Page 65 of The Suitcase Swap

Mike, feeling faintly silly, did as she asked. He held out his arms. ‘What do we think?’

Noah huffed. ‘I wish I was there to help. Run your fingers through your hair a bit. It’s lying too flat. A little more. Okay, there. Perfect.’

Rahul leaned over and kissed Noah’s temple. ‘And that’s why I married you.’

Noah grinned, blushing. ‘Because I know how to dress a man?’

Rahul snorted. ‘I’m sure that helped, but I meant because you give a shit.’ His voice softened. ‘You’re a good man, Noah Tremblay.’

Noah leaned into him. ‘Thanks.’

Amaya sighed. ‘This is why I’m single. You two have set a high standard.’ She lifted Barney onto her lap. ‘In the meantime, it’s just me and Barney, but we both think you look great, Dad.’

‘Okay,’ Mike said, running his hands down his shirt. ‘Okay.’

‘And Dad?’ Amaya said.

‘Yeah?’

Her smile was tight-lipped, but genuine. ‘You’ve got this.’

‘Thanks,’ Mike said. ‘All of you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Rahul said. ‘Now we’re signing off so we can continue to enjoy this short span of time where a child isn’t yelling at one of us, but we’re here for emergencies.’

‘Yes,’ Noah said. ‘We love you!’

Their screen disappeared, leaving only Amaya and the plant. ‘Have a good time, Dad. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

‘What, exactly, would be on that list? Wait, I’m sorry I asked that.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell you, so I guess you’ll just have to wing it.’ For some reason, that made Amaya cackle. ‘Love you, Dad!’ Then her screen also vanished.

Leaving Mike alone with a dinner to finish preparing and palms that were sweaty from nerves.

‘Right,’ he told himself, wiping his palms on his thighs. ‘Better get on with it.’

By the time Sophie knocked on his door at five past seven, Mike was ready to crawl out of his own skin. He pulled the chicken out of the oven to let it rest before discarding his oven gloves and striding towards the hallway, his pulse erratic.

Then he opened the door.

Sophie was . . .

. . . was . . .

. . . a sadist, clearly.

Mike’s throat went dry as he looked at her.

The green dress she was wearing hugged her body like it never wanted to let go, which might have been him projecting a bit. He followed the line of it down to where it draped around her legs. When the dress stopped, his gaze kept going, tracing her calves, her ankles, and the gold strappy sandals on her feet. She lookededible. His body was somehow hotand cold at the same time, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He was gripping the doorknob so hard, he was pretty sure his hand had fused with the metal.

Mike knew he was staring. Knew he should probably stop, but he couldn’t seem to get his body to work. Sophie wasn’t moving either. She was cradling a bottle of wine, her eyes wide, her lips parted. She wasn’t making eye contact but seemed to be staring at a point just below his chin.

He had no idea how long they would have stood there gaping at each other – hours, months, ice ages – if one of the other people on his floor hadn’t walked past while talking loudly on his phone. They blinked at each other, the spell broken.

Sophie held out the bottle of wine. ‘For you.’

Mike took it with his free hand, shaking out the other as soon as he’d prised it off the doorknob. He ushered her in, certain his cheeks were flushed.

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