She stretched the next morning, knowing full well she’d wake up alone—until her hand connected with a warm body.
Instantly wide-awake, she shook Ryan, trying to wake him.
“Hmm?” he slurred and she leaned over, kissing him square on the mouth. That got him to open his eyes, and he smirked.
“You’re late. We overslept. I…we…no one set the alarm. You need to get up,” she urged, but he only gathered her against his chest.
“I turned off the alarm because you did set it,” he explained gently, kissing her jaw. She knew she hadn’t forgotten.
“But?”
He sat. “But nothing. I’m off today, and tomorrow, and the day after. I wanted to tell you yesterday already, planned on surprising you with it because I’ve known for a week, but with everything that happened…” He shook his head. “Anyway, I’ll take you to the ocean, and we’ll go to the zoo and climb mountains and what not. I need time with you. More than just a little.”
She gaped at him, not sure she’d heard him right. “Who are you, and where’s my husband?”
He laughed and then drew her in for another lasting kiss. “You don’t say that often enough,” he muttered against her lips and she blinked up at him.
“What would that be?”
“‘My husband.’”
She stayed silent at that, thinking she said it way too often, even if people didn’t want to hear it. Just yesterday she’d probably said it about ten times within two hours.
She touched her fingertips to his lips. “Maybe you just aren’t around whenever I say it because I’m by myself. And I don’t need to tell you who you are, because you know that by yourself.”
His eyes darkened, looking pleased, and he drew her into his lap, grinning.
“Morning sex is also on the plan,” she commented and he nodded.
“Of course. If you’re up to it…”
Her hands were already roaming his bare chest as she rolled her hips, causing him to groan. She totally was up to it.
Ryan’s hands cupped her ass, slipping into her panties until finding her sweet spot, teasing her while they were kissing.
She didn’t want to move, didn’t need him to put her on her back because being this close to him was everything.
He pushed the material aside and slipped into her, causing her to hold her breath even while holding his eyes.
There was something about connected gazes that always struck Aimie as more intimate than anything else, and when they moved together, slowly, patiently, she couldn’t shake the feeling that every wrong turn had led her to this place, and that no matter where she’d have gone, this would be her final destination.
Ryan was where she belonged.
Through all the doubts, the moments when she was alone, the anger when he’d not returned home on time, she still wanted to be around him.
His fingers spread on her back, pressing her closer, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, drowning herself in a kiss. It was something else she’d never tire of.
Kissing him. The way his lips fit with hers.
“Aimie,” he whispered, as if he was privy to her thoughts, to the way she catalogued all of the things she knew she couldn’t live without.
“Ryan,” she replied, giving him the softest of smiles.
“You’re mine.”
She had no idea what prompted him to say that, but she didn’t care either, because the words melted her.
“Always.”
He pressed her against him harder, quickening his movements, and she gasped as he brought his hand between them to tease her clit, making her rush toward the edge. She knew that normally coming together was a myth, but she loved the way he took care of her first before chasing his own release.
“Ryan,” she whispered, stilling his hand before pressing her palm against his chest until he finally lay down again and she could ride him, teasing herself while bringing him to the edge.
She moved her hips, circled them until his fingertips dug into her skin, then she brushed her hair back over her shoulder, leaning in to kiss him briefly, then she leaned back, lifting herself off him just enough to tease him, and moved back down.
“Fuck, Aims,” he muttered and she almost chuckled. Never before had a man managed to make her feel sexy, but with Ryan it seemed to be easy.
Or maybe it simply was being loved unconditionally by a man that gave her the power she felt when around him.
Holding his eyes, she felt the waves of lust and longing clash above her head, pulling her under, making her tremble and breathe his name.
He moved his hips, helping her ride out her orgasm, then he gathered her close, stilling his movements. She felt sated and happy, but she also wanted him to finish. “Let me,” she whispered, wriggling to get out of his hold, but he just kissed her nose, his eyes sparkling in the early morning sunlight.
“I’m fine.”
“But not done,” she protested and he chuckled.
“So? It’s okay, sweets. Seriously. Seeing you come undone is all I need right now.”
She moved her hips, making sure they were both aware of what exactly he needed in her mind.
“I can tell.” She grinned at him and he drew her in, kissing her.
“Being with you is all I need. However, now I need a cold shower.” He winked at her and she wondered what it was about him being so insistent he didn’t need to finish. The moment he stood, she knelt on the bed, drawing him back in.
“What’s going on?”
His smile faltered only for a second before he cupped her cheek. “I just…I feel like I should stop taking and start giving.”
She blinked, the answer unexpected, and then arched a brow at him. “I’m gonna start giving now, too. Head, that is,” she announced right before she cupped his balls with one hand and wrapped her other hand around his erection, stroking for a few moments before leaning in, running her tongue up and down his length.
“Aimie.”
She moved her head back and met his eyes. “Hush, let me finish. My mom taught me to never let things go unfinished.” She winked and then sucked him in as deep as she dared.
He twitched inside of her mouth and just a second later his hand was in her hair, tugging gently yet urgently.
“God, woman, don’t tease me now. You started this,” he fussed as she just softly sucked, licking it like a lollipop, knowing full well it was just teasing on her end, but she couldn’t resist.
Letting him slide out of her mouth with a pop, she innocently blinked up at him, stroking him with her hand. “You should’ve finished alongside me; then you wouldn’t have to deal with me enjoying this way too much.” And she was, because he was handsome when barely hanging on, and as much as she knew it was cruel having him standing up when his legs were threatening to give out, she still loved the control she had over him.
He threw his head back as she sucked him in again, this time moving her head and hand in opposite directions, working him faster to make him come. She felt his balls draw up tight while she still massaged them, and knew by now the sounds he made when he was close.
He bucked his hips before trying to move away, but she didn’t mind swallowing it all down, laughing breathlessly as he collapsed onto the bed afterward, gathering her close again.
“Holy shit, woman. Was that much teasing really necessary?” he asked, laughter in his voice, and she snuggled against his side.
“Necessary? No. Fun? Definitely.”
And that wasn’t even a lie.
* * *
Watching Aimie, he couldn’t deny that this was exactly what he’d needed. They had pulled on hoodies and he’d put jackets into his car, making sure if Aimie should get cold, he’d be able to warm her up.
She was picking shells from the ground, discarding them in regular intervals whenever she found one she liked more. He absolutely loved watching her, although her blonde strands seemed to annoy her more times than not.
She brushed them back time and again, but the breeze coming in from the ocean whipped them right back into her eyes.
He crossed the space between them and framed her face, wordlessly claiming her lips until she melted into him. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. They were red from the cold and her eyes shone bright with excitement, and although she didn’t wear any trace of makeup, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her face full of wonder and suspicion.
The day before had scared him, had shaken him to the core, and yet Aimie had managed to ground him, to make everything better, easier, less horrible to handle.
He knew it hadn’t been his fault, the dying patient, and yet he couldn’t help but feel as if he was responsible.
Ryan always felt like that.
She cuddled into him, then suddenly froze, reaching under his shirt.
“Are those dog tags?” she asked and he nodded.
He’d taken them off a while back—years to be exact—but somehow felt as if he needed the reassurance that had always come from wearing them, the feeling that he belonged somewhere.
“They are mine. When we were in Saudi Arabia, I used to hold onto them whenever I started doubting what I could do, and how much I could help people. I think I lost that somewhere. Maybe I was getting cocky.”
She took his hand and started walking. He followed her, thinking it was nice to move his feet while he was trying to put into words what he was thinking.
“Ryan, you aren’t cocky. You are a freaking amazing doctor, and the longer you work in that profession—or rather do magic, because that’s what I think happens most of the time—the surer you will get of treatments and symptoms. Imagine if you didn’t grow, didn’t find your most basic tasks easy. All the mistakes you’d make, all the—”
“I would be more thorough then, Aimie. I wouldn’t just dismiss something like I did the stomachache.”
She turned to him then, arching a brow. “Okay, tell me what you should’ve done.”
He thought for a moment and then licked his lips. “I should’ve asked him where exactly the pain was, determining whether or not it was his stomach or something else instead. And then I should’ve felt his stomach. Hell, it would’ve been a procedure of ten minutes max. I could’ve always gotten food afterward. I should’ve seen him. I should’ve treated him right away, but I thought—”
She nodded. “Okay, let’s say you would’ve realized it was his stomach causing him troubles. Would you have been able to feel the razor blades in his stomach without hurting him more?”
Ryan thought for a moment, making his way to the water’s edge, tempted to take his shoes off and feel the cold water playing around his feet. Maybe it would settle his angry thoughts.
“Ryan,” Aimie called, trying to regain his attention, and he glanced at her. “Would you have felt the razor blades in his stomach?”
He wanted to tell her he would’ve, that it would have changed everything, but that would be a lie. “No. In fact, pressing my fingers into his stomach might have shifted them, would’ve caused him to bleed sooner, heavier. I might have caused them to perforate the walls of his stomach, or maybe caused damage to his small intestine.”
She nodded, as if expecting that. “Okay, let’s say that would’ve happened and he would’ve coughed up blood. Would you have been able to save him?”
He went over the possibilities, over the possible preparations for surgery and the time it would’ve taken, unsure if they would’ve made it on time. Especially if he considered the damage the stomach must’ve taken before even causing the man to vomit blood.
“You wouldn’t have been, right? No matter how fast you could’ve gotten him into surgery, he wouldn’t have survived, would he?”
Ryan finally shook his head. “He’d been walking to the hospital, meaning he swallowed the razorblades prior to that. All the movement probably caused them to cut into the walls of his stomach over and over. I…” He trailed off, closing his eyes.
Aimie’s hand came to rest against his chest, and he glanced down at her. “Tell me, Ryan, at which point from the moment he arrived at the hospital would you have been able to help him? That is, unless he told you he swallowed the blades in the first place. At which point? When he sat in the waiting area? When he was on the ground vomiting blood? When you were helping the person with the breakdown? At. Which. Point?”
She remembered him talking about the breakdown and it almost caused him to tell her how much he loved her, even though that wasn’t what she wanted to hear.
“Ryan, focus,” she pleaded and he gritted his teeth.
“At no point. Maybe if they’d have called us from home, without him moving much, but even that…with his esophagus cut due to the swallowing I’m surprised he could even talk enough.”
She nodded, cupping his cheek. “Repeat what you just said.”
“With his—”
“No, the very first part.”
He mentally went over what he’d said. “At no point?” he asked and she licked her lips.
“Exactly. You just said it yourself. At no point in this whole scenario would you have been able to save him. Nothing was going to change his fate. He wanted to die, and ultimately he did. May his soul rest in peace now. And yours, too. Repeat after me: I couldn’t have done a damn thing.”
He swallowed. “I could’ve given him something for the pain.”
She grabbed his hoodie, curling her fingers into it. “I couldn’t have done a damn thing. Say it,” she insisted and he cupped her cheek, wanting to distract her, but knew it was a lost fight when her brow furrowed stubbornly.
“Ryan.”
“I couldn’t have done a damn thing,” he whispered.
“Louder.”
He nearly groaned. “I couldn’t have done a damn thing.”
She nodded. “And one more time because the people back there didn’t hear you.” He didn’t turn to see whom she was referring to, but it didn’t matter, either.
“I couldn’t have done a damn thing. Not one.” He went over the whole thing again, from the moment he’d seen the guy first, and there really was nothing he could’ve done. “I couldn’t have done anything at all.”
His chest expanded as he breathed, as if a weight had lifted, and his eyes widened. He framed her face and then pressed a kiss to her forehead, feeling almost dizzy.
He hadn’t killed the guy, and while it had been tragic, Aimie was right.
Maybe the soldier finally had found peace.
* * *
Seeing Ryan after that rather intense moment eased Aimie’s heart considerably. Although he’d smiled at her before, too, she’d seen the shadow following him around, and hadn’t been sure how to approach the topic.
She’d been turning that patient’s story over and over in her head, sure she read somewhere that swallowing razorblades almost always ended fatally, but then hadn’t been sure anymore.
In the end it hadn’t mattered because, statistics or not, the Monterey Army Health Clinic couldn’t have done a damn thing.
What she couldn’t wrap her head around was why the guy had walked to the hospital in the first place when he finally reached his goal of hurting himself.
She’d been someone who understood people who were depressed, and she would always offer them support, but with that guy she couldn’t help but feel angry about what he’d done to the people at the hospital. She had a very good feeling that at least the nurse on duty was feeling the same way Ryan did.
“Food?” he asked and she nodded because she was starving.
“There’s a restaurant just a little way down there,” he explained, pointing further down the beach before drawing her into his side.
“I knew marrying you was a good thing, but I think today was the first time I thought it was a smart decision, too.”
She gaped at him, feigning outrage. “It was a smart decision from the beginning! Because I’m bright, and make you smile, and keep you home occasionally, and because I kneel when I have to and—”
He pressed his palm onto her mouth, glancing around while her eyes sparkled. She loved teasing him, and as much as he was sexual at home, she’d realized he was easily embarrassed in public.
“Aimie.” He sounded exasperated, but it only made her giggle.
“You like when I kneel and give you what you need! And you don’t mind talking to me about it when we’re home. People know young couples have sex, Ryan,” she pointed out.
“She’s right, young man, and you should enjoy it as long as she still wants it with you,” an elderly man injected while he and his wife passed them. They were both grinning while Ryan blushed crimson.
“Sir, I intend to do just that, but the talk should’ve still been held at home instead of here,” he pointed out, but the couple just laughed.
“Where’s the fun in that? She’s a beautiful woman. You should kiss her often and hard, and remind her you want everything she is ready to give you. You remind me of us after we got married. Stella here didn’t let me get out of bed anymore.” He winked and Aimie laughed as Stella rolled her eyes and then grinned.
“You didn’t get out of bed because you hurt your back the first night we made love, Al.”
“You were a wild one,” the man teased.
Stella touched her bony hand to his chest. “You were trying to be more agile than you were, and I didn’t know until I heard the crack. Come to think of it, it’s still the same today. You still make those sounds when we’re in bed.” Ryan nearly choked on air and she winked. “Sleeping.” There was something in her eyes making Aimie think they didn’t just sleep.
“Forty years married and I still cannot stop touching you,” the guy said to her, his expression getting tender.
“Because I’m still as firm as I used to be.”
“Just like at eighteen,” he confirmed although Aimie was sure it wasn’t true. Not that it mattered because for those two seemingly nothing had changed over the years.
“What’s your secret?” Ryan asked suddenly, surprising Aimie and with the way he looked, himself as well.
Stella’s expression softened. “I’d love to say there is one, but that’s not true. It’s hard work. Tears and fights. Moving out, and moving back in. At the end of the day, all that matters is that you cannot fall asleep without the other one by your side, and that you’re ready to beg and apologize, even if it wasn’t necessarily your fault.”
“Our children got annoyed with how often we’d fight, only to kiss all the harder afterward,” Al explained and Aimie felt Ryan kiss the top of her head.
“I like that. It sounds like a good way to live,” she commented and the elderly couple nodded at them, then muttered something about fishing and rods before they continued their way.
Ryan didn’t let go, holding her pressed into his side while they kept walking.
“Do you want children, Aimie? Like…seriously?”
She arched a brow at him. “Can you want kids not seriously?” She thought for a moment, then met his eyes. “I know what you told me when we talked about this the first time, but your question makes me think there’s more to it.”
He licked his lips for a moment, then drew her away from the water’s edge, sitting down and pulling her between his legs, her back against his front while he wrapped his arms around her.
It annoyed her because it meant she wouldn’t see his face, but clearly it was what he wanted.
“You know, we’re staying together. There’s no way I’m letting you go, no matter what, and that means we do have to talk about children. Who’s going to get annoyed with us when we’re still heavy on the P.D.A. at the ripe age of sixty?”
She felt him rest his chin against her shoulder and she brushed her fingertips across the back of his hand. “I wanted children. I wanted them for the longest time, until I didn’t think they were in the cards anymore.”
She hadn’t considered children with him, not really, because in the end they’d rushed into this marriage, and they were far from content with each other.
Yes, they had fun, and they could talk about basically anything, but would they survive crying babies, late nights, and no sleep?
She wasn’t so sure about it because dealing with each other was complicated more often than not.
“Well, they are in your cards now. I’m not saying today, or tomorrow, but they are.” He stayed silent for a moment, making her wonder if he expected her to say something, but then he continued, “I really never thought about it, like seriously thought about it, but they are right, you know?” He nodded in the general direction Al and Stella had left.
“About having sex until your bones crack?” she asked, feeling him laugh behind her.
“That, too, but I mean the enjoying you for as long as you still want me.”
She couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “Are you saying you want to make a baby now, while I still like you before whatever funny reason should tear us apart?”
“I want to say I’m terrified of not having a family with you. I’m terrified of waking up one morning, realizing you left because it was what you wanted. Holding a tiny bundle, part of you, part of me…wouldn’t it be perfection? I didn’t think of children until I thought of having children with you, and I want a whole bunch of them sitting at the kitchen table in their teens, embarrassed because I still tongue-kiss you.”
She laughed, resting her lips against his arm while she thought about his words. It sounded as if he wanted a child because she wanted it, but there was something in his tone that carried an urgency making her wonder if it was really for her—or for him instead.
“Ryan, what is this about?”
“They spent their entire life together, and they’ll probably go until the end together, too. I want that. I want all of it. I want the dog, too. I want to be telling young couples on the beach about how much I love you. Yesterday and today have shown me how much I’m missing by being in the hospital so much and yet…I know I promised you things would change, but—”
She turned in his arms, this time needing to see his face. “Your job is everything to you. Does it tear you down? A lot of times, yes. Does it hurt when you don’t come home and almost forget I wait for you? Yes. But the moment you are there it all gets better. A few weeks aren’t enough to figure out how good of a match we are, or if we’re one at all, but I’m not planning on leaving, because you inspire everything in me.”
She cupped his cheek and then leaned in to kiss him softly. There was a slight scruff on his cheeks and it gave him an edge she liked. He was handsome when clean-shaved, but like this? He was rough, almost primal-looking, and she wanted no one else, couldn’t see herself wanting anyone else ever again, either. “My love scenes I write with you in mind. My sex scenes? Same thing. My happily-ever-after’s I write because of you. I had nothing when I came to the U.S. I fled my life, my worries, everything, and I didn’t know what I was looking for, but you found me and guided me to this.”
“Do you plan to move here or go back?”
She’d waited for this talk, had waited for him to ask her to stay and give up everything. She knew her parents apartment was waiting for her back home, and somehow she’d still seen herself going back.
“I don’t know. What do you want?” she asked. She knew she had less to lose, less to give up compared to him, but should a marriage really be about that? Whoever had less to sacrifice would have to cut back? And if that was the case, would it be like that forever? He was a doctor, made a lot of money, and even if she moved here, being allowed to work because she got a work visa, she’d still make less, would have the less prestigious job.
“Monterey is the home I chose for myself. The hospital is my life…or rather was, until you came into it. Your friends are all here and—”
“Home is Australia for me, Ryan. My parents live there. I’ve spent my life there. You’re a doctor. You can easily find a job there, I’m sure.”
He nodded thoughtfully, licking his lips. “That might be, but…”
He didn’t want to move. He wouldn’t up and leave the U.S., but he was basically asking that of her.
In the beginning, right after they’d gotten married she’d had no doubts about moving, but the longer she’d been here the more she realized it wasn’t her home.
It didn’t matter that she forgot the feeling the moment he was around. It also didn’t matter that she had her friends here, whereas she was a loner back home.
What mattered was that her husband, the person she thought she would work everything out with, wouldn’t even consider going back with her.
It cut deep, and made her wonder if maybe she was finally starting to lose the rose-colored glasses.
* * *
He was holding Aimie just a bit tighter after the talk by the beach earlier. He couldn’t say what it was, because even though she still kissed him like she had before, there’d been a shift inside of her.
It seemed she was considering moving back to Australia for good, and he couldn’t even blame her, but still the thought left him terrified.
Maybe he should’ve expected this change of heart to come, but he hadn’t. God, he’d been naïve and stupid to believe they could make it work so well, she wouldn’t even remember she had a home away from him.
“Dinner?” he asked, kissing the side of her head, and she nodded, letting him draw her into a small, cozy restaurant off the beach.
They entered and there were cliché red table clothes, white candles, and sparkling glasses on each small table.
Aimie started giggling when a waiter led them toward a table in the back corner. “When I was in high school this guy took me out to eat. His name was…” She tapped her fingertip against her chin, thinking for a moment, but then shrugged. “No idea actually. He was this small kid, super nice, but nothing much to look at, and I was sitting across from him, thinking the carbs were nicer than him.”
She blushed, sobering at that. “That was mean. Anyway, he had this bet going with a jock, and I just wanted him to win, you know? His life was hard enough. Anyway, we’re sitting in that restaurant and he awkwardly tries to take my hand, but knocks down the candleholder, and that makes the glasses tumble off the table. I’m laughing hard, but the waiter comes over, cleans up the mess and tells him it’s happened before.”
She bit back new laughter and Ryan leaned back in the chair, his fingers still entwined with hers on the tabletop because he didn’t want to let go.
“Anyway, we get the food. It’s good. Like so good. He watches me eat, lost in thought, and I’m just staring at him, like…dude? So he realizes he’d been daydreaming, and he rushes to eat again, dropping his fork, and when he tried to reach for it, he hits the back of it, making the steak on it fly across the restaurant. The woman never knew what hit her. She jumps up, scared and surprised, hits the table, and jumps back another time to avoid the wine. Her back hit the table next to her and the couple there gets showered in wine. By now you need to imagine three waiters trying desperately to get the situation under control. My date throws a fifty on the table and asks me to leave with him. So we do, and outside on the crowded sidewalk I double over with laughter while his facial color changes from red slowly back to normal.”
She started laughing, half her words getting swallowed up by the sound, but Ryan didn’t mind. Instead he leaned forward, captivated, enraptured, in love.
“You went out with him, it had to count for something, no matter how embarrassing,” he pointed out while she wiped tears from her cheeks, just the memory causing her to have trouble catching her breath.
“Yes, but that wasn’t all. We’re standing there and this waiter comes out of the restaurant, screaming bloody murder. Dude hadn’t put enough money on the table, and so he paid the rest on the sidewalk, promising he didn’t do it on purpose. Once everything is done, we start walking down the beach. It was nice, the night warm and the water cool against my feet. We talked a little because as much as I considered this the most hilarious evening in my existence, I wanted him to be okay.”
Which said a lot about the person she was, and Ryan couldn’t resist bringing her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles.
The waiter came and he ordered white wine and rosemary chicken, checking with Aimie, but she just nodded in approval.
“Was he okay?” he prompted once they were alone again and he saw the smirk tugging on her lips.
“Honestly? No. He had that crazy idea to get some popcorn for the walk because I mentioned I loved popcorn and there are vendors on the side, selling all kinds of sweets. The guy told us to leave the waterfront with the popcorn, or at least eat it next to his stand instead of going back to the water’s edge, but dude didn’t listen. The seller even told us to be careful because of the seagulls.”
Laughter bubbled up inside of her and he couldn’t help his own chuckle. He could vividly imagine what else was coming.
Aimie was crying new tears, her voice almost choked with laughter while she tried to catch her breath.
“At some point he just threw the bag in the air and ran. I finished my walk alone and had to catch a cab home, but yeah…I’ve never had another date like that. I’m not sure dude ever asked someone else out, either, because let’s face it, this is basically the worst thing that can happen to anyone.”
Ryan shook his head, wondering how one single person could be so unlucky or so clumsy, but then figured maybe it had been Aimie. “You were cute and you went out with him. I bet it made him nervous.”
“Uh-huh, nervous he was, but not because of me.” She arched a brow. “Two days later I met him and asked if he told the jock we’d gone out, and if he needed me to confirm the story, and he admitted he’d lied to me, and he’d been so ultra-nervous that night because he’d worried I’d find out. He also told me he’d never again speak to me because this was the single most embarrassing thing that ever happened to him.”
Ryan could imagine. “He missed out on a lot of amazing opportunities,” he stated quietly and Aimie’s expression sobered.
“I don’t think he’d have gotten another chance. I was glad when he didn’t talk to me anymore, to be honest. I just meant to be nice, and he used that.” The disappointment radiated from every line of her face and again he kissed her knuckles, pressing her palm against his cheek.
“I’m glad you’re still nice. It says more about him than it does about you how he treated you. And he didn’t deserve you in the first place. You should know that.”
She nodded, leaning in now as well. “I do, but still, thank you. You know, I could get used to this. Cozy dinners in cheesy restaurants, you paying me compliments.” She winked, but then turned serious. “You giving me your undivided attention.”
“I love you, Aimie. You always have my undivided attention when we’re together.” It was true, although he sure knew he sometimes failed at reminding her of that.