Page 5 of The Four Engagement Rings of Sybil Rain

M Y MIND GOES BLANK. B UT NOT THE SERENE, CALM BLANK I ’D BEEN FEELING just moments before. More like computer-short-circuiting blank. Jamie shakes the water from his hair as he climbs the stairs out of the pool, staring at me like I’m staring at him.

I take in Jamie’s warm brown eyes, adorably crooked nose, and perfectly full lips… and his bare chest, still dripping wet, pool water running down the rivulets of his abs.

I’m rooted to the spot, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. Maybe I had too much of that welcome mai tai and this isn’t real—I’m just passed out in my hotel room having a deranged daydream that my ex-fiancé is actually here in the same hotel as me.

“I—you—What are you doing here?” I choke out.

It takes a few seconds for Jamie to respond, and I can tell he’s just as taken aback as I am.

“Sybil. Wow. Hi.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Um, I’m here to—”

There’s a splash behind Jamie, and a woman with sun-kissed skin and glistening jet-black hair exits the pool to stand beside him. He motions toward her. “This is my colleague, Genevieve Lee.”

“I—” I start, but it sounds more like I’m gargling my own saliva. “I mean, um, hi.” Great recovery.

I watch as a bead of water descends from his face to his chest and further down.

What. Is. Happening.

Jamie starts to describe the specifics of the work trip that has brought him here, but I’m still in ex-fiancé shock and can’t make sense of any of it.

Something to do with portfolio diversification and leveraging existing client relationships.

Truth be told, I was never really able to grasp what Jamie does for his family’s equity firm.

The finance lingo always sounds like gobbledygook to me.

Plus, I’m hung up on what he called Genevieve just now… his colleague ?

A colleague in a tangerine string bikini? Yeah, right.

My heart twinges, and I suddenly feel annoyed with my choice of bathing suit; the nautical stripes and little anchor decals scream cute and quirky, not hot and effortless, like hers.

Breathe. I tell myself, It’s not a competition.

And just because my love life has been DOA since we split up doesn’t mean that Jamie’s would be.

It’s been over a year; it’s only natural that he’d be with someone else by now.

Guys like Jamie don’t stay on the market.

Obviously sensing the sheer awkwardness of this interaction, Genevieve steps forward gracefully and offers her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you…” She lets the words trail off in a question.

Slowly, I reach out to shake her hand. “Sybil. Sybil Rain.”

“Nice to meet you, Sybil.” There’s no look of horror or recognition in her eyes, so they either must be newly dating or Jamie didn’t feel I was worth mentioning.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Jamie clearly wants to forget that period of his life ever happened.

But seriously, he’s never once said my name?

Not even in the context of “Oh yeah, my crazy ex Sybil used to work at that art gallery—you know, before she ran off days before our wedding and completely ruined everything.”

He squints his eyes, like he’s having trouble seeing me—like I’m standing miles away and not a mere few feet from him. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Um, just, you know, vacationing.”

“Here?” I see a spark of something flicker in Jamie’s dark eyes. It almost looks like anger? Or maybe betrayal ?

A prickle goes down my spine, and the pure and utter confusion that had been fogging my brain since first seeing him starts to fade away, making room for something sharper.

“Yes, here . I’ve always wanted to visit this resort,” I say stiffly.

“I remember.” Jamie’s mouth is a grim line.

My brain conjures images of the two of us poring over travel websites, sending each other pictures of various getaway destinations: Santorini, Thailand, the Azores… but when we came to the homepage for the Halia Falls Resort, we both knew in an instant that this was the one.

“Look,” I had said, coming to sit on the couch next to him with my laptop. “It has all kinds of activities for me, like ATVing and sea caves, plus a bunch of art galleries and heritage sites for you—and seriously, have you ever seen more beautiful beaches?”

“It’s perfect,” Jamie had agreed. “But hey, don’t count me out for all the adventurous stuff.”

I put my laptop on the coffee table and climbed onto Jamie’s lap, carding my hands through his brown waves. “Mmm, so what you’re saying is, you want to go spelunking the Hana Lava tubes with me?” I said, slowly lowering my face to his.

Jamie gave me a crooked grin. “That sounds like hell.”

“Parasailing?”

“Let’s start with horseback riding,” he whispered before meeting my lips for a kiss.

The Jamie standing in front of me on the pool deck now clears his throat, and I’m forced back to the present.

“Anyway,” I say pointedly, “I had some unused vouchers laying around, so we figured we’d—”

“We?” His voice is sharp as he glances around. “So you are here with someone?”

I’m about to correct him—by we , I meant the Core Four—but the hard look on Jamie’s face is just so infuriating, and Genevieve is standing there, an awkward, but still beautiful, smile on her pretty face, and I don’t know—something evil possesses me, and I can’t keep the words from tumbling out.

“My boyfriend.” Jamie blinks. “Yeah. I’m um, here, vacationing, with my, you know. My boyfriend.”

Boyfriend? What the frick?

Jamie blinks once, and his jaw tightens. Something shutters in his eyes. “Right.”

We all stand there silently for a beat. Jamie and I are close enough that I can smell the chlorine on his skin. Feel the warmth radiating off his body…

“Well, we’re only here for a few days,” he says, clearly trying to break the tension. “Leaving Friday afternoon, so not sure we’ll run into you again.” His voice is matter-of-fact. “Hope you have a good stay, Sybs.”

I inhale sharply. Sybs. It’s just a nickname—the one all my closest friends use—and yet hearing Jamie casually toss it out now feels like a blow to the chest.

“Thanks,” I manage to say.

He nods, like this makes it official. Then he gestures for Genevieve to walk ahead of him, back toward the gate that leads out of the pool area.

She gives me a small smile and walks away.

Her gait is confident, like she knows the view of her from behind is just as good as, if not even better than, the front.

Jamie trails behind her, presumably enjoying said view.

Then, just before he reaches the gate, he turns back and glances at me, just briefly.

His face is inscrutable. The same placid blankness I remember staring back at me from the end of the aisle last June.

When we first started dating, he used to joke that he had a slight problem of RAF (Resting Asshole Face).

I always said his reserved nature—the way he held his cards close to his chest and was so intentional about who he let in—was one of the things I loved most about him.

Now, it just makes me feel every inch of the distance between us.

“Goodbye, Sybil.”

And then he’s gone.

Thankfully. So I can die of mortification in peace.

Because it’s one thing to say I have left the shame and sadness of that breakup behind me and quite another to be trapped in the most beautiful place on earth with the man I once thought I was going to spend forever with.

T HE DAY OF OUR wedding, I arrived at the venue a little late. Okay, very late. So late, everyone feared I might not show at all.

And I very nearly hadn’t.

I knew I needed to talk to Jamie about what happened. Why I’d missed our welcome party and rehearsal dinner. But my mother assured me there’d be time for that later. Everything was still, by some miracle, on schedule for the ceremony. But only if we hurried.

I remember arriving to the ceremony site, with its breathtaking ocean views and the floral arrangements that looked even more perfect than the pictures we’d consulted beforehand. And rows and rows of white wooden folding chairs, with the backs of all our friends and family members.

I took a deep breath, trying to center myself, but before I could exhale, the bridal music started up, and my father was wrapping my hand around his crooked arm and leading me down the aisle.

Was it all like I’d pictured it would be? Not exactly. The wind kept catching up my veil, and the roar of the ocean mostly drowned out the cellist—or was that just the roar of my pulse in my ears?

But when my eyes landed on Jamie, relief surged through me.

I had to squint because he was a little bit backlit by the sun.

The breeze picked up his dark hair, making him look like a lead in a James Bond film, his perfectly tailored tux hugging his body just right.

Just looking at him waiting for me at the end of the aisle sent a wave of calm through me.

With Jamie, I’m safe , I told myself. With him, everything was possible.

“Sybil,” he whispered when I reached him. “Thank god. Are you all right?”

“I’m… fine.” I felt my pulse tighten in my throat, though. There was so much to explain. “Should we maybe talk?”

His shoulders stiffened. “Here? Now?” He looked to our officiant, who also happened to be his older sister, Amelia.

“It’ll just take a second,” I said, then turned around to face our gathered guests. “Hey, y’all!” I flashed them my brightest smile. “Thanks so much for coming! Grandma G, you look fab in that yellow dress!”

The crowd tittered with laughter, shaking their heads, as if to say, Classic Sybil .

“I need to have a quick word with my gorgeous husband-to-be, so if you could just give us a moment, that’d be great.”