Chapter 21
The heavy morning rain battering against Teddy’s bedroom window tells us there’ll be no final ride.
We’ve decided after breakfast we’ll still wander over and give each horse some carrots to say our goodbyes.
I’m going to miss the view between Solly’s pointy ears, his velvet muzzle, and that sweet grassy scent that is pure oxygen to a horse lover.
While Teddy showers, I nestle under the covers, breathing in him—clean linen, a hint of spice from his cologne, and the softer scent that’s become us. From the ensuite, he’s singing over the twin percussion of water on tiles and rain on glass.
Ping. A phone buzzes by my head. Instinctively, I reach for it. Realising it’s not mine, I start to set it down—then don’t.
Briar: Need you love. Can you come?
Ping. Almost immediately.
Bianca: Back in town soon. Feeling thirsty. Text me. B. Winking emoji.
I drop the phone face-down, as if it’s scalded me, and lie there wondering about Briar—his sister—then even more about Bianca. Pulse racing, I pick it up again and trace the X-pattern code he once joked was “too obvious.” Obvious enough.
Dozens of threads bloom: women’s names, un-saved numbers, rows of lipstick-red hearts.
I tap one.
Tilly: You vanished before I could steal a real goodnight kiss. Paris next weekend? I’ve still got that balcony with your name on it.
Lola: Your leather jacket’s draped over my sofa like it owns the place. Come claim it. Preferably shirtless. Definitely before brunch. I’ll have the flat white waiting.
I scan down them—more of the same. Flirty, funny, familiar. Women who’ve stepped into Teddy’s life, just like I have, and who clearly still want to be there. I should stop. I don’t. Then one knocks the breath clean out of me.
Kelsey: Rumours say your model’s moved on. Vacancy to fill? Happy to keep the bed from going cold. Call me. x
That’s me. Filling the vacancy. Until I am one. My stomach hollows. How stupid to think I could do this.
I can’t.
Whatever words I choose will sound like that tired old break-up cliché—it’s not you, Teddy, it’s me.
But it is me.
Back when I was happily—supposedly—engaged to Pierre, I smiled away the other women flinging themselves at him.
Yet the moment he cast me off, one of them slid seamlessly into my place, as if she’d been waiting in the wings all along.
And Pierre’s admirers were only a drizzle. Teddy moves in a downpour.
I don’t believe Teddy would cheat. That’s not the fear.
It’s the doubt corroding me from the inside out, the thinness of my trust after Pierre left it paper-thin.
With Teddy, the smallest crack, the faintest stumble, and there’s a flood of women ready to wedge themselves between us.
When he and Sadie ended, he didn’t fight for her, didn’t need to.
Another woman slipped into the gap, and he carried on.
Maybe one day, when Pierre’s ghost isn’t whispering reminders of how easily I was replaced, I could risk this.
But not now. Best to keep Teddy and me contained within this week—precious, finite, safe.
I’ll go home, bury myself in work. At least a partnership doesn’t vanish overnight.
And as for love—I’ll let that lie fallow until the scars toughen.
Teddy will be fine. A man like him won’t stay untethered for long.
Placing the phone down carefully, I find the clothes I folded in the wardrobe last night, back when I was optimistic about today: a last ride together; laughs over breakfast before waving Haley and Christian off on their honeymoon; burgers and a beer at Teddy’s favourite pub tonight because even the drive home felt too long to be apart.
I pull on my boots and, not bothering with a coat, trudge to the stables—shoulders hunched, head tucked into my jumper like a shy turtle—rain pelting down, rivulets seeping beneath my collar.
The horses call out a greeting, more muted than usual, as if they know the day’s already fucked. I slip into Solly’s stall, drape myself across his solid back, resting my face in the soft wool of his stable rug, breathing in the soothing mix of horse and hay.
The stable-block door swings open. Teddy, of course. At first, I don’t lift my head, but when his gentle voice reaches me, I’m already pre-programmed to respond.
“Rache? Are you okay?”
I turn to him.
“Hey, I’ve got to go, love,” he says. “Briar needs me.”
“I saw.” My voice comes out flat.
“Look, I don’t know what’s happening with her. Need to take a raincheck on the pub tonight. Just in case.”
I breathe in. Do it now; rip the plaster off.
“Teddy, I think I might need more than a raincheck.”
He stares, stunned.
“What?”
“I think we should cool this thing between us. It’s too much, too soon. Actually, maybe it’s just… too much full stop.”
“But why?”
“We’ve had a fun week—no regrets—but I don’t think this can be anything more.”
His phone pings in his pocket. He looks at me, torn.
“Take it,” I say.
He reads the text. “Look, I have to go now. Leaving it like this is killing me. Please, I’ll call you tonight. Once I’ve sorted out whatever mess Briar’s in.”
“Better you don’t,” I say, turning to lay my head across Solly so Teddy can’t see the tears.
On my way back to the house, a motorbike blares behind me. It skids to a halt; the rain-speckled visor lifts. Teddy’s eyes are hollow, searching mine. Rivers of icy water trail down my face. His mouth twists; no words come out.
“Teddy, you won’t feel the space for long—someone who’s ready will find you.” The truth hurts. Rain beads on his lashes; he doesn’t shake it off. “Teddy, it’s over,” I say gently, although the words twist under my ribs.
“It might be for you,” he answers softly. The visor snaps shut; he crouches low, and the bike rockets down the drive, engine howling into the rain.
Over breakfast, everyone is laughing, still riding the post-wedding high.
“Shame Teddy had to leave early,” Garrett says. “But when family calls…hey, you’ve got to go.”
The others murmur agreement. I manage an empathetic smile.
Out front, a driver helps Christian load suitcases into an idling Range Rover. There are hugs, kisses, well-wishes, then he and Haley climb into the back seat—Heathrow next, ten days in the Maldives after that.
Back in my room, I pack slowly. Leaving means signing off on a week of memories: the crazy Christmas competition—my first loss that felt like a win—the music, the magic of singing with Teddy.
He’s the thread running through every moment, the one I’ve just severed.
Maybe that’s self-preservation; right now it’s just raw.
Soft footsteps sound in the hallway, and Sam appears in my doorway.
“So, want to tell me about it, Blue Barbie?”
“Nothing you can mend, Ninja Nurse.”
Sam’s gaze is full of sympathy I don’t deserve. On the first night I knew this would happen—Teddy back to his life, me to mine—so why does it ache so much?
“No, but you can still tell me,” she says.
I’ve never been as open with Sam as with Haley; we’re both too alike—too practical. Haley’s the one we go to for warm fuzzies. But today Sam just folds me into a hug and lets me talk. When she pulls back, she meets my eyes.
“Are you sure he can’t give you what you need?”
“He could. I don’t doubt him.”
“Then what is it?”
“The queue,” I say. “And sure, Bianca, Tilly, Lola—that was just background chatter. But Kelsey’s ‘vacancy to fill’?
It made me feel like I might have the lead role while an overkeen understudy waited in the wings, willing me to stumble.
I trust him. I’m just not sure I won’t panic and end it early. Which is exactly what I’ve just done.”
Sam’s mouth tightens. “Okay. Did he lie to you?”
“No.”
“Hide anything?”
“No.” I exhale. “It’s not him. It’s me. When I saw that Kelsey text…it made me feel like one slip and I’d be replaced.”
“Because of Pierre,” she says, not asking.
“Because of Pierre,” I nod. “God, I hate him. How long until his shit stops ruining my life?”
“Until you choose to stop it. Do you actually want this thing with Teddy to be over, or are you letting Pierre steal it from you?”
“I don’t know.” I drag in a breath, rubbing the heel of my hand across my eyes.
That’s what Pierre’s taken—my confidence in my own choices, what I want, what I need.
It’s not like me to waver; I’m the woman who weighs evidence and makes the right call.
This time the client is me, and I fear I’ve blown the case.
“Go home, run a bath, pour a glass of wine, let it settle. Tomorrow’s a new day.” She sounds exactly like my mum with her calm, bossy nurse voice. “I’m on nights all week, but I’ll text later to make sure you follow orders.”
“Thanks,” I say, folding the last dress and closing the case.
Downstairs, as she draws back from a farewell hug, Loreena studies my face as if she knows something’s wrong. Tommy’s far too chipper as if he knows it too. I paste on a thank-you smile and a bright wave as I leave the house that for a week felt like happiness.
Barrelling along the M40 toward London, I crank the volume to drown out the day. Stellar Riot crashes through the speakers—‘Ember’. I slam the off button, veer onto the shoulder, and come to a grinding halt.
As I thumb through playlists, blue lights flare in the rear-view mirror. I shove the phone into my bag and stare at the dash. A police officer taps the window; I lower it.
“Everything okay, miss? You can’t stop here.”
“Sorry, officer. Warning light on the dash—thought my brakes were acting up. It’s gone now.”
“As long as you’re all right.” He smiles, heads back to his car, and I ease into traffic.
As if it can hear the wreckage, my phone serves up the saddest track I own—‘Fade Into You’, all hollow chords and aching vocals. That’s when I know: I’m nowhere near all right.