Emma: “This is so not a coup!”
Willow: “Because you deserve it?”
Nikki: “We just want the old Sybil back.”
IUSED THAT SAMEargument—the one about this being a working trip—with Meredith when I pitched the idea to her the following Monday. To my surprise, she was immediately on board—once I confirmed that the company wouldn’t have to pay for my hotel or flights.
“Really?” I asked, sitting across from her in our offices on Wilshire Boulevard. “I do have lots of ideas for content. I saw there’s supposed to be this eclipse thing happening while I’m there. They call it a ‘blood moon.’ I was thinking maybe we could lean into that? Do a post about femininity and the moon, maybe even do a live stream during the eclipse? We could connect it back to the fertility campaign we did—”
Meredith held up a hand to stop my rambling.
“Sorry,” I said meekly. “I used to be really into space as a kid; it was kind of my thing.”
Meredith smiled. “Sybil, that all sounds great. I trust you.”
I let those words wash over me. Honestly, it’s something I’m still learning to accept. That my boss trusts me to do myjob well. That I am actuallygoodat this. Before Flowies, most of my jobs were a bit more… shall we say, eclectic? I was a temp receptionist at an art gallery for a while. I was briefly a barista at a bespoke coffee shop. I even served as a personal assistant for a D-list soap star, which mostly entailed bringing her beloved dog to regular grooming appointments. (With all those treatments, Gigi the cocker spaniel definitely had healthier hair than me—better natural highlights too.) Flowies isn’t aFortune500 company or anything, but my role with them is the most legit, most stable job I’ve ever had. And I desperately want to do well.
“Go ahead on the trip, and try to have some fun while you’re there too,” Meredith said.
So that night, I pulled up the website for the Halia Falls Resort. The photos were as gorgeous as I remembered—plunge pools and natural hot-spring spas, five-star restaurants and fun tiki bars. I clicked through to the page that described their adventure excursions, trying to get myself excited about horseback riding and sea kayaking.
This is good, I told myself.This is proof that you’re moving on.
And with a few clicks, it was done. The confirmation email from the hotel and the airline made it official.
So now, two weeks later, I’m finally going on my honeymoon.
I just happen to be going alone.
2
GOLDEN LIGHT STREAMS THROUGH THE AIRPLANE WINDOW.BELOW US,emerald mountains rise up from the turquoise sea. Even from thirty-thousand feet up, the view is stunning. I watch as the landscape grows more detailed with little winding roads and palm trees as we descend toward an airstrip along the shore. Then there’s a rumbling beneath us as the wheels emerge and a shuddering jolt as we touch down. I hear the pilot’s voice over the intercom, welcoming us to Kahului Airport, Maui.
The resort has sent someone to greet me. A friendly man holding a sign with my name takes my luggage and directs me to an enormous black SUV. As we drive along the coast, I can see the dramatic peaks of the neighboring islands set against the bright blue morning sky. With the time difference, it’s only ten a.m. here, and I feel refreshed and energized as I roll down my window to the humid island air, trying to capture some footage of the scenery on my phone.
The road is curvy; palm trees bend and sway in the breeze.After leaving the airport behind, we drive along the stunning Maui coast. The west side of the island has some of its most famous beaches, and a bunch of the big-name hotels line Wailea Beach to the south, but Halia Falls is on the east side, one of the more remote resorts on the island, surrounded by a national park and forest reserve. At one point, the driver directs my attention away from the beaches to a waterfall cascading over the side of a mountain. “This road is iconic,” he tells me. “One of the most wondrous drives you’ll ever experience.”
I lean out the window and grab some more video for the Flowies feed. Forty minutes into the trip, and I’m already crushing this content.
The road slips away from the coastal views, in and out of rustic little towns, and then twists through miles of lush rainforest, crossing over narrow bridges and weaving between mountains. I’ve never experienced anything like this rolling sea of greens. It’s breathtaking, just as the driver promised.
Eventually we turn off the narrow road and wind through a secluded dirt pathway. As we crest the top of a hill, the ocean appears before us again, its clear green water breaking against a white sand beach. A small wooden sign welcomes us to Halia Falls Resort.
The car slows to a stop beside an estate nestled into the cliffside with plumeria shrubs lining the entrance, heavy with hot pink blossoms. The scents of fresh flowers and ocean air greet me as I step out of the car. I take a deep breath, the warm breeze making me feel slightly more human after my long flight, and the dappled sparkling of the sun through palm trees giving everything a magical, slightly surreal look.
A beautiful woman who looks about my age, with lightbrown skin and a lemon-yellow flower tucked into her long, dark hair, welcomes me. The two men beside her are both holding silver platters: one piled high with purple flowers, the other holding a lowball glass. The woman grabs a handful of flowers, which tumbles down to reveal a lei.
“Aloha. Welcome to Halia Falls.” She walks toward me and places the lei over my head. “I’m Ash. I’ll be your personal concierge throughout your stay. I’m here to make your time with us unforgettable, so if there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
She pulls a tablet from the inside pocket of her suit jacket and scrolls until she finds something on the screen. “I’ve got your info right here. Sybil Rain, right?”
I nod, still taking in the views from every direction, itching to snap photos of it all.
“A beautiful name. We have more than two hundred words for rain here in Hawaii,” she says. “We see it as a blessing. And it always brings rainbows.” Then she turns toward the man behind her holding the drink tray. Ice clinks as she plucks the glass from his platter. “This is the hotel’s signature cocktail: a passion fruit mai tai. Welcome to island time.” She winks, handing me the drink.
I lift the glass to her in a mock “cheers,” then take a sip. It’s tart and bright, the bitter bite of alcohol stinging my tongue before breaking open into sweetness. I let out an indecent groan. This drink tastes like vacation in a glass.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to your room.” She nods to one of the men behind her, who takes my suitcase. “We’ll make sure your bag meets you there.”
