Crossing Hearts

By Sandra Alex

The wrong husband. The right lie. The serendipitous attack. The second chance that’s always been there.

I love my job. Being a teacher fills my heart each day. Especially when I meet great people in unexpected places, like the pickup door when parents come to get their kids. That’s where I met Tyler. He’s the one who saw it happen, a year ago, but neither of us knows it...yet.

He’s also the one who saves my life, but neither of us knows that yet, either. If only I’d met him sooner. If only I knew the right choices to make, then. Will his voice bring me back before it’s too late?

***

Sleep? What’s that? Sure, my job and my business keep me busy, but I always make time for family. Then I meet Ripley, a teacher with a busted car and an a-hole husband, and I find myself lying to her, so I don’t make the same mistake twice.

But it comes back to bite me at the worst time, and I can’t take it back. That’s when I find out the truth about Ripley. That’s when I find out things that I can’t un-find out. And now I’m stuck. Until that knock at the door comes. And I wish like hell that I knew the truth sooner. Because now it may be too late.

HEA (Happily ever after)
Military romance
Second chance romance
Physical abuse (non-descriptive)
Medium heat
Course language
Mild cliffhanger ending
Fourth book in a 5 book complete standalone series

"A deeply driven romance read." - 5 Stars from Jennifer Soppe, Amazon reviewer

"Another great Lynch to read." - 5 Stars from Jessib, Amazon reviewer

"Heavy subject compassionately written." - 5 Stars from Belinda, Amazon reviewer

"Just an amazing story!" - 5 Stars from Kathleen Bulfon, Amazon reviewer

"The author did a good job handling some difficult topics." - 5 Stars from Emily Pennington, Amazon Top 500 reviewer

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Alex
• Release date: Dec 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781989427354

Sandra Alex

Meet your next book boyfriend.Love stories that could actually happen.About the AuthorSandra Alex introduces the Ford brothers. Five sexy, rich, swoon-worthy men that will make your toes curl. Each book features one sibling. This sizzling series will knock your socks off!Proceed with Caution:"White knight, prince charming romance. This book was an awesome read. I enjoyed every page. Who doesn't love a prince charming and white knight! I liked the story, the characters, how it was written, the hot scenes and the HEA. I'll be reading more from this author." -5 stars from M. Hebert on Goodreads and BookBubEnter at Your Own Risk:"This book was a great read! I loved the main characters and how they were able to deal with what life threw at them. Sexual situations that were steamy and hott! Relatable heroine. I wanted to cheer for them as a couple. Bridezilla was funny too!" - 5 stars from C. Kasner on GoodreadsHandle with Care:"This poignant story draws you in and touches your heart. Garrett and Nora are a testament that true love never dies." - 5 Stars from M. Jelks-Emmanuel on GoodreadsJoin Sandra's newsletter to get an exclusive prequel and an extended epilogue, plus other....treats.Visit https://www.sandraalexbooks.com to subscribe.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Tyler

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All my life, my father told me never to yell at a woman. But this, man, this can’t be helped. You’re married??!!!

Her eyes focus on a spot on the wall. Her eyes are red with tears. Her arms are crossed over her chest, like she’s some spoiled brat who got screwed out of the last cookie in the jar. Yes, but Tyler, I had my reasons! her voice quivers with emotion as her toe taps nervously on my expensive hardwood floor. As she wipes a tear away, I can see her hand shaking.

What? What are your reasons, Val?! I demand, still yelling. Why did you lie to me? All this time…I…I can’t fucking believe that you strung me along all this time.

Valerie and I met a year ago. She showed up at my shop. This little place I opened a while ago, where I fix cars and machines. It’s not my regular day job, mind you, I’m actually an engineer for an automotive company out here in North Carolina. With the usual goo-goo eyes and the like, I took the hint and asked her out after a few months. The rest is history.

I love you. She says, with these little puppy dog eyes that would normally make me run to her, but it’s like a switch has gone off. To me, now, Valerie might as well be a three-hundred-pound man with a receding hairline.

Oh, bullshit! I shout. How the hell could you love me when you were lying to me the whole goddamn time we were together!

I mean it! she cries. I love you, Tyler! her hands cup her face. I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you.

Not buying it, I shake my head. "Val, in case you didn’t know…love is something built on trust. Clearly, you have no knowledge of the concept if you’ve been lying to me for the last year and cheating on your husband! I lift my hand in frustration. Hell, I ought to march right over to your house and tell him what a two-timing liar he’s married to!"

With that, she clasps her hands together, as though in prayer. No! God, no! Tyler! Please don’t! she begs. I…I’ve…got nowhere to go, Tyler. He’ll kick me out. I have no family, you know that.

Shaking my head, I smile mirthlessly. Maybe you should have thought of that before you single-handedly screwed over both of the men in your life. I sigh, still shaking my head. How could you? I scoff. "I mean, I gave you the whole low-down speech about how I feel about infidelity. How that girl once did…hell…this exact same thing to me before? Do you not recall that conversation???"

Valerie nods. I do. And it took every ounce of energy for me not to tell you then. But I just…couldn’t. I was already in love with you.

You are a piece of work, Val. I mean…how selfish can you be? Did you ever once think of my feelings? I point out.

We’re standing in the middle of my living room. Valerie is within smacking distance. It takes everything in me not to knock her out. Had she been a guy who just screwed me over, she would be tasting my fist by now. How many times we messed around at her house, I can’t even keep count. We did it at my house a million times, too, even though my brother Grant, who I live with, didn’t like it, but my point is that she took huge risks. Just because her husband works overseas is no excuse. He could have easily come home and surprised her at any time…and received a huge surprise of his own in return.

What, did you think that because your husband works abroad, that that gives you a free pass?

She shakes her head. No, it wasn’t like that. You know that.

No, no, I don’t know that. I say, thinking about all the things I bought her, and all the places that I took her to. Valerie used me. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced. Sure, it’s no secret that my family has money. It’s hard to hide when you come from a family of seven, who all served overseas, and two of my brothers have medical practices in town. Everyone knows the Lynches. I come from a long line of them, all from this neck of the woods. It’s both a blessing and a curse. This part being the curse. The other curse…we’re all a decent-looking bunch. Heck, no lies here, I’ve had a couple of modeling agencies approach me, after seeing photos of me on the internet.

Evidently the photo of me on my shop’s website is quite popular. I get thousands of hits on it per month. Business is booming. Staff never run out of jobs to do, but admittedly, it’s mostly women who drop their cars off, some say it’s in hopes of meeting me. Not tooting my horn at all here, my friends. It’s the truth. But like I said, I’m an engineer during the day, so I’m almost never there. Yeah, I’ve thought about quitting my day job. It’s no secret that none of us Lynches actually need a job, but we all need a purpose.

I’m what they call a type A personality. Sitting still has never been my thing. Sitting for even an hour makes my skin crawl. You’re probably wondering how I find the time to have a girlfriend when I have two jobs. Well, that part is easy. The shop is hands off for me. It’s more my hobby. More about giving back. The guys who work for me, and even the guy who manages the place, are all men who have had a rough start in life…let’s just leave it at that. I give them a job, pay them well, show them respect, and they work their butts off and don’t look twice when I come around and want to fix a car or two a week. The cars we fix, sometimes we fix for free if the family is hard up.

It’s not a charity, no, but sometimes it might as well be. And someday it may be, but it’s relatively new. Valerie was actually one of my first customers. We didn’t start dating until about six months ago. There was a minor flirtation going on as she kept suspiciously running into me here and there. She started bringing her car in on a monthly basis with what I now know were fabricated sounds and various innocuous symptoms that turned out to be nothing. I put two and two together pretty quickly when the guys at the shop told me that she asked specifically for me to look at her car.

Then it occurs to me that, stupidly, I bought her some very expensive items. Valerie has a penchant for luxury clothing and shoes, and I spent a good dime on her. It was the money, wasn’t it? I blurt, feeling my anger rise.

Her face straightens. What do you mean?

You know exactly what I mean. I say pointedly. All that shit I bought you…is that why you stuck around? Playing this sick game?

She wipes a tear from her face. Her hands are still shaking. I detect anger rising in her tone as well. I told you I love you. That’s why I…

Lied? I help her out.

She sighs. "Yes, fine. I lied. I lied a lot. I’m not proud of it, but it’s done."

I scoff. I’ll tell you what else is done. I gesture to her and then to me. "This. We’re so done."

Grant walks in the front door. He sees me first. Hey, he gives me an odd look, like he’s wondering why I look like I want to kill someone. Val here? he looks around and sees her standing in the living room.

Yeah, but not for long. I seethe.

His eyes bulge. Oh…okay. I’ll split. He turns on his heel. Give you guys some privacy.

Thanks, man.

He chuckles mirthlessly. No problem.

Valerie watches Grant walk up the stairs. Her voice lowers an octave. I suppose you’ll tell him that I’m a lying whore?

That’s pretty much what I had in mind. I admit, nodding facetiously.

Now it’s her turn to scoff. Do you think you can handle this with a tiny bit more maturity?

I’ll give it the same level of maturity that you did, sweetheart. I spit back.

Well, that’s rich.

"No, I think I’m the one who’s rich. I point at her. And I think that’s exactly why you stuck around. I’m really curious to know how you hid all the shit I bought you from your husband."

My husband doesn’t notice me. she says, a note of resentful pity sits on her tongue. I could drive up to the house in a BMW, wearing a fur coat, and he still wouldn’t notice me.

Well, that doesn’t make any of this right.

No, it doesn’t. But I can’t take it back. She’s looking at the floor when she says this, and then her gaze slides up to meet mine. Can I? the pleading in her eyes makes my stomach turn. Is there any way that I can make this up to you? Any way that I can make this better? Have a clean start?

I laugh out loud, flabbergasted. You’re kidding me, right?

Her face falls again. Tyler, I love you. Really, I do.

I’ve had enough. Get out.

She gasps and whimpers. Please, Tyler. I’m so sorry for this. I’ll give you some time, let you cool off, I’ll do anything.

There is nothing that you can do, Valerie. I look at her intently. You lied to me. You made me the other guy. You’ll never be anything to me ever again. I pause for emphasis. It’s time for you to leave.

A swallow. Okay. She says. It takes everything in me not to push her out the door. As she puts her shoes on, her eyes slide up to mine again, in a vain attempt to plead with her gaze. Not falling for it. If you ever…need anything. She says, wiping away her last tear. Give me a call.

I smile at her, but my eyes are as cold as ice. I’d have to be pretty desperate to do that.

She’s soured by that comment. Fine. Have a nice life.

Yeah, good luck. I say, but the tone is facetious.

I swear to God I hear her murmur, ‘fuck you’ as she walks out the door. What did you say? I demand.

She turns around. My neighbor is in his driveway, getting out of his car. I said fuck you! she shouts.

I just laugh, shaking my head. See ya, Val.

Before stomping to her car, she gives me the finger. I wait until her tires peal out of the driveway before waving at her sweetly.

John, my neighbor, turns to me. Another one bite the dust?

Yeah, something like that. I chuckle as I walk back into the house. Grant is coming down the stairs.

Shit, what happened? he asks.

Slamming the door in anger, I say. Fucking bitch is married. I leave it at that. No further explanation is required.

Grant’s eyes bulge. His mouth widens. Holy…shit. He shakes his head. How did you find out?

Her husband works overseas. Must be something going on with him because he’s never called her when I’m around. She must have slipped. She didn’t turn her ringer off and she left her phone out while we were… I trail off, but the disgusted look on my face is telling. The phone rang and it was an international number. She obviously doesn’t use her married name otherwise I’d have figured it out immediately when her phone announced the caller’s name. I rake a hand through my hair. Anyway, she took the call, literally running out of the bedroom. Thank God she was dressed, otherwise you’d have had a nasty show.

Grant is smiling in disbelief, following along.

Anyway, it’s over. I draw in a deep breath, raking both my hands through my hair in exasperation. I’m so fucking done with this. I state. She was after my money. And she had her hands all over me all the time.

Yeah, I know. Grant scoffs. I won’t miss that.

I’m done with this shit.

Until the next one. Grant comments, coming down the last few steps. He goes into the kitchen and I follow him.

No, I’m serious, man. This is bullshit. He goes into the fridge and grabs two beers, handing me one. We open the bottles and take long pulls each. This isn’t the first time it’s happened to me, either, man. And that’s the part that pisses me off the most. What is it with women? They cheat on their husbands with me. What, should I wear a sign?

That says what? ‘I don’t like married women’?

I don’t know. I mutter, and then I take another sip of beer. They fucking see me coming, you know. They know that I own that shop, they know Daniel and Christopher are doctors. I state, indicating the two brothers of ours that run a medical practice in town. Both of our sister-in-laws work there, too. Kayla as a dietician, and Ashley as a psychologist. If you’re keeping track, both my parents were doctors, too, before they retired. My dad a military surgeon and my mom an obstetrician/gynecologist.

You do seem to have a beacon for attracting shitty women. Grant states.

Thanks. My tone is sarcastic.

Me, women see me as a big, burly guy. I tend to scare the chicks away.

I give him a look. That isn’t even a little bit true. Sure, you’re built like a brick shithouse, but chicks dig your softer side.

He waves and takes another sip of beer. Don’t sweat it, man. Maybe the next one won’t be like that.

Sometimes having money is a fucking curse. I state, ignoring his comment.

For me, the chicks dig me because I was in the military.

Sometimes that attracts them for me, too. I agree.

My phone rings as I say in a joking manner. "Maybe I should just tell them I’m married."

Grant chuckles. "That’ll make them more attracted to you. Chicks love married men."

The ring sounds odd as I get up to go grab it off the kitchen counter. What the fuck is that? I murmur, puzzled.

Looking at the display, I put two-and-two together. Fuck.

Grant turns around. What’s up?

I look up at him as the phone rings again. This is just what I fucking need right now. I seethe.

Your phone busted or something, man?

I let out a puff of air slowly, staring at the display, shaking my head. It’s a fucking international call, man.

Grant’s face goes blank.

Chapter 2

Ripley

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Ihear a knock at the classroom door and see Principal Style’s face as I look up. Hey,

Hi there. I’m just cleaning up the last of the paint and I’ll be out of here.

Style waves. She’s a nice lady, and I’m grateful for her for giving me the position, even though she could have easily given it to the much more qualified Kindergarten teacher who applied for it. A little birdie, or one of my friends who works for the school board, told me that Style hired me because I’m a woman, and given that Marnie Style is a lesbian, she’s more inclined to hire females. It sounds sexist, I know, but I’ll take it. It sure beats having to hoof it an hour each day, like what I was doing previously. No rush. She walks in, clad in her modest, two-piece casual suit. I have a message for you. One of the parents called. They’d like a call back.

Oh, sure. I smile, taking a sheaf of paper from her. I’ll give them a call right away.

She frowns. It’s not urgent. It’s about Lacey Lynch. Her mom, Ashley, is really nice. She’s a psychiatrist over at the medical center. She mentions the location. Very smart girl. And the feminism continues… Her little cousin, Henry, was in this very classroom. She comments. He and his mother moved to Latvia.

I’m impressed. Latvia? Really. Sounds…exotic.

Style smiles. The man she met there sure was. I met him myself. She grins in retrospect. Anyway, she married him and moved to Latvia with Henry. From what I hear they’ve had two more kids since then.

And this is…Lacey’s cousin?

Yes. Anyway, I’ll leave you with that. She pauses before leaving the classroom. How was the first day of school?

Very good. I answer honestly.

Good. I’m glad you liked it. she looks around at the mess. We had the Kindergarteners color with paint this afternoon, and one of the paint containers, in a completely unfounded mishap, literally flew across the room. At the time, I tried to clean it up as much as I could, but there are still drops of paint everywhere. Considering. She chuckles, looking at the mess. Don’t worry too much, we have a janitor who lives for this kind of mess.

Oh, I met Bob. He came in with the mop earlier. I state.

I’m surprised he didn’t stay and get into every nook and cranny.

I grin. There was vomit in room seventeen he had to deal with.

She lifts a finger, smirking. Oh, right. I watch her walk away, patting the door jam in farewell.

Walking to the desk, I pick up the phone and dial the number. Ashley Lynch. The voice answers warmly.

Hi, Ashley, I know I can call her this, because that is how she is addressed on the sheaf of paper that Style gave me. This is Ripley Baker, Lacey’s teacher. I understand you needed to speak to me?

Oh, yes…wow, thanks for getting back to me so quickly.

No problem. Principal Style just brought me the message.

Ashley cuts to the chase. Listen, I apologize, but I forgot to tell you that I won’t be picking her up after today. It will be myself or my husband Christopher bringing her in the morning, but it will be either her Uncle Tyler or her Uncle Grant picking her up after school.

Oh, okay. That’s no problem.

She ignores my statement. Her grandparents pick up my sister-in-law’s kids from another school now, so we had to enlist her Uncles for the time being.

No problem at all. I’ll add them to the list.

Do I need to sign anything?

If you can give me your email address, I’ll email you for a digital signature. Does that work?

Certainly. She fires off her email address. My brother-in-laws both start really early in the morning, so this worked out well.

That’s good. It sounds like you have a large family.

We do. Whenever Grant and Tyler start having kids, I think we’re going to have to hire help. She chuckles.

You can always use the school bus service as well. I add.

Oh, no, that’s fine. Lacey doesn’t like the idea of taking a bus. We did tell her all about it, but she’d rather us drive her in. Both my husband and I don’t start work until around nine o’clock, and if one of us has to go in early, the other one drops her off. It’s going to be a bit more of a challenge when her brother starts school next year, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

And where does her brother go while Lacey is at school?

Oh, Christopher’s parents or my dad watch him.

And he doesn’t miss his little sister?

I don’t know. She admits. But I’m sure I’ll find out when I get home.

I chuckle. Perfect. Thanks for letting me know. I’ve just sent you the email.

Oh…there it is. She says. I’ll get this back to you right away.

Thanks. Have a great night.

You, too.

When I hang up to her, I sit back in my chair, looking at the room. I’m so grateful for the way that my life has ended up. It didn’t look nearly this promising even six months ago. Aside from having a trek to work every day, I had a million other stresses, some of which are better, and some that it’s too early to tell. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I look at my appointment calendar, and see that another visit with Doctor Mathews is coming up. Visits a year ago were weekly, but now they’ve turned to monthly.

Paul was seeing Doctor Mathews, too, but I could never get him to go to her with me, like the doctor suggested. His visits were biweekly, but they dwindled down to once a month pretty quickly, and now he never goes anymore. God forbid I bring it up. My mother says that I was lucky he went at all. Most men refuse to go to a marriage counsellor. Most men opt for a separation or divorce, like my dad did. In a way, I think my mom is a little bit jealous, even though she knows that the longer that Paul and I stay together, the larger her chances are of having grandchildren.

My cell phone rings, startling me. Pulling it out of my sweater pocket, I see that it’s Paul. Hey, I answer.

Hey. How was your first day back? he sounds chipper and sweet.

Good. Great, actually. Things are pretty great here so far.

Well, I’m glad that you don’t have all that driving to do.

That makes two of us.

Hey, what time are you coming home?

I look at my watch. Paul is home awfully early. What, did you get fired or something?

What? That’s not even funny.

I’m sorry. It’s just that…you’re home so early. You’re usually late, that’s all.

Paul is a shop foreman for an automotive company.

Yeah, well, I’m early. His mood sours. Thought I’d get a workout in before you got home, so that we could celebrate.

I smile. Oh, I’m up for that.

You sure?

Of course I’m sure. I giggle softly. What did you have in mind?

I thought that we could go out for dinner. Maybe to The Mill.

Memories bubble up quickly. Paul senses my hesitation. Babe, it’s been a year. You can’t tell me that you’re still bothered by The Mill.

Even a lifetime doesn’t seem like long enough. It still bothers me, Paul.

He downplays it. Even after all that therapy? He says it like I’m some high school kid who was bullied.

Yes, Paul. It still bothers me. Can’t we go somewhere else?

And then I can’t stop it. After a year of treatment, a year of dealing with it, I thought I was finally over what happened at The Mill, but I’m not.

Paul sits across from me. That twinkle in his eyes is evident. God, I love it when he’s in this mood. The table we chose is his favorite; right on the back patio. It’s packed with people, but we reserved our spot special for him. A long- awaited promotion came to my loving, deserving husband today, finally. We always come to The Mill, Paul’s favorite restaurant, whenever a celebration is in order. He made the reservation a week ago, knowing full well that he had a meeting with his boss.

He raises his glass and we clink together, toasting to his success. To my promotion to Head Foreman. He says proudly.To you. I’m so proud of you, honey.

Thank you, my love.

I lean in and kiss him chastely on the lips. We sip our wine and eat our meal, which is absolutely delicious. Another round of drinks comes, and then another, but Paul seem to be the only one draining the glasses. I smile at him. I suppose I’ll be the designated driver tonight.

Of course you will. He says, taking the last bite of his meal. And I’ll take my sex straight up when we get home, too.

I chuckle, softly, looking around. Paul’s volume has risen an octave, and I know that the people on either side of us heard his comment. Okay. I say, playing along.

You can throw in a blow job, too. He winks.

I lean in and whisper. Paul, can you keep your voice down, please? I smile. This is a fancy restaurant. I don’t think people appreciate this conversation.

He looks over and smiles at the other patrons. They smile back, although I will note that it is with some reluctance. See? Everything is okay. He says, taking another sip of wine.

I pull the glass away gently once he sets it down. You want some dessert?

Sure, that sounds good. He says, taking the tripod dessert menu from me, as I cleverly made it look like me moving his wine glass out of his reach was in an attempt to pass him the menu.

He peruses it and looks at me. Do you want to share this cheesecake, or were you thinking of something solo?

Whatever you like. We can order something separate and share if you want to.

He winks at me. You always have the greatest ideas, babe.

The waitress comes and takes our dessert order, and she notices that Paul’s wine glass is half empty. More wine, sir?

No, no, we’re fine. I say a little too quickly.

She purses her lips into a smile and walks away.

Paul is still, as if stuck in a tableau. Just what in the hell was that? his volume raises an octave. I wanted another glass.

I think you’ve had enough, sweetheart.

But I wanted some more with dessert.

Well, you still have some left in your glass. That will do.

He giggles humorlessly. Since when do you tell me how much I should drink. He frames it as a statement, not as a question. His conviction is more solid than one would expect from a drunken man.

Please keep your voice down. I say firmly, but I keep my volume low enough that only Paul can hear me.

He peruses the dessert menu, hiding the fact that he’s seething. You sure know how to kill a buzz, Ripley.

I’m not trying to kill your buzz, Paul. You just…need to keep a better handle of yourself. If you wanted to drink that much, we could have stayed home or gone to a sports bar or something.

He ignores my comment, glaring at me as he tosses back the last of his wine, in one gulp.

I roll my eyes. The lady next to me is murmuring something to her husband or date, not sure which. I’m sure that they’re talking about us, and the fact that my husband is acting like an ass. He doesn’t ever drink this much. It’s usually a glass of wine each and that’s it. Why he’s decided to get wasted is beyond me. But suddenly, I’m curious. What’s going on with you, anyway? You’re usually a very casual drinker.

What…a guy can’t have a few extra drinks to celebrate a promotion?

Then it hits me. It’s his ego. Paul’s has been wounded since the last guy got the promotion that he’d been waiting for. When that guy got promoted again, it was finally Paul’s turn. I suppose his ego is still slightly wounded, seeing as his promotion is as a result of attrition, not merit. But that’s what you get when you don’t go to college and instead take up a trade, and at best, skulk your way through that. Plus, I know for a fact that many of Paul’s colleagues don’t like him very much. I’ve heard how he speaks to them on the phone.

It’s not that. You seem on edge. Is everything okay?

He’s about to answer when the waitress delivers our dessert. Before she walks away, he stops her. I’ll take another glass of wine after all, dear.

When she takes his glass and walks away, Paul folds his arms over his chest. There. I said that politely enough, didn’t I? I’m not being belligerent. The fact that I can say belligerent is telling.

Fine. I shrug, taking a bite of my dessert. I ordered New York cherry cheesecake, and Paul ordered a chocolate tarte. He takes a bite of his tarte. How is it? I ask, changing the subject.

It tastes good enough to slather all over you, baby. He winks, taking a sip of his fresh wine. His voice has raised an octave again.

Paul… I warn under my breath.

The people next to us are packing up to leave. I see that their dessert plates aren’t empty, so I’m guessing that they’re leaving on our account. The people on the other side of us left already, which I’m thankful for.

There is nobody beside us to be offended anymore, Ripley. Cool it. he says loudly, glaring at the people leaving next to us.

You’re embarrassing me. This time I raise my voice an octave.

That hits a nerve. He looks at me coldly but says nothing. We eat our dessert in silence. Another party comes to sit next to us. And then another one on the opposite side. I’m tempted to suggest that we leave now, before another wave