Page 84 of The Suitcase Swap

Then he collapsed onto his couch, fully clothed, exhausted and aching. Maybe he was getting ill. He kind of wished he was. Ill he could handle. This . . . this just sucked.

Exhaustion eventually got the better of him, dragging him into a heavy, blissfully dreamless sleep. He got up at some point. Messaged his kids back, even though a second later hecouldn’t remember what he’d said. Thought about showering or doing anything and just . . . couldn’t.

He considered the coming days. Going to work. Coming home. No dance classes or bingo halls full of old ladies pinching his bum or dates where he ended up sick in the toilet. No adventure. His future was grey around the edges. Not forever – Sophie would come back to London eventually. Six months from now. Unless it was longer. Unless she fell in love with New York or met someone there who could give her the things she needed.

What would he do if she didn’t come home? Would he fade from her memory until she couldn’t remember why she’d liked him in the first place? Would she realize she could do better?

Mike didn’t have any answers, or at least not any answers that he liked, so he collapsed back onto the couch and slept.

When he woke up again, Amaya was hovering over him, poking his side with her finger. ‘Oh, good. You’re not dead.’

‘Of course I’m not dead,’ he croaked. ‘Why would you think that?’

Amaya straightened and put her hands on her hips. ‘You didn’t hear us knock or let ourselves in. Rahul has been making a god-awful racket in the kitchen as he makes breakfast—’

‘Hey! Be nice! I’m feeding you!’

Amaya tipped back her head. ‘I love you!’ Then she refocused on Mike. ‘You haven’t so much as twitched. Stella climbed on you and Archie was crying because he’s a baby and you haven’t moved. You’re usually a light sleeper.’

‘Jet lag,’ Mike mumbled, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor. ‘Really nasty jet lag.’ And the fact that he felt like his soul had been removed with a rusty spoon. ‘What are you all doing here?’

‘We’re here to greet our dad after he’s been away for weeks, that’s what, you ungrateful old man.’ Rahul poppedinto the room, setting a mug of coffee with milk in front of him on the table. ‘Here.’

‘What he means,’ Noah said, coming into the room cradling a cooing Archie in one arm while Stella dangled off the other, ‘is that we missed you, wanted to see you, and wanted to check on you because we were concerned.’

‘If I’d wanted to say that,’ Rahul said dryly, ‘I would have.’

‘Your last couple of texts didn’t sound very good,’ Amaya said, ignoring her brother.

‘I’m fine,’ Mike lied. He held out his arms. ‘I just needed a hug from my favourite girl.’

Stella squealed and hurled her small body into his arms, almost giving him a black eye with her flailing hands.

Amaya shook her head. ‘Ouch, Dad.’

He squeezed Amaya’s hand. ‘You know you’re my other favourite.’

She snorted. ‘Good save.’ The humour fled her face as she stared at him. ‘You look like hell, Dad, anddon’ttell me it’s jet lag. I’ve seen you jet lagged. This isn’t it.’

Mike set Stella down and grabbed his coffee. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Amaya crossed her arms and sighed, turning her face towards her brother. ‘A little help?’

Rahul pulled one of the kitchen chairs into the living room, setting it across from Mike. Then he got his own mug of coffee and sat. ‘Dad. We love you.’

Mike sipped his coffee. ‘Waiting for the punchline there.’

‘No punchline,’ Rahul said.

Mike’s eyes narrowed over the rim of his cup. ‘Is this an intervention?’

‘Yes,’ Amaya said.

‘Kind of,’ Rahul added. ‘When Mum . . .’ He paused, clearing his throat. ‘When we lost Mum, I was a mess. We both were. You held us together. I can’t imagine what thatmust have been like for you – how hard it was. We’re so grateful—’

‘But you don’t need to do it any more,’ Amaya finished. ‘We’re grown up, Dad. Rahul is married to a man who is waaaay out of his league and has two of the cutest kids in the universe.’

Rahul shot her a look. ‘And this brat is well on her way towards her degree. We’re thriving. So cut it the fuck out, Da.’

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