Everybody and everything familiar belongs to Janet. The mistakes are mine alone.

"I hate my birthday," I said to my car door.

The rusted piece of metal didn't seem to care a whole lot, though. And slamming the thing shut didn't even make me feel better.

"What made you hate your birthday, Babe?"

My hand went to my chest and my eyes narrowed.

"Jesus Christ, Ranger! Make a freakin' noise once in awhile, will ya?"

"You find out far more information when you're invisible."

"You must've been, because I didn't see or feel you when I pulled in."

"You were distracted," he pointed out, getting back to the bad day at hand. "What happened?"

"Nothing really. It's just my same 'ol crappy life. My mom believes I owe her dinner tonight since she was in labor for sooooo long because of me ... like I'm the one to blame for being born. Maybe if she would've told my dad she had a headache back then, she could've avoided the headache I turned out to be."

His expression didn't change, but I can tell he didn't like what I said.

"The only thing I would ever thank your mother for is having you," he surprised me by saying. "I owe her for that, but you don't owe her anything. Call her and tell her you're busy today."

I shrugged. "She knows I'm not. Morelli's been out of my life for so many months now, even she's given up on him. Mary Lou and Valerie's houses both got whammied by the kid-flu so they're out as options. And Connie and Lula's timing sucked because they called me when I was dropping Grandma off from the beauty parlor and my mom heard me tell them 'no thanks' to a club night. If I'd been thinking clearly, I would've told Lula yes just so I could tell my mom no to dinner, then bow out of their club trip."

He tucked a curl behind my ear that had escaped my ponytail and was now being harassed by a cold breeze.

"You have plans now," he told me. "Call your mother and tell her I'm claiming you for the rest of the day."

"You don't have to rescue me again ..."

"I'm not. I was hoping to see you today, getting to spend the evening with you is a bonus."

"Really?"

"Yes."

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at me until I did what he sorta asked. There are worse things than spending time with Batman ... actually there are very few things better than being with him.

I dug my cell out of my shoulder bag while Ranger leaned against my shitbox car and waited for me to finalize our night.

"Hi, Mom," I said, when she picked up.

"Stephanie? What's wrong?"

I sighed. "Nothing's wrong."

"You were just here."

"Yeah, I know I was. You don't have to point that out. I'm calling to tell you that I won't be back over tonight. Apparently Ranger has plans for us."

"What kind of plans?" She asked.

She sounded suspicious, like I'm lying just to get out of a family night ... which wouldn't be the first time. Or maybe she's actually busy thinking about which clothes to iron first at the thought of Ranger and I being alone together.

I cut my eyes to him before answering. "Birthday plans?" I said, half answer/half question.

"If you would rather not spend your birthday with your own family, Stephanie, then you should just come right out and say it."

Guess it was door number one. She thinks I'm pulling an excuse out of thin air. She probably believes Ranger has better things to do than celebrate my birth with me. I'm not touching her 'just spit it out' comment. Telling my parents anything is never as simple as just telling them something.

Ranger sensed that my good mood is about to tank and he held out his hand for the phone. I raised my eyebrows at him in a 'Are you sure?' look. He nodded.

"Ummm, Mom? Ranger wants to talk to you."

She paused for a beat. "He's there with you right now?"

"Yep. He's less than a foot away, doing a really good job of blocking the wind for me."

"Why does he want to speak with me?"

I smiled at him, my mood quickly flicking back to good. "I'm going to take a wild guess here and say that since you're doubting him, he wants to set you straight."

She went quiet for a good five seconds before responding. "There's no need," she insisted. "Have a ... nice evening ... and Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," I said, knowing that wasn't the most sincere-sounding wish, but she had already hung up. I dumped my phone back in my bag and addressed my date. "Getting me out of a night of Plum 'fun' is the best gift you could've given me. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, your birthday isn't over."

"It could be and I'd still be happy."

"Good to know," he said, pushing his body off and away from my car. "How would you like to spend the remainder of your day?"

"Honestly?" I asked, knowing he wouldn't accept anything less.

"Yes."

"I'm a cheap date. What sounds really good to me now is for us to go up to my apartment, me changing into my comfy clothes, and the two of us just hanging out on the couch, talking or watching TV."

If I get to have him for a few hours, sharing him with a group of people at a restaurant with servers interrupting any conversation we could have, or going to a place like Lula and Connie are headed where the music's too loud and strangers are too close, didn't sound at all appealing. Especially when I could be curled up beside him on my crappy, yet mostly comfortable, couch instead.

"Sounds good to me," he said, not appearing disappointed by us having a low-key night.

He slung an arm around my shoulders and walked with me into my building and then up to my apartment.

"It'll only take me a few minutes to change," I told him, hanging my shoulder bag on the hook by my door and shoving my jacket on the one beside it. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," he told me.

I figured he would be. Once he gives his word on something or to someone, he doesn't change it ... so unless Tank calls with a problem only Ranger can solve, he'll stay until he's ready to go ... or I let him go. With those thoughts in my mind, I hurried up out of my clothes and put on the pair of charcoal gray sweatpants that really should've been thrown out years ago. I've worn them out to be the perfect fit, though. They're snug, yet not tight enough to see everything underneath them. They sit lower on my hips than regular sweats so they aren't as schlumpy-looking as they could be. And they go great with the Rangeman sweatshirt I'd swiped from the 'Range Man' himself and for some reason keep forgetting to give back.

He's seen me in it enough over the last couple months, I'm sure if he wanted it back he would've asked for it by now. I switched out my socks for big, fluffy, gray ones and felt better than I have in weeks. One of the best things about Ranger is that he loves me for me. He doesn't care what I have on ... even prefers it when I look like I just rolled out of his bed. There are only a few people I feel this comfortable with and he knows he's at the top of that very short list.

When I walked out of my room, I noticed he wasn't sitting on the couch like I'd expected. In fact, he was standing right where I'd left him by my door. And what made my stomach sink is that his jacket's still on. I should've known not to get too excited about something, that's just asking for it to be snatched away.

I was momentarily confused when he did finally move to pick up the jacket I'd taken off only a few minutes ago.

"You ready?" He asked.

"For what? I thought we were just going to stay in and be boring together?"

Not that Ranger could ever be boring. Just watching him brush his teeth is hypnotic to me.

"We can do exactly what you want, Babe, just in a better place."

"Rangeman?" I asked him, thinking he'd prefer his apartment, furniture, and TV, to mine.

"No." His eyes dropped to my chest. "Though you are dressed for it. Nice choice," he said, clearly approving of my/his sweatshirt.

"I thought it was. I didn't think we were going anywhere, but if you really want to do something ... I'll go change again."

He grabbed my wrist before I could make a full turn. "You're perfect as is, Steph. Just stick your feet into your boots, put on your jacket, and grab your bag."

"What ...?"

"Trust me," he said.

"I do. There's no question there."

He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips and held my jacket for me. The mouth that still feels tingly from his being against it, fell open when I saw what he had in mind for us as we stepped outside again. A brand new, shiny, black limo was idling in front of my building. It looked as big as my apartment and no doubt is light years away in style and comfort.

"You rented a limo for me?" I asked, turning to face him.

"No and yes."

"You own it?"

"It comes in handy when you need to make an impression," he answered.

"You don't with me. I don't need a limo ..."

"But you deserve someone wanting to provide you with one."

"I don't deserve you," I said, telling the whole truth for once, "but I'm glad I have you."

"You do ... you can have me any way you want me."

It made my chest hurt to know he isn't just saying that, he meant it. I don't care how many of my neighbors are watching us through their windows, just waiting to report back to the Burg. I stood up on steel-tipped boot toes, cupped his jaw in both of my hands, and brought his face down to mine to give him the kind of kiss I know he always wants but never pushes me for. He didn't hold back either. Once I made the initial contact, his arms came around me with enough force to bend me slightly backwards and he kissed me back in a way that had my body bowing and my head reeling.

"Happy Birthday to me," I whispered, my hand automatically going to my lips to keep the feel of his kiss on them.

"It's not over yet," he told me, tugging my hand to his own mouth so he could kiss my fingers before opening the limo's door for me. "Your ride awaits."

I squeezed his hand and climbed into the car that I would try to live in if he'd give me the okay. There's an L-shaped leather seat/sofa and a smaller seating area along the privacy wall behind where I'm sure a driver is sitting, likely wondering why he's picking up someone who lives here. I quickly scooted over so Ranger could sit beside me and he closed the door which signaled to the driver to get moving.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

He didn't respond right away, instead he reached down and picked up my left foot, then my right one, tugging off my untied Cat boots.

"This is where we're going," he told me, pulling my legs over his lap before uncorking a bottle of champagne and passing me a crystal flute half-full of bubbly.

"What do you mean?" I asked him.

He took a sip from his own glass and put it back down on the mini wet bar that's only an arm's-length away from us.

"You wanted us to unwind together and watch TV or talk," he explained, hitting a button that brought up a small flat screen, "we can do both here."

"We're just going to drive around Jersey all night?"

"For however long you want to," he said. "Unless you'd prefer going somewhere now."

I was already shaking my head. "Noooo. I'm not against a quick pass up my parents' street, but this is perfect. You're perfect for thinking of this."

"You'll think I exceed perfect if you open that cabinet to your right."

I leaned over and popped the door open. There in one of those plastic cake holders bakeries use, was a round, 10-inch, two-layer birthday cake. It was covered in white frosting that was also used to make swirls along the top and bottom edges of it. To make it even more festive, the frosting poofs on the top layer were covered with multicolored squiggles and candy pieces that made it look like it'd been dipped in confetti.

"Who's Jorge?" I asked Ranger.

"The guy who didn't get his cake picked up soon enough. You seem to enjoy rescuing unappreciated bakery items, so your birthday wouldn't be complete without a cake belonging to someone else. I had Al stop and pick one up at Tasty Pastry on his way to your building. He says 'hi'."

"Hi, back," I said immediately, picturing the laughing garage-guy Ranger sent me to who helped me keep Morelli out of his own vehicle years ago. "You and Al are friends?"

"We keep in touch."

It was such a typical Ranger-response, I couldn't help but laugh. I'm totally in love ... with my rescue-cake, with my birthday, with this man. I'm not that good at telling him stuff like that, but I can probably ease myself into it.

"If you were interested in marriage," I said, keeping my smile in place even though I'm nervous as hell because I'm not sure how he'll take my joke, "I'd marry you for the cake alone."

His right hand slipped into his jacket and he pulled out a box. I put my glass down next to his before I dropped it and my hand went to my mouth again ... this time to hold in an 'Oh shit!'

"Relax, Steph. If I ask you to marry me, it won't happen in the back of a car."

"Hold on," I said, taking the box he offered, "that sounds like you've actually thought about where you'd propose?"

"Do you want me to respond to that?" He asked. "Or would you rather I forget you said it? You get to decide how much you want to hear."

"I don't want to forget any part of this conversation. I'm ready for whatever you want to tell me."

"Alright. I have thought about it. A few times. I've said as much to you in the past."

I suddenly remembered all the times he's made comments about marrying me. I just assumed he was kidding.

"Wow," I said, forgetting all about the cake and the present.

His lips kicked up. "Are you going to open your gift now?"

"I'm not so sure I should. It seems unfair to whatever's inside. How can you possibly top just telling me you'd want to marry me someday?"

"If you open your birthday present, you can tell me if I came close."

I wanted to prolong this moment so I obnoxiously peeled back each piece of tape and carefully separated it from the paper without tearing either one before I moved onto another piece.

"Babe."

"What?"

"I'll buy you an entire roll of paper if preserving it is that important to you."

"The paper isn't what's important, you and what's inside this is. And I want to enjoy every second of this."

He seemed satisfied with that answer and leaned back in his seat, gently massaging my feet and calves as he waited for my reaction. Inside the box was a small key.

I looked over at him. "Is this the key to your heart?" I jokingly asked him.

"In a manner of speaking. That key will get us access to a privately-owned yacht that will then sail us down the coast. You are the one choosing the day we leave."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he stopped me.

"Before you freak out and tell me you can't accept a trip like this for a gift, or you just pick a random day to pacify me, keep in mind that on a secluded luxury cruiser in the middle of the ocean is one of the scenarios I imagined proposing to you in, so don't give me a day until you're ready to fully accept all that comes with it."

"Okay," I said, rubbing my thumbnail over the bumpy edges on the piece of metal that will pretty much decide my future. "I want to think about this."

He nodded as if he expected to hear that. "Of course. I want you to think extensively about it because this isn't something you can exchange or give back."

I'm the one who nodded now. I don't want to give anything of his back ... not his sweatshirt, his key, or the love he keeps giving me.

"I'm keeping the key," I told him. "And I'll give you our bon voyage date by the end of the week, I promise."

I took my legs off his lap and replaced them with what's between them as I straddled him.

"What are you doing?" He asked, very much liking the position-change if the 'hard'ware I can feel is anything to go by.

"I'm thanking you for not only making this my favorite birthday, but a day that I'm happy to have imprinted on my brain forever."

"I don't require a thank you."

"Too bad because you're getting one anyway. Is the back of this car soundproof?"

"Yes. In case your next question is about potential camera placement, no one but the two of us can see what we're doing in here."

"That's even better," I said against his mouth. "Not only do I want to spend the rest of the day and night with you, I want to spend every single birthday for the next seventy-years just like this."

"You'll have to start taking better care of yourself if you still want to be straddling me at a hundred-plus years."

I drew my head back. "Very funny."

He wrapped my ponytail around his hand and used it to bring my face close to his again. "It was a serious suggestion, Steph, not a joke. Even if we surpass a hundred, I'll still want you just as much as I do right now."