It was dark when Ranger parked the 911 Turbo in the underground Rangeman garage. We sat in silence, a few beats passing between us before Ranger took my hand in his across the console.

"We better get upstairs," he said softly. "Ximena is probably impatiently waiting around for us."

I didn't move from my seat, instead changing the subject.

"Did I do the right thing tonight?" I asked, feeling uncertain.

Ranger's eyes connected with mine, our gaze holding.

"I don't know if there is a right thing in this situation, Babe. He put you down as the beneficiary. For whatever reason, he wanted you to have the money. You're doing the best you can in a strange situation."

I let his words wash over me as I laid my head against the seat, my eyes closed. I supposed he wasn't wrong, but signing paperwork that entitled me to my ex-husbands $2 million-dollar insurance policy felt icky. Especially when I had no understanding as to why I was the beneficiary. I needed answers, and I might never get them. That didn't sit well with me.

I heard Ranger get out of the car and close his door. Moments later, my door opened. My eyes met his as he extended his hand to me.

"Let's roll," he said, and I took his hand.

He pulled me to my feet and ushered me to the elevator, carrying a paper bag of leftovers from my mom. I was dead on my feet, but he seemed to be energetic and alert, the Maine trip having reenergized him in a way I'd never understand.

"I need to stop on the fifth floor to sign a few papers for leave," said Ranger, pressing the fifth-floor button. "You're welcome to come with me, but you're welcome to head upstairs too. I'll be up in a few minutes."

"I'm heading up," I said, taking the paper bag from him. "Don't be offended if baby guppy and I are fast asleep before you make it to the apartment."

"No offense taken," he said, giving me a grin and a light swat on the butt.

The elevator doors opened to the fifth floor, and Ranger turned to exit the elevator. He stopped abruptly, and I peered out of the elevator to see why he paused. Ximena was pressing a man against the wall, their lips locked together and her fingers wound tightly in his shirt. Ranger had a look of amusement spread across his face. He cleared his throat loudly, and Ximena abruptly broke from the kiss, leaving Morelli looking shell-shocked against the wall.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot uncomfortably as Ranger excused himself, heading for his office.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Ximena said to Morelli as she awkwardly dove into the elevator before the doors could close.

I took a deep breath, trying desperately to understand my emotions and clear my head. I stared at the mirrored ceiling of the elevator, taking in my reflection.

"Hey," said Ximena, straightening her shirt.

"Hey," I echoed awkwardly.

Ximena pressed the elevator button for the sixth floor, but it was too late—we'd already passed the sixth floor.

"Sorry if that was awkward for you," she said, her face flushed. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

I let out an awkward laugh, my stomach tying itself in uncomfortable knots. Sure, Morelli and I weren't together anymore, but it didn't make it any less weird.

"Nothing to be sorry for," I said, the doors opening to the seventh-floor foyer. "He's not my boyfriend. Besides, I'm engaged to another man."

I scrambled from the elevator, fumbling to get my keys out of my bag.

"I'll be up in a few minutes with your meds," Ximena called after me as I fobbed my way into the apartment.

I wedged myself in the door and slammed it behind me, dumping my bag and keys onto the sideboard. I retreated to the kitchen, where I dumped the bag of leftovers on the counter. I dug out a Ziploc of Italian cookies my mother had sent, and I began unceremoniously shoving them into my mouth.

"Get a grip, Stephanie," I said out loud. "He's your past. You're partners at work. That is all."

I shoved another cookie in my mouth as images of Ximena's lips attached to Joseph Anthony Morelli rolled around in my brain. To take my mind off of the mental images, I stared at my engagement ring.

"You're getting married to Carlos," I said through a mouthful of sugar and lard. "You love him. You're having a baby together. You live with him, for crying out loud."

Somehow that reminder was comforting. I opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of skim milk, taking a swig straight from the carton. I threw the leftovers into the fridge, paper bag and all, and retreated to the bedroom. I shucked my clothes, opting for Nike shorts and one of Ranger's t-shirts. I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and pulled my hair into a messy bun before diving into the bed, wanting nothing more than to pretend the last fifteen minutes had never happened.

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling and doing some deep breathing. I placed a hand over my abdomen and tried to conjure images of what a life with Ranger and a baby might look like. I hadn't given myself permission to wonder up to this point, the situation surrounding this pregnancy seeming too tenuous.

What would this baby look like? He or she would almost certainly have dark hair. Between my brown locks and Ranger's nearly black hair, that was a no-brainer. Eyes? That was a toss-up. My eyes were light, and Ranger's were dark. I vaguely remembered talking about eye color in high school science class-something about recessive and dominant genes-but the specifics of that conversation had long slipped from my mind. I had no inkling about the baby's gender, and honestly, I didn't care as long as the baby was healthy. If I was being honest, the baby's health was my primary concern.

I considered pulling out my cell phone to Google 'babies born to mothers who used heroin,' but that seemed like a slippery slope. I already knew enough to be worried—I didn't need to add panic to my list of active emotions.

I heard the apartment door open and close, followed by light conversation. Ranger and Ximena's voices drifted through the bedroom door. I debated going to them, but I figured they'd find me. No need to get out from my warm, cozy place.

"It's none of my business what you do," I heard Ranger say, his tone argumentative. "Just watch yourself. He's never been a faithful guy, and I don't need drama on my team."

"I can take care of myself," Ximena said in reply. "Besides, people can change."

My heart raced at this tidbit of information. I was sure they were talking about Morelli. Had he been unfaithful to me when we were together? Had Ranger known and said nothing? I strained to hear Ranger's response, but I couldn't make out his words. A flame of anger lit in my chest, but I mentally squashed it, closing my eyes and focusing on the life growing inside me. Those days were behind me.

I heard footfalls approaching the bed and opened my eyes. Ximena stood over me with a bottle of water and a handful of stuff.

"Did I wake you?" she asked.

"Nope," I said, sitting upright.

"Good," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but okay."

"Any issues or concerns?"

I shook my head no as she handed me the bottle of water. I opened the lid and obediently accepted the pills she handed me, swallowing them in one gulp. She flashed a patch at me before slapping its adhesive onto my arm.

"When can we stop all this?" I asked. "This all seems… excessive." '

"Excessive?" Ximena asked, her tone disbelieving. "I think you mean necessary. Be patient. Give it a few more weeks."

I sighed and flopped onto my back. I hated this.

"She's right," Ranger said, walking through the room and into the closet. "Please take care of your health, Steph."

"Call if you need anything," said Ximena, darting for the door. "I'll see you in the morning."

I heard the apartment door close, and Ranger emerged from the closet in boxers and a t-shirt.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked.

"No thanks," I said, snuggling back into the covers.

He left the bedroom and busied himself shutting down the apartment, the lights in the living area going off. He crossed through the bedroom before landing in the bathroom to do his nighttime routine.

"Did you get your paperwork signed?" I asked.

"Mmmhrm," he responded through a mouthful of toothbrush.

"Do I need to sign something?" I asked.

"Mmmhrm," he responded, then I heard him spit. "We'll take care of it tomorrow."

I studied the darkened can lights in the ceiling. Ranger shut off the lights in the bathroom and came into the bedroom, crawling between the sheets.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, my voice flat.

"Tell you what?" Ranger asked, his tone curious.

I rolled onto my side, propping my head up on my elbow.

"I heard you talking to Ximena. You told her Joe was unfaithful," I said, my tone accusatory.

Ranger firmly locked a blank expression on his face, drawing his lips together in a straight line.

"Don't do that," I said, furrowing my brow. "Take off the Army Ranger face. Be Carlos for a minute."

Realizing I'd called his shit, the corner of his mouth tipped into the beginning of a smirk.

"You know me too well, Ms. Plum," he said, scrubbing his hands over his face.

"Spill, Mr. Manoso," I said, giving him a light shove.

"It wasn't my place," Ranger said, his expression thoughtful. "How would it have looked if I'd said something? Accusing him of cheating on you when I'd climbed in your bed at every opportunity? You would have thought I was poaching."

"Joe and I were always broken up when I was with you," I argued.

"He didn't extend you the same courtesy," Ranger said sadly. "But even so, you were still emotionally wrapped up with one another. I wasn't comfortable getting involved."

"You had made it clear you were emotionally off limits," I argued, my blood pressure rising. "I didn't think you were an option!"

"Hey," Ranger said, his tone soft and soothing. "Let's not argue about this. It's the past. I'm sorry."

He sat up and took me in his arms, holding me close. I tensed at his touch.

"Babe," he sighed.

"I would have wanted to know," I choked. "Don't keep things from me like that. Ever."

"Noted," he said, stroking my arm. "I'm sorry. You really didn't know?" he asked, his tone surprised.

I shook my head no.

"I suspected a few times, but I never found any damning evidence of an affair," I admitted. "I thought I was being paranoid. I thought it was my own guilty conscience for lusting after you."

He planted a kiss on my temple.

"I hope you know I'd never do that to you."

"Lust after me?" I said with a smirk.

Ranger let out a light laugh. "I do that every day," he said, grabbing a handful of my ass. "I mean cheat on you."

"I know," I said, ours eyes connecting.

"I love you, Stephanie Michelle Plum."

Our lips connected, and the tension I'd felt just moments prior melted away into breathlessness.

"I love you too."

I woke to a very ordinary-feeling Wednesday. I felt like myself. I wasn't nauseous. I wasn't overly jittery or anxious. I was alone in bed, the day having started without me. Ranger was off doing his thing. This sense of normalcy was a relief.

I showered and dressed in jeans, a girly t-shirt, and tennis shoes before blasting my hair with a hair dryer. I wandered into the kitchen to look for breakfast, and I was surprised to find a Dixie cup sitting on the counter full of pills. A sticky note next to it read, "You know the drill," in Ximena's girly handwriting. There was also a file folder with a tab reading "Leave of Absence."

"Morning, Rex!" I greeted, tapping on his aquarium.

His soup can wiggled a little, but he didn't come out. I found a few raisins and dropped them into his bowl, and he scurried out to stick them in his cheeks.

"Did you have a good sleep, buddy? I slept like a log."

He wiggled his whiskers at me in greeting before scrambling back into his soup can, the raisins taking precedent over unnecessary conversation.

I considered calling Ella for breakfast, but instead opted to make something for myself. I knew Ella would gladly make me something for breakfast, but asking seemed lazy. I was perfectly capable of breakfasting on my own.

I pawed around in the pantry and refrigerator before settling on scrambled eggs and a bagel with cream cheese. I cut open the bagel and stuck it in the toaster oven before cracking eggs into a bowl. I added a bit of milk, scrambed them up with a fork, and dumped them into a hot skillet. I was surprised that, in less than ten minutes, I had pieced together an edible breakfast. Stephanie Plum: Domestic Goddess in Training.

As I sat at the counter and ate, I debated what to do with my day as I signed the paperwork for an absence from my Rangeman job. I'd never have been able to enjoy the luxury of taking time off work to rest and recuperate working for Vinnie and living alone. I'd worked the day after I'd received a gunshot wound on more than one occasion. Rent was always due the first of every month, and I barely scraped by working five or six days per week. Now I had more money in my bank account than I'd had ever in my life. My expenses had decreased significantly without paying rent, utilities, or car payments. It occurred to me that this was what being cared for felt like—and I wasn't disappointed. Why had I rejected Ranger's attempts for so long?

Mental head slap. Pride. Foolish pride.

And now, I had an enormous lump-sum payment headed my way in the next forty-five days. I tried to push the 'why' out of my head—I knew there was a chance I'd never know why I was the beneficiary—and allowed my mind to wander with what to do with such an enormous sum of money. The first thing was abundantly clear—I needed to help his family cover funeral expenses. Sure, it wasn't fun, but it was the right thing to do.

I mentally steeled myself and picked up my phone to dial a number I'd memorized nearly a decade earlier—the number to Dickie's parents' house.

On the second ring, a small voice picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mrs. Orr. This is Stephanie."

A pregnant pause sat between us, but Dickie's mom said nothing.

"I am so incredibly sorry for your loss, Mrs. Orr."

After a long pause, she responded.

"Thank you."

"Um… I'm sorry, I guess I'm not sure where to start. I'm guessing you've heard that, for some reason, I'm the beneficiary of Dickie's life insurance policy," I said hesitantly.

"Yes, we heard," she responded. "We hadn't been on speaking terms with Richard for some time. I'm glad you two were close when he passed, though."

"Excuse me?" I asked, not understanding.

"You two must have been close again for him to have chosen you as his beneficiary and to name you in his will. I'm glad. I always thought you were good for him, even if he was too loosey-goosey to know it, god rest his soul."

I swallowed hard. I felt like I needed to disclose that we were, in fact, not on good terms, but I also didn't want to hurt the woman I'd once called mother-in-law.

"Well, I was connecting with you because I'd like to help with Dickie's final expenses," I said. "I'm sure it is a heavy burden to bear for you, and I'd like to help out if I can."

"That's very sweet dear, but it's unnecessary. We can handle things. Will you be attending the funeral? Do you want to say a few words?"

I nearly choked on my tongue. Hell no, I had no desire to say anything, much less attend the big event. However, my gut said attending was the right thing to do.

"I plan to attend, ma'am, but I don't wish to speak. Please let me reimburse your expenses."

"Let me talk about it with Richard's dad, and we'll be in touch," she said hesitantly.

"Can I do anything?" I asked. "For you, I mean."

"No dear, we're getting by. I heard you were with him at the end. I wanted to ask—did he suffer? Did he seem to be at peace?"

I swallowed back the bile threatening to rise in my stomach. He was dead long before he was 'with me,' but I felt the need to ease the older woman's mind.

"He didn't suffer," I said, praying it wasn't a lie.

"The funeral is scheduled for Saturday, with visitation at Stiva's on Friday evening," she said, her voice breaking. "I look forward to seeing you again, I just wish the circumstances were better."

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before disconnecting. My heart was sad for Dickie's parents. Sure, he was a sleeze bag, but they were good people. Good Burgers, at that.

I spent some time ordering flowers to be delivered to the funeral home, then I called the bakery to place an order of rolls and cookies to be delivered to them for the wake. When those tasks were done, I dialed Ranger.

"Babe," he answered after the first ring.

"Just checking in. What are you in to?" I asked, putting my dirty plate in the dishwasher.

"I'm just finishing up physical therapy with Ximena," he explained.

"I have a few errands I'd like to run. Is that okay?" I asked hesitantly.

"We can go once I'm done, if that works for you. Or you can take Morelli now if you're in a rush. He's pushing papers on the fifth floor."

I mentally weighed my options. Going with Ranger would be fine, but I had the urge to give Morelli a piece of my mind.

"Thanks," I said, disconnecting and shoving my phone in my pocket. I scooped up my messenger bag and keys, then bolted downstairs to the fifth floor, where I found Morelli looking angry in a cubicle.

"What's up?" I asked him, a little too pleased that he seemed annoyed.

"With you on leave, I'm responsible for background checks," he grumbled, closing a file folder. "I'm guessing this is Ranger's punishment for kissing his cousin."

I laughed out loud, and Morelli scowled.

"Welcome to Rangeman," I said. "But just so you know, Tank is in charge. Ranger has taken a leave of absence. So you're not being punished by Ranger, it's all Tank."

"That isn't comforting," Morelli said, standing and stretching. He was wearing blue jeans, a Rangeman polo, and tennis shoes, his hair having grown into a buzz cut. "Do you need something, or are you dropping by to say hello?"

"I need a ride-along for errands, and Ranger suggested you," I said, adjusting my bag on my shoulder. "You game, or do you want to keep running background checks?"

Morelli grabbed his water bottle and wallet off the desk too quickly, letting me know he was ready to get-the-fuck-out of the office. We took the elevator to the garage, and I crossed to Ranger's Porsche Cayenne.

Morelli scowled. "We're taking his car?"

"Last time I checked, we're getting hitched—so it's my car too," I said with a snotty smirk. "Would you rather take the 911?"

I climbed into the driver's seat, and he obediently climbed into the passenger seat, his emotionless cop face firmly in place.

"So you and Ximena, huh?" I asked, rolling over the engine.

"It's not what you think," he said, his voice gruff. "She came on to me."

I laughed.

"I don't care," I said honestly. "I guess it just took me by surprise."

Truth be told, I didn't care. Sure, my initial response was one of discomfort, but once my brain caught up with my emotions, I realized the flash of jealously I'd experienced was both ridiculous and childish. Morelli and I were history, and I was ready to move on with a life with Ranger.

"It took me by surprise, too," Morelli said, his tone seeming genuine. He opened his water bottle and took a big drink.

"Well, don't cheat on her like you cheated on me, and you two'll be good," I said boldly.

Morelli choked on his water and came up for air, sputtering and coughing as I drove out of the garage. I drove onto the street, ignoring his choking with my resting-bitch face firmly in place.

"You knew?" he choked, his eyes wide in horror.

I shrugged, choosing a non-response rather than letting him know the truth.

Morelli stared out the windshield, collecting his thoughts.

"I'm so sorry. I hope you know I did care for you," he said hesitantly.

Again, I shrugged.

"Honestly, I wasn't sure what to do with you," he said, his face conveying the truth to his words.

"Well, good news. I'm not your problem anymore," I said with an air of malice in my tone.

"Not exactly," he said, wagging his finger at me. "Let's not forget—we're Rangeman partners."

I laughed out loud and rolled my eyes.

"In that case, I'm glad I can continue my reign of torture on Joe Morelli so he can suffer at my hand," I scoffed.

An awkward pause sat between us.

"It's not like that, Cupcake," Joe admonished.

"Don't 'Cupcake' me," I snapped, flashing him a look that could freeze water.

He sat quietly, collecting his thoughts.

"I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but a part of me is always going to care about you," Morelli said sadly. "But we're not a good fit."

"Then don't say it," I argued.

I parked the Porsche in front of the bakery and ambled out, slinging my messenger bag over my shoulder. Morelli followed close behind, his eyes scanning our environment for potential threats. He knew if he failed to keep me safe, Ranger would have his balls.

I grabbed a ticket and waited in line at the bakery counter, an older woman getting her order ahead of me.

"Next!" Tina Raguzzi shouted from behind the counter.

I sidled up to the case and gave Tina a smile.

"Good morning," I greeted politely.

"Hey, Steph! Long time, no see!" Tina said, wiping her hands on her apron.

Tina graduated from high-school two years ahead of me, and she'd been in Joe's class. Something behind me caught her eye, and she smiled even bigger. "Hey, Joe!"

Joe gave Tina a small wave before sidling up to stand at parade rest beside me.

"Can I please get two Boston crème donuts?" I asked politely.

I glanced to Joe, who was smirking.

"Do you want anything?" I asked him curtly.

"Make it four donuts," Joe corrected with a small smile.

"It's good to see you two out and about," Tina said, placing donuts into a bag. "You recovering okay, Joe? I heard you got hurt pretty bad."

"I'm doing well now, thanks," he said politely.

"Can I also get a chocolate cake boxed up?" I asked, gesturing to one in the case. "Oh, and a dozen croissants."

Tina busied herself packing up our order, then handed the pile of boxes and bags over the counter. I grabbed them, thanking her politely.

"Oh my god!" she whined, clasping her hands in front of her chest. "You're engaged?"

I froze, having forgotten I was wearing my tell-tale ring. I wasn't ready for this information to be public yet.

"No, I…" I interjected, but it was too late.

"Oh my god, guys!" Tina shouted to the other women working behind the counter. "Stephanie and Joe are engaged!"

The volume in the bakery went from whispers to deafening in an instant. Several women came out from behind the counter, including Tina, who grabbed my hand to study my ring. Joe grabbed the boxes from me as they began precariously leaning with the abrupt departure of my hand.

"No, you've got it all wrong…." I argued, trying to pull my hand away from Tina.

"Oh my god! Joe! You're the sweetest! Is this your grandma's ring?" Tina asked, her face beaming. "The Burg's most eligible bachelor is no more!"

The other counter ladies sighed with resignation while others in the bakery cheered.

"Tina, no…." Joe argued, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Celebratory cake!" another bakery employee said, thrusting a cake box over the counter. "On the house! Congrats from the Burg! We've watched you two kids for years, and we're so glad you've finally…"

"STOP!" I shouted.

Everyone froze in place, their mouths gaping at my outburst.

"I'm not engaged to Joe!" I said loudly. "You've got it all wrong. I'm engaged to Carlos Manoso."

Gasps and whispers sounded from the crowd that had gathered, and the cake that had been extended across the counter was unceremoniously retracted and set back into the case.

"Well damn. I didn't see that one coming," Tina scoffed, releasing my hand. "I thought you and Morelli were…"

I finished Tina's sentence. "Ancient history."

"Like the pyramids, baby," Joe added, harkening back to a conversation we'd had long ago.

Tina returned to her position behind the counter, and the other patrons who had stirred returned to their business. I heard one woman say, "Congratulations, anyway," loudly as we waited in the checkout line. I paid for my order and bolted out to the Porsche, where I climbed in and did some deep breathing.

"You good?" Morelli asked, offering me a donut. "You look green."

"I need a minute," I admitted, reclining the seat back and covering my face with my hands.

Morelli extended his water bottle to me, and I took a sip, fanning myself in the hot car.

"Want me to drive?" he asked.

"Can you?" I asked, surprised.

He nodded. "I got cleared. I'm a licensed driver again."

I sighed with relief, and we swapped places in the car.

"Where to?" he asked, adjusting the seat.

"Gioviccini's Meat Market," I said.

We drove in silence the short distance to the shop, parking in front. I ditched my ring in the console of the car before we walked inside.

"Hey Steph!" Gina Gioviccini greeted from behind the counter. "I heard the news! Congrats!"

I let out a long sigh. "Yeah?" I asked inquisitively.

"It's about time you two settled down," she said, slipping her hands into fresh food-service gloves. "What can I get you? Celebratory kielbasa? Some nice shaved turkey?"

The urge to ask who, precisely, I was settling down with was strong, but I denied myself the overwhelming urge and ordered half a pound of roast beef, half a pound of sliced provolone, half a pound of honey ham, and half a pound of seafood salad. Gina packed up the food while telling me the daily happenings from the Burg—Billy Wickowsi had been arrested again, Jeannine Thornburg was in labor at Saint Francis, and she reminded me, politely, that I was getting married. To whom? She did not elaborate. I paid for my purchases, then Joe and I settled back into the Porsche. I slid my engagement ring back on my hand with a relieved sigh.

"Are you sure Ranger is okay with me driving this vehicle?" Morelli asked, studying the sleek display.

"My safety is his priority," I said. "He'd be fine with it. Besides, I've destroyed at least a dozen of his cars. Even if you trashed this one, you…."

Morelli cut me off.

"Don't even say it. You're going to jinx me with your car karma. Where to now?"

"The home of Richard Orr Senior," I said, mentally steeling myself to the task at hand.

"What the hell?" Morelli asked, staring at me like I had corn growing out of my head. "Your ex-in-laws? Why would you go over there?"

I gave him the abbreviated version of my current predicament, and when I finished, he looked even more perplexed than when I'd told him where I was headed.

"I'm fucking speechless," he said, sinking into his seat.

"That makes two of us," I admitted.

We sat for a minute to gather our thoughts, then Morelli pulled the Porsche into traffic, headed for the home of my former in-laws at 627 Maple Street.