A/N: I'm really sorry for the long wait, I'm afraid real life got in the way. Thank you to everyone who has got in contact or read, reviewed, or favourited this or my other stories, it's much appreciated. Happy New Year!

Chapter Forty Eight – Day Forty Continued – Part 3

By the time I get back to the table, the blini has gone. Whether it has been eaten or removed I do not know, and I am not going to ask. Wheeler gives me a questioning look and I smile reassuringly at him before apologising to my grandmother and uncle for my abrupt departure. Grandmuska waves it away and Uncle Dimitri does not say anything, but he looks upset.

I wish I could talk to him the way I used to… I wish I could talk to him at all.

The rest of the meal goes by without incident. I am picking at my food but manage to eat at least some… under the ever watchful gaze of my Yankee. When the dinner is finally over, Father Koslov and the other guests say their goodbyes and my uncle retires to his room.

"Well Babe, what now?" Wheeler grins.

His smiles are infectious, even Grandmuska looks happy… perhaps because people are always so serious around her. My Yankee is like a dose of sunshine. "Now we clear up."

He groans theatrically making my grandmother laugh, that is so good to hear!

"Come on Yankee Doodle, time to work off some of that food you put away." I pat his belly playfully and then dodge away from him as he tries to catch me. "Behave! Help me clear the table."

He laughs and starts picking up plates to carry into the kitchen.

Grandmuska is doing the same but I can tell she is watching us and when Wheeler disappears from sight, nods approvingly, making the colour rush to my cheeks. How will I ever tell her that it is just friendship? I suddenly regret letting Wheeler come with me, I cannot seem to hide my feelings for him anymore.

"Hey," He says, returning for more dirty dishes. "Am I the only one doing any work here?"

"Nyet, we are coming Wheeler!" My reply is too sharp and poor Jason does not know what he has done wrong… he looks like I just slapped him. My grandmother too is confused and I cannot blame either of them.

I look down at the plates in my hands. "I did not mean to snap, it has been a long day."

"You want to go lie down?" Wheeler suggests, not moving. At home he would have taken away the plates and enveloped me in a warm hug, but he cannot do that here… and soon we will go to separate rooms and it will all be back to normal…

"Nyet." I look up at him, willing the tears away and forcing a smile. "I am not that tired, I will just be glad when all the work is done and we can relax."

"Me too." He still sounds wary but resumes collecting crockery.

Grandmuska and I follow Wheeler into the kitchen and I suggest that he starts the washing up while we continue to clear. He agrees but his cheery mood is gone.

"That is the last of them, let Wheeler and I finish Grandmuska." I suggest. "You should rest for a while."

I know the look she gives me, she agrees because she wants to give Wheeler and I some time alone. I cannot explain things to her, I am not even sure I can explain them to myself, but I do want to make things up with my friend so I pretend not to notice.

I put the final stack of washing up on the counter but Wheeler keeps his attention on what he is doing so I move around behind him and wrap my arms about his waist, leaning my head between his shoulder blades. "Sorry."

He relaxes and lets out a breath – I can actually feel him doing it – then dries his hands on a tea towel before turning in the circle of my arms to pull me against him.

Wheeler is not the only one who can breathe better now, as I snuggle into his arms I tell myself how lucky I am that he is so forgiving, he has endured so much for my sake.

"What's wrong?" He asks softly, pressing his lips into my hair.

"Nothing." I give him a squeeze. "I just needed a cuddle."

He chuckles and leans back against the sink, pulling me with him. "You could have said, I don't think Gram would mind."

"Our work will be done soon and then we can curl up and watch a movie together." I suggest.

"Cuddled up? In front of Gram? Are you sure you're ready for that?" He is teasing but I can hear there is a real question behind the words.

I shrug. "Sitting apart will not convince her that there is nothing going on… and it is something friends can do, da?"

"Yeah, sure." Why is it so hard to think straight when he is looking at me like that? He looks so disappointed I very nearly discard all caution and tell him the truth… but the little voice at the back of my mind is questioning whether it is the truth, or what I think he wants to hear.

The doubts I have been having come rushing back and I pull away, not ready to give voice to them. "Come on, the sooner we finish…"

Wheeler sighs and turns back to his task but he is not annoyed or upset anymore. His conversation is light and teasing, keeping me laughing as he tells me his impressions of some of the people he met today. "...and what was with the gaggle of old biddies down the end, it looked like they were having some sort of competition?"

I nod. "They were comparing ailments."

"Huh?" He stops to look at me like I have spoken a different language.

Grinning, I explain. "They were discussing their health problems and trying to trump each other, like 'My bowels are in a terrible state.', 'Oh that is nothing, my doctor says it is lucky I can still eat at all.' When they run out of things wrong with them they start betting on who will go next."

"Go?" Wheeler looks horrified. "To the bathroom?"

I start giggling helplessly. "Nyet Yankee, go, to heaven."

He seems more appalled than he was before. "Talk about bad taste! Was that what upset you?"

"Nyet! I told you I am not upset." I insist. "It is normal for them, they do it whenever they get together, it was not really bad taste… it is just part of getting older."

He doesn't look convinced but lets it drop. Emptying the washing up water, he tells me. "That's all the dirty stuff. I'll take over drying up, I don't know where any of this stuff goes."

It does not really take us long to finish and then we join Grandmuska in the living room. She has gone to sleep in her chair so we do not feel self-conscious about sitting together on the sofa, and by the time she wakes up we are too comfortable to care.

The television is on but it is in Russian so I have to translate it for Wheeler, not that I think he cares, it is just something to do.

"I will make tea." Grandmuska announces when she comes to, and will not listen to our offers of help. "I need to stretch my legs, besides you two have been working hard today."

I let my head flop back against my Yankee's chest as she leaves and he asks. "Tired?"

"Da, you?" I smile up at him.

He nods. "Want to call it a night?"

My smile fades. "Nyet."

"You're gonna be fine." He says immediately, misinterpreting my concern. "You won't have any more nightmares Babe."

That is what I am afraid of! As ridiculous as it seems, I am almost hoping to have a disturbed night… hoping I will call out for him in my sleep and give him a reason to come in to me… to stay with me. "I know."

At least some of what I am feeling must have been reflected in my eyes because his grin returns and he hugs me close. "We can survive one night."

I cannot stop the smile that creeps over my lips. We are agreed then, this is just one night apart, an aberration, and not the end of our arrangement at all.

We will have to face the future sometime, but not yet.

When Grandmuska returns with the tea things she has something tucked under her arm. I do not pay attention at first but once she puts down the tray, she places the item, a large book, on Wheeler's lap and sits down on the other side of him. The pieces fall into place and I sit up to look over at her and ask, "Grandmuska…is that what I think it is?!"

My grandmother is unrepentant as she opens the photo album, "Da! I told Wheeler when we were at your grandfather's grave that I would have to show him pictures of our family. I wanted to show him your mother so he could see the resemblance…you do not mind do you, Little Bird? This will not be too painful for you will it?"

I hear the sudden worry in her voice and it's all I can do not to wince, I do not mean to keep worrying her, she has enough things to deal with. "Nyet, I do not mind" I say quickly, "…after all, it is only fair. A few weeks ago, Wheeler shared his family photo album with me."

I lean back against him so that I can look over his shoulder but end up burying my face in it when Grandmuska adds, "Good…and I am sure that Wheeler will behave like a perfect gentleman when we come across any pictures of you in the bathtub!"

"Bozhe moy!" Why do parents take those pictures if not to humiliate their children in front of their boyfriends… or their 'just friends'… or whatever.

Wheeler of course finds it amusing and – I assume unconsciously – plants a kiss in my hair. It is something he does a lot of course, but I am sure my grandmother did not miss it.

"Scout's honor…I'll be on my best behavior. We'll just call it even…tit for tat!"

I am fine until I see the look in his eyes and then once more seek the comfort of his shoulder, this time to hide my laughter. Wheeler and I have seen more of each other in these last weeks, for one reason or another, than I am strictly comfortable with… and yet, we can still joke about it, which feels good.

Grandmuska tactfully ignores the way my Yankee affectionately nuzzles my hair and the fact that I have my arms wrapped around his, and continues talking about the photos, reclaiming his attention. "I have been keeping albums for years…it started with my own children, and then I continued doing it with their children. Each one has their own album of pictures of mostly them…of course there are a few with cousins and siblings. Ah, here is one of Linka the day her parents brought her home from the hospital. See what I mean about her mother?"

"Yeah totally. Wow. She's beautiful."

I follow his gaze and sigh, the usual melancholy I feel when I see her filling my heart. "Da, she is…was." It is not the sharp immediate pain that I feel when I think of Boris, rather a dull ache that comes with a lost opportunity… we both missed out on so much.

"You definitely look just like her Babe."

I smile, knowing that he is not just being nice and flattered by the comparison, though I know I will never really hold a candle to her. "Spasiba."

"I'd even go as far as saying she's the second most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Who is the first?" I ask, daring him to say it, though why I am not sure. Perhaps because I do not think he will lie outright in front of my grandmother and I need to know that he…

"Why, Gram of course!"

I look up in surprise and gasp, immediately embarrassed at letting my reaction be seen as Grandmuska starts laughing, though her cheeks are tinged with pink too at the compliment.

"But don't worry Babe, one day you'll be blessed with that family beauty." He continues his teasing of me and I poke him in the side.

He laughs and hooks my arm with his to pull me back against his side, "You're the brat…you know I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world, but you just HAD to hear me say it."

He is right, I should not have tried to get him to say it at all, but as for my knowing it… nyet, not any more, when we met perhaps and he is so used to thinking of me that way...

"Of course, I don't mind saying it…because it's the truth…and maybe I don't say it enough…or maybe you never thought I was serious when I said it…before…but it's just as true then as it is now…and I mean it just as much."

Wheeler is babbling, trying to reassure me as he always does and I suppose it was what I wanted to hear. I know he means it, or he thinks he means it, but I can't shake the feeling that he refuses to see me as I am now. Still I appreciate the effort and I look back at him and smile before snuggling back into him.

The next few pages show more images of my mother holding me but, as predicted, we soon reach the embarrassing ones.

"Stop staring, Yankee!" I complain, and reach up to cover his eyes as he laughs out loud at the picture of me splashing about happily during my bath.

Wheeler is still laughing as he pulls my hand away, "I'm not starin' at a naked baby! I'm not some kinda freak!"

"Then turn the page!"

"What's your hurry? I'm just givin' Gram some time to reminisce…I'm sure it's been a while since she's looked at these old pictures of her favorite granddaughter!"

"Da, right!"

"Seriously…besides, you were too flat as a baby for me to even care about seeing you naked! OW!"

I slap him hard on the thigh, hard enough that my hand stings a little in fact, but I suspect he barely felt it through his jeans. "You promised my Grandmother that you would be a gentleman!"

"No I didn't…she assumed that I would be…but I guess she doesn't know me as well as she thought!"

"You said 'Scout's honour'!" I say indignantly.

He gives me a cheeky look and a cheekier reply, "Yeah, but I was never a scout, so that means nothing!"

"You are such a jerk!" I tell him, completely ruining the effect as I struggle not to laugh.

Joking with him this way feels so natural I wish it could always be like this, and a part of me is hoping it will be, that we have come too far in our relationship to let things slide back into awkwardness.

We continue on through the photographic memories, little snippets of my life, and I find myself thinking how odd our memories are.

For instance, I cannot remember my mother's face outside of these pictures, I have no memory of my own to cherish, but I do have a vague impression of my grandfather calling us all together on my third birthday so that they could take the photograph. Nyet, it is not that I was three that I remember, the picture tells me that, it is the bird lovingly painted on a little icing plaque below the candles that I remember. I kept that plaque until it disintegrated and each time my father saw me looking at it he would say, 'Your mother made that for you little Linka, she loved the birds as you do.'

My grandmother echoes my thoughts by telling Wheeler that I kept the painting of the bird, the Goldfinch and that I loved it because my mother painted it for me... Is it terrible that I am not sure of that? I loved the brightly coloured bird with its red face and flash of gold on its wing, I was fascinated that such beautiful creatures could exist. My father wanted me to love it for my mother's sake, and it certainly felt very important that I kept it whenever he reminded me she made it, but was it for her sake that it meant so much, or for his?

The other thing I remember about those photos when my mother was still alive, is how difficult it was to keep Mishka still enough to include him. There are pictures of him in his own album of course but he would never pose with me… until we lost her. I am sad in that first photo and it is reassuring to me, I did love her, even if I do not remember that now. Perhaps I should feel guilty that I let her slip away but I was too young to understand and sometimes I think I was the lucky one because I saw what losing her did to my father, and to my brother too. Mishka became so serious then, and he also became my protector, I have sometimes wondered if my mother asked him to look after me but I have never dared to ask.

After a while my father disappears from the pictures too, to be replaced by Uncle Dimitri. I sigh sadly as I compare the relationship in those images to our present one, will we ever regain what we have lost?

My Yankee must sense my mood because he is moving much quicker through the photos now… or maybe he is hoping for more of me in the bath.

He stops on a picture of my Grandfather and I playing chess and points out the similarity in our expressions making my Grandmother laugh, but my thoughts are elsewhere. "Boris really looks…looked a lot like Dedushka,"

Grandmuska agrees, "Da…in the most recent picture of Boris that Dmitri sent to me from America, I thought how much he resembled your Dedushka when I first met him when we were teenagers…about the same age as the two of you."

"Oh?" I know I should not encourage her but I really do want to hear about her and my grandfather, and perhaps I also want to hear that I am not too young to have those sorts of feelings.

I am careful not to look at Wheeler however, until she draws my attention to him by patting his knee and declaring him part of the family. "Da. Even then, I knew that I loved him and would spend my life with him…and look what has become of us. We were blessed with two sons and the most wonderful grandchildren. A perfect family…getting older is not pleasant, but I would not change it. It means watching your family grow…new members joining."

I am pleased by her assertion, how can I not be? I want Wheeler to feel a part of my family, he is a large part of my life even if I am not entirely sure which part yet.

"I do not have any more pictures of Linka after she left here to join the Planeteers…perhaps I should take one now?" Without waiting for a reply, Grandmuska stands and starts walking towards her room, no doubt to get her camera.

"Grandmuska, I am a mess." I protest, "My make-up has worn off, my hair is all messed up from leaning against Wheeler…"

"Nonsense dear, you look fine. Tell her Wheeler." She says this quickly and disappears out of the room before I can stop her.

"You look fine…more than fine. The finest! Gorgeous even." I assume he is joking until I turn to look at him and find him gazing at me, now into my eyes, with a sincerity takes my breath away. He reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear and adds, "You're perfect."

I have a lump in my throat and have to swallow before I can reply, and I never get the chance to say anything anyway because my Grandmother returns just then with her camera. It is probably for the best, I have a feeling that whatever I said would not have been coherent but I am a little disappointed too because for a very very brief moment I thought he was going to kiss me.

Wheeler immediately gets up and moves away, thankfully distracting Grandmuska from the heat that has rushed to my cheeks. "And where do you think you are going Mr. Yankee? You stay right where you were and get comfortable like you two have been all night."

Of course that just makes it worse and I try in vain to head her off, "Grandmuska…"

"Humour an old lady, Little Bird. I have nothing better to do with my time. Give me a few pictures to add to the album. I also have newspaper clippings from articles about the Planeteers. I intend to add those too!"

Obedient to my grandmother's wishes, Wheeler sits back down beside me and tucks his arm around me... it does not really seem so bad and we both smile but rather than being pleased to have a way of remembering our closeness that is more reliable than my memory, I am suddenly very afraid that it too will become a thing of the past, lost in a time gone by and barely remembered except when I remember to leaf through my grandmother's old albums.

Why is Wheeler's album a collection of happy times keeping memories alive, while mine is little more than a memorial to all that has been? It should not be like that, my childhood was far happier than his, wasn't it? Perhaps the difference has something to do with the way we think, all I know is that I want desperately for there to be a picture of us in his album too, a living memory of something that will grow in time and not the last remaining evidence of something that withered away and died.

My gloomy thoughts are not proof against Wheeler's silliness and good humour as he goes from just having his arm around me to slipping both arms around my waist and cuddling my back. At first he props his chin on my shoulder and pulls a funny face to make my Grandmother laugh, and then he puts our cheeks together, resting against me lovingly in a pose I know I respond to… I really want to see that picture! He kisses my cheek quickly and then he turns around and lays back with his head in my lap and I find myself laughing down at him.

I do not know how much of his antics Grandmuska caught on film but I intend to ask her to send me some copies. At any rate she is laughing when he stands up again and demands the camera. "Your turn Gram. Have a seat."

"Oh nyet Wheeler, I am a mess!"

Wheeler grins at me and I am only too happy to play along. I stand up and put my arm around her shoulders. "Nonsense Grandmuska…you look fine. Tell her Wheeler!"

"Da Grandmuska…you look fine…more than fine…the FINEST!"

Again I am not sure what pictures are being taken but it feels so good to laugh with my Grandmother, I even give her a hug and kiss her cheek, which is far more affectionate than I usually am… Wheeler has that effect on me, everything feels better when he is around.

He finally hands the camera back to its owner commenting that she is in so few of the pictures.

"That is because I was always the one taking the pictures,"

"Yeah, I figured…well it's about time that you made an appearance in that album…especially since you've been a big part of her life."

"The best part!" I say quickly, hugging her again and hoping she doesn't see the tears pooling in my eyes, though based on the little sound she makes I think I am not the only one.

"Thank you…both of you," She says when we part. "It is well past my bed time though. I must get some sleep. Goodnight."

"Dobroy nOchi." I reply and sit back down on the settee waiting for Wheeler to join me. When he does, I tell him, "That was very sweet of you to take pictures of my Grandmuska and I."

"Well, I'm a sweet guy," He replies modestly and hugs me to him.

I pick up the photo album and start going through it again. Once I am past the very early ones I start telling him some of the stories behind the pictures… partly because I want him to share in some of my happier memories but mostly because I just do not want to say goodnight to him and go to separate rooms, it is too much like saying goodbye.

We stay up later than we usually do, long after Grandmuska has retired to her room, but eventually I have to give in. "I cannot stay awake." I whisper.

"You want me to carry you?" He asks in return, pressing a kiss to my hair.

I shake my head. "I will be fine Yankee, but you will let me use the bathroom first, da?"

"Yeah, course." I am sure he is as unhappy about this as I am.

When I return to tell him that I am done in the bathroom he walks me to my door and we stand there looking at each other like two teenagers after their first date.

"Goodnight Yankee." I say at last. "Sweet dreams."

I barely give him time to reply before I duck into my room. I do not want him to kiss me good night, or hug me, or say anything that might prevent me from letting him go. However innocent our relationship might be, spending the night together here would be wrong and I know it would distress my grandmother because for all her encouragement, she is still very old fashioned.

Of course it is now that I discover that I have left my favourite sweatshirt at home. It is not a big deal, my grandmother has put an extra blanket on my bed already and I am not feeling the cold like I did before… but I do not have Wheeler with me tonight and now I do not even have something of his to cuddle up with.

I almost stomp around my room as I get ready for bed, making do with my pyjamas, I am so angry with myself, first for being so pre-occupied as to forget something so important, and secondly… because of the tears that escape me. I have shared a bed for less than a month, what is wrong with me?

I climb into my cold bed and pull the covers up. I feel very alone in the dark room, where the moon casts eerie shadows through the window and the night time sounds are no longer the ones I am used to. Even the bed is uncomfortable... I feel lost in here.

Wheeler has nightmares too… is he asleep yet? I wonder. Will he be okay without me? If he is, does that mean he does not really need me anymore either?

Trying not to think about anything important, I close my eyes and picture my Yankee's face, imagining that he is beside me and trying to remember how it feels when his arms are around me.

Will it be easier, or worse to do this on Hope Island, I wonder. At least I am not actually used to sharing this bed, I know back home I will be looking for him constantly but we cannot continue on the way we are forever... can we? Would it really be so bad if we spent the rest of our lives just holding on to each other?

The past month is a blur to me, the only truly clear thing in a sea of confused emotions is Wheeler. His strength, his support, his… love.

But it cannot last forever, we are still just teenagers, it would not be sensible to try and it would only end in disaster for us, and perhaps for the planet as well. I should end things now, before I hurt him… but how can I? I still need him, I will always need him to be there.

And that is the problem isn't it? …I have always felt something for him but now my feelings are confused, mixed up with the terror of losing my support, how much of what I am feeling is real and how much is my need for something good in my life, something to replace the Bliss?

Nyet. What I feel is more than that but it is still too mixed up. How can I trust myself, or his feelings either for that matter? He loves me in his own way, but what he has done for me, he would have done for the others too. I think in the back of his mind he is afraid that I will try to kill myself again and he is not alone in that fear. I might not have started on this path as a typical addict but the damage is done, if I relapse and he is not there… but as a friend he will always be there.

I wish he were here now!

As if in answer to my silent pleas, a ginger head looks around my door and whispers. "Babe?"

"What is wrong? Did you have a bad dream?" I sit up, completely alert. As usual, all my fears and deliberations are swept aside by his presence.

He laughs self-mockingly and enters the room, closing the door behind him. "I wish…I wasn't asleep…I couldn't."

"Are you uncomfortable? Do you need another pillow? More blankets?" I am eager to do something for him, to take care of him.

"No, no…everything is fine…I was just…worried…I was a little cold and wanted to make sure that you were feeling ok. I figured if I was cold, you must be even worse. I just came to see if you needed my sweatshirt."

I need you.

"Do you have an extra?" I ask, my eagerness betrayed by my voice.

"Uhh, no. I was going to give you this one if you needed it." He offers me the one he is wearing.

My heart sinks, "Nyet Wheeler, I cannot take your shirt if you do not have another. You just said you were cold and…"

"I said I was 'a little cold.' I can put on a t-shirt…and you mentioned there were extra blankets somewhere?" He is determined to be generous but it would not be fair.

"I can get the blanket if I need it Yankee. But thank you." I reply sadly.

"Ok…I just thought…this one that I was wearing was a little warmer from my body heat… I figured it would kinda be like wearing a heated blanket."

Or like having his arms around me, his warmth, his scent… I cannot help smiling.

"So is that a yes?" he asks.

He obviously wants me to have it and if it will make him happy, who am I to refuse? I confess, "It does sound nice…"

"Nice and toasty," he says, immediately stripping the sweatshirt off and giving it to me.

I hug it close for a second, wishing it were him and then pull it on.

"Good?"

"Da…perfect…" I give him half a smile and add, "Almost."

He hesitates. "Well, I guess I should get going."

"Ok." I say quietly and lie down, not sure what else to do but watch him for as long as I can.

Wheeler pulls the covers up and tucks me in, leaning down to kiss my forehead. He leaves his lips pressed against my skin longer than usual and I have to fight the desire to wrap my arms around him and hold him there when he finally pulls away.

Not that he goes far. He brushes his nose against mine and then lowers his lips to my cheek. "Goodnight…again,"

"Goodnight sweet Yankee moy." I free my arm from the covers and run my fingers along his arm to his hand, squeezing it gently. I wish so much that he could stay… could I wake early enough to send him back to his room before my family awakens?

If he chooses to stay I will risk it, I decide, but it is up to him, I cannot ask him to remain with me.

Wheeler kisses my hand and then lets it go, pulling the covers up once more. I feel a momentary stab of disappointment but he brushes it away, his strong fingers so tender as they caress my cheek.

"Goodnight…umm, Lub…ov…" His attempt at Russian makes my lips twitch up into a smile but whether he can tell I am not sure since he immediately kisses them.

I automatically return his chaste salute and my smile increases when he asks. "Did I get it right?"

The kiss? Definitely!

"Close enough. I knew what you meant…I think. Lyubov." I correct his pronunciation but that is not all, I am saying it too.

He shivers slightly and I see goosebumps on his arms. For one heart stopping moment I think it is in response to my calling him Love… but then I come to my senses, nyet, it is cold and he is not wearing a shirt.

As he backs away, obviously unwilling to break eye contact with me, he walks straight into my bird cage. Luckily it is empty but he barely catches it in time to stop it crashing to the ground in what surely would have been a commotion loud enough to wake my Uncle and Grandmother.

It makes me laugh though, it was such a typical thing for Wheeler to have done, it makes me feel better just knowing he is around. It has also broken the spell I was under. "Wheeler?"

He had reached the door but he turns to look back at me. "Yeah?"

"There are extra blankets in the hall closet." I tell him, I do not want him to freeze because of me.

"Thanks Babe." Again he goes to leave and again I stop him.

"Oh, and Wheeler?" I sit up quickly and grab the shirt I was wearing earlier, tossing it in his direction before flopping back into my now warm bed. "Sleep well."

"I will." He smiles and nods and then he is gone and I am alone again.

To be continued…

A/N: And don't forget, to get the full effect of the story, you HAVE TO read Wheeler's side of the story in Becks7's Co-dependents Chapter 48! Let us know what you think!