Page 16 of The Suitcase Swap

He very carefully tucked that thought away. ‘What is it?’

She shook her head and started walking again. ‘It’s nothing. I was just trying to imagine Andrew admitting any of his fears, and realizing I couldn’t.’

‘Andrew is your ex?’ Mike had never met the man, but his name felt odd in his mouth. Prickly and slightly poisonous, and he had the oddest desire to spit.

‘Yes.’ She spoke the word like she wanted to spit, too.

He shouldn’t ask. It was none of his business and she obviously didn’t want to talk about it. ‘That bad, huh?’

‘Left me for his assistant and took the company I helped him build.’ Her words were delivered evenly, casually, but they sounded to Mike a lot like the way he explained to people that his wife was gone. A carefully curated account that lessened the sting.

‘I’m sorry.’ What else could he say to such a thing?

She huffed out a breath. ‘Me too.’ Then she stopped, waving a hand towards a brick building off to her side. ‘This is me.’ Her smile was just the barest curving of lips. ‘Thanks for dinner. And for earlier, at the airport.’

Mike wondered why suddenly, for no real reason, he felt like crying. He cleared his throat and stuck out his hand. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Sophie Swann.’

She stared at his hand for a moment, before setting her takeaway containers onto her suitcase. Then she stepped forward, putting her arms around him in a hug. She pressed her lips, warm and silken, against his cheek and he closed his eyes, his arms going around her automatically. She felt soft and good and Mike wondered when the last time had been that someone had hugged him like this, and he came up blank.

For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull her tighter against him, to bury his face in her neck and breathe her in. She was wearing something – he wasn’t sure if it wasperfume or what – that reminded him of peaches and honey. He didn’t give in to the impulse, though, keeping it a hug and not an embrace.

‘Take care of yourself, Michael Tremblay,’ she said, then started to let him go.

He regretted it, even before she stepped away. ‘I will,’ he said, his voice strangely thick.

‘You ever want to get dinner again, you’ve got my number.’ Then she smiled, turned and walked to the doors.

She hadn’t offered anything else – only dinner. Which was good, because that was the limit of what Mike could really accept. It was the most he could offer. He knew he was shit at dating, that after losing his wife he couldn’t make himself that vulnerable again. He just couldn’t.

And if one simple dinner with Sophie had already twisted him up like this, it was probably a bad idea to see her for a second one.

Which was fine – better than fine, really. They’d had one good night. One good dinner.

It was enough. It was for the best. Heknewit.

And if a tiny, long-ignored voice in the back of his mind called him a liar, well, he could just ignore it.

Chapter Five

Mike peered at his daughter’s face on the screen, most of which was covered by greenery. ‘You got me a plant? I’m here for the next three weeksminimumand you got me a plant? Why?’

She lowered the plant, setting it on his countertop. ‘Because you’re lonely and you need a friend. You won’t make a real one, so you get Barney. He’s your plant friend.’

Mike rubbed his tired eyes, which already felt gritty and red from staring at a screen. His day had consisted of a short meeting with clients, a truly epic number of emails for not only this job but other projects he was still a part of, and then sketching on his tablet. His eyeballs felt like old grapes rolled in sand.

It didn’t help, either, that Amaya was right – Mike had no real friends. Not any more. When he’d lost his wife, some of his friends had avoided him, like his condition might be catching. A few friends had tried, but he’d let those relationships wither and die with time. They hadn’t done anything wrong; he just couldn’t see the point any more. He had work. He had his kids. He would make a life of that and be happy. He sighed. ‘I’m going to murder Barney. You know that, right?’

Amaya frowned at him, her mouth curving down into a natural pout that reminded him so much of Tara that he felt his chest squeeze tight. His wife had never had purple streaks in her dark hair, mind you. But they would have suited her.It was so unfair that he got to see Amaya fully grown and Tara never would.

Amaya bracketed the plant with her hands like she was covering its ears. ‘Why would you say that in front of Barney? You’ll hurt his feelings.’

He would argue that plants didn’t have feelings, but that would only make his daughter send him several articles about plants that he didn’t want to read, especially since she was teasing him anyway. ‘Greatest apologies to Barney.’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘Seriously, Dad, your flat is lifeless and sad. No pets. No people. No plants.’

‘Lots of people live that way,’ Mike said.

Amaya’s mouth was pursed, her brows furrowed, every inch Tara when she’d been stern. ‘You are not lots of people. You need a livelier space.’ She pointed at the plant. ‘So you get Barney.’

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