Page 6 of The Four Engagement Rings of Sybil Rain

More laughing from the crowd, but in my periphery, I could also see looks of concern painting my bridesmaids’ faces.

In the second row of chairs, my friend Finn seemed ready to jump to his feet and assist with whatever disaster was about to unfold.

But I ignored him, and the girls, and grabbed Jamie’s sleeve.

“Great, thanks, y’all!”

Jamie followed, clearly flustered, as I pulled him a few yards back, over to a spot half-hidden behind the floral arch that served as an altar.

“Sybil, what the—” Jamie cut himself off. His brown eyes widened as he swallowed. “Wow,” he whispered. “You look beautiful. Really beautiful.”

“Thanks,” I whispered back, my lips forming a smaller, sweeter smile than the glowing one I’d tossed to our guests. A smile that was more real, and just for Jamie.

But this little bubble of happiness didn’t last long.

“We should get back over there,” he said stiffly. “Everyone’s waiting for us.”

“Jamie, no, they’ll be fine. We need to talk,” I said with a gentle hand on his arm. “I tried to find you in your hotel suite just now, but they told me they’d already brought you down to the altar.”

“We were running behind schedule,” he said flatly.

“I know. I know it’s all my fault.” I swallowed down the guilt. “Can we talk about where I went?”

“Well, I know it wasn’t to Vegas for an impromptu bachelorette party,” he said.

I felt a stab of guilt and gratefulness toward Willow, Nikki, and Emma for fabricating that story to cover for me, even when they had no idea what I was up to either.

“Did you know I went out there to be with you?” Jamie said. “I thought, ‘sure, I’ll blow off the welcome party and sneak away for a night in Vegas too. I can be spontaneous and fun, like Sybil.’ But when I showed up with the guys, you weren’t there. You weren’t anywhere . No one could reach you.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I left my phone in an Uber.”

A crease formed between Jamie’s brows—the same one that always appeared when I misplaced things, which, yes, happened pretty often.

Keys, lipstick, my wallet, even once my left running shoe—while I was actively at the gym.

But in this moment, his exasperation wasn’t tempered with its usual fondness.

“Losing your phone isn’t an excuse for being unreachable for two whole days . Were you even in Vegas at all? Or was that just a lie?”

I sucked in a breath. Jamie had every right to be upset with me, given the way I had just disappeared, but it still hurt to see him so readily think the worst of me. “Yes, I was actually in Vegas.”

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me; could hear the dull murmur of their whispers, wondering what was holding up the ceremony. My gaze drifted upward, as if the right words might be somewhere in the cloudless sky.

“Sybil,” Jamie said imploringly, bringing me back to the present moment. “Why? Why did you go?”

“I went to see Gwendolyn Green.” It was the most surface-level answer to his question, but it was the only place I could think to start my explanation.

Jamie looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “That woo-woo woman?”

“She’s a wellness coach,” I said, trying to push down the prickle of annoyance at Jamie’s dismissiveness.

“I should have told you I was going to see her, but I was just so in my head. I—it’s been a really, really hard weekend for me.

” I tried to find the right words, where to begin.

“I needed some advice. Some clarity, I mean.”

“Clarity?” he repeated, and I could see he was getting fed up. It was all coming out wrong.

“Everything has been moving so fast, and then this weekend I just—something happened. I started spiraling and wondering if I could even do this, because—”

“Good,” Jamie said, his voice sharp and brittle. It was like something inside him had snapped. The Resting Asshole Face evaporated, leaving raw emotion in its wake. I’d never seen Jamie look so broken. Not even when his grandfather died. “Because I’m not sure I can do this either, Sybil.”

My heart plummeted to my stomach.

Jamie ran a hand through his hair, turning over his shoulder to look back at our family and friends. “You completely abandoned me this weekend. Everyone was asking for you, and I was forced to lie to them. It was humiliating.”

The truth hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d been so focused on my own drama, and then on the fear of ruining everything, that I ended up doing exactly that. “I’m so sorry, Jamie.”

“And you know what the worst part is? Part of me wasn’t even surprised.”

I flinched as if he’d reached out and slapped me.

“Don’t say that—I love you, I’m here , Jamie.”

“For now,” he says, “but what about five years from now? What about when you get bored? What about when we have kids , Sybil? You can’t fuck off to who-knows-where when there are people counting on you.”

His words landed with the same dizzying force they always did whenever Jamie spoke of us being parents one day.

“You say this is all moving too fast, but that’s because of you ,” he continued. “You wanted to get married here, so we grabbed the date. I’ve never been impulsive like this. God, it’s like”—he barked out a bitter laugh—“it’s like you put some sort of spell over me so I make crazy decisions.”

“Well, if you didn’t want to get married so soon, why did you propose?

” I couldn’t help but snap back at him. “Or is that my fault, too, since apparently, I’m some ‘woo-woo’ witch who manipulated you into loving me?

” The defensiveness was seeping out of me.

I came here prepared to explain my absence, to apologize to Jamie on my hands and knees for running off this weekend, but I never expected him to cast doubt over our entire relationship. Over who I am as a person .

“That’s not what I said—”

“Maybe I am crazy. Crazy for thinking that you actually understood me.”

“I do . But all this running away—it’s not normal behavior, Sybil. Do you even see that?” he said tightly.

“Well, maybe I’m just not a ‘normal’ person, Jamie!”

“No fucking kidding,” he muttered, piercing me with those three words.

He used to love my weirdness. Used to be charmed by all my little idiosyncrasies—how I knew the number and name of every planet’s moons, or that my karaoke song was always an a cappella version of the Duck Tales theme song.

But in that moment, he just looked disappointed, almost disillusioned.

He ran a hand through his hair, again turning away and speaking more to himself than to me.

“My family was right. Amelia told me you weren’t ready, but I didn’t listen… ”

“Oh, so your family doesn’t think I’m good enough for them?” I spat out. Because, of course .

“My family are the only ones looking out for me,” Jamie said fiercely. “They know me better than anyone.” He sighed, shaking his head. “The truth is, Sybil, it feels like the other shoe has finally dropped. All this time, I’ve been looking for a reason, and now you’ve given me one.”

“A reason for what?” I asked, an ominous feeling building in my gut.

“A reason not to marry you.”

Just then, Amelia appeared over Jamie’s shoulder, her pashmina flapping like a dark cape about her shoulders. “Hi. Sorry to interrupt”—the daggers she was sending my way suggested otherwise—“but are we going ahead with this wedding or not?”

Jamie looked at his sister, then back at me, anger, confusion, and hurt all swirling in his coffee-brown eyes.

Then, as if I wasn’t even there, Amelia turned to Jamie, her voice concerned, urgent: “Jamie, are you really going to put up with this?”

And that’s when I risked a glance at the crowd.

Though they couldn’t hear every word, they could see what was going on here.

The looks of cringe and horror were blatant on everyone’s faces.

All of them were looking at me like I was a monster.

A horrible, horrible human being, selfish enough to risk the love and patience of a man like this.

I looked back at Jamie, and he was wearing the same expression.

Amelia’s eyes said it all. Disappointment.

Failure. Disaster. Not good enough. As if she knew it all along, could have predicted this outcome.

And really, shouldn’t I have known it too? Third time’s a charm! I’d said cheerfully anytime someone alluded to my history of failed engagements. But the truth was more like three strikes, you’re out . How could I let myself think this time around was going to be different?

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” I whispered one last time, willing him to believe me.

But Jamie didn’t look me in the eye. His eyes remained on his shiny black shoes as he said, “I’m sorry, too, Sybil. But I can’t do this.”

And that was when I felt it—physically, like it was actually happening right there in my chest—the splintering. The stabbing pain. I never knew a heart breaking could feel exactly like that. But the breaking was so real, I could almost hear it, the shattering.

So I did what I do best. The only thing I could do with all those faces staring me down, knowing that I’d ruined everything.

I ran.