I wandered into the apartment around 4:30 pm to get ready for dinner at my parents' house. The lights were dim, and the apartment was cool and calm. I filled a glass with water in the kitchen and headed for the bathroom for a shower. To my surprise, I found Ranger fast asleep in bed. He didn't stir as I walked through, his breathing slow and even. Good deal. Batman needed his rest. His brain still had a lot of healing to do, and I knew his lack of sleep wasn't helping. Plus, I knew he was stressed about his mother, even if he refused to acknowledge it. He had a big heart—much bigger than he'd ever let on with his tough exterior. He'd proven his heart time and time again, and I adored him for his selflessness, generosity, and acts of service for those he loved. His stoic exterior was clearly a defense mechanism, and an effective one at that.
I showered, placed a new bandage on my cut face, reapplied makeup to cover my bruise, and used the blow dryer on my hair. I dressed in a light blue shirtwaist dress and cork wedge sandals, then evaluated myself in the mirror.
Eek! I couldn't help but cringe at my reflection. I was a mess. My mother was going to start drinking the instant I walked through her door. The dog bite on my leg was healing, but it was scabbed over and looked bad. My knees and elbows were skinned from tumbling down the fire escape. A bandage set next to the bruise on my face, which had turned greenish purple and peeked through my foundation despite an earnest effort to hide it. And though it didn't physically show, my ribs ached from their encounter with the airbag earlier in the day. I was truly a disaster. I thought of the movie Bubble Boy, and couldn't believe that Ranger hadn't bought me my very own bubble yet.
"Babe."
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Ranger standing in the closet door. He was wearing boxers, and he looked exhausted with dark circles under his eyes.
"Hey," I greeted, smoothing my dress.
"Pretty," he said, standing behind me and studying my reflection in the mirror.
"I've got Mrs. Markowitz's visitation," I said in explanation, examining my elbow. "My mother is going to stroke out when she sees me. Should I put on pants and sleeves?"
"Babe," he said, laughter in his tone. "You're perfect."
Ranger tugged on some dark wash jeans, a black t-shirt, and black tennis shoes.
"I've got some paperwork on the table you need to complete," Ranger said. "Incident reports for today."
"Huh?" I asked, not understanding.
"For insurance purposes, we have to document incidents that happen on the job. You have two to write up from today—Lester getting shot and your falling down the stairs at the Avalos takedown, plus wrecking your Jeep chasing Dickie. If you have questions, Ximena or I can help you."
I grimaced. I had no idea this would be part of the "being employed with Rangeman" gig. I think I liked being written off through the entertainment budget better.
"Are you sure it's a good idea to go back to Newark tonight?" I asked, changing the subject. "You look exhausted. I can sit with your mom tonight if you want to get some rest here."
"I'm ok," said Ranger, putting on his watch. "Thanks for the offer."
"Have you been keeping up with your physical therapy?" I asked. "I know you're not getting enough sleep."
"You caught me, mom," Ranger said, winking at me.
I scowled at him. "I'm not kidding," I said, my tone serious. "You shouldn't be messing around with your health, mister."
Ranger crossed the closet and wrapped me in his arms, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.
"I appreciate your concern, but I'm okay," he said, his voice sexy and velvety soft. "Mamí should go home tomorrow, then I'll take a few days. Does that satisfy you?"
The innuendo in his voice just about lit my panties on fire. I swallowed hard and nodded. I was satisfied.
"Maybe you could take a few days with me," he suggested, running his hands down my body, letting them linger on my butt. "We could get away."
"I haven't accrued any time off yet," I breathed.
"I think we can make it work," Ranger crooned.
I nodded again, my breath catching in my chest. I had to admit-I'd like that a lot. I didn't do vacations often, and I'd love one.
"We'd better hit the road, Babe. We wouldn't want your mother's ham to be ruined."
We pulled up to my parents' house in Ranger's Cayenne and parked on the street. We were ten minutes early, and frankly, I was disappointed we hadn't taken the risk of ruining my mother's ham. I was hot and bothered, and I was pretty sure Ranger knew it as he ran his fingers up my thigh under my skirt, his lips connecting with mine in a sensual kiss. I was about to suggest we find somewhere to park when my grandma came out onto the front porch, waving at us. She was wearing navy blue slacks, a lavender blouse, and navy pumps with a low heel. Her hair had been dyed brown with pink streaks, the base color quite similar to mine. I imagined it was what her hair had looked like, minus the pink, prior to going gray.
"Caught by the grandma," Ranger whispered, unbuckling my seatbelt.
I exhaled a sigh and climbed out of the car, giving grandma a wave.
"I'm so glad you could make it!" Grandma said to Ranger. "I wasn't sure we'd be seeing you. You've got quite the shiner! Where did that come from? You and Stephanie have a matching set!" she exclaimed.
"Good evening, Mrs. Mazur," Ranger cooed at grandma, and she instantly forgot about his black eye. He had that effect on women. "You're looking quite lovely tonight."
"Oh, you charmer! You can call me Edna. Or hell, even grandma!" she said. She elbowed Ranger in the gut. "You're gonna make me your grandma one day, right?" she said under her breath with a big smile.
Ranger gave her a wide smile and ushered Grandma into the house politely.
Grandma turned her attention to me. "Stephanie, that dress is really pretty!"
I gave my grandma a hug and a peck on the cheek.
"Thanks. How's it going?" I asked grandma.
"Good! It's a Thursday, and your mother only did her regular ironing. No mental health ironing here! She hasn't even hit the hooch."
I grimaced as I looked down at my skinned knees. Let the ironing begin.
I kissed my dad hello on my way through the living room, and Ranger joined him, kicking back to relax on the couch in companionable silence. I obediently joined my mom in the kitchen.
"Hi mom."
"Stephanie, set this on the table," my mother said, shoving a bowl of mashed potatoes in my direction. "Did Carlos come?"
"Yep," I responded, taking the potatoes.
"Please set an additional seat at the table," she said, stirring a pot of something.
I did as I was told, and grandma brought additional items to the table—a small serving dish of pickles, a tray with a variety of cheeses, and some good Italian bread. My mother added a plate of asparagus spears and a plate of carved ham to the table, and she nodded her approval. She turned her attention to me, apparently actually seeing me for the first time since my arrival. She gave me a full body scan from top to bottom, and her eyes bugged out.
"What happened to you?" she asked.
"I'm fine," I said, trying to calm her. "I had an accident on a flight of stairs."
Grandma went off to collect Ranger and my father from the living room, and I busied myself filling glasses with the water pitcher while my mother brought beer and wine to the table.
"Does he hurt you, Stephanie?" my mother asked, her face tight.
"What?" I asked, not understanding.
"I know you're desperate for a man in your life, but if Carlos beats you, I really wish you'd find a new man," my mother said quietly.
"Jeez Louise! Mom, he doesn't hit me. He's never done anything to harm me. What the heck gave you that idea?"
"Well, you show up here looking like that," she said, gesturing to my knees and face, "and you've only lived with him a matter of days. I don't like it, Stephanie Michelle Plum. Not one bit."
I could feel my face turning red with anger. I twisted the top off a beer and chugged half of it.
"I showed up looking like this all the time when I dated Morelli, and you never once asked if he beat me," I accused. "What kind of bullshit is this?"
"I just assumed Joseph did," my mother said. "His father hit his mother. But Joseph was a good man. He'd be an excellent father to your children. He was right for you."
"Good grief," I said, feeling sick. My mother had officially lost it. "I thought we were past this, mom. Enough."
I finished my beer, and my mom wandered back into the kitchen as Grandma, my dad, and Ranger entered the dining room.
Ranger pulled my chair out for me, and I settled into it. I grabbed a second beer, twisted the top off, and chugged some.
"Babe, take it easy," Ranger whispered to me. "What's going on?"
"I'm fine," I said, feeling the warmth from the alcohol race through my veins. "Everything is fine."
Ranger placed his fingers on my wrist, and it took me a minute to realize he was taking my pulse.
"Babe, your face is flushed, and your heartrate is approaching stroke level."
I sucked down another gulp of beer, and Ranger relieved me of my bottle, replacing it with a glass of water.
"Slow down, or I'm going to be carrying you out of here," he whispered, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb. "Talk to me."
I could feel my blood boiling just thinking about my mother's words. I shook my head no and scowled, choosing to shut down instead of deal with the problem.
My mother entered from the kitchen and sat at the table, setting a tumbler of what appeared to be iced tea, but I knew was whiskey, in front of her plate. With that, the food-fest began, all of us shoveling piles of food onto our plates.
Ranger carried on polite conversation with grandma while I seethed over my ham and mashed potatoes. He occasionally glanced over at me with a concerned look on his face, but he didn't pry. My mother was silent at her seat too, eating her dinner without a word.
I was surprised when my father spoke. I wasn't accustomed to him saying much at the table besides, "Pass the gravy," or, "More pot roast."
"What's the matter, Stephanie?" he asked, cutting off a hunk of his ham and forking it into his mouth.
I froze like a deer in the headlights. My father wasn't one to notice when something was wrong. Plus, sucking down a bottle and a half of beer in under five minutes hadn't exactly made me smart.
When I didn't respond, my father set down his fork and knife.
"Well?" he asked.
I looked at my mother, and she pursed her lips. My dad looked from me to my mom.
"Helen?" he asked.
When my mom failed to respond too, I could see the anger begin to boil in my father's face.
"Helen, let's talk in the kitchen," my father said, standing.
"But Frank, we're in the middle of…"
"Now," he said, his voice angry.
My mother drained her tumbler, and my father carried his plate into the kitchen followed by my swaying mother.
"That bad, huh?" Ranger asked, rubbing my back. He set my beer bottle back in front of my plate, and I drained it.
"Well doesn't that beat all?" Grandma asked, stuffing an asparagus spear in her mouth. "Let's face it, Helen can be a horses patoot sometimes. She gets that from the Mazur side of the family."
I ignored my parents' raised voices on the other side of the kitchen door as I shoved my mouth full of ham.
"Of course, I have to pay my respects to the deceased tonight, but this viewing will be a real bummer," grandma said, spooning pickles onto her plate. "Mabel will be laid out in slumber room number three, and you know she'll be laid out in an economy casket. It's real disappointing. When I go, I want to make sure I go in style. My fancy casket is on layaway with the funeral home, and I'm paying monthly installments. You won't catch me going out in some cheap metal box laid out in slumber room three, no sir."
In the Burg, death proceedings ranked right up there with firehouse bingo, seniors' trips to Atlantic City casinos, and high school athletic events as community social affairs. Stiva's slumber room number one was reserved for larger viewings, particularly for Grand Knights with the Knights of Columbus, Tail Twisters from the local Lions Club Chapters, high ranking members of Trenton's mob, a steady stream of murder victims, and the occasional elected official or police officer. Grandma had her heart set on letting the Burg kiss her ass goodbye in slumber room number one someday, but I wasn't genuinely concerned about how she planned to make that happen.
Ranger politely asked to be excused, and he went upstairs to use the bathroom. I knew I was asking for trouble, but I wasn't coming up with a better way to deal with the emotions I'd choked down during this brief but painful family dinner-I reached for a third bottle of beer, cracked the lid, and drank half of it before shoveling more potatoes onto my plate.
"Jeez, you're drinking heavy tonight," said Grandma. "Don't become an alcoholic like your mother. That wouldn't be great."
I had to admit that grandma was right. Using alcohol as a coping mechanism wasn't a great plan. I set the half-empty bottle back on the table, slumped in my chair, and released the top button on my dress. I felt like I was on fire.
I heard Ranger enter the room, but I didn't have the energy to glance his way.
"She's toast," I heard Grandma say, a fork scraping across a plate.
"I'm good," I said, closing my eyes. "Gimme a minute."
Ranger said something to grandma so quietly I couldn't catch it, then he scooped me up off the chair.
"Let's roll, Babe."
He carried me out to the Cayenne, settling me into the passenger seat and turning the A/C on high before I melted.
"That was a train wreck," I moaned, holding my hand to my spinning head.
"No kidding," he said, buckling me in. "Sit tight."
He went back to the house, and I relaxed into the supple leather seat, wishing the world would stop swimming so I could take a nap. He returned a few minutes later with a 9"x13" dish, which he slid into my lap.
"What?" I asked, confused.
"Your father suggested I take this home with us," he said. "He said it's your favorite. He said he sends his apologies on your mother's behalf."
I glanced down at the pineapple upside-down cake in my lap, and I smiled a big goofy smile.
"He's a good man, you know," Ranger said, turning the engine over.
"I know," I said closing my eyes and laying my head back against the headrest. "You are, too."
I woke up being carried into the apartment. I wanted to argue, but my alcohol-infused neurons weren't firing properly. Ranger set me gently into the bed and began unbuckling my sandals.
"Crap, I have to take Grandma to the viewing," I whined, slurring my words slightly.
"Your father is taking her and your mother," Ranger said, tossing my shoes aside. "I'll send flowers on your behalf. You can't go out like this."
An ashamed tear leaked from my eye as Ranger undid the buttons on the front of my dress. He sat me up gently, then pulled the dress over my head. He removed my bra, then laid me down in bed wearing nothing but panties. He left the bedroom, and I closed my eyes as more tears tried to leak out of them.
I'd just started to doze off when I heard Ranger's voice.
"Can you sit up?"
I opened my eyes, and he was staring down at me holding a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin.
"Take these," he ordered, handing me two pills as I sat up.
I placed the pills on my tongue, and he held the glass for me as I took a few sips to wash them down. He set the glass on the nightstand, then dropped one of his t-shirts over my head.
"Thank you," I said, laying back in the bed.
"What happened tonight?" Ranger asked, his voice expressing genuine concern. "Everything was fine when we arrived, and by the time we sat down to dinner, you were chugging beers and totally silent." He rubbed his hand up and down my thigh as a soothing gesture.
Sober Stephanie probably would have made excuses for her mother, but being I was currently drunk Stephanie, I had no filter. Alcohol was both my truth serum and my sleeping potion. I told Ranger about the brief encounter with my mother, and my futile efforts to stand up to her. When I finished, Ranger's jaw was tight, and he was silent.
"I'm sorry," I said apologetically. "My mother is a real bitch."
"Babe, you don't have to apologize for her. It's not your job," he said, caressing my thigh. "Does her approval mean that much to you?"
"I don't know," I said, closing my eyes. Another pathetic tear leaked out of my eye, and Ranger wiped it away with his fingertip.
"I wish your mother liked me, sure. But Babe… it's not the end of the world if she doesn't. I care more about what you think of me…. And what you think about yourself. Quit seeking your mother's approval. You'd have to conform to get it, and I don't see a future of conformity making you happy," Ranger said. "Aim for happy, Babe."
I nodded. Ranger was right. Life with him made me happy, and that was enough.
"I'm worried about you, Steph. This self-harm spiral your mother can put you in concerns me. Don't do this to yourself."
I nodded understanding and whispered, "Okay."
I felt Ranger stand and leave the room, and I blew out an embarrassed sigh, relaxing back into the bed. I was ashamed I'd let him see me crumble like this. I was embarrassed I'd let an argument with my mother send me over the edge. It all felt so stupid and unnecessary now. I really needed to get my shit together.
I heard Ranger talking in the other room, presumably on the phone. I strained to hear what he was saying, but the alcohol was tugging at my consciousness, and I eventually slipped into sleep.
I woke with a start some time later as I felt a warm body sliding into bed next to me in the dimly lit bedroom.
"Aren't you going to Newark?" I mumbled, trying to wake up enough to be coherent.
"Celia is going to sit with mom tonight," Ranger said, pulling me into him tightly. "I want to be with you."
"I'm so sorry," I said, turning to face him in the bed. "I didn't meant to…."
"Shh…" he shushed, pulling me into him. "Mom is fine. I'll get her settled at home tomorrow. And Celia is excited to have a night away from the kids."
"I love you," I said, planting a kiss on his muscled chest.
"I love you too, Steph."
He kissed me on the top of my head, and I could feel his excitement pressing into my stomach. I awkwardly propped myself up on my elbow, connecting my lips with his. His kiss was deep, and it made my entire body tingle with desire. I made several awkward, intoxicated moves to take it further, but he shut them down.
"You don't want me?" I asked, sticking my lip out in a pout and feigning hurt.
"Babe, I absolutely want you, but taking you right now goes against everything I've ever learned about consent," he admitted.
"Doesn't cohabitation eliminate those rules?" I asked, rolling on top to straddle him.
"No," he said, running his hands down my legs. "I never want to do anything to break your trust, Stephanie."
"And if I take advantage of you?" I said, slipping out of my panties.
"You've got my consent," Ranger said with a devilish smirk, holding his hands over his head.
I woke to the sound of Ranger's shower with a pounding headache and screaming ribs. The bedside clock read 6:45 AM. I pushed myself to a seated position and grabbed the water Ranger had left at my bedside. I saw he had set two aspirin next to the glass, and I washed them down gratefully. I laid back in the bed, waiting impatiently for the medicine to make my throbbing headache and aching ribs go away.
"Morning," I weakly greeted Ranger as he quietly walked through the bedroom toward the closet.
"Babe," he greeted. "Sorry I woke you. How are you feeling?"
"Like I wrecked a car and had too much to drink last night."
"That's an understatement," Ranger said. "Take it easy. Are you sure you don't need to be seen after your wreck?"
"I'm fine," I said, hoping it was true.
He went into the closet and came out several minutes later dressed in black slacks, a pale-yellow dress shirt, and fancy black Italian loafers.
"Damn," I breathed, drinking him in with my eyes. He looked like he belonged in GQ magazine.
"I'm not sure that's the response I want when I go to pick up my mother from the hospital," Ranger said, furrowing his brows. "Should I put on jeans?"
"No, it's good," I said, looking him over again. "It's really good."
I used the bathroom, and when I came out, Ranger was waiting for me with a mug of steaming coffee.
"Thanks," I said, accepting it and taking a long sip.
"You look like hell, Babe."
He was right. I'd seen myself in the mirror moments earlier. My hair was fright night, my bruise was full-blown green ugliness, my eyes were bloodshot, and I had impressive dark circles under my eyes.
"Thank you?" I asked sarcastically, settling onto the bed cross-legged.
"What are your plans for the day?" he asked.
I sipped my coffee, trying to gather my thoughts and put together a plan.
"Well, Mrs. Markowitz's funeral is this morning. I should probably go since I missed last night. And I've got training this afternoon. I need to see if Ximena needs me today, or if I'll be skip tracing."
"Ximena will be in Newark helping me to get mom settled," Ranger said. "So you're either in your office or out with Lester."
I nodded my understanding, setting my coffee mug on the bedside table. "Can I do anything for you today?" I asked him.
"Keep yourself safe so I can come home to you," he said. "I love coming home to you."
Butterflies exploded in my chest, and I could feel my face break into a ridiculous smile.
"I like living with you too," I said in response, and Ranger's face broke into a two-hundred-watt smile.
"So you'll stay?" he asked, his tone hopeful.
"Of course."
He crossed to the bed and pulled me to my feet, wrapping me in a bear hug and lifting me off my feet. I winced in pain, sucking in air as my ribs throbbed.
"Babe," he chided, setting me down. "You really should see a doctor. We have accident insurance for this reason."
Ranger went to find breakfast as I took a quick shower. I skipped washing my hair since I'd done that the night before, but I did shave and exfoliate. Two points for Plum.
I did the makeup thing, tamed my hair, and dressed in an olive colored sun dress, a lightweight cream-colored lace jacket, and tan peep-toe heels. I grabbed my empty coffee cup and wandered into the kitchen, finding Ranger at Rex's cage feeding him a grape.
"I see you two have a bromance going on," I joked. "Glad to see you've bonded since becoming roomies."
"He's the best kind of roommate," Ranger said, watching Rex poke around in his bowl.
"Quiet?" I asked.
"He doesn't try to steal my woman," Ranger said, sipping his coffee.
"You've experienced that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, I was the asshole that stole my roommates' women," he admitted, and I laughed out loud.
I poked around in the kitchen, settling on a bowl of Lucky Charms with milk and a side of my mother's pineapple upside-down cake for breakfast. Ranger gave me a comical smile as I sat at the bar next to him and began shoveling into my cereal.
"You've got sophisticated taste," he said.
"You should see my sandwich making skills."
I parked the Mercedes on the street near the Catholic church at 8:45 AM. I saw my mother's silver Buick parked in the lot and cringed in anticipation of seeing her. I remembered Ranger's words from the night before and steeled myself. I didn't need her approval as long as I was happy, and I knew I was happy with Ranger. The best way to prove I was happy to my mother was by living my best life, and I was going to do just that.
I filed into the church quietly with a handful of other mourners. An usher escorted me into the sanctuary, and I shuffled into the same pew as my family. I gave grandma a small finger-wave, and she gave me a wide smile. My mother ignored me, and my father gave me a nod of acknowledgment. The organ began to play, and the casket was rolled to the front of the church with the family trailing along behind. I recognized Evelyn and Annie, but I didn't recognize the handful of other faces from Mabel's extended family. They sat at the front of the church, and the organ music stopped.
As the priest began his blessing, I glanced around, recognizing a handful of faces from my parents' neighborhood. I saw something out of my peripheral vision, and turned to look. Morelli was sliding into the pew next to me, having come in late. He was looking handsome in spite of his facial bruises, wearing a navy blazer, a white button-down dress shirt, khaki slacks, and brown dress shoes. I slid over six inches to give him more room, and he nodded his thanks, his eyes holding mine a second too long. I looked away and reminded myself to get a grip.
Halfway through the eulogy, I began to cry. Though I'd never been close with her, Mrs. Markowitz had been an incredibly sweet lady. She'd been a good neighbor to my parents, and I had many memories of her from growing up next door. I'd always been a pathetic funeral crier, but having known Mabel Markowitz fairly well made it all worse. My father handed me his handkerchief, and I dabbed my eyes with it. Morelli cautiously rubbed my back as I hiccupped through more tears, giving me an understanding nod. He'd been to funerals with me before. He knew the drill.
The service was relatively short, but I'd managed to cry off my water-proof mascara by the end. I considered this an Olympic-level feat. As we waited to shuffle out of the church, grandma handed me a makeup remover towelette and small hand mirror out of her purse, and I cleaned up my mascara-smudged face as best I could.
"You going to be alright?" Joe asked me as he escorted me out of the church.
"Yep, I'm good," I said, giving him a small smile. "Funerals have a way of bringing out the crier in me."
He politely nodded his understanding.
Once we were outside the church, my mother gave Joe a warm greeting, giving him hugs and a peck on the cheek while actively ignoring me. My father shook Joe's hand, and grandma engaged him in a short conversation before they headed to my mom's Buick.
"That was awkward. You fighting with your mom?" Morelli asked, his brow furrowed.
I nodded. "You going to graveside?" I asked, standing on the sidewalk soaking up the warm sun.
Joe shook his head no. "My m…. m…." He took a deep breath and concentrated. "My mother will pick me up shortly. She had errands to run."
"Well, if you can live through twenty minutes at the graveside service, I can take you home after," I offered.
"You sure?" he asked, uncertain.
"Of course," I said. "Partners, right? We better start figuring this out."
Morelli gave a nod of understanding. "Sure. That'd be great." He looked around, and a confused look crossed his face. "What are you driving? I can't keep up with your cars."
I beeped the Mercedes SUV unlocked and pointed. "That."
Morelli let out a low whistle. "He takes good care of you," he acknowledged, walking toward the SUV.
"Jeez Joe, why do you have to make it weird like that?" I scoffed.
"What?" he asked. "I'm not trying to make it weird. It's just an observation. He does take good care of you. Better than I ever did."
I let that thought sink in as we settled ourselves into the vehicle, and Joe texted his mom about the change in plans.
"If it's any consolation, my mother thinks he beats me," I said lightheartedly.
"What? Manoso? Beat you?" Morelli asked, disbelieving. He paused, pursing his lips. "Wait, he doesn't actually beat you, right Steph? You'd say something, right?"
"Jeez Louise!" I exclaimed. "No, of course he doesn't beat me."
"Well, it's nothing to take lightly," Joe said, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"I know," I admitted. "If it's any consolation, my mother thought you beat me while we were together, too."
"What the fuck?" Morelli asked, his face registering disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"
I shook my head. "Nope. But apparently my mother was okay with you hitting me, just not Ranger."
Morelli's eyes turned dark and his brows furrowed, but he didn't share his thoughts. I had a feeling his thoughts were about his scumbag father, so I didn't pry.
"My mom has officially gone off the rails," I explained. "My dad has been intervening. It's bizarre."
Morelli sighed.
"He offered to let me redecorate the apartment," I shared as a man tied a small flag onto the SUV antenna.
"Manoso?"
"Yep."
"He's crazy," Morelli muttered.
"Hey! Be nice," I scolded.
"Steph, I've seen the way you've decorated in the past. It's not great."
"That's not fair," I said, shifting into drive and turning on my hazard lights. "First of all, I couldn't afford nice furniture. Second, when your apartment is regularly getting firebombed, it doesn't make sense to put any real effort into decorating."
Morelli gave me a sideways glance. "You know your life isn't normal, right? No normal person would ever say something like you just said."
I rolled my eyes at him and blew a raspberry, and Morelli broke into hearty laughter.
"Well, now that I live in a building that is as secure as Fort Knox, I'm going to assume that my new décor will be safe."
"You're actually going to buy new furniture?" Morelli asked in disbelief.
"No," I admitted with a smile. "But maybe I'll buy a throw blanket. Or a picture frame."
"I'm glad you're happy, Steph," Joe said.
"Me too," I said. "Thank you."