Page 13 of The Suitcase Swap

Mike reached out, touching her hand with the tips of his fingers. ‘You did no such thing. I mean it.’ A moment of understanding seemed to flow between the two, causing Marisa to smile slightly.

‘You do not need to be happy all the time,’ Sophie said, her words no less firm for how gently they were delivered, ‘not for me. But you do need to care for yourself just as much as you’d care for us. Tonight that means letting Tom take you home and having me drop off delicious paella at your door.’

Tom looked at her gratefully. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ His expression turned amused as he glanced at Mike. ‘If you’re sure?’

She waved him off. ‘I’ll be fine. He didn’t help me in the airport just to murder me in the middle of a restaurant.’

Mike turned his head and looked at her, confused. ‘Am I the murderer in this scenario?’

‘Yes,’ Sophie said. ‘My son was just a little concerned about me meeting up with a stranger earlier.’

Tom nodded, pushing back his seat and stood. ‘He could be playing the long con and the airport was only the first step in his dastardly plan. Maybe this is what he does: lures people places to retrieve their luggage, only to murder them in cold blood.’

Marisa sniffed. ‘That would be silly. Too many cameras in the airport. They’d catch him too easily.’ She set her napkin on the table as she stood. ‘I think he’s smarter than that.’

‘Thank you,’ Mike said. ‘I’d like to think I’d be at least halfway competent, even when it comes to committing murder.’

Tom slid his empty chair back against the table. ‘I feel like I should point out that the only things we know about him is that he doesn’t recognize his own luggage and he drank my water. That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.’

‘People usually follow up that kind of statement with “no offence”,’ Mike said evenly.

Tom just looked at him, then laughed, unable to keep a straight face.

Sophie sighed. ‘I don’t think either of you should watch thisDatelineshow any more. It can’t be good for you.’

‘If I was in your son’s place, I’d honestly have the same concerns.’ Mike dug out his wallet, fishing around in it for a moment, before placing something on the table. ‘There’s my driving licence. Take a picture of it. That way if anything happens, you’ll have it.’

Tom took out his phone and snapped a photo. ‘Thank you.’ He put out his hand. ‘Thank you for understanding.’

Mike shook it. ‘I have two kids. Anytime either of them went on a date, I was worried until they checked in. Still am.’

Tom let his hand go with a nod.

Marisa took his hand next. ‘We promise not to steal your identity.’

Tom squeezed her to him. ‘I’m not promising anything.’

Sophie looked at her son, feeling the duelling emotions of overwhelming love and frustrated irritation in her chest. ‘I can take care of myself, you know. I do it at home. All the time. Have for years.’

Tom moved around the table to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Yes, I know, but just because you can, doesn’t mean you should have to all the time.’ He straightened, putting his arm around Marisa. ‘Goodnight, Mum.’ He nodded at Mike. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ Mike said. He nodded at Marisa, their earlier understanding still vibrant between them.

Then they were gone and Sophie realized that both her and Mike were seated on the same side of the table, and that felt incredibly awkward on several different levels. The memory surfaced of the only time she’d walked in on Andrew and his assistant, Lori, on a date while the divorce was being finalized. They’d been sitting cosily on the same side of a booth in the pub, feeding each other. Sophie was the type of person who would ordinarily have found that romantic, but the fact that these two people were the ones doing it had made it nausea-inducing. She’d turned on her heel and walked out, messaging her friend as soon as she was outside that they’d have to meet elsewhere.

She stood, moving to the other side of the table until she was seated across from Mike. ‘I’ve never been one of those people who sit next to their dates. Not that this is a date.’

Mike gave her a small smile. ‘Me either. My wife—’ He stopped, dropping his gaze.

The waiter appeared then, dropping off Mike’s drink and taking their meal order. Sophie ordered a few things for takeaway, all the while considering whether or not she should let Mike’s half-statement drop. Most people she knew would drop it, letting him keep his feelings to himself. She’d only just met this man, after all, and yet she instinctively thought that was the wrong move. It would be leaving an old wound to fester.

‘Your wife?’ she prodded gently.

Mike sipped his pint, his thumb tracing the line of the glass. The silence grew to the point that Sophie wasn’t sure he was going to respond to her prompt at all.

‘My wife was a romantic.’ His smile was so faint, it was like his mouth had a shadow.

‘She would have sat on the same side of the table with you?’

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