Chapter Thirty-Nine

Stephanie POV

After breakfast the following morning, I received a call from the delivery driver with my furniture informing me that he should be here between ten and twelve o'clock. I checked my watch and noted it was only eight-thirty, so I decided to go grocery shopping. I took Zoë to the store and sped through the aisles. I was lucky she wasn't one of those kids intent on grabbing every box of junk from the shelves. It made shopping a lot easier. I had to buy all the staples and condiments and the junk food I wanted, so it was an expensive trip, but when we got home, and I started putting it all away, it was satisfying to see my formerly bare fridge and pantry filling up. I looked everything over and decided to make a chicken stir-fry for dinner.

Zoë and I started unpacking the living room next. Okay, I was unpacking, and she mainly was piling up the throw pillows on the couch and launching herself onto them, then giggling when she bounced a little.

After everything was unpacked and I had put away all the books and tchotchkes on the shelves, I looked around critically. It needed curtains and a bigger rug. My old apartment had blinds, so we never bothered to get curtains too, and this room was a lot bigger than my old living room, so the rug looked undersized. All the rooms here were larger than I was used to, and it wasn't even a large house. I was also vaguely turned off by the starter apartment vibes my furniture gave off. Now that I was solely responsible for everything, my former willingness to go into debt was nowhere to be found. I'd replace things as I could afford them and give myself time to get everything I wanted.

At eleven o'clock, the delivery guys showed up with my new furniture. After they dropped it off, I looked it over. Except for the mattress, everything else was in a box. I'm not a handy person. I don't even have tools. That's what a super is for. At least the delivery men put the boxes into the correct rooms. Maybe Tank could come to help me.

I made Zoë some lunch and sat with her in the living room. I had forgotten I had also vetoed bringing the kitchen stools from my old apartment for obvious reasons. So, currently, we needed somewhere to sit in our kitchen. After lunch, I called Tank, but my call went to voice mail, and then I remembered he was probably sleeping from his night shift last night.

I called Ranger's number, unsure if he would answer, but after three rings, I heard, "Yo."

"Yo, yourself," I replied. "How are you?"

"Hi, Babe. You okay?" he said.

"I'm good. I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner and help me put together some furniture?" I said the last part really fast, but I heard him chuckle, so he obviously heard me.

"Are you trying to score some free manual labour, Babe?" he asked.

"Well, I'll feed you, too," I laughed. "Unless you're busy. It's okay." Our friendship had picked right up where we left off after our talk in my car, and I was so glad I had been working on banishing the guilty feelings. But right now, I felt awkward about asking him to come over and help me, not even imagining he was probably busy.

"Steph, relax. I was only teasing. I can come over in a couple of hours. What are we putting together?"

"My new bed and the dining table. Oh, and do you have tools? Because I don't have any."

He laughed again. "I'll be there in two hours, Babe, and bring everything we need." He clicked off, and I stared at the phone—absolutely no phone manners. Tank was the same way. It drove me crazy!

I needed a break from unpacking, so I bundled Zoë into warm clothes and took her to the park. I pushed her on the swing and caught her on the slide, but it was too cold to stay longer than half an hour, so we headed back home not too long after we arrived. It was nice that there was a park so nearby the new house, and I looked forward to exploring my new neighbourhood.

We got back to the house, and Zoë wanted to watch a show about whales. I hadn't yet arranged for cable television, but the apps were all on my TV, so I turned it on and navigated to the Discovery app. She directed me to where it was—kids today are so tech-savvy—and I turned it on for her. She settled on the couch while I cut up an apple for her snack.

An hour later, Ranger was at the door with a toolbox, and I was showing him in. I gave him a short tour of the place now that it was primarily furnished and finished. His face was neutral, so I couldn't tell what he thought of it. I wondered what kind of place he lived in. I had heard he lived on the top floor of Rangeman in a penthouse apartment, but he was very private, and very few people had ever been there. I had no idea if it was modern or traditional or filled with French Provincial antiques. I had only recently learned he preferred classical music, though he sometimes listened to hip-hop, especially on Stark Street, solidifying his intimidating reputation.

After checking on Zoë to make sure she was okay, Ranger and I went into the dining room right off the kitchen. We removed the table pieces from the box, and he reviewed the instructions while I wanted to start putting them together. I rummaged through his toolbox but didn't see the type of screwdriver we'd need.

"Ranger, I don't see a screwdriver that will fit the screws."

"That's because we need Allen keys," he said, pulling a small plastic box out of the toolbox. "They're in here."

"Oh," I said, embarrassed. "Now you know why I called you to help."

He chucked my chin and said, "Don't worry about it. We'll get these things put together in no time."

He was right, too. The dining table took like ten minutes, the chairs another twenty-five. Once that was done, I checked on Zoë. She was still engrossed in the Discovery Channel app, but it looked like she had moved on to a show about sharks. She was colouring in her colouring book and only glancing at the show.

Ranger and I went to my bedroom to put together my new bed. I had decided on a platform bed this time. It was the first time I had a room large enough for a King-sized bed, and I had taken advantage. The bed frame was easy enough. I had gone to West Elm to buy it to go with my dresser, which was the first thing Richard and I purchased for our apartment when we first moved in. I absolutely loved it, though Richard was indifferent. We were still in that honeymoon period, so I sweet-talked him into it. If things had played out differently, and Richard hadn't died, that would have been the one piece of furniture I wanted to keep.

My new bed was upholstered in a cream-coloured twill with a softly curved headboard. I loved it and bought all-new bedding and pillows to go with it. I always wanted feather pillows, but Richard objected to them with a complaint about feathers everywhere. I researched and found these special pillow covers to go over them so the feathers would stay contained, and I ordered them online.

My new bedding was a vertical striped heavy jersey cotton, and so soft, it felt like a cloud when I rubbed it against my cheek in the store. I thought it looked fantastic with the colour of the bed, and Richard never wanted white bedding in case it got dirty. I couldn't help but notice that all of my recently acquired items were things that Richard would have vetoed, but I was no longer making choices only to please someone else.

Once my bed was assembled, Ranger helped me make it with my new, seven hundred thread-count white bed sheets, and as I tossed the last pillow, I looked toward it and smiled widely. "It looks so inviting; I can't wait until bedtime tonight!"

He waggled his eyebrow suggestively. "Was that an invitation, Babe?"

I picked up the little pillow and hit him in the chest. "Pig," I laughed.

He hugged me and said, "I'm glad you're happy, Babe."

"I really am," I replied. I never thought I'd feel this way again, but I had been taking Dr. Yang's advice, and it was working.

We went to the kitchen and started preparing dinner together. He helped clean and dice the veggies while I prepared the rice and browned the chicken. It felt very domestic but nice.

We sat down to dinner, and Zoë started moaning with every bite. I loved getting her to do that with something I cooked since it didn't happen often. After dinner, I tucked Zoë in and read her a story until she fell asleep.

Ranger and I sat on my new couch with a glass of wine. He was surprisingly easy to talk to, and I enjoyed my time with him.

I told him about my counselling sessions and what Dr. Yang had recommended about self-care, remembering that his choices led to that moment, and I was not to blame.

He agreed with her advice and told me he had been in therapy after some of his missions. He'd seen several friends and fellow soldiers die, and sometimes it had hit him hard. I listened to him with a new appreciation for him and what he had endured as a soldier.

Later that night, I saw Ranger out and carefully set the alarm behind him. I decided to take a hot bubble bath before sinking into my new bed. I was sure I'd get a good night's sleep tonight.

At about ten o'clock the following day, my cell phone rang while I was working through the latest batch of search requests.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hello, Mrs. Orr? This is Robert McAllister from Richard's law firm."

"Oh, yes, hello, Mr. McAllister. How are you?" I remembered him from the funeral. He had offered his condolences, but we didn't speak much. I was unsure how much he had known about Richard's double life or if he knew that Richard had passed himself off as a lawyer. I had never met him before then; Richard said his law firm wasn't a socializing type of place, and most lawyers put in their hours and kept their heads down. I wondered again if that was true.

"I'm well, thank you, Mrs. Orr. I have finished checking our files, and it appears that Richard didn't leave a will. There is nothing on file, which is unusual. Most of our employees have them drafted within the first month of employment."

"I see. Thank you for letting me know."

"He left some personal items in the office, and I thought you might like to have them. I can leave them at reception for you."

"Well, I've left New York and work full-time now. Is it possible for you to send it to me?" I requested.

"I'm sure I can accommodate you. What is the address?"

I gave him the address of the Rangeman building on Haywood. I wanted to take a lesson from Gigi and keep my personal information private.

He promised to send it via express mail, and I thanked him before hanging up. I wondered what type of things he had left at the office but quickly put it out of my mind. It was probably nothing special.

A/N: In case you're curious, Steph's new bed is the Lana upholstered bed from West Elm. Vicariously shopping for Steph is awesome!