I dressed for dinner that night with care. I took special time with my hair. One thing I didn't do was overdo my makeup. In that one way I was becoming less and less burg and more and more ready to face the world at large. When I did go out of Trenton and search for my true self I didn't want to be hidden under pounds of makeup. I wanted to be free of all my old stereotypes.

I slid into the short blue dress and smoothed the skirt down. It hit a couple of inches above my knees. I put on my favorite pair of Manolo's and studied my reflection in the mirror. I suppose I looked pretty good. My stomach was flat. My hair was shiny. Yea, I would do.

I drove to Williamson and easily found the restaurant. It was decorated on the outside in early USO. I shuddered to think of what the inside would bring. I went through the glass doors and was pleasantly surprised. The bar was to my left and it did somewhat resemble a bar one would find on any military base complete with the requisite men in uniform leaning against the huge mahogany structure. The cocktail waitresses all wore camouflage miniskirts and black tee shirts.

To my right were the restrooms and dead ahead was the waiting area and the hostess booth.

"Hi, I'm meeting friends," I said over the din to the girl at the hostess stand.

She grinned and glanced toward the bar, "Are you meeting any of those guys in the bar?" She gestured toward the men in uniform currently checking me out as thoroughly as their eyes would allow.

I laughed, "sadly no. They do look as though they'd be a lot of fun."

"Then you must be here for Ghost," she nodded, "right this way."

She knew Mitch by the name Ghost. Well, in an establishment such as this one, I shouldn't be surprised. I followed the girl through the catacomb of tables set in somewhat private settings to a table near the back.

Mitch got to his feet as soon as I arrived, "wow Stephanie…you look gorgeous."

"Thank you," I blushed. "Cal told me to take special care with my appearance tonight."

"Yea," he grinned. "He told me. This should do the trick."

Carrie hugged me as soon as Mitch let me go. "Yea, you look even more gorgeous than usual. Mike should be floored."

"Mike," I frowned. "Why do I know that name?"

"Well if it isn't the very beautiful Stephanie Plum Manoso," Mike Stone said sliding his arm around my waist.

"Oh, this Mike," I laughed and hugged him. "I can't believe it. I haven't seen you since the cruise."

"I suspect that your husband was trying to keep you away from me for as long as possible," he grinned wolfishly.

"Well, he doesn't have a whole lot of control over me these days," I said with a small smile.

He frowned.

Mitch shook his head.

"Oh damn," he sighed. "I'm sorry Steph."

"Not your problem," I said with a smile. "Now…we're not going to discuss my failed marriage here tonight. I'm here to have dinner and to enjoy the company of good friends."

"Then I am sure as hell glad that I'm joining you guys," Mike said and waited for me to slide into the half moon shaped booth before sliding in after me.

"I should have known the moment they told me the name of the restaurant," I shook my head. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"You've sort of had a lot on your mind," Carrie said with a grin.

"Yea, sort of," I agreed.

A young woman wearing the gear of the cocktail waitresses appeared at our table and grinned, "All right ladies, which one of you has the guys in the bar in palpitations?"

"That would be her," Carrie pointed. "They wouldn't dare do it to me after Mitch gave them the look and besides, I have on pants…she's the one in the short skirt and the great legs to go with it."

"Stop," I blushed and laughed.

"Well," she fixed her amused gaze on me, "if you take all the drinks they offered to buy you you'll have trouble standing much less driving home. So what's it going to be?"

I grinned, "They're good for my ego. I needed that. Tell them thank you very much, but I'm far too emotionally fragile to play with them tonight. Tell them once I'm feeling better about myself I'll come back and play with them in the bar."

She shook her head, "you have no idea what you're getting yourself into honey. They're a bunch of horny guys."

"My favorite kind," I grinned.

"I like you," she laughed and winked at her boss before she hurried away.

Mike laughed, "She's right, you have no idea what you're letting yourself in for."

"Well, the way I figure it, if they're sincere they'll be back here every night spending money in your establishment."

"You're a great business woman…and you cook as I recall."

"I do," I nodded.

"We're going to figure out that cheesecake recipe together, right?"

"Right," I nodded.

"Well, why don't you come by tomorrow afternoon and we'll give it a shot."

"Sounds good," I agreed.

"That's good," Carrie nodded. "Your dessert menu is deplorable."

Mike grinned, "Most of these guys don't eat dessert. They can only pollute their bodies with one thing. It's either booze or sweets. Most of them choose the booze."

"But Mike," I said sweetly, "if you offered the right desserts and a few Mojitos you'd have more women in the restaurant. More women translate to more men and that translates to more revenue…do the math."

He sighed, "You're right. Tell you what, we'll go over the entire menu tomorrow and see where we need to make improvements."

"Start with more salad. The temples like salads," I said absently studying the menu.

He groaned, "I don't like salads."

"You don't have to eat them," I grinned. "But a lot of these temple boys like their green leafy vegetables."

Mitch winced and nodded, "she's right brother."

"The women will order them too," I nodded.

"You win," he shrugged. "We'll redo the whole thing."

"I can't wait," I grinned. "So tonight…you order for me."

"Really," he grinned. "Why do you want me to order?"

"This is your restaurant," I nodded. "You should know what's good."

The cocktail waitress hurried back over shaking her head. "All right, I passed on your message to the horny brigade and… I'm sorry boss," she winced.

"No problem Miranda, carry on," he grinned.

She tilted her tray and dumped a handful of papers including napkins and bits of notebook and receipts on the table. "Their phone numbers," she winked at me, "in case you get over your emotional distress early or just want something to take the edge off."

I roared with laughter and gathered the pieces of paper and shoved them into my purse. "I should thank them."

"Absolutely," Carrie grinned.

"Personally," I grinned, "let me up Mike?"

He shook his head, "we'll never get the heathens out of here."

"My tips are looking good tonight," the waitress said and followed me to the bar with Mike on her tail looking a bit protective.

"Gentlemen," I smiled from the doorway.

Mouths dropped open and they straightened.

"You are just the sweetest guys. I've had a pretty rough couple of weeks and you have no idea how much I appreciate everything you've done and said and offered tonight. I'm truly touched," I smiled. "Thank you again." I started to turn but stopped and turned back, "Oh…I also should tell you that I have a thing for men in uniform," I winked at them and turned to leave the bar to find myself staring into the face of my husband. "Great…"

"Who's he," one of the guys frowned.

"Major Manoso," one of the other guys straightened.

"Officer on the deck," someone shouted and they all leapt to attention.

"He's retired," someone else said.

"I'm not risking it," another voice declared.

"He's her husband," Mike Stone said with a slight smile.

"For now," I said softly and turned to walk back to our table blissfully unaware of the chaos that followed.

I dropped to the seat of the booth and reached for my water, "this is just great."

"What," Carrie frowned.

"That," Mitch pointed as Ranger came weaving through the tables with Mike on his tail.

"Shit," Carrie sighed, "so much for a quiet evening with friends."

"Yea," Mitch sighed.

I just shook my head.

Ranger leaned on the table with his palms down and his face furious. "I want to talk to you."

I ignored him. I didn't even look at him.

"Babe…"

I looked up at him and glared.

His nostrils flared, "Stephanie…I'm talking to you."

"Really," I said looking up at him in mock shock. "Do you have that many words in your vocabulary?"

He was really mad now. "I want to talk to you," he bit out.

"Well, Mr. Manoso, currently I'm having dinner with friends. If you'd like to make an appointment to speak to me let me know when you're available and I'll check my schedule."

"Stephanie…I swear to God," he growled.

I got to my feet and glanced at Carrie with all the false bravado I could muster, "I think I'll just powder my nose."

"Stephanie," he barked as I went by him.

I ignored him and continued on. When I got to the foyer of the restaurant he grabbed me by the arm and hustled me out the door before I even had a chance to challenge him. "I was going to the ladies room," I hissed as he dragged me down the sidewalk.

"I don't give a rat's ass."

"Yea, this always works with me Manoso. You treat me like an employee or a possession and I always docily do as you ask," I rolled my eyes. "You never ask and you sure as hell never learn that I don't like your friggin caveman tactics."

"You're my fucking wife," he said opening the passenger's door to the SUV and picking me up and putting me inside.

I didn't have time to respond. I also couldn't open the door.

"Are you kidnapping me," I hissed at him when he got into the truck and started it. "I was having dinner with friends."

"You can do it some other time."

"I had plans tonight," I said furiously.

"They're changed."

"You don't fucking own me you bastard," I shouted at him and sank into my seat with arms crossed and my entire body shaking with fury. I don't know what made me angrier. Was it the fact that he just hauled me away from my dinner companions giving me no choice whatsoever, or was it that he still had the power to make me so angry I could spit? He said I was his wife? Really, how is that working out for you I wanted to shout. I've been living somewhere else for a week. Who the hell knows where he's been? I don't care. I just fumed.

He drove and I stared out the window in silence. I wasn't going to talk to him and he couldn't make me. There was nothing he could do to make me talk. Well, there was probably something, but he was in his friggin zone and it was as though I wasn't even there. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and saw his hands on the wheel. His knuckles were white. I didn't know if it was rage or what, but I suspected it was. In any case, it appeared that I still had the power to affect him in some way and it wasn't always in the bedroom.

I almost groaned when I realized where he was going. He was going to the house…to our house. I felt the blood leave my face. I didn't want to go there. I didn't think I was anywhere emotionally ready for that. I bit my lip and fought the tears. I fought it hard. I didn't want him to see that I gave a damn one way or the other.

He parked in the driveway and got out of the car and waited. I refused to move. He marched around and jerked the door open. "Be an adult."

"An adult," I hissed. "Adults do not jerk people out of restaurants when they're in the middle of a nice dinner with friends so they can TALK. Adults ask when they'll be available for talking. But then…you've never been good at asking for anything, have you? Well…I don't know if that's true or not. You're not good at asking me." I crossed my arms and pressed my lips into a thin line.

"You fucking piss me off," he said and reached over me to unlock the seatbelt and pick me up. He tossed me over his shoulder as though I was nothing and carried me into the house. He carried me straight to the living room and dumped me on the couch. He tossed me down on the fucking couch I picked out! For some reason that is only logical in a woman's mind, I felt another stab of betrayal.

I struggled for control and busied myself to keep from either screaming in fury or sobbing out of control. I straightened my skirt and assumed the crossed position. My arms were crossed and my legs were crossed and I was cross. Yet I was in position. He took a folded paper with blue lining out of his jacket pocket and tossed it in my lap.

"What the fuck is this?"

I glanced down at the document. "I believe it means you've been served," I said showing no emotion.

"I've been served? What am I being served with?"

"I filed for an annulment."

"You did what," he said wide eyed.

"Did you even read it," I shook my head in astonishment.

"You filed for annulment," he said incredulously. "You can't file for annulment."

"I can and I did."

"We've had sex."

"I was drunk. In any court I can file for a divorce because I was mentally incapacitated. I was not of my right mind. You should have thought of that before you decided to trick me into marrying you like that."

"This is insane," he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace that I'd so carefully placed objects on to draw the eye and not overwhelm. The fireplace that I'd decorated with him in mind because the whole house was decorated so he'd be comfortable there and would feel at home. The only room that was mine was the kitchen. The bedroom used to be mine too, but now I didn't even think about that room being in the house. "You've lost your mind."

That just made me angrier.

"Why did you have me served?"

"You've been served so you can contest it."

"Oh I am going to contest it," he promised me. "I promise you that I'm going to contest it."

"I don't advise you to do that."

"You don't advise me," he leaned over me with his hands on either side of my head resting on the back of the couch. He was spitting fury. He was so angry that his eyes were black. "Why don't you advise me to contest it?"

"If you contest it, I'll file again for fraud."

He met my rebellious eyes and was taken aback. His next words were spoken more softly and with a hint of something that I couldn't identify in his eyes, "you wouldn't do that."

"The hell I wouldn't," I said softly.

"Steph…"

"You can let me get the annulment on the grounds that I was drunk and didn't know what I was doing, or…"

"Or…"

"Or I'll file fraud and tell the world that you misrepresented yourself to me."

"How did I misrepresent myself to you?"

I sighed, "You lied to me on every turn."

He straightened and I could see the guilt on his face. Ranger isn't good at lying. He doesn't like it. He only lies to people when he's working 'in the wind'. Oh…and obviously to me. "I didn't lie to you at every turn," he said and he started to pace.

"Really…what did you tell me the truth about?"

He swallowed.

"Right," I nodded and stared at the fireplace ignoring him. He was no longer there. He couldn't come up with a single truth for me. Jeez, I was dumber than I thought I was. This just gets better and better. And I was in love with this jackass? What does that say about me?

He sighed, "You shouldn't stay at the house in town. That house isn't secure. You won't be safe."

"It's secure enough," I said softly.

"I'll move back to seven and you can have the house."

"I…"

"You decorated it. You picked out just about everything in it. It's your house. It's your home. We used your money for the down payment."

I raised my eyes to meet his coolly, "this isn't my home. This is your Bat Cave. I was only ever a visitor here. It's a Spanish house and not a Russian Victorian. This house screams Ricardo Manoso. It doesn't scream me. I'm sure in time all the bits of me that are here will fade and be replaced with bits of someone else."

He swallowed, "I don't think they will."

I didn't even blink. "Then either get used to them, or sell the house."

His eyes dropped.

I felt a moment of triumph before the sorrow overwhelmed me again. "Can I go home now?"

"Babe…Steph…"

"I don't belong here. Find someone else to be your wife and fit in with your grand scheme. Find someone to love or find someone who doesn't love you either." I got up and walked outside and he didn't try to stop me. A few minutes after I walked outside Lester pulled up the driveway. He got out of the SUV and ran around the side and opened the passenger door and waited for me.

I walked coolly to the car and got in and never looked back. I wonder what I would have seen if I had.