Page 29 of The Four Engagement Rings of Sybil Rain

I T WAS THE W EDNESDAY BEFORE MY WEDDING, THE NIGHT OF MY impromptu bachelorette party.

The Core Four had enjoyed a beautiful ocean-side dinner at the Pelican Club, then Finn had arrived to join the party (much to Emma’s annoyance—even though I had invited him, and the night was supposedly about celebrating me).

After dinner, Emma and Willow wanted to go back to the hotel—Willow was very pregnant and wanted to get off her feet, and Emma, well, she just wanted to be wherever Finn wasn’t.

But I wanted to keep the night going. Jamie’s sister, Amelia’s, words from earlier that day were still ringing in my head.

That I wasn’t marriage material . I knew if I went back to the hotel, I’d just continue to stew, wondering if Jamie felt the same way.

So when Finn suggested we check out a nearby tequila bar, I immediately said yes.

A couple of karaoke-fueled hours later, I was feeling better.

Finn and I were dueting loudly (I was Dolly, he was Kenny) while Nikki recorded us on her phone.

Finn was like the big brother I never had.

He and Emma had been on debate team together, so I always kind of knew him, but he and I became close friends senior year of high school.

He rescued me from a tight spot my then-boyfriend, Liam, had left me in, and from that day on, it was like Finn and I had an unspoken understanding that we had each other’s backs.

When his dad was dying of cancer and Finn just wanted to get away from it all, I was there with Dawn of the Planet of the Apes ready to stream.

And when I needed someone to remind me that I deserved better than the crap Liam was sending my way, I knew I could count on Finn to set me straight.

After the final lines of our silly, off-key duet of “Islands in the Stream” faded out, I waved off doing a shot with Nikki and excused myself to the bathroom.

In fact, I’d been waving off shots or tossing them behind me into the bushes all night and had been a little crampy, but still, I was that wistful kind of high-on-life where everything was soft around the edges, and I was feeling sappy about how lucky I was to have such good friends.

When I got to the ladies’ room, all the stalls were full, so I leaned against the sink to wait my turn.

It was crowded, with people coming in and out, laughing and singing.

A cluster of girls who made me nostalgic for my USC sorority sisters tumbled into the bathroom just as my phone started to buzz in my pocket.

I answered, pressing the phone to my ear.

“Sybil? You there?” someone said, but the voice on the phone was all but drowned out by the whoosh of the hand dryer.

“Whoops! My bad!” One of the girls had accidentally leaned against the motion sensor and was now giggling with her friends like this was the funniest thing to ever happen. I smiled at them and nodded for them to go ahead of me in line so I could take the call.

“Hi, hi—sorry, who is this?”

There was an amused chuckle on the other end of the line. “It’s Sebastian.”

I really do think he meant well, that he did just want to send me off with his good wishes. I just think Seb couldn’t help being Seb.

We traded small talk for a bit, then Seb got to the real reason why he was calling.

“So tell me about The Banker.” His voice was tinny over the cell connection. He hadn’t told me where he was in the world, only that he’d just had breakfast, so it must have been somewhere far away. It was nearing one a.m. in California.

“He’s not a banker,” I said, leaning over the bathroom sink to reapply lip gloss.

“Oh,” Sebastian said. “He gives off banker vibes in your photos.”

“What’s a ‘banker vibe’?” I asked, bypassing the other question that sprang to mind: You still look at my social media pics?

“Clean cut. Predictable. Good at math.” The adjective that Sebastian implied, but didn’t say, hung between us: boring .

“There’s nothing wrong with being any of those things.” The buzz of the bar, the thumping bass line bleeding through the bathroom walls, made all my thoughts feel like they were pulled through taffy.

“I didn’t say there was.” There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “Just not the type of guy I pictured you ending up with.”

A swooping feeling I couldn’t quite identify shot through my lower belly. “What kind of person did you think I’d end up with?”

“I don’t know. Someone who matched your”—another beat as he seemed to search for the right word—“energy.”

Shakily, I met my own gaze in the mirror. “That sounds dangerous.”

“What’s life without a little danger?”

Raw, unfiltered panic ripped through me.

Were things with Jamie too safe? Could a relationship be too easy?

I thought back to the dumb newlywed game Emma had organized for us to play at dinner.

She had prerecorded a video, asking Jamie questions to see how well he knew me, and Jamie had nailed nearly every single one.

Even though we were literally getting married in three days, it still got to me—that sense of being known so fully by another person.

It was thrilling, but also terrifying. I was self-aware enough to know that I thrived on being a little enigmatic.

A colorful kaleidoscope that everyone agreed was striking to look at, but that no one could really see the full picture of.

What would it be like, to spend forever with someone who knew me so fully? Who saw beyond the Sybil Sparkle?

And what about the most secret parts of myself that even Jamie didn’t know about yet—the fragile pieces I kept hidden in the darkest corners of my heart? What would happen to our relationship when he finally came to know those too?

“I don’t know.” It was more an answer to my own internal questions than Sebastian’s.

“I don’t know,” I repeated softly. Suddenly, the bathroom mirror looked like a fun-house glass.

My reflection oscillating, morphing into someone I didn’t recognize.

The heat in the crowded bar must have gone straight to my head.

“So, he’s not a banker. What is he then? A lion tamer? Rodeo cowboy? Astronaut?” Sebastian teased.

“Private equity,” I said through the rising nausea in my abdomen. “He works at his family’s office.”

Sebastian let out a small whistle. “A rich guy, huh?”

My words came out softly. “I don’t care about that.

” And I didn’t. That was never what drew me to Jamie.

If anything, I found all that wealth intimidating.

Especially given his family’s obvious disdain for me.

The Kauffmans had softened a little toward me since that painfully awkward first meeting at their house in Napa, but they still held me at arm’s length.

I suspected they still thought I wasn’t good enough for Jamie.

Truth be told, what hurt in overhearing that comment from Amelia earlier had been that it didn’t surprise me.

“I know you don’t,” Seb said, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

Just then, the door to the bathroom opened as another gaggle of laughing college girls poured in.

The noise must have traveled through the phone, because Seb said, “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you during your party.

Just wanted to say…” He paused. “I just wanted to say good luck.”

The words felt ominous. He didn’t say “congratulations,” or “I’m so happy for you.” And his tone. It was like he was sending me off to battle, praying against the odds that I’d make it out alive.

Sebastian hung up without having any idea how his words had affected me.

The cramps had intensified while we were talking—was it nerves or something else?

Finally, a stall opened up and I sat down on the toilet gingerly.

My head was pounding and my stomach felt unsettled, almost as if I were hungover, even though I hadn’t had anything to drink all night.

I hadn’t had any alcohol in several weeks, in fact.

Not since the positive test.

It had been tricky, hiding my lack of drinking from my friends—especially in the lead-up to the wedding when it felt like there was a champagne toast happening every five minutes.

But I knew it would be worth it when I could finally tell them the news.

Of course, I’d have to tell Jamie first. I’d been waiting to make sure it was really real before I did.

I had visions of telling him as we lay tangled up in bed together at Halia Falls, the stunning resort where we’d be honeymooning in just over a week.

But as I went to toss the toilet paper into the bowl after I peed, something stopped me cold.

Blood.

The toilet bowl was full of it.

Tears formed in my eyes, but I angrily wiped them away.

I was mad at myself for being so stupid.

For thinking it would suddenly be this easy.

That my body would cooperate with me, despite what the doctors had warned me about back when I was seventeen and scared, and Finn was offering me a ride home from the hospital because my boyfriend had abandoned me there.

Maybe because of the bond we formed that day, Finn could see distress written all over my face when I emerged from the bathroom.

“Hey, there you are!” Nikki said with a bright smile. “We were wondering where you got to.”

“Sybil, what’s wrong?” Finn asked, a gentle hand at my elbow.

“I just—” I swallowed. The anxiety that had been pooling in my gut began creeping its way up my throat. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” Finn asked.

“Get married.”

And then, I ran back to the bathroom and emptied the contents of my stomach.

S EB’S ARM IS STILL slung casually around my shoulders as he wraps up his tale of the phone call that allegedly rekindled our romance. When in fact, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was the phone call that preceded one of the more awful nights of my life.