CHAPTER ONE
LILY
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
I’m going to kill Calder for doing this to me.
Sure, I knew pregnancy wouldn’t exactly be a walk in the park. I always knew there’d be aches and pains and a number of physical surprises—but I wasn’t prepared. Not at all.
It’s like I’m a helpless child—I’m exhausted all the time and sometimes need help doing even the simplest tasks. God, I never thought I’d be looking forward to the day when I could tie my own shoes again. Did Lou have this much trouble when she was pregnant? Or am I just especially bad at this whole baby-growing thing?
My hand slides across the wide surface of my belly. It’ll be worth it, I know. But I really wish I could speed up the whole pregnancy part and get to the having-a-baby-in-my-arms part. Or, you know, just be able to go two hours without having to pee.
The baby shifts inside of me. I’ve taken to calling him Bubble—it felt weird referring to him as only “the baby,” and Calder and I have been in hot debate over what we’re actually going to name him—and he’s grown into his temporary nickname quite well. He’s an active little dude. And he’s so big—every day my stomach seems impossibly bigger.
“You’re energetic today,” I tell him, pressing my fingers against the spot where his little foot keeps kicking.
Across the room, my sister-in-law lets out a laugh.
“He’s as restless as you are,” she says with a smile. “He knows it’s almost time to be here.”
“I still have a few weeks,” I say. God, that feels like a lifetime.
I look over at Lou. We’re in her room, getting ready for the afternoon’s festivities, and she’s surveying herself in the mirror. She’s in a simple slip of white silk, and her blond hair hangs in loose waves around her shoulders.
On the surface, Calder and his sister seem completely different. He comes off as quite serious—sometimes positively brooding—while Lou seems more cheerful and effervescent. But once you get to know them, it’s clear they’re both Cunninghams through and through. They’re both ruled by their passion—there’s no “halfway” for a Cunningham, no mildness of emotion. They live and love with their full hearts.
Though they might look like night and day standing next to each other—Calder is tall with dark hair, while Lou is petite and blond, having dyed her hair for as long as I’ve known her—if you look closely, you can see the family resemblance. They both have the same dark eyes, and more than once I’ve been struck by how much their expressions resemble each other.
Lou and I have become much closer since Calder and I moved to the estate. Though technically Ward, Lou’s husband-to-be, owns the property, I think it will always be the Cunningham estate to all of us. And it just feels right, the whole family living here together.
I glance down at little Ramona. She’s currently playing on the stretch of carpet between me and Lou, babbling to herself as she pushes around some brightly colored blocks. She’s growing more mobile every day—while she was a little late taking her first steps, she’s starting to get the hang of it, and pretty soon she’ll be running circles around all of us. I can’t believe how quickly she’s grown.
And soon you’ll have one of your own, I think, shifting my gaze to Bubble. If you can survive this pregnancy, at least. Even now, my back is aching again, and I step over to an armchair and sink down onto the cushions.
“How did you manage it?” I ask Lou. I shift around against the pillows, but I can’t seem to find a position that eases the pain in my lower back. My temples have started throbbing, too—it seems like every part of me hurts these days. Now all I need is a leg cramp or two and I’ll be a complete invalid. Just last night I was woken by a charley horse that left me sobbing in pain—and left Calder nearly beside himself with worry.
Lou gives me a sympathetic look. “I managed it one day at a time. And I tried to remember what waited for me at the end of it all.” She smiles down at her daughter.
You better be that cute, Bubble, I think at the little blob inside of me. He kicks in response.
Lou turns back toward the mirror. “Is my brother doing any better?”
“Honestly, I think he’s having a harder time than I am,” I admit. And he doesn’t have to deal with his body doing all sorts of crazy things.
“That’s typical, isn’t it?” she says. “Ward was freaking out every step of the way with me. I swear, I stopped telling him about most of my aches and pains because he would just end up freaking out and making things worse.”
I laugh. “I’m finding I have to use a similar strategy with Calder.” Sometimes having an overprotective husband is kind of nice—but other times not so much. Calder has never been so attentive—or so nervous. Every time I’m experiencing the slightest bit of discomfort, I see the fear flicker in his eyes. He cares so much, loves me and this baby so badly, that he’s terrified something will happen. He hates to let me out of his sight these days.
But I agree with Lou that his constant concern only ends up making me more anxious. I’ve stopped talking to him about the headaches and the backaches and the milder pains of pregnancy. Sometimes, though, it’s impossible to hide my discomfort—like last night, when that leg cramp left me cursing and crying.
Just think of what’s coming, I remind myself again. You and Calder are going to have a baby. A son. While Lou and Ward decided to wait until the birth to find out the gender of their child, neither Calder nor I had the patience for that. Now all we have to do is figure out a name. We’ve gone through dozens of baby name books, but we can’t seem to decide on anything. Maybe I’ll just end up calling him Bubble forever.
“What do you think, Ramona?” I ask the precious little girl at my feet. “Are you ready for your cousin Bubble to get here?”
Ramona looks up from her blocks at the sound of her name.
“Buh!” she cries, lifting a red block in her little fist. “Buh! Buh!”
“I think that’s a yes,” Lou says. She comes over and scoops her daughter up in her arms.
Ramona is a beautiful little baby. Her cheeks have grown rounder and rosier these last few months, and her reddish-gold curls are a thick halo around her head. Just looking at her warms my heart, and I find my hand tightening on my belly, tears filling my eyes as I think of the day very soon when I’ll get to hold my own child in my arms. Calder’s child.
Yes, all of the aches and pains will be worth it in the end.
“Ma,” Ramona says, pressing her hand against Lou’s cheek.
“Ma-ma,” Lou corrects with a smile.
Ramona replies with a series of nonsense sounds and claps her hand against Lou’s cheek a second time.
“She’ll get it right eventually,” Lou says. “She’s already saying ‘dada’ all the time.” She bounces her daughter on her hip. “Say ‘mama,’ sweetheart. Ma-ma.”
“Ma,” Ramona says again. “Buhhh!”
Lou laughs. “She’s as stubborn as her dad.”
“Here, let me take her,” I say, rising and holding out my arms. “I’ll hold her while you finish getting ready.”
Lou passes her to me, and I settle Ramona on my hip. It’s a little awkward holding a fourteen-month-old with my belly the size that it is, but I’m happy—even eager—for the practice of dealing with a baby.
Ramona smiles at me and grabs a fistful of my hair. I can’t believe how big she is already—it feels like only yesterday she was small enough to fit in the crook of my arm. So small she couldn’t even lift her head on her own.
At the other end of the room, Lou has stepped into her dress. Now she twists awkwardly around, trying to reach the tiny zipper hidden beneath a strip of lace at the back.
“Here, let me help,” I say, going over to her.
With Ramona in one arm, it’s almost just as difficult for me to get the little zipper closed—but at least Lou didn’t choose a gown with elaborate lacing or a hundred tiny pearl buttons or something. In spite of the fact that Lou grew up with ridiculous amounts of money, her style is relatively simple—and her wedding dress reflects just that. The bodice is covered with thin strips of delicate lace, and the plain chiffon skirt falls like water around her legs. The entire look is simple, pretty, and slightly bohemian—and it suits her perfectly.
“Have you decided what you want to do with your hair yet?” I ask her as I tuck the zipper away beneath the lace.
“I might need your help,” she tells me, grabbing her phone and pulling up a picture. “I have some ribbon we can use.” The photo she shows me features a messy bun of waves with a lacy ribbon woven through it—a style that will look gorgeous with the natural texture of Lou’s hair.
“That will look beautiful on you,” I tell her. “Between the two of us, I think we can figure it out.”
Lou and Ward decided to have their wedding here at the estate, just like Calder and I did, but their nuptials will be even simpler than ours—frankly, I’m pleased that they’re having a wedding at all, since Lou wasn’t sure she wanted much of a fuss. But her dark eyes are glowing as she surveys herself in the mirror, and I know she’s glad they decided to have an actual ceremony. Sure, she and Ward are already living together and already have a child together—but there’s something magical about making those marriage vows out loud, about taking that final, traditional step.
“How weird is this?” Lou says. “I was ready to pop with Ramona when you and Calder got married, and now you’re pregnant at my wedding. We’ve traded places.”
“I just wish I were a little more mobile,” I say with a laugh. I’ve only been standing for a few minutes, and already my back has started to ache again. I should probably put Ramona down.
“That’s the most frustrating part as you get down to the end,” she says. She twists and brushes a finger through Ramona’s curls. The little peanut is starting to get fussy, but she quiets a bit at her mother’s touch.
“It’s probably time for her nap, isn’t it?” I say. “Or is she hungry? Do you want me to go pass her off to Ward?”
“We can just put her in the crib here. Ward offered to take her while I was getting ready, but I wanted her here with us. Sort of a special girls’ afternoon before the big event.” She scoops her daughter out of my arms and carries her over to the cradle in the corner of the room, humming softly to her.
I’m gathering together the tools I’ll need to help Lou with her hair when my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. Calder ran out to grab a few last-minute things for the wedding, and I expect it to be him as I look at the screen. Instead, I find that it’s a call coming in from the intercom at the estate’s front gate.
“That’s weird,” I murmur. To Lou, I say, “What time is Martin coming?”
“About five.” The Cunninghams’ former private chef is working double duty tonight—in addition to bringing a special wedding dinner for us, he’s going to be officiating the ceremony. But other than him, we aren’t expecting any guests. Calder and I will be acting as both attendants and witnesses for Lou and Ward.
“There’s someone at the gate,” I tell her. I hit the button on my phone to stream the feed from the security camera we have pointed at the front gate. “It’s a taxi. I can’t see inside.”
Lou has gone rigid. “Could it be a reporter?” Our family has had more than a few nightmarish run-ins with paparazzi and overeager reporters, and even though things have quieted down a little recently, I completely understand the anxiety I see on her face. We’ll never truly escape them, and every time there’s a big event in one of our lives, the fear comes back, hovering like a shadow beneath the joy and excitement.
But usually any reporters who trek all the way out here to the estate don’t bother pressing the button on the gate—if they’re determined enough to make it this far, they usually try to sneak their way onto the property. They know we won’t willingly let them in.
“Let me see,” I say. I hit a button and raise the cell to my ear. “This is Lily Cunningham,” I say, knowing our mysterious visitor will hear me through the intercom on the call box. “Who is this?”
There’s a crackle in my ear as our guest hits the button on the call box. Now that my phone is at my ear, I can’t see the person as he or she leans out of the car window, but the voice that comes through is crystal clear.
“Lily, honey,” comes a vaguely familiar female voice. “Is that really you?”
My blood goes cold. The phone nearly falls out of my hand.
“What is it?” Lou says, apparently alarmed by the look on my face. “Who’s here?”
“I…” Without thinking about it, I find myself hitting the button to open the gate. I need to see her. I need to confirm this with my own eyes. To Lou I say, “I’ll go take care of it. You go find that ribbon for your hair. I’ll be right back.”
I hurry out the door and down the steps, my mind racing. Bubble starts squirming inside of me, and I rub my belly.
“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “It’s just a little complication, that’s all. Your mama is going to take care of this.” But inside, my mind is spinning. Maybe I misheard that voice. Maybe all the pregnancy hormones have screwed up my brain and I’m hearing things. Because it can’t be her. It just can’t.
God, I wish Calder were here right now.
When I reach the front door, the taxi has already parked out front. I stay at the top of the steps, frozen in place.
It can’t be her. There’s no way.
And honestly, I hardly recognize the woman who steps out of the back of the cab. Her shoulder-length hair has been dyed a burgundy shade of red, a hue that nearly matches the color on her lips. Her clothes are just as bright—far brighter than anything I can remember her wearing—and between her royal blue pencil skirt and ruffled, pattern shirt she reminds me of some sort of exotic bird.
No, this isn’t her. She looks nothing like I remember.
But then she turns toward me, and the sun catches her face just so—and in that instant, the rush of recognition hits me like a punch to the gut. In that moment, I see her—beneath the colors and the makeup, I find the soft, loving face of that woman I knew so many years ago. The woman I never thought I’d see ever again.
My mom.
No, no… it can’t be…
But now she’s seen me. She freezes when her eyes meet mine, and then her lips spread into a wide smile.
“Honey!” she exclaims. “Look at you!”
I’m speechless. Rooted at the top of the steps. She comes toward me, beaming and waving as if she’s only been gone for a couple of days. In reality, it’s been more like twenty years.
Twenty years. Two decades since this woman walked out of my life and abandoned me and my dad. This has to be a dream. A hallucination. God, why isn’t Calder here?
She practically bounds up the steps, and I can see her eyes taking everything in—the elaborate grounds around us, the huge house behind me, and finally, me. And she never stops smiling through that red lipstick.
“Look at you,” she says again when she reaches me. “Look how big you are! Oh, honey, I didn’t realize you were so far along already.”
I don’t know what to do. What to say. Finally, I find my voice. “What are you doing here?” Once that question escapes my lips, the rest come quickly behind: “How did you know where I was? Why have you come? And how did you know I was pregnant?” A sudden thought occurs to me. “Did Dad tell you? Have you been talking to Dad?” That doesn’t make any sense—Dad would never keep something like that from me.
But this woman in front of me doesn’t seem the least bit fazed by my barrage of questions.
“Oh, honey, don’t be silly,” she says. “Everyone knows that you’re pregnant. And that you’re living here on the Cunningham property. Have you forgotten that you’re a tabloid star?” She gives a wave of her hand. “But that’s all old news. All the magazines have moved on to the latest drama with the Fontaines or with that weird musician with the shark tattoo—what’s his name again?”
I shake my head, still trying to process this. “You have to leave.”
She blinks. “But I’ve only just arrived.”
“I don’t care. You have to go.” I can’t deal with this, not right now. Pain has started to pulse in my temples again. I’m experiencing too many emotions right now—shock, confusion, fear, anger—and I’m not prepared to deal with any of them. Not on top of everything else.
“Sweetheart,” she says again, more quietly this time. “I know this must be a surprise, but—”
“A surprise?” I say, incredulous. “This is a little bit more than a surprise.” This is a nightmare. I can’t deal with this right now. “I don’t understand why you’re here.”
She tilts her head slightly, and once again, I see a glimpse of the woman I once knew—the woman who I thought would continue to exist solely in my memories.
“I’m here to see you, of course,” she says softly. Tentatively, she reaches out and brushes her fingers against my cheek—but I flinch beneath her touch. “It’s been a long time, Lily.”
So long that this woman is practically a stranger. In spite of myself, I find myself looking closer at her, trying to find more of the pieces I recognize. It’s hard. Her hair is shorter than it used to be—and red, as I noticed before, when I remember her natural shade as being closer to a dirty blond. Up close I can see the silver at the roots—and the wrinkles beneath her makeup. That’s what hits me the hardest—seeing how old she looks. She’s a couple of decades past the thirty-something woman who lives in my head. Seeing her like this is a stark reminder of how much time has passed. How much life I’ve lived without her.
“It’s been too long, honey,” she says. “And you’ve become such a beautiful woman since the last time I saw you.” Her eyes glisten, almost as if she’s fighting back tears.
But I jerk away. “The only reason it’s been so long is because you decided to walk out on me and Dad.”
Her smile slips. “Oh, sweetheart, I know I can’t expect you to understand, but—”
“You’re right—I don’t understand.” This can’t be happening right now. “It’s been twenty years. Twenty years, and you haven’t tried to call me or write me a letter or anything. You just disappeared from my life. From Dad’s life.” I reach out for the railing, still in shock. Part of me still refuses to believe that she’s actually here, that this isn’t some sort of trick. I need Calder. I need someone here to tell me that this isn’t a cruel joke.
I can’t read the expression on my mom’s face.
“I had my reasons for leaving, Lily,” she says.
Maybe she did, and maybe she didn’t. But I feel like I’m drowning. “And I have my reasons for asking you to leave.”
“Lily, I just—”
“Get off this property,” I whisper. “Now.” I force myself to take a step back toward the door, but I can’t bring myself to tear my eyes away from her.
“Lily, please,” she says, her voice just as soft as mine. “I just want to make things right.”
Numbness has set in, my shock overtaking all of my other emotions. But I find my voice. “You’ve had twenty years to make things right.”
“And you know what they say—it’s better late than never.” She lets out a sigh. “Oh, honey, you have no idea how sorry I am. If I could go back, I’d—well, let’s just say I’d do things differently. But I can’t take back those choices now. I made them, and for better or for worse, I have to live with them. But sweetheart, I can choose to make things right now. Here in the present.”
“It’s not that simple,” I say through the numbness.
“Just let me try,” she pleads. “Lily, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I know nothing I say or do can make it up to you, but I’m not asking for your forgiveness. Or even your understanding. I’m just asking to talk.”
My heart is beating too quickly. Bubble is moving around inside of me, probably sensing my distress.
“I’m happy,” I say. My voice is soft, but I know she can hear me. “I’ve lived a good life so far, even though you weren’t there. Maybe because you weren’t there. I’ve found my way. Found joy even though you weren’t there to support me.” I swallow. “Give me one good reason why I should talk to you.”
She tilts her head, and she looks so sad that for a split second, through the shocked numbness, I feel like my own heart is breaking—but why? This woman abandoned me and my dad. I shouldn’t be feeling anything for her. She doesn’t deserve it.
“You’re having a baby, honey,” she says, taking a tentative step toward me. “If a girl needs her mother at any point in her life, it’s then.”
I shake my head again. “I’m already surrounded by people who love and support me. I don’t need you anymore.” I take another step back toward the door.
“There’s nothing quite like it, being a mother,” she says, more to herself than to me. “It’s the most wonderful thing in the world… and at the same time, it’s also the most difficult.”
There’s a lump in my throat, but I force myself to take another step.
“You were quite the stubborn little baby,” she continues, and a hint of a smile passes across her lips. “You didn’t cry very much, but when you did, you could have woken the dead. You always knew exactly how to get what you wanted.”
I don’t want to hear this. Don’t want to notice the tenderness I now see in her face. Don’t want to hear the affection in her voice. It took me years to come to terms with the fact that she was gone and she wasn’t coming back. To acknowledge that she might actually have loved me in some way feels like I’m betraying the little girl who experienced that pain. But her words sink into my heart, and I feel my eyes start to ache.
It’s just the pregnancy, I tell myself. You have no control over your emotions anymore. Just take a deep breath and ask your mom again to leave. If Calder were here, he’d tell her off in an instant.
But when I try to find the words, my tongue feels too thick and dry.
“Sweetheart,” my mother says, holding out her arms to me. There are tears in her eyes, too—there’s no denying that now. And I swear I hear the desperation in her voice, the years of emotions she’s kept bottled up inside.
I don’t want to move, but I do. My feet stumble forward, and before I know it, my arms are around her. And hers are around me—or as close as they can be, given the Bubble wedged between us.
She smells the same—God, how is that even possible? I didn’t even think I remembered the way she smelled, but apparently I do. She feels so familiar. So comfortable.
“Mom,” I manage to choke out as the tears start to fall.
She sniffles and tightens her hold on me. “Oh, honey.”
In my belly, Bubble begins to squirm and kick. He always seems to get more active when I’m emotional, and even though I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling, my emotions are off the charts right now. And Bubble insists on having his say. He gives an especially energetic kick, and it’s powerful enough that my mom feels it, too. She jumps in surprise, then lets out a laugh.
“Quite the little athlete you’ve got in there,” she says, pulling back and wiping a tear off her cheek.
“Yes, he hardly sits still anymore,” I say, giving my own face a quick sweep with my sleeve. “My doctor says he’s quite strong.”
Her eyes gleam. “It’s a boy?”
I nod.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she says, placing her hand on my belly. “Have you picked out a name yet?”
It’s strange to have her touch me so intimately—after so many years, there’s something very foreign about it. And my emotions are still too complicated.
“Calder and I haven’t decided on anything yet,” I say. “But we’ll figure it out before the time comes.”
She’s still rubbing my belly, and I’m not sure what to do. Part of me wants to cringe away from that familiar touch—my feelings are much too raw for this—but she’s still my mom, after all. And this is still her grandchild. This can’t really be happening…
She seems to be following a similar line of thought. “My first grandbaby. He’s going to be a looker, that’s for sure.” Her eyes rise once more to the house behind me. “Is your husband around? I want to meet him.”
I give a nervous laugh and step back, smoothing my hand down my dress, suddenly remembering what’s on the schedule for today. “Calder’s out running errands. Look, I…” What’s the best way to handle this? “I know we have a lot to catch up on, but I’m not sure today is the best day for this.”
Her eyes widen slightly and her smile falls, and I suppose I can’t blame her for being surprised or even offended—after all, our reunion is a pretty big deal to both of us—but on the other hand, she did show up without any warning. And it’s not exactly my place to invite her to Lou and Ward’s private wedding ceremony.
“Can we meet somewhere tomorrow?” I ask her. “Do lunch or something? Where are you staying?”
She gives a little shrug and puts her smile back on. “Oh, I haven’t figured that out yet, sweetheart. I was too excited to see you.”
Something about her answer doesn’t sit right with me. I’m still a little confused about why she showed up now, on today of all days, when she claims she’s known about my marriage and pregnancy for some time. And her flippancy only adds to the unsteady feeling in my stomach.
“Why are you here, Mom?” I ask. “If you wanted to see me, why did you wait so long? Why now?”
“It’s a complicated story,” my mom says, straightening. She flicks some of her russet-colored hair over her shoulder.
“That doesn’t mean I don’t need to hear it.” I search her face, but she doesn’t give anything away.
“Can’t a mother just want to see her daughter?” she asks with a tentative smile.
Part of me wants to believe that’s all it is—but I don’t have time to press any further right now. I have to help Lou with her hair—and get myself ready for the wedding as well.
“We can talk about this some more tomorrow,” I say. I glance behind her toward the taxi, which is still waiting. “Why don’t you take your cab into town and find a hotel? We can meet for lunch or something.” And that will give me time to process all of this. And talk to Calder.
I start to back toward the door again, but my mom throws up an arm.
“Lily, wait. I…” There’s a slight tremble in her voice that wasn’t there before. “I have nowhere else to go.”
My fingers freeze on the doorknob. “What do you mean? There are plenty of hotels in Barberville, I promise.”
“It’s not that,” she says. “I just… I had to leave, Lily. There—well, there was a man. I’ve been living with him these past six years, and… Oh, honey, he wasn’t the man I thought he was. He took everything I have in the world. All of my money. And when I realized what he was doing I had to get out of there, and it took most of the cash I had left just to get here.” Her heels shift on the stone. “I ended up here without even really trying. I don’t know why—I mean, of course I wanted to see you, sweetheart, but I’d been afraid for so long of… of facing you after what I did. But something told me to come here. And when I saw you just now I… I couldn’t believe I’d waited so long to do this. But oh, honey, I don’t know what to do now.”
Neither do I.
Damn it, Lily. Just be strong and tell her to go. You don’t owe her anything. She’s only been here for five minutes and you’re already an emotional mess. You can’t deal with this drama right now. You have a baby to think about. But the other voice in my head is just as strong: But she’s your mom. A part of you has always missed her, even when you told yourself you were strong enough to get on without her. That part of you will always need her, just a little bit. And it sounds like she needs your help right now.
It’s obvious that she’s still not telling me everything. She only showed up here because she’s desperate—not because she had a sudden crisis of conscience. But she’s still my mom. She’ll always be my mom. And I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t help her.
“Fine,” I hear myself saying, as if from far away. “You can come in. I’ll find you a place to stay for a couple of days until you figure out your next step.” I start to open the door. “But this doesn’t mean that everything is good between us.”
She dabs her eyes. “Oh, honey—”
“And stop calling me that,” I say. I might have succumbed to my feelings for a minute there, but the numbness is setting in again. “I’m not your ‘honey.’ Or your ‘sweetheart.’ Or anything else. As far as I’m concerned, I’m hardly even your daughter.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long moment. But then she lifts her chin. “You’ll always be my ‘honey,’ no matter what. In my heart, no matter where I was, you were always still my baby. And you always will be.”
I turn away, refusing to acknowledge her with even a look. “Do you have any bags?”
“Just one. I’ll go get it from the taxi. Oh, Lily, darling, thank you so much.”
Her heels clatter back down the steps to the cab, but I stay where I am. This is insane, but I’m not sure what other choice I have. I’ll put her in one of the guest rooms during the wedding. And I should give Dad a call tonight—I don’t want her surprising him like she surprised me, especially since Dad is going to be remarried soon.
Bubble gives my insides another vigorous kick.
“I know,” I say to him, rubbing the spot. “But we’ll get through this. If anything, she’ll remind me of all the things I shouldn’t do when you finally arrive.”
He gives another kick as if in agreement.
Yes, we’ll figure this out. But one thing’s for certain—the final leg of my pregnancy is about to get even more difficult.