Page 61 of The Suitcase Swap

The grin that slowly unfurled on Edie’s face was Cheshire cat in nature – if said cat had been raised by Machiavelli and Giulia Tofana. It was a little frightening. She drew in a large breath, then said the next word slowly, like she was savouring every letter. ‘Orange.’

‘Like a pumpkin, or . . . ?’

The grin kicked up a notch and Edie steepled her fingers together. ‘Practically neon. It’s not a colour that appears in nature. He’s going to beoutraged.’She cackled. ‘I want to see how high I get him to count this time. Last time it was to thirty.’

‘Count?’ Sophie asked the question, even though she was worried about the answer.

‘To find his patience.’

‘I see.’ Sophie took another bite of toast. ‘The neighbourhood is going to hate you.’

Edie shrugged, completely unconcerned. ‘How are you feeling, by the way? With everything?’

Sophie spent a moment catching Edie up, giving her only the broad strokes – her illness, Mike’s help, the Instagram post, the rage room, and then finally getting to the reason she’d called – the note.

Edie’s brows went up. ‘He’s cooking you dinner? At his flat?’

‘He didn’t specify where,’ Sophie admitted, ‘but probably.’

‘Do you think this is just a “I want to make you food and spend time” kind of dinner or “I want to fuck you against the wall in the hallway as soon as the front door shuts” kind of dinner?’ Both options were listed matter-of-factly, like Edie considered them to be on the same mysterious level, equal in every way.

Sophie wasn’t entirely sure how to answer the question. ‘Is that second dinner a real option?’

‘In theory? Oh, yes.’ Edie’s sigh was wistful. ‘Those dinners used to be my favourite.’

Rather unfortunately, Sophie’s imagination decided to helpfully provide her with an image of what Edie’s second dinner concept might look like, and so both her and Edie were silent for a moment, each lost in their own daydream. Well, daydream for Sophie. Probably memory for Edie. Or memories.

Sophie took a long sip of her tea, her throat suddenly dry for some reason. ‘If we are using the second option as a sort of catch-all for sex in general, and not being fucked against a wall specifically, then I think both options might be on the table.’

Edie nodded. ‘Do you want both options?’

She remembered the feeling of him under her. His kiss. Everything. ‘Yes,’ Sophie said. ‘I think I do.’

Edie shrugged. ‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘He freaked out before. He might not be ready for this.’ Sophie stared down into her teacup, like it might give her answers. ‘My ego was pretty bruised the last time he called a stop to things. If he did that during sex—’

‘Yeah,’ Edie said, scrunching up her nose. ‘That would be a blow. You could talk to him, you know. Have a plan in place in case he changes his mind again. So you don’t get hurt as much.’ Edie’s eyes narrowed. ‘You know that it wasn’t about you, right? Any of that?’

‘Yes,’ Sophie said, but when it was clear that Edie wasn’t buying it, she sighed. ‘Mostly.’

Edie crossed her arms and scoffed. ‘God, I hate Andrew. You, my friend, are hot. Gorgeous. Sculptors would be lining up to carve your likeness, but they’re too busy weeping at the beauty of your smile.’

Sophie laughed. ‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘You love it.’

‘I do.’

Edie nodded. ‘Right, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but what it comes down to is how you feel. Do you want to go, yes; but also do you want to go enough to risk the possibility that it might not go how you’re hoping?’

Sophie took a big breath and let it out, slumping her shoulders. ‘Yes, I think I do.’

‘Good.’ Edie nodded sharply. ‘I support you. Did you bring that green wrap dress?’

Sophie picked up her phone and walked to the closet to make sure. ‘I did.’

‘Wear that. It’s a good colour on you.’

---