Page 38 of The Suitcase Swap

Startled by the sudden gesture, he made no argument, letting her tug him along in her wake. Without thinking, he laced his fingers through hers. The movement was so easy, so comfortable, that he didn’t even realize he’d done it until they’d stopped in front of a juice stand.

‘I want to drink out of a pineapple,’ Sophie said breathlessly. ‘I didn’t know how much I wanted that until just now.’ She cast her gaze around the market, her tone turning plaintive. ‘There’s so many things I want to try, but I’m not that hungry yet.’

Mike’s stomach rumbled. ‘Well, I’m starving.’

She gaped at him, incredulous. ‘How? We had that big lunch, and then milkshakes.’

‘Youhad a big lunch,’ Mike reminded her. ‘I sort of rented mine and then gave it back.’

‘Oh, right.’

Mike took another long look at the offerings as he thought. ‘How about you get your pineapple. Then pick out three small things you want to try. I’ll order them, then you can sample as much as you want, and I’ll eat the rest.’ He peered down at her. ‘This will be good for your blog, right?’

Sophie nodded. ‘It’s perfect.’

He tried very hard to not think about how much he liked hearing her say that while she was looking at him. It was only . . . someone should be doing things to make her happy. To keep that joyful glow going. Her ex had done the opposite, and her son, rightfully, was focused on himself and his fiancée at the moment. Sophie had friends, but they were far away. He held no illusions that she wouldn’t make new ones quickly. She had that way about her.

Still, he was her friend, wasn’t he? That had been the plan. It was a good plan. Very sensible. Only it was getting snarled up in his chest with a bunch of other things, sparking like a rat’s nest of tangled-up wires.

He was still holding her hand. Which was fine. It was a friendly gesture. Although it didn’t feel friendly, more like essential, and he couldn’t name a single other friend he held hands with, but he was ignoring all of that. He’d have to let her hand go in order for her to get her pineapple. Until then, he was holding tight.

At that moment, Sophie turned her face up to him andbeamed. He wasn’t sure why she did it, but it made that nest of wires spark so hard he thought he could smell burning plastic. Maybe he was having a stroke.

He wanted to kiss her.Badly.

And it wouldn’t end well. He knew that. Their last kiss gave him ample evidence that it would go poorly, and he’d only just returned to her good graces. He didn’t want to jeopardize that again.

He cleared his throat as he tugged her gently in the direction of the juice stand. There were only a few people in front of them in the queue. The one time he wanted a queue to be longer, the universe couldn’t oblige. Why couldn’t it give him this? Because as soon as they were at the front, he’d have to let go.

The juice person moved unforgivably fast and it felt like only seconds later that they were at the front. Which was fine. Absolutely fine.

He dropped her hand.

It felt even worse than he’d imagined, so he shoved that hand into his pocket and tried to ignore it. They were friends, damn it, and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.

Chapter Eleven

Highline Park might not be a hidden gem for New Yorkers, but I thought it was a gem, hidden or otherwise. A wonder of nature, art and architecture, it’s a place meant for lingering. You can take a guided tour, or simply wander as we did, checking out the views of the city, finding art installations, or merely watching the bees buzz around the flowers. One could fall in love in the span of an afternoon here, I think – if not with another person, then at least with the city itself.

–Excerpt fromSwanning About

Sophie spent the next few days working, pottering about the apartment, walking Manny’s dog and spending time with Tom and Marisa. She tried very hard to not think about Mike, but it wasn’t working. First, because she’d been reading comments on the posts from their day at the Shed and his unfortunate spicy pepper incident. She’d assumed he’d want her to leave it out of the post – there was no way Andrew would have let her post anything that didn’t cast him in the best light – but he’d only shrugged and said his misery might as well make a few people laugh.

Even if she’d avoided her posts, he was always texting her. He’d had some long days ahead of him at work, so she hadn’t expected him to message her at all. From the way he’d talked about it, he was very focused, often forgetting to take breaks or eat on those days unless one of his kids messaged him.

So she was surprised when she started getting texts randomly throughout his day. Sometimes it was him sending her pictures of interesting things he saw at work. Other times, it was simply him asking her how her day was going. Normal things, she supposed, but what surprised her was not only the ease of their conversation, but the breadth of it.

Mike:You really should go to the Empire State Building, you know. All work and no play, etc. etc.

Sophie:Says the guy who’s working right now.

Mike: You’re dodging the subject. We could go, you know.

Sophie: You’ve already been – surely you don’t feel the need to go again.

Mike: Empire State Building, the views from the Staten Island Ferry – these are iconic for a reason. Classics don’t get old. But if I can’t tempt you, let me at least tempt you with a visit to the Guggenheim. I can give you a two-minute spiel about the impact of Frank Lloyd Wright’s mid-century masterpiece that you could use for your blog, then a longer rant about how museums should organize paintings in order of whether or not the artist was a terrible human being . . . which you probably shouldn’t use for your blog at all.

Sophie: What happened to separating the art from the artist?

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