Page 37 of The Four Engagement Rings of Sybil Rain

S EB STEERS US THROUGH BUMPY TERRAIN FOR THE BETTER PART OF A HALF an hour, and then, harrowingly, he finds the southern road that loops us toward the eastern coast, driving along the shoulder as the rain and wind grow ever fiercer, pummeling us from the open sides of the vehicle.

I’m convinced we’re going to tip over, run out of gas, get hit by passing traffic, or get arrested, but somehow, none of the above occurs.

The entire way, I’m fighting myself not to insist we turn right back around, but what would be the point?

We’ve already gone this far, and it feels like there really is no going back.

We’ll just have to face the consequences of this terrible idea, and if I’m being honest, I don’t want to give Jamie the satisfaction of being right.

Sebastian, meanwhile, talks the whole way—loudly, over the sounds of the growing squall—and seems electrified by all the elements of danger that have me regretting saying yes to this.

By the time he pulls down an entirely-too-steep narrow dirt road toward a secluded beach lord-knows-where, I’m soaked to the bone and freezing. For the first time, as he turns off the engine, Seb seems to notice that I’m a wreck.

“Wait just a second,” he says, hopping off the driver’s seat.

I’m sitting there, rain still hitting my legs from the open air at the side of the ATV when he comes back around with a rain slicker.

“Only brought one, but you can take it.” It looks altogether too little too late, but I appreciate the gesture.

I shiver, slipping it on over my wet clothes.

The wind kicks up as I hop from the vehicle onto the beach.

Sticky windblown sand and sprays of water plaster my hair to my face, but I take a deep breath, determined to embrace the excitement—this is what I used to love about Seb, and not just about him, but about him and me together.

There was always something new and thrilling around the corner for us.

The feeling of discovering something that only the two of us shared—that was a high unlike anything else.

Maybe this is what I need, after all. A jolt to the system.

Around us, the night is still dark, but either my hope is getting the best of me, or I detect a faint line of silver at the very base of the horizon.

Seb wasn’t wrong: it is beautiful. Despite the wind and rain on shore, the real storm is at sea, and you actually watch the way the dark clouds and torrents pass over the ocean in the distance.

He grabs something else from the back of the ATV, and I swallow down my nervousness and follow Sebastian to a small clearing between rocks and a cliffside, forming a little cove. “Here, this is protected enough from the wind that I think we can get away with setting up a tent. Can you help?”

I dig into the bag he’s holding out to me—which is also soaked through with rain—and extract some flimsy-looking plastic poles, realizing what this is. “Seb, this is just a beach tent. Like, for shade from the sun. There’s no way it’ll hold up in this weather!”

He shrugs. “It was the best I could find on short notice.”

I try not to grumble or snap back. Best he could find on short notice—that’s one I’ve heard before. Because everything with him is short notice.

“Can you help me tie this down?” Seb shouts over the rain, motioning to one corner of the tent while he heads to the other.

I reach for the end of the rope, but the wind snaps it from my hand.

It takes three more tries before I close my fist around the damp cord.

I try to channel my Girl Scout days and dig the tent’s plastic stakes into the sand, but the poles keep popping back out.

Holding on with both hands, I watch as in seconds, Sebastian ties off his corner to a palm tree.

He returns, taking my end of the rope. “Here,” Seb shouts.

“Give that to me.” The wind only seems to be getting louder and louder.

“Why don’t you get in the tent. To help hold it in place.

And then I’ll finish securing the corners! ”

“Okay!” I shout back, grateful for the break—from the effort, from the weather, and frankly, from having to pretend I’m not a devastated mess of a human on the inside.

The fight with Jamie is still coursing through my blood, making me feel at turns angry, mournful, and humiliated.

I hate how he can see right through me. I hate that he was right.

I hate that I ran off—and that he let me go. Again. But can I blame him? Who would want to be with a lunatic who thought (or even pretended to think) that this last-minute wave-catching scheme was a good idea?

The rain is loud against the top of the tent as I sit inside it, my arms wrapped around my knees, and every now and then, a gust of wind threatens to rip it totally free.

“Sybil…” Seb’s voice surprises me. He tucks into the tiny tent beside me with new items: his camera bag and a backpack, out of which he pulls a blanket and… a bottle of champagne.

“Ah, thank you.”

He arranges the blanket over our wet legs and then pops the cork, and I huddle closer to him with a shiver. I’ve never been more grateful for warmth, or alcohol, though I’m not exactly in a celebratory mood.

“Didn’t bring any cups because I wasn’t planning on company,” Seb says sheepishly.

“I don’t mind drinking from the bottle.” At this point I’d be happy to drink out of a conch shell that still had a live conch in it.

He hands me the bottle, a light vapor rising from the lip, and I take a sip, my mouth filling with the cool froth of champagne.

“Hey, Sybil? I’m sorry.” Seb’s eyes are downcast as I hand the bottle back to him.

I’m assuming he means for dragging me all the way out here to this remote, isolated beach cove in the dead of night, straight into the mouth of a storm—even though I agreed to come.

But he takes a swig before speaking again, and then goes on, “I shouldn’t have spilled the truth to Jamie. That wasn’t my place.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I grab the bottle back and take another sip.

“Well, maybe I do.” There’s a rare earnestness in Sebastian’s voice.

“Maybe I got sick of just pretending.” He reaches for the bottle and our fingers graze as he takes it from my hands and places it on the floor between us.

“Seeing you again… it’s been intense, Sybil.

I didn’t realize that so many of my old feelings were still there. ” His eyes meet mine.

My breath hitches, and I catch my lip with my teeth.

I feel my expression mirroring Jamie’s from earlier on the beach.

Surprised , I realize. Jamie was surprised when I said Genevieve looks at him like he hung the moon.

It had seemed inconceivable to me that Jamie hadn’t noticed her obvious feelings for him.

But now, I think maybe I should have given Jamie the benefit of the doubt.

Because I’m genuinely floored by Seb’s confession.

All day, I thought he was just goofing around, playing the flirt.

But the look on his face is honest, vulnerable.

“Oh, Seb…”

Three years ago, I would’ve given anything for Sebastian to say these words to me. I chased after him for years, but the moments when he admitted to really feeling something for me were so few and far between that eventually, I stopped waiting for them.

“I’m not expecting anything.” Sebastian turns away from me and shrugs as if slightly embarrassed at the outpouring of feelings.

“I just wanted to be honest with you. I’ve always wanted to be honest.” And he was.

I knew when we were dating that I would always come second to his career, and for a while, it was enough.

Until one day, it wasn’t. Seb clears his throat.

“Also… I’ve got a new gig in Thailand. The Times one. ”

“Seb, that’s so great!” The news pulls me out of my thoughts. “You’ve wanted that job for forever.”

“I have,” he agrees. He pauses for a moment, then seems to decide something. “You could come with me? Let me make up for Japan.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I swallow down another sip of champagne.

When he asked me to go to Tokyo with him all those years ago, I agreed instantly, like there was no other option.

I can feel that same impulsive tingle in my chest now.

It sounds insane and appealing all at the same time—the idea of just moving on and leaving the latest shitstorm behind.

And maybe without a romantic relationship to complicate things, Seb and I could thrive as friends.

Travel buddies. Fellow ex-pats. Maybe Thailand would be the escape I’d hoped Hawaii would be. A restorative reset.

And yet…

“I have a job—a legit one,” I tell Seb. “I’m actually doing some work for them while I’m here.”

“Oh.” Seb looks surprised, and I realize that in the two days he’s been here, he hasn’t once asked what’s new with me, or what I have going on in my life. “Um, what’s the gig?”

“I run the social media accounts for a women’s underwear brand called Flowies. I create marketing campaigns and do a lot of content creation.”

“Huh,” Seb says reaching for the bottle. “Sounds cool.” Though the look on his face is only mildly interested.