He cocked an eyebrow at me. “That’s not my mother. That’s my grandmother.”
“Okay, that’s even cuter.”
“She’s the greatest,” he agreed.
“I mean, seriously, you guys even had matching red-and-white outfits!” Jamie looked confused, so I clarified. “Her ring matched your graduation robes. What a cool piece of jewelry.”
Jamie smiled. “My grandfather gave her that ring. It’s called a ‘Toi et Moi.’”
“You and me,” I translated.
“Oui,” Jamie said with a flawless French accent that sent a zing straight to my lower belly. “The ruby and diamond represented their birthstones,” he told me. “My granddad died before I was born, but Grandma G tells me plenty of stories. They were one of those rare ‘opposites attract’ couples that actually worked.”
I sighed, leaning back and letting the warmth of Jamie’s affection for his grandparents wash over me. “It must be nice to work with your family.”
“It is. Usually.” Jamie turned toward me, one elbow still resting on the ledge of the building. His face was thoughtful and open.
Something in my chest blossomed, an unfurling. I’d kept myself so tightly wrapped up since Sebastian, but it felt good to just open myself up to a new… friend? Jamie turned back toward the view, his arm grazing mine, but neither of us moved away. We lapsed back into silence, and I realized in that moment that I wanted him to kiss me.
“What are you thinking about?” I whispered with a slight toss of my hair. I was giving him the perfect excuse to lean in andshowme what he was thinking about, like many a guy had done before.
But Jamie surprised me again. “How beautiful LA looks from up here. And how I never stop to appreciate it. I was thinking that I should look at the view more often.” He turned to look at me, and in his gaze, I just knew somewhere deep down that this was the start ofsomething. “Maybe I just need someone to remind me.”
EPILOGUE
IF YOU REALLY WANT TO GET TECHNICAL ABOUT IT, MY FIRST ENGAGEMENTring actually came at the age of seven. I can still remember the giddiness I felt as Ryan Briggs slid the plastic band with its bright red candy gemstone onto my finger. The feeling that all my dreams were about to come true. Our betrothal was tragically ill-fated—the romance cut short by the recess bell—but right from that moment, I knew exactly how my future wedding would go.
I’d walk through a meadow of wildflowers, a gentle breeze tugging at a gauzy dress shimmering in the soft light of a golden hour. There’d be a cotton candy machine and a vintage carousel. After we’d said our vows, there would be a choreographed release of monarch butterflies as I walked down the aisle with my new husband.
As the years went on, I traded out the guys in my fantasy the way I updated the mason jars in my imaginary weddingfor the vintage champagne coupes I saw trending on Pinterest, adapting the vision to suit my current tastes. The specific husband wasn’t an essential part of my planning.
Until Jamie.
IT’S BEEN A YEARand a half since we were last at Halia Falls, and it hasn’t changed at all. The beaches are still awe-inspiringly gorgeous, the pools are perfectly pristine, and the rooms are still elegant and cozy. But this time, Jamie and I arrived together.
And we brought all our wedding guests.
It’s a smaller affair this time around. We only invited our nearest and dearest—our parents and Jamie’s sister and her kids. Jamie’s best friends, Vittal, Chris, and Mike, and their wives. The Core Four and their plus-ones.
Nikki joked that after everything that went down at her brother’s wedding last summer, she was officially swearing off bridesmaid duties, but nevertheless, here she is, sitting beside me on the golf cart as we rumble up the mountain trail toward the ceremony site. And despite all the drama that unfolded over the summer, Nikki seems to have acquired a new sense of inner calm. Things that would once send her into a tailspin of perfectionist anxiety don’t seem to faze her anymore. For example, the ride in the cart is turning her once-flawless updo into something decidedly more wind-whipped, but she doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. Herboyfriend—another newly acquired development from that wedding—is already gathered with the rest of our guests.
The last week has been a whirlwind of wedding activities. We had a welcome party (which I was on time to) and a rehearsal dinner last night (which I was late to). And now, with the wedding in ten minutes, we’re hustling up the mountainside to make sure we don’t miss the sunset.
When we’d emailed back and forth with Ash about the ceremony location, she’d suggested the outcropping where we watched the lunar eclipse, and I immediately knew it was perfect.
The wind picks up as we reach the end of the trail. I slip off my heels and let my bare feet sink into the soft green moss. There’s no string quartet, no planned butterfly release, and the only flowers are the small bouquet Nikki holds for me and the hot-pink plumeria crown that Willow carried up separately, worried that it might blow off my head before we reached the top. Willow places the flowers on my head now and kisses both of my cheeks. “You look like a mermaid princess.” She squeezes my hands and steps away.
Emma drops the train of my dress—a vintage gem that she found for me back in Dallas—to the ground but can’t resist giving it one last fluff. The dress flutters in the breeze, the thousands of iridescent beads shimmering the palest hint of seashell pink in the fading light. The neckline drapes delicately across my chest, the straps settling on my shoulders. Idofeel like a mermaid princess, stepping from the sea straight into the arms of my one true love.
Nikki hands me my bouquet. She pulls me to her in a hug, and whispers in my ear, “This is the happily ever after you deserve, Sybs.”
My dad steps forward and threads my arm through his, patting my hand twice.
I glance out at the small crowd and spot Jamie’s parents, looking glamorous yet stiff as always. His mother presses down the pashmina covering her shoulders, as if afraid the wind will carry it away, and I smile, realizing how foolish it was to fear the Kauffmans. They might be a little repressed, a little guarded with their emotions, but then again, they haven’t had the benefit of a Gwendolyn Green in their lives. I no longer see them as daunting and terrifying; they’re just people, doing their best.
Beside them stands my mom, her chin wobbling, and I no longer see a strict parent who doesn’t know what to do with her wild, wayward daughter. Now all I see is someone who is fragile, afraid of seeing me get hurt again. And my heart swells with gratitude.
Then the crowd parts, and all I see is Jamie.
