Page 25 of The Suitcase Swap

‘If the first step of the plan is food, I’m game.’ She blinked up at him. ‘No roast dinner.’

Mike smiled down at her, bemused. ‘I’m not entirely sure that’s an option here, anyway. No villainous meat and potatoes. No dastardly Yorkshire pudding, or scheming veg. You’re safe from the evils of a Sunday roast.’ He glanced at her shoes. ‘Are you okay to walk a few blocks?’

‘I’ll regret it tomorrow, but for now, we’re good.’

‘Let me know if that changes.’ As they started walking, he took her hand. Sophie wasn’t even sure he realized he’d done it.

Her feet were killing her by the time they got to the food truck, and she almost didn’t say anything. He’d made plans and she didn’t want to bring the evening down and . . . no, she wasn’t doing that! She wasn’t biting her tongue, making herself smaller, ignoring her needs ever again. She refused to act like she was still stuck in her marriage.

‘My feet are going on strike.’

Mike looked around. ‘There’s nowhere for you to sit. Can you last until we get our food? I promise a terrifying taxi ride after that where you’ll at least be off your feet.’

She considered the very real possibility that her feet might break into a thousand pieces. ‘Yes, but only if the food is fast and the taxi soon.’

‘On it.’ He draped his jacket around her shoulders. ‘Anything you can’t have or don’t want besides roast beef?’

She hadn’t even checked what kind of cuisine the truck offered and didn’t care. All food was created equal at this point. ‘Surprise me.’

He stepped away, getting into the queue. Sophie waited, lifting one foot at a time to find some relief. She loved theseshoes, but she also might throw them into the bin when she got back to her flat. His jacket smelled like him, which wasn’t a surprise, and with his back turned, she took the opportunity to snuggle into it, turning her nose to capture his scent. It should be illegal for a man to smell that good.

The queue moved at a good clip, Mike returning shortly with a bag full of boxes and two water bottles. ‘Okay, taxi time.’

She sighed longingly. ‘Never have I heard sweeter words.’

‘That’s me,’ Mike said. ‘Mr Romance.’ He waved down a taxi with an ease that was, frankly, irritating. She hadn’t been in New York long but had already realized that this was a skill she didn’t seem to have.

Once inside the taxi, she groaned in relief, it felt that good to get off her feet. Mike rattled off an address while she closed her eyes, leaning against his shoulder, taking a moment to rest. The world was spinning in a lovely way that she didn’t want to stop. She wasn’t drunk, just . . . happy.

When the taxi stopped, she opened her eyes. ‘Where are we?’

‘It’s a surprise,’ Mike said, taking out his credit card.

‘You don’t need to cover the taxi—’

He shook his head. ‘My idea, my money. I don’t make the rules.’

She snorted. ‘I think that’s you literally making the rules.’

‘Take me to court,’ Mike said, ushering her out of the taxi. ‘I have an excellent lawyer.’

‘Do you really?’

‘No, but it sounded good, didn’t it?’

She laughed, adjusting his jacket on her shoulders as they walked, taking in the lights glittering on the water in front of them, the bridges, and the silhouetted shapes of carousel horses around them. This place – he’d mentioned it to her, but she couldn’t remember what it was called. ‘Where are we?’

‘Jane’s Carousel,’ he said. ‘The pavilion was designed by the Ateliers Jean Nouvel, an internationally renowned designer and architect.’ He switched the bag to his left hand, so he could point with his right. ‘That’s Lower Manhattan, the East River, as well as the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges.’

Sophie paused, dragging him to a stop. ‘Wait a moment.’ She brought out her phone, hitting the record button. ‘Okay, go.’

He stared at her, perplexed. ‘With what?’

She lowered her phone for a second. ‘Your thing. If I’m lucky, I’ll remember half of this tomorrow at best. Hence the phone. So tell me about the carousel.’

He hesitated a moment. ‘This will help you?’

‘Yes.’

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