Page 53 of The Suitcase Swap

‘They don’t need me there twenty-four hours a day,’ Mike said finally. ‘And I’m ahead of schedule, which is a miracle in itself.’

‘You don’t need to justify your choices to me,’ she said, pushing herself to her feet. She wobbled a little and Mike reached out quickly to steady her. ‘It was just a question.’

After assessing her steadiness, he stepped back, dropping his hands. ‘Go and shower and walk once again among the living. I’ll get my laptop.’

The shower felt like magic. Sophie washed her hair and revelled in the remnants of fever sweat and sickness sliding away from her and circling down the drain. By the time she stepped out, she didn’t feel one hundred per cent again, but she at least felt mostly human. She dried off, then pulled on fresh pyjamas, leaving the dirty ones on the floor. It felt weird to do that – she was a tidy person – but also wonderful to acknowledge the fact that it was her choice to do so, and no one could complain about it.

It was with renewed spirits that she stepped into her current living room, brushing out her damp hair. Mike was frowning at his laptop, focused and far away in his abstraction. Sophie stole this moment to stare at him openly, taking in the breath-stealing delicious state thatwas Michael Tremblay, dishevelled. He’d been snatching sleep while he took care of her and she could see it in the faint bruising under his eyes. His hair stuck up at the back, the front ruffled by his fingers, which were now rubbing absently at his stubble.

This moment here, seeing him like this, was enough to make her want him, even half sick and exhausted. She was beginning to think that even on her deathbed, she’d want him enough to use her dying breath to ask him to take off his shirt.

If it had only been about physical attraction, she could have resisted him easily. Or at least taken what she wanted without compunction. But it wasn’t only that. Sophie may have had her trust blown to smithereens, and she might not have any faith whatsoever in her own judgement right now, but despite that, she was growing more certain by the day that Mike was a decent man. A good man. She just wasn’t sure if he washerman, or if she even wanted that right now.

She made an irritated noise – she was so tired of being a mess.

The sound caused Mike to look up, smiling automatically at the sight of her. Like he couldn’t help it.

‘Do you feel like a brand-new woman?’

Sophie stopped rubbing at her head with her towel. ‘Pardon?’

Mike grimaced. ‘Something my grandma used to say after we had a shower. She’d ask if we felt like a brand-new person.’ He shook his head. ‘Ignore my ramblings.’

‘I don’t think I will.’ Sophie went back to drying her hair. ‘Because I do. I feel like a brand-new woman.’ And it wasn’t just because she’d had a truly good shower. It was, well, everything. But before she could say another word, there was a knock at her door.

She frowned, but Mike was already standing, waving her away.

‘I’ll get it,’ he said, snapping his laptop closed. ‘You finish what you’re doing.’ He strode to the door before she could argue, not that she wanted to, and she took another opportunity to watch the world’s greatest backside moving away from her.

Chapter Fifteen

Mike had checked the peephole before he opened the door, so he wasn’t surprised to see Sophie’s son Tom standing in the hallway. It was abundantly clear by the baffled expression on Tom’s face that he hadn’t been expecting to seeMike.

‘You,’ Tom said, ‘are not my mother.’ He held his phone out like he’d been about to hand it to someone. One single brow slowly went up. ‘Whereismy mother?’ His gaze dropped down and seemed to take in Mike’s rumpled and probably unsavoury appearance and got entirely the wrong impression. ‘And why are you here?’

Mike couldn’t bring himself to be affronted by this, because if he was being honest, he wished hehadbeen opening the door after an evening of torridly sweaty sex. He wanted an evening that could only be described ascarnal. He wanted Sophie with such a blinding intensity that he was certain that if she’d been well, they’d have done things in her flat that would breaklaws.

This sudden frustration coupled with an instinctive need to protect her well-being – she was only now feeling better and she shouldn’t have to deal with anything – made his voice sharp. ‘Yes, me.’ He wanted to growl that it was none of Tom’s bloody fucking business why he was there, except Sophie had been ill, her son obviously cared for her, and so it was, in fact, kind of his business.

He sighed, letting his misplaced irritation go. ‘Sophie’s been ill, so I came to help. She’s only just started feeling better, so if this can wait—’

To his credit, Tom was instantly concerned. ‘She was ill? Is she okay?’

‘Better, yes,’ Mike said quietly. ‘Her fever has gone and she’s had some soup.’

Tom blew out a breath. ‘Good. That’s good.’ He glanced at his phone, his face twisting into a scowl. ‘I’m afraid she won’t thank me for waiting. Not on this.’

Mike nodded, stepping back to let Tom into the flat.

Sophie was sitting at the table, attempting to plait her wet hair. ‘Tom! What a surprise. Well, I guess it’s not really a surprise since you’re only one floor away, but still.’ Her bright expression dimmed. ‘Are you okay? Is there something wrong with Marisa?’

Tom pulled up a chair at the table. ‘I tried texting you, but you didn’t answer.’

‘Her phone was dead,’ Mike said. ‘I put it on the charger, but she’s been out of it and I’m afraid I didn’t hear it ping at all.’

‘I probably had it on silent,’ Sophie said.

Mike went and fetched it for her, before heading back into the kitchenette to put the kettle on. From Tom’s demeanour, he had a feeling this was a conversation that was going to call for tea.

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