Page 42 of The Four Engagement Rings of Sybil Rain

M USIC DRIFTS TOWARD ME AS I PASS THROUGH THE POOL AREA TOWARD the deck overlooking the ocean. The sun hangs low over the water, and the sky is streaked with bright pinks, poppy reds, and melon oranges, the mountains and trees in the distance taking on a deep, almost purple tinge in silhouette.

The resort staff has hung iridescent glass orbs in place of the paper lanterns that usually adorn the pool area. I think they’re supposed to be full moons, but it gives the sensation of being a very small person in a very large bubble bath.

A woman sets a flower crown onto my head, and I’m engulfed by the fragrant scent of plumeria as a waiter passes by with a tray of champagne.

I take one and wander around the edge of the party.

Dani and Ash are there, holding hands. I recognize some of the guests from seeing them around the hotel this week too.

There’s that extravagant woman Harriet, who wanted Sebastian to become her personal photographer for a minute there, as well as Elliot and Hank, the middle-aged couple from horseback riding whom Seb regaled with the false stories of our romance.

There’s a group of women I recognize from the swimming pool.

And the mother with her two teenage daughters from the snorkel boat.

I look at them and feel a pang of inspiration; one day, I want to be able to travel with my daughters like that, if I have any.

That if no longer seems like a heavy one either.

I feel a sense of lightness, a sense of trust that whatever is meant to be for me will come.

The band is already in full swing, and something twangs in my heart when I realize the song they’re playing—Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon”—would’ve been on the set list for cocktail hour at my wedding.

I wonder where Jamie is now. He would have landed at LAX earlier this evening, so he’s probably already at his dad’s office, walking the board through a carefully curated pitch deck. I wonder if he’s told his family about us . If Amelia is there and can tell her little plot worked.

I’m shaken from these musings when, across the dancefloor, I spot a familiar face. He has on a cream linen suit and looks just as gorgeous cleaned up as he does with windblown hair on a beach. He maneuvers through the crowd easily, but his steps slow as he nears me.

I rush to hug him. “Seb! You’re healed!”

He winces, but there’s a smile on his face as he pulls back from me, his hands still on my shoulders. “Mostly healed.” He pauses, and I take a sip of champagne. “I’m sorry,” he says, “for dragging you along. I got too carried away, and you got pulled into my mess.”

The sparkling wine stills on my tongue. “I went on my own volition,” I say.

Seb grins. “I’m just glad it wasn’t you that got hurt.”

“And I’m glad I went,” I say. “What would have happened to you if you’d been out there alone?”

“That’s true.” Seb seems to realize something. There’s a roughness to his voice as he says, “You might have saved my life, Sybil Rain.”

“Wrong place, right time, I guess.” Offering him a small smile, I take another sip of champagne to steady my nerves.

“I’ll be thinking about you in Thailand,” he says. “You’d like the waves there even more.”

I bark out a laugh. “I bet it will be incredible. In fact, I know it will.” Truth be told, so much has happened since last night, I’d almost forgotten about his offer to join him on the next leg of his journey. But I think it’s pretty clear to both of us where I stand on that.

His blue eyes bore into my own, then he gives me a small but genuine smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I just want you to be happy, Sybil.”

I feel like I’m seeing him all over again for the first time, but at a distance now. “I want you to be happy too.” I mean it more than I can even express in words. Seb deserves someone who’s as over the moon about him as I am about Jamie.

But then I look at the camera that is, even now, dangling from his neck, and I realize—he’ll never be alone, and that’s okay too.

“And by the way, I suppose I should also be thanking you,” I say.

“For being the best fake boyfriend a girl could ask for.” We both laugh, and it’s weird.

For years, I struggled with him not being the boyfriend I needed him to be.

And yet, for this brief window of time, he became exactly what I needed.

“Really, though. For being here for me this week. For understanding.”

He shrugs, sheepish now. “Eh. I owed you,” he says.

My lips turn up in a small smile. “Well, call us even then.” We toast.

Sebastian doesn’t sip from his glass, though. Instead, he just takes my hand and presses a kiss to my fingers before turning to disappear into the crowd.

W HEN I GET BACK to the pool area, I see the staff have started to herd guests onto golf carts that will take us up the path into the mountains where we’ll have the best view of the eclipse without the light pollution from the resort.

I clamber onto one of the last ones leaving, finding myself squashed beside a pair of honey-mooners making out.

As we wind up the trail, I can hear the chirps of unknown creatures—crickets?

cicadas? frogs?—and the soft patter of falling water somewhere in the distance.

It’s fully dark now, and the little headlights on the front of the golf cart and the full moon above us are the only things illuminating our path.

Despite the similarities to last night’s journey across the island with Seb, this ride is decidedly more peaceful.

For one, it’s not pouring rain, and the driver knows where they’re going.

But also, everyone on the cart is speaking in hushed tones, as if they recognize the weight of this moment.

An eclipse like this doesn’t come around often, and everyone’s treating it with the reverence it deserves.

We come to a stop in a clearing, different than the one we’d picnicked in during the horseback riding lesson.

There’s no waterfall here, just a soft expanse of grass surrounded by natural vegetation.

Blankets have been laid out for people to sit on.

There’s a little pop-up tent adorned with twinkle lights where some staff members are pouring champagne.

My phone buzzes, and my heart leaps with both hope and anxiety that it might be Jamie.

But it’s just my calendar reminder that the Flowies live stream is scheduled to start in five minutes.

I pull out my tripod and pivot so that the full moon is in the background of my shot and the soft glow from the twinkle-lit tent casts just enough light on my face. Perfect.

I start the live feed, letting a few seconds tick by as more and more followers join the stream.

Once there are a couple hundred people watching, I start to speak.

“Hey, y’all, Sybil Rain here from Flowies.

I’m in Hawaii, where we’re going to be lucky enough to witness the path of totality for tonight’s lunar eclipse.

But first, I just want to thank you all for sticking by me.

Your stories about womanhood, dealing with periods, and all the ways that our brand has helped you in your own lives have been so inspiring.

I hope that wherever you are watching this from, whether you can see the eclipse out your window or just through your phone screen, that you take this opportunity to launch a new phase of your life and break patterns that no longer serve you.

And I hope you remember that your shadowy parts are beautiful too. ”

I settle back on the blanket, laying my back against the ground and bending my knees up toward the sky. About half the moon is now covered in its rosy glow and I can hear people around me oohing and ahhing.

I think about the whole idea of a full moon or a new moon.

Of course, the moon is never not whole, and it’s never really new either.

It’s always there, unwavering. It’s just a matter of how much of it is shining down on us, reflecting back the sun’s light.

And I guess that’s true of people too. We never really start over, we just find new ways to light up again, even if, for a time, we’ve been cloaked in darkness.

T HE NEXT MORNING, I wake up early, feeling at ease, proud of the event last night, at peace.

The sun is bright through the billowing curtains, and I swing open the balcony doors.

It’s my last day here, and I want to get out of my head and enjoy it.

Throwing on my favorite bright-pink triangle top bikini with a playful peach and turquoise mini-dress over it and some sunscreen, I pad out of the resort in my flip-flops, past the breakfast setup and the pool, and head down to the beach one last time, realizing that aside from my ill-advised leap off of Mason’s snorkel boat excursion, I haven’t actually had a nice, relaxing swim the entire time I’ve been here.

I peel off my cover-up, leaving it on the sand with my pool towel, and splash into the waves, feeling their cold spray.

I squeal a little to myself, hesitating for a second, before taking a huge breath and diving in.

The water surrounds and holds me, and for a few moments, I swim under the waves, my hair billowing around me like a mermaid’s, feeling light and free.

Surrounded by a huge, unending love, an ocean-sized love.

It encompasses all of me: my childhood days of feeling like I didn’t fit people’s expectations, and all of my love stories, which I thought were failed romances, but which I now see were all just stages of the journey.

Maybe it’s divine love, I don’t know, but it feels like something beyond what I’ve ever imagined, this feeling that I’m okay just as I am.

And then, a sense of urgency hits me. This lightning bolt of certainty. I’m ready to love Jamie and be loved back by him. And I don’t want to waste one minute of our second chance.