Page 82 of The Suitcase Swap

Of course, she could manage most of that without Sophie being next to her.

‘Of course I support your ridiculousness,’ Edie said, topping off her wine glass. ‘It’s one of my favourite things about you. If you were one of those people born with a metal rod shoved up your butt, completely unable to bend, who took themselvesso seriously. . .’ She glared off to the side, and Sophie was sure it was in the direction of her neighbour’s house. ‘Then I’m not sure we could be friends. And since you’re one of my favourite people on this entire planet, that would make me bereft.’ She set down her glass with a click.

‘I appreciate that,’ Sophie said. ‘And I love you too.’

Zeus, Edie’s gigantic ginger cat, leapt up onto the table. Edie scooped him up and deposited him into her lap. ‘I have complete faith in your abilities. You’re a good writer, Edie, or your blog wouldn’t have so many readers. You’re getting overwhelmed is all. What’s that thing you say – “a little step will do”?’

‘I can manage little steps, it’s the big steps here that are killing me.’

Edie pursed her lips as she scratched Zeus under the chin. ‘Small steps make up big steps. Figure out how to break it down.’

Sophie rubbed her eyes and made a frustrated sound. ‘It’s not the breakdown that’s the problem. It’s the assembling.’ She slumped in her chair. ‘The blog is basically episodic by nature. There’s nothing stringing the posts together. I know some of the pieces I’d like to have in the New York bit, but I’m not sure how to connect it all for the pitch. It’s like I’m trying to make a book out of Post-it notes.’

Edie continued to pet Zeus as she considered this, only to stop suddenly, a confused look on her face. ‘What on earth . . .’ She dug Zeus’s collar out of his fur, frowning. ‘Thatarsehole.’

‘What did Zeus do now? Tear up your potted plants again?’

Edie huffed in irritation. ‘Not Zeus. My awful neighbour. He put a tag on Zeus’s collar!’

‘How do you know it was him?’

Edie gave her a flat look. ‘Who else would it be?’ Her scowl turned thoughtful. ‘Though this move is surprisingly creative coming from him. I’m almost impressed.’

‘What’s the collar say?’

‘ “For a good time, call . . .” and then it lists my phone number.’

Sophie guffawed and then quickly stifled it. ‘Sorry – I mean, the bastard. We ride at dawn.’

Edie set Zeus onto the ground. ‘No, no, your first response was correct. It was a good move.’ She tapped her fingers on the table, gazing up at the sky. ‘I know you won’t be home for months, but what do you think about dogs? A big, filthy, smelly dog that barks a lot? Because I’m suddenly thinking of fostering one for a while.’ She turned wide eyes on Sophie. ‘Maybe a few of them at once. My garden has a fence, and shelters are overrun, you know. I’m only doing my bit.’

Sophie shook her head. ‘Do you even want to deal with a dog that barks all the time?’

‘Sometimes,’ Edie said airily, ‘we must make sacrifices for the important things in life.’ She sighed, refocusing on the screen. ‘Getting back to the topic at hand – I think you’re missing a rather obvious through-line.You. Readers connected because your words, your situation, all those things resonated with them.’

Sophie straightened. ‘Huh.’

Edie waved a hand like she was shooing her away. ‘I know, I know, I’m brilliant. Now go and create something amazing. I’ve got a nemesis to annoy. Love you!’

The screen went dark.

Sophie shook her head.Edie, what would I do without you?

She got up, stretched and got a glass of water. Her friend was right –shewas the structure. She’d just need to move the pieces she had around, figuring out how she wanted to present the story, and—

Someone was knocking at her door. Sophie peeked through the peephole, assuming she’d see her son or Manny, but was surprised to see Mike. She unlocked the door and opened it, a smile on her face.

Which quickly died. Mike looked . . . well, handsome. He was always attractive. But now he also seemed unhappy. She opened the door wider, ushering him in. ‘What happened? What’s going on?’

Mike stood in her hallway, hands on his hips, the muscle in his jaw so strained that it was ticking as he stared at the ceiling.

Sophie didn’t rush him, letting him think while she shut and locked the door. ‘Should I put the kettle on? I feel like I’ve been swimming in tea, but I’m happy to make you one if—’

‘I’m going home.’

Sophie froze. ‘You’re what?’

Mike slid a hand through his hair, stopping at his neck. ‘Home. Back to London. My job is finished. I fly outtomorrow.’ Each sentence was clipped, giving her the impression of someone ripping off a plaster to try to lessen the pain.

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