Page 7 of The Four Engagement Rings of Sybil Rain

HELP. SOS. CODE RED. M Y THUMBS FLY FURIOUSLY ACROSS MY phone’s keyboard as I sit hunched over on the lounge chair.

Nikki’s text is the first to come through. Oh no. What’s wrong?

Breathe, babe , Willow says.

Emma chimes in with, I told you to put on sunscreen!!!

Not sunburn. JAMIE. HERE.

Moments later, my phone is ringing.

“Hey, Niks.” I can hear the hysteria creeping into my voice.

“Sybil, oh my gosh. Are you okay?”

I take a deep breath. I don’t need Nikki spiraling off the deep end with me. “I’m all right,” I tell her. “It’s just weird . It’s weird, right?”

I still can’t believe Jamie and I are both here, at this hotel, on the very same off-season weekend. The odds must be astronomical.

Actually, I suppose, in a way, they are astronomical.

Our universe is full of cosmic coincidences.

The whole reason we’re able to experience the phenomenon of a solar eclipse is because the sun is four hundred times bigger than the moon, but also just so happens to be four hundred times farther away, making them appear the same size to us in the sky.

Weird, unlikely things happen all the time.

Without them, life on our planet wouldn’t even exist.

I wrote a science report all about this in tenth grade.

And yet, knowing these factoids doesn’t do much to lessen the blow of unexpectedly running into Jamie with second-day hair and a schmear of sunblock on my nose.

“Totally weird,” Nikki agrees. There’s a pause, and then she adds, “Except, maybe not?”

“Explain.”

“Well… his cancellation vouchers were probably expiring around the same time, so…”

“Oh, right.”

I suppose that explains the coincidental timing.

Maybe he got the same alert. Maybe he figured he’d kill two birds with one stone: meet up with some high-net-worth individuals for the firm (Jamie and his father were always jetting off to luxury locations to schmooze with potential investors) while also treating his new girlfriend to what was essentially a free Hawaiian vacation.

“I’m sorry this is so weird for you, Sybs,” Nikki says through the phone. “I hope it doesn’t ruin your trip.”

“It won’t,” I say with one hundred percent more conviction than I feel.

“So, you’re not going to… leave?” Nikki asks tentatively.

“Of course not.” I don’t admit to her that open on my phone right now is a Safari tab searching for flights back to LAX tonight.

After running into Jamie, the urge to flee was strong, but it turns out that even my impulse to run can be schooled by hefty change fees.

It would have cost me over a thousand dollars to return home early.

My wallet won’t let me do that. And neither will my pride.

I’m not going to go running with my tail between my legs just because Jamie is here.

“Good, that’s good,” Nikki says. “Also, I don’t know, but maybe things happen for a reason?”

“Reason? What do you mean?”

“I mean, you could, like, talk to him?” Nikki’s voice tips up at the end. “You guys never really talked.”

“Oh, trust me, we talked.” Memories of the ugly words exchanged behind a flower arch in a beautiful field in Malibu flood my mind.

“You fought, Sybil. That’s different,” Nikki says, as if hearing my thoughts. “And now, more time has gone by… you’ve done some great work in therapy. You’ve changed. Maybe he has too. Maybe you guys could—”

“Niks,” I cut her off. “I’m still me. And Jamie is still… Jamie.” I sigh. As much as I tried to deny it when we were together, the fact was, Jamie and I were like oil and water. (Me: glitter-infused, strawberry-scented body oil, him: distilled, ethically sourced alkaline water.)

We just didn’t work.

“It’s whatever,” I say to Nikki. “I probably won’t even run into them again. And if I do, I’ll be perfectly pleasant.”

“Them?” Nikki asks.

“Yeah, he’s here with a coworker from The Kauffman Group. Genevieve Something. She seems really lovely, actually… and also gorgeous. I’m, like, ninety-nine percent sure they’re dating.”

Nikki groans into the phone.

“Yuuuup,” I say, popping the P, as I acknowledge the truly batshit scenario I’ve found myself in.

But it’s not just the fear of running into Jamie again that’s got me rattled…

it’s all the memories that are getting unleashed in his wake.

The cozy Saturday brunches at home and Sunday movie nights.

The gallery openings and upscale dinners with his fancy business colleagues and the way that, no matter how big the crowd, he’d always lock eyes with me across a table or a room, and I’d just feel held, seen.

Like he was there for me and only me. And, of course, the way he kissed me—every time, for as long as we were together, he kissed me like it was the first time.

Tentative yet hungry. Like he couldn’t believe he had won me over somehow.

How he could be the perfect gentleman that everyone in both our circles looked up to but still just the right amount naughty behind closed bedroom doors—or shower doors, or car doors, or that one time behind a stone wall on a grassy cliff overlooking the sea somewhere between Big Sur and Monterey…

“Okay, well, keep me posted,” Nikki says, interrupting my thoughts.

“I will. And oh, hey—when does shooting start?”

“Shooting?” Nikki sounds totally confused.

“For that LovedBy special. Didn’t you say you had that coming up?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” Nikki says, and I swear I can hear her chewing on her thumbnail through the phone. “They’re still working out the timing.”

It was surreal to watch my best friend fall in love on television, but that’s exactly what happened.

She and Aaron seemed perfect for each other, with their matching golden hair and flawless teeth.

But then, on the live New Year’s Eve finale when they were supposed to say their vows, Aaron revealed that he’d actually been seeing another woman the whole time.

He’d gone on the show in the hopes that Nikki’s connections in the athletic wear world would help him gain sponsorships—he was a pro golfer looking to up his celebrity status.

Nikki had, of course, been shattered. I honestly can’t believe she’s willing to go back on the show after what happened, but if there’s one thing I know about Nikki Bennett, it’s that she’s a professional.

With her, it’s always the show must go on!

But of course, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel pain.

That’s why she was the one person I wanted by my side after my own heartbreak.

I knew she’d understand. It must have been so hard for Nikki to watch my wedding implode, just like her own engagement did.

But she was there for me every step of the way.

Helped me get settled in my new rental house, brought me dinners, and reminded me that she was just a fifteen-minute drive away in Venice if I needed her, day or night.

Thinking about it, I’m angry and devastated all over again—for both of us.

We both thought we were going to get our happily ever afters only to have the rugs yanked out from under us.

“I love you, Nikki,” I say to her now. “Thanks for calling. I’ll be fine.”

“Love you too, Sybs.”

I’ll be fine , I repeat to myself after Nikki and I hang up.

I just need to survive a few more days without running into Jamie again. Halia Falls is a big place—it should be easy to avoid each other, right?

“D O YOU NEED ANOTHER Diet Coke, Miss?”

“Derek, I told you to call me Sybil,” I tell the poolside waiter as he deposits the poke bowl I ordered for lunch onto a little side table beside my lounger.

Derek and I go way back. Okay fine, we go back about twenty minutes, but already we’ve chatted about the best items on the outdoor bar menu (the lomi lomi salmon salad), the most secluded beaches only locals know about (and how to actually get to them without falling off a cliff), our astrological signs (him Aries, me Gemini), and his mom’s Etsy shop (she’s a collector of rare books and antiques). “And no, I’m great! Thank you!”

I’m not sure what the tipping etiquette is here but I leave him a few extra because I know firsthand how absolutely exhausting working in the service industry can be—and, well, also because I may need his help in the near future, like to physically hide behind if Jamie returns to the pool area.

An hour later, after I’ve finished my meal and sent off a few emails to the interns back at Flowies, reminding them not to forget Meredith’s preferred nondairy creamer and the phone number for her dry cleaner, I make my way back to the lobby.

Ash, the woman who greeted me earlier, is there at the concierge desk. “Wow, I love your earrings!” I tell her, admiring them.

She smiles back and shakes her long, wavy dark hair, letting her delicate gold hoops with green beads sway. “Thank you! I actually got them from a little shop in town.”

“Really? Oh my gosh, you have to tell me where. I will definitely go check it out. I love your style.” And I could also use some modest retail therapy.

She laughs. “Ninety percent uniform, ten percent personal choice, but thank you. You’ll love the sweet town of Hana. It’s just down the road. Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, I was just wondering if you have a resort map? I’d love to check out the grounds, but my sense of direction is absolutely insane. Give me a GPS to find the gym and I would probably still somehow end up walking straight into the ocean.”

She laughs again. “No problem!” she says, pulling a pamphlet from behind the desk. “There’s also a QR code for the digital version.”

“Great, thanks!” I’m about to walk away when I remember another question. “Sorry, one more thing—are you guys planning to do anything for the lunar eclipse on Friday?”

“Yes, there’s actually going to be a watch party out on the lawn that overlooks the beach. We’ll have music, cocktails, and passed hors d’oeuvres.”