Page 45 of The Four Engagement Rings of Sybil Rain
I F YOU REALLY WANT TO GET TECHNICAL ABOUT IT, MY FIRST ENGAGEMENT ring actually came at the age of seven.
I can still remember the giddiness I felt as Ryan Briggs slid the plastic band with its bright red candy gemstone onto my finger.
The feeling that all my dreams were about to come true.
Our betrothal was tragically ill-fated—the romance cut short by the recess bell—but right from that moment, I knew exactly how my future wedding would go.
I’d walk through a meadow of wildflowers, a gentle breeze tugging at a gauzy dress shimmering in the soft light of a golden hour.
There’d be a cotton candy machine and a vintage carousel.
After we’d said our vows, there would be a choreographed release of monarch butterflies as I walked down the aisle with my new husband.
As the years went on, I traded out the guys in my fantasy the way I updated the mason jars in my imaginary wedding for the vintage champagne coupes I saw trending on Pinterest, adapting the vision to suit my current tastes. The specific husband wasn’t an essential part of my planning.
Until Jamie.
I T’S BEEN A YEAR and a half since we were last at Halia Falls, and it hasn’t changed at all. The beaches are still awe-inspiringly gorgeous, the pools are perfectly pristine, and the rooms are still elegant and cozy. But this time, Jamie and I arrived together.
And we brought all our wedding guests.
It’s a smaller affair this time around. We only invited our nearest and dearest—our parents and Jamie’s sister and her kids. Jamie’s best friends, Vittal, Chris, and Mike, and their wives. The Core Four and their plus-ones.
Nikki joked that after everything that went down at her brother’s wedding last summer, she was officially swearing off bridesmaid duties, but nevertheless, here she is, sitting beside me on the golf cart as we rumble up the mountain trail toward the ceremony site.
And despite all the drama that unfolded over the summer, Nikki seems to have acquired a new sense of inner calm.
Things that would once send her into a tailspin of perfectionist anxiety don’t seem to faze her anymore.
For example, the ride in the cart is turning her once-flawless updo into something decidedly more wind-whipped, but she doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. Her boyfriend—another newly acquired development from that wedding—is already gathered with the rest of our guests.
The last week has been a whirlwind of wedding activities. We had a welcome party (which I was on time to) and a rehearsal dinner last night (which I was late to). And now, with the wedding in ten minutes, we’re hustling up the mountainside to make sure we don’t miss the sunset.
When we’d emailed back and forth with Ash about the ceremony location, she’d suggested the outcropping where we watched the lunar eclipse, and I immediately knew it was perfect.
The wind picks up as we reach the end of the trail.
I slip off my heels and let my bare feet sink into the soft green moss.
There’s no string quartet, no planned butterfly release, and the only flowers are the small bouquet Nikki holds for me and the hot-pink plumeria crown that Willow carried up separately, worried that it might blow off my head before we reached the top.
Willow places the flowers on my head now and kisses both of my cheeks.
“You look like a mermaid princess.” She squeezes my hands and steps away.
Emma drops the train of my dress—a vintage gem that she found for me back in Dallas—to the ground but can’t resist giving it one last fluff.
The dress flutters in the breeze, the thousands of iridescent beads shimmering the palest hint of seashell pink in the fading light.
The neckline drapes delicately across my chest, the straps settling on my shoulders.
I do feel like a mermaid princess, stepping from the sea straight into the arms of my one true love.
Nikki hands me my bouquet. She pulls me to her in a hug, and whispers in my ear, “This is the happily ever after you deserve, Sybs.”
My dad steps forward and threads my arm through his, patting my hand twice.
I glance out at the small crowd and spot Jamie’s parents, looking glamorous yet stiff as always.
His mother presses down the pashmina covering her shoulders, as if afraid the wind will carry it away, and I smile, realizing how foolish it was to fear the Kauffmans.
They might be a little repressed, a little guarded with their emotions, but then again, they haven’t had the benefit of a Gwendolyn Green in their lives.
I no longer see them as daunting and terrifying; they’re just people, doing their best.
Beside them stands my mom, her chin wobbling, and I no longer see a strict parent who doesn’t know what to do with her wild, wayward daughter. Now all I see is someone who is fragile, afraid of seeing me get hurt again. And my heart swells with gratitude.
Then the crowd parts, and all I see is Jamie.
I couldn’t convince him that he didn’t need to wear a jacket, but I did manage to convince him to ditch a tie.
If I look like a mermaid princess, he looks like a recently reformed pirate—a reference I know Grandma G would have approved of—his brown hair tousled by the wind and the short hike, and his skin bronzed from the days we’ve spent here before the wedding basking in the sun.
Amelia stands beside him at the edge of the cliff. Her dark hair, a match to Jamie’s and out of its customary bun, whips up behind her, and this time when her eyes land on me, they’re warm.
At last night’s rehearsal dinner, she came up to us both and tried to apologize for ever having influenced Jamie to doubt me. “You know, I was still reeling from my divorce. I was feeling protective and—and cynical. I should never have put that on you—”
But Jamie stopped her before I even could. “Amelia, the thing is, I wasn’t marriage material then. If I had been, I couldn’t have been swayed. But clearly, I had some growing up to do still. I hope I can prove to you that now I have.”
“You don’t have to prove anything,” she said to him. “You—both of you,” she added, including me in her gaze, “you’ve inspired me. You’ve made me want to believe in love again.” She wiped away a tear. “I may be your older sister, Jamie, but I still look up to you sometimes.”
She hugged him, and then me, and then I started to cry openly, which clearly made her uncomfortable because she dabbed at her eyes and returned to her table, ending what had been a beautiful moment.
Ah well, perhaps I’m never going to fit completely seamlessly into the Kauffman style of affection, but that’s okay. At least I know now that it’s there.
My dad and I pass through the gathered crowd and reach Jamie in just a few steps. My dad releases me, dropping a kiss on my cheek. He blinks away tears and clears his throat before turning to Jamie. “Take care of my baby.”
Jamie nods solemnly and takes both my hands in his. “I will, sir.”
Dad seems to have lost his ability to speak, so he just nods in reply and steps to stand beside my mom, who quietly slips him a tissue.
Jamie and I both turn toward Amelia. Behind her, the sun has just begun to dip below the horizon, and the ocean billows out before us with sparkles that put the glitter of my wedding dress to shame.
The whole island spills out before us as Amelia begins reading from the Bible in her hands, “‘Place me like a seal over your heart…’”
I try to pay attention to Amelia’s words, but all I can think about is Jamie.
Everything he is to me comes crashing over me.
My partner, my cheerleader, the one person who’s always loved me just as I am.
All of the missteps I’ve made along the way, everything we’ve been through has been worth it to get this one moment with Jamie.
Amelia asks for the rings, and Emma places both of them in her hand.
Amelia turns to Jamie and reads off our vows.
“I do,” Jamie says with a smile as he slides the cool metal onto my finger.
Amelia repeats the vows for me.
“I do.” I slip a simple gold band onto Jamie’s hand, and we both turn toward Amelia. With a wide smile, she says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”
Jamie’s lips are on mine in an instant, and his arms are firm around my waist. Familiar flames of desire lick through me, but more than that is the overwhelming feeling of coming home. Jamie has always been my safe haven, my port in the storm, and now he’s mine forever.
The kiss ends, and Jamie presses his forehead to mine.
We give ourselves a few breaths in this perfect moment.
As cheers go up from the crowd, I look down at our clasped hands, Jamie’s fingers twined through with mine.
My new ring, a simple gold band, flashes in the sun. My first—and only—wedding ring.