ummm," he sighed. "That sounds great."

I poured two cups of coffee and passed him one before doctoring mine. He drank his black, just like Ranger. I think it has something to do with being military. You get used to not having the little niceties and eventually you not only don't need them, you don't want them.

"So," I led him into the family room and sank into the soft couch, "what's up?"

"Pumpkin I love you," he said patiently as he sat in the wingback chair across from me.

"I know Daddy. I love you too."

"And believe it or not, I love Ricardo too…so does your mother."

"I know," I nodded. Great, now he was calling him Ricardo too. I resisted the urge to sigh.

"I've been watching you and paying close attention and I'll be honest with you Pumpkin, something just doesn't jive."

I frowned, "what doesn't jive?"

"Your 'marriage'," he said patiently.

"We're married Daddy," I assured him. "We got married on February 13th."

"I know. I've seen the marriage license or a copy of it."

"What," I blinked at him in surprise.

"Father's intuition," he said softly.

"I don't understand."

"I know my daughter," he said seriously. "My daughter would not have gotten married on the beach in Cayman without her parents being there. She would have had someone fetch them. You would have. No matter how long we've all struggled to get along and understand one another, we love each other. You wouldn't have left us out."

I swallowed and my eyes filled. He was right. I would have made sure they were there.

"So…what's the rest of the story," he asked.

I sighed and took a deep breath.

"Pumpkin, it won't make a difference in our love for you."

"I know," I said tearfully. I took a deep breath, "we were drunk."

He frowned. "You were drunk?"

"Ranger and I were drunk," I said miserably.

"Both of you," he said quietly.

"Yes," I whispered. "And when we woke up the next morning…I was so shocked and he didn't believe it. He called someone to confirm that it was real."

"I see," he pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"We decided to keep it quiet because we didn't want to ruin Tank and Lula's wedding," I said quietly.

"That was very thoughtful of you," he said grimly.

"I know it's not the best way to start a marriage…being drunk," I whispered tearfully. "And Ranger…well, we talked about not…you know…staying married and…"

He was off the chair and on the sofa with me holding me before I could get any more words out, "Shh…"

"I'm sorry Daddy," I whispered over my tears. "I didn't mean to screw up again."

"I know that Pumpkin," he said quietly. "I know that. You're not to worry about that for one second, do you hear me?"

I nodded.

"You were both drunk," he said.

I looked up to see him frowning thoughtfully. "Yes…Daddy…what's wrong?"

He turned to me and captured my eyes with a very intense gaze, "do you love him?"

I swallowed and nodded.

"Do you want to stay married to him?"

"I do," I nodded, "but only if he wants to stay married to me. I'm not trying to change him Daddy. I just want to love him and be loved by him and have a family. I don't want to push him into anything he doesn't want or isn't ready for."

"I know baby," he said softly. "I wonder if he would do the same for you."

"What," I frowned up at him in confusion.

"Nothing Pumpkin," he smiled. "Now…we'll not talk about this again. You tell me if things change from what they are now?"

"I promise," I nodded.

"Okay, now…show me what you've done with the house since I was here last."

I got to my feet, "I've done the most upstairs. I finished the kid's rooms…at least until…"

He smiled, "I look forward to seeing them."

That night Ranger was a little later than usual getting home from work. Dinner was almost ready and I was wondering how I was going to keep the broccoli from getting brown or yellow if he didn't get home soon. He'd gotten pretty good about letting me know when he was going to be late so I was a little surprised. Ranger, as much as he hated to admit it, liked the structure of our nights at home. He loved our weekends together too.

On Saturday we'd go to yard sales or auctions, and then we'd have lunch somewhere. After lunch we'd putter through book stores or music stores. Sometimes we'd go see a movie or now and then we'd rent one. On Sunday mornings he'd get up early and make, or attempt to make, waffles. Sometimes he'd make his special breakfast burritos. I preferred those Sunday mornings myself. He'd wanted that waffle maker, but it was turning out to be the bane of his existence and of mine. We'd eat breakfast in bed while reading the Sunday paper and then watch mysteries on television occasionally napping or making love. I loved Sundays. They were lazy and lovely.

He came into the kitchen and leaned over to kiss me tiredly.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yea…we had a rough capture?"

"Was anyone hurt?"

"Superficial crap," he shrugged.

"Do you have any boo-boos that need kissing," I teased him.

"We'll check that later," he grinned wolfishly.

I smiled, "it doesn't sound like you have anything wrong at all."

He just grinned. "Did you have a good day?"

"Daddy dropped by with some wedding presents. Most of them are from the Depot," I grinned.

His smile widened. He loved getting stuff from Home Depot.

"I didn't open anything. I waited for you."

"You're a good wife," he kissed me again. "What kind of wine?"

"Red or so," I shrugged.

"How about a Merlot," he suggested.

"Sounds good," I nodded.

"Is that all your father wanted?"

"Sort of," I shrugged and swallowed back the memory of his visit. "He wanted a tour of the house again…you know, to see what we've done since the last time."

"Oh yea," he grinned and popped the cork.

"Yea," I smiled. "He loves the quilts in the kid's rooms."

"Me too," he nodded.

"And…he loves the painting in your office."

He grinned, "I knew he would."

I shook my head. The painting in question was of a nude woman. She actually had her back to the artist. Her hair was piled on her head and tumbled down in wisps of curls. Her waist was narrow and her ass was perky. One small foot was up on the back of her calf and one hand rested in her curls. You could barely make out the slope of one breast. She was a woman who was comfortable with her body. She was relaxed and probably about to get into the bath. The painting itself was dark except for the woman's pale body. It was beautiful. I don't know what Ranger saw in the painting, but the moment he saw it, he had to have it. I suppose it's a man thing.

"Mom also sent lemon cake," I said with a smile. That definitely pleased him. He was in no way immune to my mother's lemon cake.

"It's a wonder they could spare it," he waggled a brow.

"Shut up," I groaned in disgust. "I'll lose my appetite again."

"Don't," he laughed. "You'll disappear into nothing and I'll never be able to find you in this monster of a house."

"Then don't do that," I glared at him.

"Yes ma'am," he saluted me.

"Smart ass," I shook my head.

He was quiet for a few moments watching me stir the sauce and peek into the oven to check the bread. "Ella misses you," he said quietly.

"I miss her too," I admitted. "But I like being in my own kitchen."

"I know you do," he said pouring two glasses of the merlot.

"But if you miss her cooking…"

"I love Ella and her cooking," he admitted. "But you've become an artist in the kitchen so I don't miss her that much," he grinned at me. "You do almost all the things she used to do for me and a few very important things that she didn't."

I raised a brow and met his wolfish grin. "Well, I should hope not."

He laughed, "Never happened. Besides I'd miss your cooking and the decompressions of the day we do while you cook."

"Thanks," I nodded and took the wine glass from him. I raised the glass and touched his glass lightly in our usual toast.

"The boys miss you," he said softly.

"The boys," I blinked at him in astonishment. I don't think he'd ever said anything like that to me before. I was immediately reminded of Joe with his words and couldn't resist the smirk that leapt to my lips. "Do you mean like Joe used to tell me that Bob missed me? Because I seem to remember that 'the boys' haven't really had that much time to miss me. I've spent a good amount of time with 'the boys'."

He frowned at me in confusion. I could see the moment he realized what I was talking about, he scowled for just a millisecond before he grinned, "No…I don't mean like Bob."

"I should hope not," I said stirring the egg noodles.

"As far as those 'boys' are concerned they're quite happy with the attention they've received from you of late."

"Wifely duty and all that," I shrugged.

He raised a brow at me and gave me a small glare.

I grinned.

"I meant the guys at the office."

"Ah…those boys," I nodded. "They know the way here. The streets go both directions. I know this because I've driven on them."

"It's not the same Stephanie," he said seriously.

I was Stephanie again. I wondered why sometimes I was Babe and sometimes I was Stephanie. Was there some line drawn somewhere in his head? Did he believe I had two personalities and this was his way of reminding himself which personality he was speaking to at any given time? I could clear his mind if that was the case.

Dr. Addison said that I was definitely not suffering from a split personality disorder. He was a doctor. He knew those things. He still refused to discuss my parent's sexual habits. He insisted that he wasn't qualified. He tried to get me to make an appointment with a sex therapist, but I reminded him that my sex life wasn't the one in question. He had to agree with me then and we've since let the matter drop. As a matter of fact, Dr. Addison told me that he wasn't sure that there was anything I really needed him for anymore. He thought I was sane and as normal as anyone else out there. Yes, my life was unusual and he'd stay on call for anything I really needed. But we were down to maintenance about once a month. For some reason that made me feel like a car.

I shook my head to clear my wandering mind, "Well, I know that. But I still have some things to work out. Is my boss telling me to get my ass back to work?"

"No," he shook his head. "As your boss I'm inclined to ignore any issues I may have regarding that in favor of being your husband. If you don't want to be there, don't be there."

"Then why are you still paying me," I raised a brow sipped my wine.

He grinned, "Well, in case you file a sexual harassment lawsuit."

"Right," I nodded and walked away with a smile.

"Anyway…don't come back to work if you don't want to, but come by the office and say hi. Is that okay?"

"Who's asking?"

"Your husband for your friends," he said with a slight smile.

"I can probably do that," I agreed.

He walked around the counter and leaned toward me pushing me against the cabinets, "so…how long till dinner?"

I smiled, "you can't wait till after dinner?"

"We're newlyweds," he shrugged. "I don't want to wait at all."

"Like that makes a difference," I sighed as his very talented mouth moved down my neck and bit lightly at the joint of my neck and shoulder. I bit my lip to stop the moan.

"No…not when it comes to you," he admitted and sucked lightly at the same spot.

"The egg noodles are almost done. The bread is almost done."

"You're saying there's no time," he sighed and straightened to touch his forehead to mine.

"Well…not before dinner," I agreed. "I mean, I could just turn everything off and…"

"No…I won't ruin another of your culinary masterpieces because I can't keep it in my pants around you," he stood straight up and reached down to adjust himself.

I glanced down at the prominent bulge in his black cargoes and licked my lips, "are you sure? I mean its stroganoff. It's usually better the second day anyway."

He laughed, "Thanks Babe…I needed that."

"What," I frowned up at him in confusion.

He looked uncomfortable for a moment, "I needed to know that you still want me."

I stopped for a moment and turned the noodles off and the oven off and turned down the stroganoff. I reached for his hand, "come with me."

"Where are we going," he frowned and let me lead him out of the kitchen.

"To clear that impression out of your head for good," I assured him.

"Oh," he grinned and scooped me up and raced up the stairs to our bedroom.