Page 52 of The Suitcase Swap

Sophie thought about it. ‘Both, I suppose. Does it matter?’

‘The first could be a little offensive, like you’re assuming that I don’t know how to cook, but the second . . .’ He shook his head again. ‘I should keep my mouth shut.’

She’d forgotten that he’d said he could cook – though he’d said he was mediocre, and that soup hadn’t tasted mediocre. ‘Please don’t. It will bother me all day, wondering what you were going to say.’

He sighed. ‘The second either indicates that you don’t thinkIwould be willing to put in the effort to make you a bowl of soup, which is not so much insulting as it is hurtful, or it indicates that you’re simply not used to anyone taking care of you at all.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m afraid that last one makes me a little angry.’

She frowned up at him. ‘Why would that make you angry?’

Mike huffed out another breath, strode over and dropped a kiss onto the top of her hair. ‘Because you deserve a little effort, Sophie Swann.’ And with that, he left the room to deal with the empty bowl, his shoulders tense, his movements clipped.

And Sophie . . . well, she wasn’t entirely sure what to make of his behaviour. Despite that uncertainty, however, she felt his words settle into her mind, sinking deep into the fathoms, where they became a little light in the darkness.

When she woke again, she felt a thousand times better. She was also sprawled across Mike, her head on his shirt, which was looking decidedly the worse for wear at this point. The heat ofhim radiated through the thin material, warming her. His heart beat a steady thump against her ear. She could also hear rain coming down outside the window of her flat, and she lay there for a long time, soaking in the atmosphere and thinking about how cosy she felt. She felt cosseted, warm – taken care of.

It felt wonderful. It feltessential.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this. Edie often did little things for her – picking up her favourite treat from the market or getting flowers for her room. That kind of care had felt essential in a different way. Edie was a bedrock of her life, a friend that she hoped she deserved. Sophie hadn’t been ill since she’d moved in with Edie, though her friend had been there for her completely with emotional support, a never-ending supply of tissues and the number for a good lawyer. All of which had been sadly necessary.

But she’d never had the opportunity to take care of Sophie when she was ill. Andrew had, of course, but he’d never done much beyond fetching medicine from the chemist. He’d certainly never cooked for her. So when she tried to cast her mind back over the years to figure out when she’d last been cared for like this, she came up blank.

Which was a depressing thought. What Mike had done shouldn’t feel extraordinary. She certainly wouldn’t think twice before she cooked for someone who was ill or fetched them things. Except no one had done those things for her. Which was kind of sad, if she was honest. Mike was right. She deserved a little effort.

The one warming thought that came from all of his ruminating was the fact that she’d seen many instances of Tom taking care of Marisa and vice versa.That’s how it should be. If you have a partner, they should be there when you stumble. You should be there when they stumble, too.

Sophie Swann had considered herself a partner in her marriage, but it suddenly became clear as freshly cleanedglass that she’d never had one herself. She’d had a husband, sure, but not apartner.

Oh, she’d figured out long ago that Andrew was an absolute arsehole. But in the messy grief of the dissolution of her marriage, she’d never really come to terms with the fact that she’d been overwhelmingly and disastrously let down by someone who should have been there for her.

Following quickly on the heels of that was this revolutionary and exciting realization that she hadn’t done a single thing to deserve any of it.

She had done nothing wrong except try hard with someone who hadn’t deserved her effort.

It was a bit of a kick in the gut, if she was honest.

Sophie wasn’t sure how long she lay there, dazed with this new thought before she felt the muscles under her shift as Mike moved, his fingers coming up and brushing back her hair.

‘I can practically hear you thinking right now.’ The sleepy gravel voice was back, much to her delight.

Sophie made a noncommittal noise. His fingers kept sifting through her hair, which made her close her eyes as she enjoyed the simple pleasure of the touch.

‘Do you need to talk about it?’

‘Maybe. Not yet. Still processing.’

Mike hummed thoughtfully and she could feel the vibration of it. ‘Do we still feel like death warmed up?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘We are feeling quite disgusting, though, and hoping our hair isn’t greasy at this particular moment.’

Mike laughed. ‘Your hair’s fine, but I imagine a shower would feel heavenly for you at this point. Feel up to one?’

Was that an offer? She didn’t think so – surely he couldn’t find her attractive right now. She raised herself up, a dubious expression on her face. Which set him offon another spate of laughter, though this one was mostly silent, his chest shaking under her hand.

‘The look on your face. I didn’t mean anything salacious by it. You go and get washed. I’ll check my email and catch up a little bit.’

She blinked at him. ‘Were you supposed to be at work?’

Mike sobered, several emotions imprinting so softly and so quickly across his face that she wasn’t sure she caught them, but it gave her the impression that he felt uncomfortable about his answer.

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