All recognizable characters belong to Janet Evanovich, I'm just playing.

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Chapter 2

SPOV

"Come on, Babe. You know you want gravy on your pizza."

Ranger hefts the barbell size gravy boat up, preparing to pour an unappealing blotchy substance on my so-tiny-why-bother cauliflower and pretend-cheese pizza. He gives me a smirk as he slowly makes a leaf design on my pizza, likes he's pulling me the perfect latte with a flourish. I watch, mesmerized and appalled, as he sets it in front of me with an expectant smile.

The leaf breaks apart and starts to ooze toward the edge of the plate. My head is whipping back and forth, trying to deny everything he's saying and doing. No, no, no! No gravy!

"Not enough? That's ok, Babe. I can add more." With that, the disgusting but probably edible pizza disappears, and a lake of congealed hellfire and damnation covers my half of the table. He sets down the gravy boat built for Andre the Giant and comes closer, trying to pull me in for a hug. I push him away, not willing to be tricked into eating the gravy. When he holds me tighter, I start kicking out at him. I will not spend this pregnancy eating gravy on everything!

"Babe!"

I'm startled awake by Ranger bellowing. What the hell? Looking around, we're in bed and the sheets are tangled down by our feet. The clock reads 4:16 am and the room is still dark. A nightmare. I was having a nightmare about freaking gravy.

My head drops back onto the bed. As I start to calm down, Ranger's arms relax around me. Shit. I woke him up.

Just as he leans in to kiss my temple, my stomach roils and I yell, "out!"

Ever since I puked on him in my kitchen that first day, whenever I say any variation of "I need out," Ranger is quick to let me go or just get out of my way. Never let it be said that he's not trainable. Stumbling to the bathroom, I hit my knees in front of the toilet just in the nick of time. Ranger's right behind me, holding my hair away from my face and rubbing my back.

When I'm sure I'm done, I collapse backward onto him with a sigh. "Morning sickness" has been an off-and-on thing. I learned pretty quick to move slowly in the morning; Ella, the only person we've told so far, suggested hanging out in bed for an extra couple of minutes and snacking on saltine crackers. That usually does the trick, but I guess I was just moving around too much this morning.

"Were you having a nightmare, Babe? You were fighting me like crazy."

A strangled laugh escapes me. "Yeah. You were pouring gravy all over my food and trying to make me eat it."

"Babe."

"I know! It was horrible."

He kisses my temple and waits for my stomach to settle enough to get up. I wonder how much of my nightmare stems from today's plan: telling my family about the wedding. I'm pretty sure it was a flashback to Val's pregnancy with Lisa and the abandoned wedding all jumbled up that caused the weird dream. I don't regret skipping off to Vegas and avoiding a burg spectacle any more than Val did. Thanks to Ranger's planning, at least I have some photos to show off.

The wedding was perfect; low-key, sincere, and just for us. The week at the resort in Hawaii was a surprise. He'll never admit it, but there might be a bit of a romantic streak hiding behind the opportunistic façade. When I mentioned that to him during one of our swimming trips, I got a blank-faced, "Babe," before he gently tossed me into an approaching wave.

This time, we didn't have to pretend we were there to find a skip, we just enjoyed each other's company. After we dropped our bags and looked around, Ranger joked, "Babe, if Morelli interrupts us this time, I'm going to shoot him." At least, I think it was a joke. Either way, if Ranger didn't shoot him, I'd be tempted to. But there were no interruptions, just a lot of nakedness, trips to the private beach, and room service. The only thing missing to make it heaven was birthday cake.

We got back from Hawaii yesterday and I crawled into bed as soon as we got to Haywood, so letting everyone in on what Tank and Ella already know had to wait until today. I can't even begin to predict how my parents will react, but it won't make any difference if they don't like it. I stopped letting my mother's "why me" tirades and approval guide me a while ago.

Once we're sure my stomach is done doing its Old Faithful imitation, Ranger helps me up and I do the shower, shave, and hair taming ritual since my internal clock is all messed. The entire time, I'm practicing the best way to break the news of our new marital status. Ranger is choosing to wear a simple black tungsten band, so it's possible that some of the men saw it when he went down to 5th floor yesterday while I was asleep.

Down on five, I sneak into the morning meeting and hide in the back. My jeans and light blue button-down shirt guarantee I stand out from the sea of black, but I'm hoping to be as invisible as possible until the end. I'm counting pretend jumping jacks in my head to stay awake, wondering if I can count them as actual exercise, when I realize that the room is quiet, and everyone is looking at me.

"What?"

Ranger shakes his head. "Babe."

Everyone snickers as he holds his hand out and waits for me to join him at the front of the room. I hate being the center of attention, no matter the reason.

"Gentlemen. As I was saying, there's been a change in status. Steph and I were married in Vegas a week ago. We'll be telling our families today. All protocols still hold. Dismissed!"

I should really find out what the protocols are. The men I interact with more come up and offer their congratulations; a few are even brave enough to offer a quick hug. All of them cast a glance at my stomach and I know the rumors and bets are going to be flying. We've decided to not say anything until I'm at least past my twelfth week, but I'd really like to keep it under wraps until we have no other option.

After the meeting, I head back up to seven and start reviewing the few insurance fraud cases I have. I'm not expected to check in until tomorrow, but I want to get a leg-up on the research. We're supposed to head to Newark for lunch with his parents before dinner with mine. As nervous as I am to see meet his parents outside of the ICU, I'm a little more nervous about the local reaction. There's never a shortage of gossip about me, and a surprise marriage is sure to kick it into overdrive.

Four hours and a nap later, I'm standing on the front porch in a neighborhood not unlike the burg and fighting another attack of nerves. Ranger reaches out and takes my hand, correctly guessing that I'm about to flee the scene. What was I thinking? Hadn't four years with Joe proved that mothers hated me? I'm really ramping up my internal anxiety attack when the door opens and I'm struck dumb, looking at Ranger in twenty-five, thirty years. Ricardo Manoso has a sprinkling of gray around the temples, some laugh lines around the eyes…it's totally unfair that he's going to look this good and I'm just going to look old.

"You sell yourself short, Querida."

Damn. I look over at Ranger. "Out loud?"

He's got that smile on his face that I've come to love. Him being amused by me isn't so bad when I'm in on the joke. Ignoring the blush that is surely on my face I turn back to my new father-in-law and utter a quiet, "thank you."

"You are his Stephanie, correct?"

At my nod, I'm pulled into a hug and into the house, Ranger trailing behind me. I know I'm missing things on my fast scan of the hallway and make a note to circle back and look at all the framed pictures lining the walls. My nose follows the amazing smells into the kitchen, and I cross my fingers that everything stays down today.

"Abejita!"

I watch, amazed, as Ranger's cheeks get a little pink. He manages to groan out "Mama!" before he's engulfed in his mother's arms. He stoically accepts the long hug she gives him. Lena Manoso still looks like I remember her: average height and size, expressive eyes and a kind demeanor. Here, in her domain instead of the sterile walls of the ICU, waiting to hear that her son has survived, her smile is wide and vivacious. Her clothes and her home are colorful and full of life, a direct contrast to the refined neutrals of Ranger and the penthouse, or even the fading blues and pastels of my mother and their home.

When Ranger tries to gently disengage from the hug, his left hand becomes visible and Ricardo sucks in air at the sight of the wedding band. Reaching down, he pulls my left hand up to examine the diamond band there. It catches the light and Lena's attention. Her eyes are wide as she turns to Ranger. "Hijo?"

Ranger pulls me to his side. "Si, Mama. Stephanie and I were married about a week ago. We didn't want anything big, but we do have pictures for you."

There's a stunned silence for a moment before I'm pulled into Lena's arms for a hug of my own. We don't really hug in my family, so I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do or how long I'm supposed to stay here, but it feels nice. Eventually she lets me go long enough to grab my hand and survey the ring. When she's done, she says something in rapid-fire Spanish to Ranger before smacking him upside the back of his head and pulling him into another hug.

That smack didn't look pleasant, so I take a step back with the intention of hugging the wall. I mean, it's not like he's going to call his own mother to the mats, but I don't think I want to get in the middle of that. Ricardo gives me another patented Manoso smile and leads me over to the breakfast table. "Let's see those pictures."

Over an amazing lunch of empanadas and some sort of cucumber salad, they flip through the small album that was waiting for us on seven when we returned from our trip and ask a few questions. Their eyes stray to my stomach a time or two, but they never comment. Ranger promises his mother copies of her favorite photos while I sit back and enjoy the calmness that I doubt will greet us at dinner.

I get another Lena hug as we're leaving, and she leans in to whisper, "He's loved you for a long time. I'm glad you get to see it now."

I'm fighting tears as I pull back; he's shown it for a long time, I just didn't always know what it meant. I tune back into the conversation as she's instructing Ranger to pick a Saturday or a Sunday when we can come to dinner so I can meet the rest of the family. There's some low-key panicking going on; I know he's got 5 siblings and a huge extended family. They slip into Spanish, and I realize that this is a huge part of who he is and I'm going to have to figure out how to learn to speak it or forever be left out of conversations.

When we're finally back in the car and heading toward Trenton, I give in to curiosity. "What did your mom call you when we first got there?"

"Babe."

The debate about letting it go lasts exactly four seconds. "You know I can just call her and ask her now, right?"

The look he shoots me threatens retaliation, but he sighs. "Abejita."

"Which means…"

There's an even bigger sigh. "Little bee."

His jaw is clenched as I unsuccessfully try and hold in a snort. My hand comes up over my mouth in a pathetic attempt to keep the laugh inside. "Your mom calls you her little bee?"

A finger taps the steering wheel, the rest of his grip tight as he maneuvers around cars. "She said that I never sat still; I was always moving from one thing to the next." His quick glance at me before giving his attention back to the road tells me he's not entirely comfortable with me knowing that.

"It's cute." Watching his eyes narrow, I rush to reassure him. "And it stays between us. It's nice. My Grandpa Plum used to call me his piccolo petardo. Little firecracker. It was something just for us. I used to think my mom thought I was too annoying to give me a special name."

He grabs my hand and squeezes. Back at Haywood we go our separate ways. Up in the penthouse, there's not much for me to do; most of my stuff was easy to put away before we left for Vegas, and what I didn't get done, Ella finished.

The urge to call Mary Lou is strong, but I want my parents to hear it before anyone else in the Burg. I'll already get the third degree from my mother for her not being there or getting to be part of the planning. There's no good way to say that that was the entire point of eloping. I did it her way once, and I hated it.

Catching sight of my hair, I figure I should tame it and give her one less thing to comment on. Since I have time, I detour to the shower. I've just rinsed the shampoo out when I feel the tingle in my neck ten seconds before the steam escapes the open shower door and Ranger joins me. He does his own washdown while watching me work conditioner through my hair. As soon as my hands are rinsed off, we gravitate toward each other and I'm so busy enjoying the feel of him that I don't even register the cold tiles at my back until I open my eyes and see him kneeling in front of me. A hand in his hair helps anchor me while he distracts me from being nervous about tonight. I'm pretty sure the next round was for me, too, but I'd like to think he was also more relaxed by the time we turned off the water and got out.

The Star Wars Imperial March is playing in my head the entire drive to my parents' house. As is their custom, mom and grandma are waiting at the door. We're shooed inside, lest the neighbors see us standing on the porch. We've arrived at 5:59, timing it perfectly to avoid chit chat; I'm hoping to pass along word of our marriage over dessert when everyone is in a food coma. Dad is already seated at the table, silverware in hand, as we slide into side-by-side seats across from Grandma's spot. I haven't been to dinner many times since that day in Tasty Pastry when I ended things with Joe and decided to cut the figural umbilical cord, and Ranger's only been here a time or two in the four-and-a-half months we've been together.

A platter of ham has started to make the rounds, followed by a bowl of scalloped potatoes. Ranger has taken minimal portions, choosing to wait for the green beans and salad to fill up his plate. As I move to take the potatoes, there's a startled shriek from my mother's direction, and it's only Ranger's quick reflexes that save the dish from dropping from my hands. Looking over at her, I'm not completely surprised to see her staring at my no-longer-bare ring finger.

"Is that—"

"Yes."

She blinks a few times before throwing back her glass of wine. "When did this happen?"

"Last week."

"Hot damn! Ain't that a pip! My granddaughter snagged the bounty hunter with a good package."

While mom admonishes grandma, dad quietly leans over to Ranger and whispers, "You're not planning to move in here, are you?"

"Dad!"

With a long-suffering sigh, he straightens back up. "Still driving those foreign cars?"

Ranger smiles. "Sometimes."

With one last look, my dad turns his attention back to his plate. "Drive whatever car you want, as long as you treat my little girl better than quegli stonzi."

With a head nod, Ranger loads his plate up with salad and green beans; we might have had more than a few cheat days on vacation. My plate leans a little more heavily toward the ham and cheesy potatoes, but there's also green things. That fact does not go unnoticed by my mother. She pointedly looks at my stomach, but she pinches her lips together as she pours herself more wine.

"Why were none of us invited to this wedding of yours?"

Sighing, I lay my fork down. "We wanted to get married and decided, 'why wait?' Both of us are divorced, and neither of us wanted a big production."

"But you should have had family there!"

"Then it would have been a big production! I had that the first time and I hated it. It's the vows that are important, not an expensive one-day party. We did it the way we wanted, but Ranger made sure we had pictures, if you want to see them."

"Of course, I want to see them!"

The rest of dinner was filled with questions from Grandma and begrudging answers from me. No, we weren't married by Elvis. Yes, it was for real. Yes, there was cake after dinner. No, we didn't run naked through a casino. Yes, we did the romantic gondola ride. No comment on the wedding night.

Other than a 'Babe, you just ruined my bad-ass rep' hand squeeze at the gondola confirmation, Ranger lets me take the lead. Over cookies and coffee, I pull the little album out of my purse and hand it to mom. She slowly flips through it before handing it over to grandma and excusing herself for a moment. When she returns, she's lugging the fabric covered monstrosity that houses the unfortunate evidence of my wedding to the Dick.

Whereas the pictures with Ranger show just us, and with only eyes for each other, the photos from the Burg party tell a different tale. Picture after picture of random family members I barely know, me in a poufy dress that itched like crazy, Dickie not even looking at me…I really wish she'd burn the album and be done with it.

Mom points to a photo. "Where's your family? Where's his? Why couldn't you have held the wedding here, where we could celebrate with you? Look how different these days look! I just don't understand."

"Yeah. Look at how much happier I am when I do things my way and marry someone I actually love."

We all lean forward and look at the pictures. Mom's eyes narrow. "You look happy in these. You weren't happy?"

"That smile was brought to you by the flask of Cuervo Mare snuck into the anteroom before the ceremony."

Mom and Grandma suck in a breath and make a sign of the cross.

"Stephanie Michelle Plum!"

"Manoso."

Mom closes her eyes like she's praying for strength. I'm not sure why; this was the woman that invited every Tom, Dick and Harry to the table in an effort to marry me off. I'm thinking the difference is…Ranger's not burg, and that means we probably won't be moving into a house two streets over. Hell, I definitely wouldn't be doing that, even if I was still single.

Both Mom and Grandma sneak glances at my stomach, but if they want confirmation, they're going to have to be rude and ask. I should be offended that everyone automatically assumes Ranger married me because I've been knocked up, but both of us have been fairly vocal about not wanting to jump on the marriage and babies bandwagon. Funny how two little pink lines accelerate plans that were already changing.

After a respectable amount of after-dinner chatting, Ranger and I excuse ourselves. We didn't get the exuberant congratulations that his mom gave us, but it could have been worse. Dad offered Ranger a handshake and I got a quick hug, grandma kept her hands to herself, and mom didn't say anything else negative. That's practically exuberant in this house.

"I could really use some ice cream."

I didn't even have to look over at Ranger to know he had one eyebrow raised. "The baby thinks ice cream is a good idea, too. A plain chocolate cone from Pauley's, actually."

He shakes his head but doesn't argue. Standing in line to order, he wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin in my hair. He's been a little more open with the touching since we got together, but since the baby it's more noticeable to me. Once the coveted cone is in hand, he leads me back to the car with a hand at the small of my back. I almost lose my appetite when I see Joe parked next to the 911, looking deceptively calm as he leans against his SUV.

"I heard an interesting rumor tonight."

"That didn't take long." We probably weren't even pulled away from the curb before my mother was on the phone. I guess Joe was bound to find out sometime.

"Sounded like you had gotten married, Cupcake. But that can't be right, because you're not interested in marriage and kids and all that settling down stuff."

I can feel Ranger tense beside me as I concentrate on my ice cream to buy time. I know Joe is probably hurt, but I don't owe him anything.

"First off, stop calling me Cupcake. Second, did you really track me down to verify the rumors? If we're fact checking, how's Lissy Carmichal? Heard things were going well there. I hope your mother and Grandma Bella are nice to her at dinner."

That one vein is popping in his forehead. I'm happy for him; Lissy is exactly the type of girl that will have a good, homecooked dinner on the table every night, have lots of Morelli babies, and fit in perfectly with Joe's family. She's everything I'm not, and more than one busy body has made sure to let me know he's dating someone else.

"What the hell, Stephanie! We take a break and you run off to Manoso and just decide to play house?"

My sigh is heavy and exasperated. "We're not on a break, Joe. I was serious when I said we were done. We didn't break up because I didn't want a partner, I broke up with you because we had two different ideas of what that looked like, and I got tired of hearing how much of a failure I was."

"Babe."

Squeezing Ranger's hand and rubbing my thumb along the back of it, I'm pleased when he calms a bit. Focusing in on Joe again, I finish with, "I cared about you, Joe, just not enough to spend my life pretending that we were a good match. There's a reason I told you to find someone like Susie or Mary Louisa. Someone like Lissy. There's a reason we never made it past engaged to be engaged, and you know it. My ice cream is melting, so move out of the way so we can head home."

Joe says nothing, just glares at first me and then Ranger. My ring flashes in the light from the streetlamp, catching Joe's attention. With a disgusted snort, he angles himself into the SUV and takes off.

"That went well."

Ranger opens my door, stating, "You know that's not the end of it."

"Probably not, but I'm not going to borrow trouble. You know what I think?"

I get an eyebrow raise that I meet with a saucy smile as I lick my ice cream. "I think it's been entirely too long since I've seen you naked. We should fix that."

I see the 100-watt smile as he angles around the front of the car to get us home. Word's out now, so all that's left to do is enjoy the time together until we can no longer hide the other half of our news.

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Hijo? – Son? (Spanish)

quegli stonzi - those assholes (Italian)