Page 88 of The Suitcase Swap

By the time Mike had finished explaining his idea, they were seated at a cosy kitchen table, their mugs empty, and Edie was no longer watching him like she was considering where to bury his corpse.

She frowned thoughtfully down at her empty mug. ‘You’re going to need my help, obviously.’

‘I would love it, yes, but I’d understand if you’re hesitant. I’ll of course pay for the costs.’ Mike did have some savings – and a credit card – if push came to shove.

Edie waved her hand. ‘I could use a holiday anyway.’ She tapped her fingers on the table quietly as she thought. ‘What will you do if she doesn’t want to play?’

Mike swallowed hard at that thought, Edie unknowingly voicing his fear. He let out a long, slow breath. ‘Then I’ll know where I stand. At least then I’ll know I didn’t walk away – that I tried.’

Edie smiled at him then – it was small, and close-lipped, but itwasa smile. She held out a hand. ‘Okay, Mike. I’m in.’

He took it, laughing, as he gave her small hand a shake. ‘Thank you, Edie.’

She shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t thank me yet. It’s up to Sophie now.’

‘I know,’ Mike said, feeling so much lighter now. ‘But I’m thankful nonetheless.’

Sophie nodded, rapping her knuckles on the table. ‘I’d better go and pack. Oh, and Mike – do be a dear and go out in the back garden and turn on all of the bubble machines for me? My neighbour is working outside today and if I’m going away, I need to get in some last volleys before we leave.’

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Marisa watched her with concern and Sophie couldn’t help but feel the reversal in their roles. She’d gone from caregiver to the one needing care and much like Marisa, she was getting heartily tired of her own bullshit. Tom, in age-old British tradition, was making a pot of tea like it might possibly solve every single problem in their lives.

Marisa unpacked the small bag of groceries she’d fetched for Sophie, putting them away neatly in the kitchenette while Sophie continued to nest on the couch. ‘You still haven’t heard from him, then?’

‘No,’ Sophie said. ‘It’s fine, though. For the best.’ She’d had plenty of time to work on her book proposal, for example. Which, ironically now that she was miserable, seemed to be chugging along at a good pace.

Marisa shook her head. ‘Sophie, if everything was fine, you wouldn’t have been wearing the same pyjamas for three days and you wouldn’t be speaking to me from a blanket cocoon.’

The blanket cocoon had been going on for a week, but at least shehadchanged her pyjamas. ‘I’ve been working,’ Sophie said defensively.

‘Have you?’ Tom asked. ‘Because from where I’m standing, you’ve been pushing pieces of paper around, muttering and eating nothing but gummy bears.’

‘I mean, I don’t know a lot about writers,’ Marisa added, ‘but from what I’ve seen, that sounds like writing to me.’

‘If that’s all it involves, how do their books get finished?’ Tom asked.

Marisa just shrugged before folding up the shopping bag and turning her attention back to Sophie. ‘We’re concerned is all.’

Sophie scowled, which didn’t have quite the impact she was hoping for since she was still wrapped up in a blanket like a sausage. ‘I’mfine.’

Marisa shook her head. ‘I say this with absolute love, but you are full of shit right now.’

Sophie wanted to double down on the lie but what was the point? They all knew she wasn’t fine. She just wanted to be.

‘So the man you’re in love with is a bit of a git,’ Tom said. ‘Welcome to dating.’

‘I don’t want to be in love with him,’ Sophie said. The cold reality she’d been facing was that not only had Mike been able to walk away, but he’d been able to stay away. No messages. No video chats.Nothing.If she needed a clearer example that all of the feelings were at her end, this was it.

Tom sighed and put a mug in front of her. ‘No onewantsto fall in love, necessarily. We can’t really choose these things. Do we need to go back to the rage room? We can print out two pictures this time?’ He looked at his fiancée. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me violence doesn’t solve anything.’

Marisa smiled at him. ‘I’m an American, sweetheart. I literally cannot say that phrase with a straight face.’ She gave Sophie a hug, squeezing her tight. ‘We’re making you dinner tonight. Then you’re going to go to bed at a normal hour and get some sleep. Things will look better tomorrow, I promise.’

‘That’s not a thing you can actually promise,’ Sophie grumbled.

‘Yes, I can,’ Marisa said with an impish grin. ‘Don’t doubt my magic.’

‘I’ve learned not to argue with her, Mum,’ Tom said. ‘She’s usually right.’

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