Page 61 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
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 atTeddy’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 itnow;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.”
