Something’s not sitting right. Yes, Jamie proposed at the Del, so it could make sense for Sybil to go all the waydown there just for a massage. But sentimental isn’t how I would describe Sybil. She’s always looking forward—not backward.
I can feel the stress zit that I doused with salicylic acid in the hopes that I’d be able to head it off before the wedding pulse with new life. It’s classic Sybil. She never means to hurt anyone, but she also never considers any of the collateral damage she leaves in her wake.
“Why wouldn’t she text any of us?” I ask, closing the door behind Mrs. Rain.
“Probably because we would have asked follow-up questions.” Nikki resumes getting her things together for the spa. “Last night, at the bar…”
“What?” I demand.
Nikki clears her throat. “She and Finn kind of had a heart-to-heart or whatever, and he said that if she wasn’t absolutely sure she wanted to get married, she shouldn’t go through with it.” At the look on my face, she quickly adds, “Which you know is good advice, Emma.”
“I most certainly donotknow that. She already decided she wanted to get married when Jamie proposed and she put the ring on her finger!”
“I don’t know if that’s how Sybil sees it, Em,” Willow says. She and Nikki seem much more relaxed after Mrs. Rain’s report, but one piece still isn’t fitting.
“But why would she take her suitcase?” That seems to get their attention.
Anxiety spikes through me as I remember Sybil’s words from last night.I’m not sure if I can do this. I need you.
“She bolted.”
“She wouldn’t bolt.” Even Willow doesn’t believe what she’s saying, though, because she follows up with “Would she?”
“But Jamie’s great,” Nikki says. “She’s been different with him.”
“She absolutely bolted,” I say with growing certainty. I think back to her sudden urge to try on her dress last night,to make sure it still fits. It makes so much more sense now. And with my growing certainty comes a growing anger at Finn. He led her to the edge, and pushed her over. Sybil needs me to pull her back. I need to fix this. She as much as asked me to last night.
“I’m going to San Diego to get her. Willow, you stay here and help the Rains greet the guests as they arrive. Nikki, you’re coming with me.”
A pained look crosses her face. “Em, I can’t. Aaron is at Torrey Pines. He posted about it last night.” I blink once not understanding. She continues, “The golf course. He’s there for the US Open. I can’t be in San Diego while he’s there. I can’t look desperate, like I’m following him around. Someone might get a photo of me. I hate that we’re even on the same coast right now.” The likelihood of Nikki running into her ex in a city the size of San Diego seems incredibly small, but she looks so miserable that I don’t push it.
“Fine. But I need a car.”
Nikki nods. “You can take mine.”
I make a face. The autopilot on Nikki’s top-of-the-line electric car gives me whiplash, but it’s my only option, so we head to the valet stand to pick it up. “Just promise me you won’t interact with Aaron while you’re there, okay?” Nikki says as the valet pulls the car around.
I nod to placate her, but can’t resist an instruction of my own. “Andyoujust promisemethat you’ll unfollow him on social media. I told you to do that ages ago.”
Nikki nods, taking the keys from the valet and popping her head inside the car. “Oh no… I forgot to charge it. Sorry, Em—”
“It’s fine.” I open up my Lyft app and search for the Hotel Del Coronado. After a minute of searching, the app says a car can be here in fourteen minutes, and the ride estimate is$347. Okay, that’s not happening.
Damn it. Why did I leave Sybil and Nikki alone with Finn last night? I should have known the king of failed commitments would find some way to derail things. But even as my agitation grows, an idea is taking shape.
“Didn’t Finn drive y’all to that bar?”
“Yeah, that’s his car right there.” She motions to a black Tahoe, and I get my first glimpse of the Porsche Mr. Rain mentioned, parked right next to it.
“You know what, Finn made this mess. He got her stupid drunk on tequila and then gave her terrible advice. He needs to help clean it up. Where’s his room?”
“I think he’s over on the west side of the resort in one of the presidential cottages. Maybe 455 or 456?” Nikki says. “But I don’t know that Finn…” I’m already turning down the path to his room before Nikki can finish her sentence, and I run smack into—
“Jamie!” I pull up abruptly and try to look as unbothered as possible. “Where are you going?” I wince at how accusatory I sound, and try to gloss over it with a smile. “I mean, anything we can help with?” Nikki rolls her eyes as she returns her keys to the valet.
“Just headed in to say good morning to Sybil.” He either misses my shortness or has the politeness to look past it. “I stopped by your room, but no one answered.”
“Um, she’s not here. She just texted that she’s already at the spa.” Which according to Mrs. Rain is not technically a lie.
