I woke as Ranger parked the Subaru in front of the house.
"Rise and shine, badass," he said, his voice soft.
I opened my eyes. The air in the car was warm, and the sun was shining in on my face. It felt wonderful.
"Mmm…. I could stay here all afternoon," I admitted, stretching.
"I can crack a window," Ranger suggested, turning off the engine and unlocking the doors.
I yawned.
"I'm up, I'm up," I protested, unbuckling myself.
I retrieved my desserts from the back seat, and we made our way into the cottage. I put my cheesecake in the fridge and grabbed a fork to eat the cake.
"You want some of this?" I asked, plopping down at the table.
"No thanks," Ranger said. "But let me know what you think."
I forked into the cake and scooped it into my mouth. The peanut butter frosting melted in my mouth, and the cake was light and chocolatey.
"This is heaven," I moaned, forking off another bite.
"Glad you like it," Ranger said with a smile. "My mom loves the desserts at that place. Whenever she's here, we have to drive up several times to eat."
"I'm liking your mom more and more," I said, smiling wide.
"You two are a lot alike," he said. "I'd always heard men marry women like their mothers, but I didn't believe it. Now I do."
"How in the world are we alike?" I asked.
"Well, you're both pretty. You both love food, and you both manage to have a good enough metabolism it doesn't seem to affect your waistline. You're both free-spirited and adventurous, but also slightly clumsy. Both of you enjoy nice things if someone else buys them for you, but you're practical and understated when making purchases for yourselves. You both love your families, and you're both people-pleasers. Also, neither of you can cook."
I had to laugh out loud at that admission. It was true. I could fry up a hot dog, make a grilled cheese, and smear peanut butter on bread. Beyond that, I was hopeless.
"At least you know I can't cook," I said.
"I'm not much of a cook either, Babe," he laughed. "You're going to learn that while we're here. As kids, my siblings and I would have starved or eaten a diet entirely of PB and J if dad and abuela hadn't cooked."
At the mention of Ranger's abuela, I looked at my ring and smiled.
"Do you have any pictures of your abuela?" I asked curiously.
Ranger nodded and wandered into the small living room.
I threw away my empty to-go container and placed my dirty fork in the sink. I washed my hands and joined Ranger in the living room, where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the bookshelf. He had pulled a brown faux-leather photo album off the shelf and was flipping through pages, his face serious.
"Here," he said, pointing to an image of a small, older woman with gray hair. A teenage boy with caramel colored skin, acne, and a dark ponytail stood next to her, her arm around his back.
"Is that you?" I asked, bending at the waist to see better.
He nodded.
"I was visiting my family in New Jersey during a school break. I was living in Miami when this was taken."
I took a seat next to Ranger on the floor, our knees touching. I studied the photo, committing the woman's warm brown eyes and impish smile to memory.
"She was beautiful," I said, lightly touching the plastic covering the photograph.
Ranger's lips hinted at a smile.
"May I?" I asked, gesturing at the book.
"Of course," he said, passing the book to me.
Together, we flipped through the pages of the book. Ranger patiently told me the names of his family members pictured in the photographs, and he explained what was happening at the time each image had been taken. When we'd finished the book, I asked if I could see more.
"Babe," Ranger said with a light laugh.
He selected another book from the shelf and opened it. I was shocked to see an image of a handsome, young man dressed in Army dress attire. His face was stoic and serious, his posture rigid. On his arm was a young woman in a short white dress, her dark hair curled and her makeup perfect. She held a small bouquet of red roses, and a small tell-tale bulge was visible on her stomach. They were in a room with dark wood paneling and a wood railing. I recognized Rachel and Ranger.
"This is your wedding photo?" I asked softly.
Ranger nodded.
"Courthouse wedding," he said in explanation.
He turned the page, and four photos became visible. They were all taken in a hospital room. Rachel sitting in a bed looking exhausted, holding newborn Julie. Ranger looking serious holding tiny Julie in his arms, a grey Army t-shirt painted across his chest. Julie laying in a clear plastic bassinet wrapped in a tiny pink blanket. A photo of an older couple I didn't recognize posing with Julie in the woman's arms.
"Those are Rachel's parents," Ranger said, pointing to the image. "Julie was their first grandchild. They were ecstatic."
I smiled, remembering how excited my parents had been when Valerie gave birth to Angie.
"You don't look as excited as they were," I admitted, pointing to his photo.
Ranger's brow furrowed. His face grew thoughtful as he looked at me.
"I wasn't," he admitted. "I was trying to do right by Rachel and Julie, but by the time Julie was born, it was clear our marriage wasn't going to work. I wasn't mature enough to handle the cards I'd been dealt. My entire world had shifted—a wife, a baby, the trauma of watching friends get blown to bits in the sand overseas, grueling training to become an Army Ranger... I was struggling to keep it together. Rachel and I stayed together as long as we could make it work, which was actually longer than either of us had anticipated. With me overseas, it seemed to make things almost bearable for a while, but the entire thing was doomed from the start."
I took his hand in mine and squeezed it. He kissed my cheek. And somehow, in that moment, I knew what I had to do.
"I know you'll do better the second time around," I said quietly, looking at my feet.
I heard Ranger laugh silently.
"It helps when you marry someone you love, not just someone you impregnated," he admitted.
"Well, yeah… There's that…" I said sheepishly. "But I guess I meant fatherhood."
Ranger's wide, surprised eyes met mine. We sat quietly like that, studying each other for several beats, waiting for the other to say something.
Ranger cleared his throat.
"You're sure?" he asked hesitantly.
I nodded slowly, and his face broke into a massive smile. He wrapped his arms tightly around me and drew me to him, kissing me across my forehead and cheeks.
"Easy there, killer," I joked, pulling away.
"Babe?" Ranger asked, uncertain why I was stopping his affection.
"I love you too, but my boobs are killing me—you're crushing them. Is that a pregnancy thing?"
We laughed together, and Ranger gave me a soft, affectionate kiss. We continued flipping through photographs until the sun was setting in the west.
"We'd better get the grill going," he said, placing the photo books back on the shelf. "Is grilled chicken acceptable for dinner?"
He stood and extended his hand to me, hoisting me to my feet.
"I can eat chicken," I said. "How can I help?"
"Do you want to season the chicken while I light the charcoal?" he asked.
I squinted at him playfully.
"Me? Season food?"
"Babe," he said, laughing.
He walked to the cabinet above the stove and handed me a spice bottle and a small bottle of olive oil.
"Drizzle a little bit of oil on both sides. This is lemon pepper seasoning—just shake some over it. It's not complicated."
He pulled a package of chicken breasts from the refrigerator and handed them to me.
"Look at me go!" I joked, accepting the chicken.
Ranger went outside, and I followed his chicken-seasoning instructions. It seemed easy enough, and when I'd finished, I stared at the plate of chicken, feeling accomplished. I washed my hands and repeated the salad-making process from the day before. I set it on the table with dressing, then set three place settings. Stephanie Plum: Domestic Goddess.
Ranger came back into the house and took the chicken, selecting a pair of tongs from a drawer.
"I'm going to go say hey to Ximena and invite her to dinner," I told Ranger.
He nodded, then went back outside to grill the chicken.
I had mixed feelings about seeing Ximena. After the airport ass-chewing, some space had been welcome. She hadn't been entirely wrong, though.
I poked my head into the fridge and extracted the slice of wild blueberry cheesecake. I slipped on my sandals and headed for the small teal cottage, wrapping my arms tightly around my body. The air had cooled as the sun had set, and the wind blowing off the ocean was cold. I stepped onto the small concrete stoop and knocked twice.
"Come in!" I heard from somewhere inside the house.
I hustled inside the door and found myself in a small sitting room with two rocking chairs. The floor, walls, and ceiling were natural wood.
"Hey," I greeted, slipping out of my sandals so as not to track sand in the cottage.
"What's up?" Ximena said, poking her head in from the kitchen.
She was dressed in black leggings, a PINK hooded sweatshirt, and fuzzy pink socks.
"We're working on dinner right now. Will you join us?"
She sighed.
"I guess."
"Don't sound so thrilled," I joked, handing her the Styrofoam food box.
"What's this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Apology cheesecake," I said sheepishly. "I'm sorry if I've been a brat. My maturity is… lacking, right now. It's no excuse, but I'm trying to process a lot. I'm struggling. I'm sorry."
Ximena sighed.
"You're fine, chica," she said, closing the distance between us and throwing her arms around me in a bear hug. "I was out of line in the airport. I was mad at Carlos, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."
We broke from the hug, and she went into the kitchen, placing the cheesecake in the fridge.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, her face clearly worried.
"I feel good. Just really, really tired," I admitted.
"Take it easy," Ximena said. "I know there's lots of fun stuff to do while you're here, but your body needs to rest. We're slowly tapering you off the opioids. The other drugs are helping to manage the symptoms, but it's still taking a lot out of you."
"What do you mean, 'tapering me off opioids?" I asked, not understanding.
She gave me a knowing look.
"I've been giving you opioids—methadone—to help wean you off the heroin. Going cold turkey without drugs is not good for your body, especially when you're pregnant," she explained.
"You mean… I'm still on drugs?" I asked, flummoxed.
I'd been feeling almost normal. It hadn't occurred to me I could still have drugs racing through my veins.
"Eh… sort of. Not exactly," she said. "You're on a managed plan to taper you off the opioids to protect you and the baby."
I swallowed hard, and it felt like ice was running through my veins. Here I was, committing to bring this new life into the world and still dosing him or her up daily.
"You okay, Steph?" Ximena asked, taking a few steps toward me. "You just turned white as a sheet."
"I need a minute," I said, reaching a hand out to the wall to steady myself.
Ximena dragged over a rocking chair and helped me to sit. As I shivered, she draped an afghan over my shoulders.
"It's going to be fine, Steph," she said, squatting down in front of me. "We're going to get all this out of your system long before the baby is here. You don't have a long-term substance abuse issue you're dealing with, and this wasn't of your own doing."
I nodded my understanding, but I felt numb and helpless nonetheless.
"Have you given any more thought to what you're going to do about… you know?" she asked, rubbing my thighs with her palms in a soothing gesture.
"Keep it," I croaked, my voice gravelly.
She nodded.
"You've got this, Steph."
She glanced at her smartwatch.
"You're seven weeks pregnant today," she announced matter-of-factly. "You're halfway through your first trimester."
"My boobs hurt," I complained, staring at my hands.
"That's normal," she said, getting to her feet. "It's hormones. It'll get better with time."
She busied herself tidying the kitchen and changing her socks, putting on running shoes.
"You good to walk over?" she asked me, sizing me up in the rocker.
I nodded, feeling slightly better but overwhelmed. Ximena took my hands and pulled me to my feet.
"You've got this," she announced again, patting me on the back.
We walked back to the cottage together, and I settled onto the loveseat, thinking about the information I'd just been given. Ignorance had been blissful. The weight of motherhood sat squarely on my shoulders now and made it hard to focus. The gravity of the situation was daunting.
Ranger called us to the table a short time later, where he had plated grilled chicken, asparagus, and wild rice in addition to the salad I had made. We dug in, and I ate methodically, trying to focus on the task at hand. Ximena and Ranger shared light conversation, but I sat quietly, with Ranger occasionally looking at me with assessing eyes.
When dinner was finished, Ximena cleared and wiped the table, and Ranger washed the dishes. I picked up the dishtowel and dried dishes, my mind elsewhere.
"You alright, babe?" Ranger asked quietly.
I nodded.
"Something bothering you?" he asked, handing me a glass he'd washed.
I shook my head.
"I'm pooped," I said. "And I have a lot on my mind. I just need some sleep."
Ranger gave me a look like he didn't entirely believe me, but he let the issue drop.
"Go relax," he urged. "I'm almost done here. Let me finish up."
He didn't have to tell me twice. I went into the bedroom, slipped off my shoes, and climbed under the covers. The air in the house was cool, but the blankets were warm and soft. I laid on my back and put a pillow over my eyes, blocking the light that shone in from the kitchen. I gently laid my hand over my lower abdomen, trying to mentally comprehend that a tiny being was growing there.
"Did she go to bed?" I heard Ximena ask beyond the bedroom door.
I didn't hear Ranger give a verbal response.
"Good," I heard Ximena say. "She needs to rest up and take care of herself."
I heard Ranger's voice respond, but I couldn't make out his words.
"Does she know yet? Did you tell her?" I heard Ximena say.
"Not yet," Ranger responded, walking past the bedroom door. "I'm giving her time and space to decompress first. She finally opened up some today."
"You need to tell her," Ximena said, her voice firm. "She's going to have to deal with it when she gets back to Trenton."
"I'm going to take a leave of absence to help her address it," Ranger said.
"Whoa, cuz. For cereal? How long?" Ximena replied, her tone revealing genuine surprise.
"I'm not sure yet," Ranger replied. "It will give us time to figure things out with us, and I can help her deal with the estate."
I couldn't handle listening to the cryptic conversation anymore. I got to my feet and poked my head out the door.
"What the heck are you talking about?" I asked, annoyed.
They both stared at me.
"You realize the walls here are paper thin, right?"
Ranger scowled.
"Spill the beans," I grumbled.
"Let's go in the living room," Ximena suggested.
Ranger stared daggers at Ximena as we shuffled into the small room. I took a seat cross-legged on the couch, and Ranger sat next to me with his arm behind me. Ximena sat on a wicker chair. I scanned back and forth between them, waiting for one of them to explain what was going on.
"They were able to make a positive I.D. on Dickie's remains. You were correct—it was him they were disposing of at the Indianapolis funeral home," Ranger said, his face disclosing nothing.
I nodded. This wasn't news to me.
"His family and attorney have been notified, and arrangements are underway. Dickie's lawyer tried to reach you at Rangeman today to notify you that you are the executor of the estate, as well as the beneficiary of his life insurance policy."
I raised an eyebrow.
"That can't be right," I argued, disbelieving.
Ranger shrugged.
"It's what the lawyer has on file. I suspect his will and policy documents were written around the time of your marriage, and he never bothered to change them. He probably figured he'd remarry and change them then," Ranger speculated.
I was fucking speechless.
"Babe?" Ranger asked.
I stared at him, my neurons failing to fire.
"Don't stress about it," he said, pulling me close. "I'll help you work through it. It shouldn't be too bad."
With that, something inside me snapped. I broke into a hysterical fit of laughter.
"She's lost it," Ximena said, staring at me. "Now I'll have to start administering anti-psychotics."
Ranger flashed her a look that would have scared the pants off of nearly anyone else, but Ximena just rolled her eyes.
"Babe?" Ranger asked, studying me.
"Jesus Christ. Marrying Dickie was a gift that keeps on giving!" I half shouted, half choked.
"Hey," Ranger said, his voice calm and steady. "Just breathe. This is going to be fine. Situations like this happen more often than you'd think. People divorce and fail to get stuff changed. They're not usually lawyers when that happens, but…"
Ranger's voice trailed off, and Ximena gave another epic eyeroll.
"What if I refuse to do it?" I scoffed.
Ranger shrugged.
"I imagine the court would appoint someone to be the executor of his estate," Ximena chimed it. "It shouldn't be a big deal. And hey, look on the bright side. You get his life insurance money. You could get a nice chunk of change. You get the last laugh."
I rolled that information around in my brain for a minute before deciding I wanted to throw up.
"Excuse me," I said, fleeing to the small bathroom.
I fell to my knees in front of the toilet and heaved, but nothing came up.
"Babe," Ranger said, pulling my hair away from my face.
He rubbed my back in slow, calming circles and shushed me as I dry heaved several more times. Ximena brought in a glass of water and sat it on the small sink. I did some deep breathing and closed my eyes, trying to calm down.
"I'm going to grab Zofran," Ximena said, fleeing the bathroom.
When it became clear I wasn't going to throw up, I put the lid down on the toilet seat and lay my cheek against the cold, wooden lid.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you as soon as I heard," Ranger said, rubbing my shoulders. "I figured it wouldn't be a welcome role for you. I didn't want to get you worked up like this. You don't need the stress. The baby doesn't need the stress."
"It's fine," I sighed, my eyes closed. "You can't protect me from everything all the time."
We let that thought sit between us for a few moments.
"I know," Ranger finally responded quietly. "I've learned that the hard way lately."
Ximena hustled in and slid a pill into my hand.
"Take that," she instructed, handing me the water. "We'll get your nausea settled, then we'll do your nighttime meds."
I obediently took the pill, and Ranger lifted me to my feet. I quickly brushed my teeth, feeling like I was doing it for an audience.
"I'll be back shortly, but call if you need anything," Ximena said, hustling out the door.
Ranger and I went into the bedroom, and I shucked my pants, sweatshirt, and bra, climbing between the sheets in a t-shirt and undies. Ranger changed into sweatpants and climbed in, pulling me close.
"My life is seriously fucked up," I lamented with a sigh.
"It's never boring, that's for sure," Ranger said, smirking.
"I have spent years perfecting the art of hating Dickie," I admitted. "It's weird trying to channel all that rage at a dead man."
"Then don't," Ranger encouraged. "It's time to let the past go. That chapter of your life is over."
"Good riddance," I sighed, slinging my arm over my face. "This chapter has to be better. If I catch you boinking Joyce Barnhardt on our table, you're a dead man, Manoso."
Ranger laughed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.
"Lester's been helping me perfect my shot, so you'd definitely be a dead man," I joked. "Or, at the very least, a man bleeding from a non-vital body part."
"Not to worry, Babe. You're already more woman than I can handle," he laughed, winking.
I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah. It's exhausting keeping me in cars," I prodded.
"At least you know it," he said, rubbing his eyes.
We sat in silence for a while before Ranger finally spoke.
"What do you want to do tomorrow?" Ranger asked, staring at the ceiling.
"Honestly? Nothing," I sighed. "I'm beat after today."
Ranger nodded.
"We can do that. Naps, reading, quiet walks on the beach…" Ranger suggested.
"Sounds great," I admitted. "Baby guppy is tired, too."
Ranger raised an eyebrow and looked at me.
"What?"
"Baby guppy," I repeated.
"I heard what you said, I just couldn't believe I heard you say it."
"What?" I asked defensively. "We have to call it something."
Ranger's lips hinted at a smile.
"Baby isn't sufficient?" he asked.
"That's lame," I argued, scowling at him. "Our fetus deserves a name. Therefore—baby guppy."
"Your hormones must be doing something crazy," Ranger said, giving a disbelieving stare.
"It's your fault," I argued, crossing my arms across my chest. "Your demon sperm did this to me."
"Are you trying to get my man card revoked?" Ranger asked. "First grandma's ring, and now you're calling the baby a 'baby guppy.'"
He sighed playfully, and I elbowed him in the ribs.
"Oh, cool your jets," I joked. "You don't always have to be the macho guy. Besides, between the stress baby guppy and I are likely to cause, you'll be fighting male-pattern baldness in no time."
Ranger sat up and bent over my torso.
"You hear that?" he asked in a playful voice. "Your mom is nuts. But we love her anyway. You'll get used to it."
We broke into a fit of laughter, but were interrupted by a knock on the bedroom door.
"Am I interrupting?" Ximena's voice asked from the other side of the wall.
"No," Ranger said, still laughing. "Come on in."
"Are you decent?" she asked hesitantly.
"Does a red fuzzy thong count?" I asked playfully.
Ximena opened the door and rolled her eyes at me.
"I know you better than that," she said. "You'd be horrified, diving out of bed to dress instead of advertising your affinity for strange undergarments."
I closed my eyes and laughed, kicking my feet under the blanket.
"You two are awfully cozy in here," Ximena said. "I'm definitely getting strong third-wheel vibes."
"Just talking about baby guppy," I said playfully, sticking my tongue out at Ranger. "You're welcome to snuggle in with us and join in the fun."
Ximena laughed, but Ranger raised an eyebrow at me.
"That's a new one," Ximena admitted. "I've had a lot of strange offers in the past, but none so… appealing?"
I obediently took the pills she handed me, and she replaced the patch on my arm.
"Try to take it easy tomorrow," Ximena suggested. "I'm concerned you're going to overdo it. There's lots of fun stuff to do, but I guarantee Ranger will haul you to the land of mosquitoes and cove water anytime you want. No pressure to do and see it all this trip."
She wished us a good night, and Ranger walked her out, locking the cottage door behind her. He climbed into bed, pulled me close, and, in no time, we were drifting off to sleep.