“Just leave it—”
And with that, Jamie tugged, and I let go, and suddenly, the jacket was flung across the room, something small dislodging from one of the pockets and landing with a thud on Jamie’s childhood bed.
For a moment, we both just stared.
Then my brain whirred to life, putting the pieces together.
It wasn’t just any small item. It was a small box. A smallvelvetbox.
“Is that…”
Jamie hastily crossed the room and grabbed the ring box, stuffing it into his pants pocket, his expression unreadable.
I turned my back on Jamie and the little black velvet box, as if removing them from my field of vision could make this whole moment disappear. “I’ll just, um… I can forget I saw that. Whatever it was.”
I was giving Jamie an out. Surely he wouldn’t want to talk about marriage now—in the middle of a fight, during which it was revealed that not only was I a college dropout, but also I’d been lying to him about it for the length of our relationship.
“Sybil.” Jamie’s voice was soft now, and there was something almost plaintive in his tone that made me turn around.
And when I did, I found him down on one knee in front of me. He was holding the box, which was now open to reveal the most beautiful, sparkling diamond I’d ever seen.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Sybil, you were right. My familydidsuck tonight. They’re just overly protective of me. I’ll talk to them. They’ll do better. And anyway, fuck what they say.” A little shiver ran down my arms. I loved it when Jamie let out a swear; it happened so rarely. “I want to marry you. I hadn’t meant to do it like this, but none of this changes how I feel about you.”
“It doesn’t change how I feel about you either,” I said quietly. “But Jamie, are you really sure you want to be with me…forever?”
Jamie reached out one of his hands to grasp my own. “Sybil, when I’m with you, I feel like I’ve caught lightning in a bottle. You bring color to my world. You have the biggest heart, and you feel things more strongly than anyone I’ve ever known, and it’s contagious. I’ve spent my whole life doing what was expected of me, following the path they’ve laid out for me. My family may not be pleased at first, but we’ll deal with that later. Right now, all I know is you make me feel happier and more alive than I’ve felt in a long time, and I never want to lose that. I never want to lose you.”
Despite the disaster the evening had turned into, it moved me that his family’s bad opinion of me hadn’t swayed him. At the time, it seemed like a sign, like maybe we really could be strong enough to overcome that. I’d been engaged twice before, and both of those relationships had spiraled out ofcontrol before we made it anywhere near the altar. But this felt so different. It had to be different. I knew how much I loved him. And I wanted to believe in us, to believe it could work this time.
I wanted, above all, to believe that I deserved the love of someone like Jamie.
Which was why I looked into his warm brown eyes and said yes.
8
IREGRET THEMOHALAPEPPERMINT BODY WRAP THE MOMENT THEaesthetician starts slathering it on my body the next morning. She told memohalameans “heart opening” and described the treatment as “cooling and reinvigorating,” which had sounded exactly like what I needed. After saying good night to Jamie last night, my whole body had been left hot and tingling—and I knew it wasn’t the twisted ankle. I barely slept. I woke up this morning feeling almost hungover, even though all I’d had to drink was that one mai tai when I first arrived. It was clear I needed a detox, something to douse the feelings racing through my blood. The spa, with its private treatment rooms, seemed like a safe place to spend the day. Not that I’m hiding exactly, but…
Okay fine, I’m hiding. It’s the only rational thing to do.
Now, however, I just feel like I’ve been rolled in a snowdrift. My skin is so “invigorated” I can’t relax. All I want is to let the tranquility of the spa room lull me into a soft doze where, fora few minutes at least, I can forget running into my ex-fiancé with his gorgeous girlfriend and then panic lying about being on a romantic vacation with a nonexistent boyfriend of my own.
Where I can even forget Jamie carrying me—somewhat begrudgingly, yet with gentleness—the rest of the way down the hike yesterday. Our bodies smashed together that close, the wetness of his shirt, the sharpness of his jaw, the way his eyes, so determined, looked ahead at the path but occasionally, I caught him glancing down at me… Memory morphs into imagination. I see Jamie press me backward until my spine scrapes along the bark of a palm tree, my arms pinned above my head. I grind against him the way I wanted to before, willing him even closer. Jamie pulls my bathing suit top to the side before his mouth closes around my peaked—
I jolt my eyes open.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the aesthetician returns and pulls off the Saran Wrap that has kept me swaddled up like a Christmas-flavored Swiss roll. After she leaves, I rinse off in the shower attached to the service room, and the hot water is a welcome relief. It sluices off the rest of the peppermint wrap, and warmth suffuses me. Stepping out of the shower, Idofeel invigorated, and my skin feels more supple and soft than I can ever remember it being. I guess it was worth twenty minutes of suffering to feel this good.
I slip into another cozy bathrobe and head through the locker room door to the spa pool. Water trickles down a carved stone wall, and the soothing sounds of a reed pipe play over the crashing of the ocean waves just a few yards away. There’s a spread of healthy treats laid out, so I grab a glass ofcucumber-infused water and a small ramekin filled with almonds before seeking out an empty lounge chair.
Across the pool, I see a woman with two teenage daughters—the same ones I saw on the snorkel boat yesterday, though I leapt off and swam away before getting a chance to actually meet them. One is more like a preteen, maybe eleven or twelve, and the other sister’s older, probably sixteen or seventeen. I can’t help but see myself at both ages: the carefree seventh-grade Sybil who still believed in backyard faeries and alien conspiracies, and the senior-year Sybil—rebellious, confused, constantly ashamed of something, and rapidly getting swallowed up in a relationship with Liam. At the time I was dating him, I felt so mature, but looking at this teen girl now, I am struck by how young and clueless I really was. Too much happened too quickly, and I still have the scars today, though they’re invisible to pretty much everyone else. If things had gone the way Liam had wanted, I’d be married to him now. In that version of reality,Icould be the one here at the spa with an eleven-year-old daughter.
I don’t even realize that I’m crying until a spa attendant appears at my elbow, silently offering me a tissue.
“Sorry,” I say, dabbing at my eyes. “Must have some peppermint oil in my eye or something.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” the attendant says. She has a kind face and calm energy. Something about her reminds me of Gwendolyn Green—maybe it’s the linen shirt and pants. “People often have strong emotional responses after their treatments,” she says. “It’s a natural reaction to your body feeling a sense of relief. Of peace. Please don’t be embarrassed.”
