Page 34 of I Love You, It’s Ruining My Life

“I have nowhere to wear that dress,” I said, shaking my head.

“So?” Cassidy asked, “That’s part of the fun! And you’ll look like a princess!” It was sad to say I fell to peer pressure from a ten-year-old, but I agreed to go look and see if they had it in my size. Which, of course, they did. And when I tried it on, it fit like a glove. It accentuated my body perfectly, and while the cutouts across the sides had me worried, I didn’t look like a preschooler had taken a pair of scissors and destroyed the dress. It was the kind of attire that required a formal event like a red carpet or a charity gala. Maybe a fancy wedding, but nobody in Briar Hill had those. It wasn’t the kind of dress a teacher would ever wear — it was the kind of dress school districts would debate whether students should be allowed to wear it to prom.

I debated calling out that it didn’t fit and leaving it, but Cassidy’s shopping excitement was infectious. I went out, only to find Kam staring at me like I was some sort of mystical creature. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and I was instantly self–conscious. It was one thing to wear it expecting Cassidy; it was completely different for the man I’d kissed and was trying to platonically live with.

“See, I told you that you’d look amazing!” Cassidy squealed as she looked at me, “Purple is your color, and you need to wear so much more of it.”

“Yeah, it definitely is,” I said, looking at myself in the mirror and trying to ignore the burning of my cheeks under the weight of Kam’s stare. The sparkly accents kept catching my eye as I turned to look at myself from all angles. “It was fun to try on,” I said, trying not to sound too disappointed, “But we’ll have to put it back. I don’t think I’ll ever have a place to wear this.”

“Nalini, everyone needs an emergency formal dress,” Cassidy lectured with a sly smile, “What if you get invited to something where you need it?”

“Teachers don’t get invited to places like that,” I said, shaking my head, trying to let her down softly. It made sense Julia would’ve needed an emergency formal dress — she'd been an Olympian, and Kam was a rockstar; they had plenty of surprise events where that might be necessary. “The fanciest party I’ve ever been to was an Ugly Sweater party.”

“Yikes,” Cassidy deadpanned, her face full of disgust, “That’s just tragic. And more of a reason you need an emergency dress, so you can actually go out and find a reason to wear it.”

“How about I put it back for now, think about it, and if I still want it when my insurance money comes, we’ll come back and buy it?” I offered, figuring it was a good way to keep the girl from pushing harder for me to get a dress that didn’t make sense for me to own. No matter how silky it felt against my skin, or how much my eyes were pulled to my reflection in the mirror. Maybe in another life, I would've had a reason. As a bestselling author at a book ball, or something along those lines — in a life that was so different than the one I currently had. A life that was a giant “what-if” I’d actually followed my dreams instead of letting Jack win.

But now the “what-ifs” included how perfect this shopping trip felt with both Kam and Cassidy. We were still dancing around the kiss, not sure whether or not we should pretend it never happened. I had to keep telling myself it wasn’t going to happen in the long run, not when there was so much baggage the two of them were working through. Even if my imagination kept wondering what it'd be like if I ended up being wrong.

Chapter twenty-six

Kameron

Adding Nalini to the household had gone so seamlessly, it felt like she’d been living here for months instead of a few days. I’d tried to force her to relax and decompress, but I still found her doing dishes or tidying up. Not to mention, her search for a new place to live was leading her nowhere, and it was starting to feel like it might become a problem. One that involved kissing her again, when I wasn’t sure if we should.

That problem was only made worse by the fact the purple dress she'd tried on was sitting in a bag in my closet.

I hadn’t intended to get it; it was clear she didn’t have a place to wear it, and buying it was probably overstepping. Nalini was justifiably trying to stay on a budget, and I appreciated she'd been worried about both our bank accounts. While I could help her out in an emergency without things getting tight, I appreciated she didn’t take my card and run. My earlier fears of her only wanting my money after the book incident were all resolved — and I was starting to think she might’ve been joking about me buying those books, and I’d felt so guilty I didn’t clock it. But the dress? It was made for her. The purple highlighted the warmth of her brown skin, the fit made her look like a goddess, and the fact she’d never owned something that nice was the final straw before I snuck back and bought it. I knew Nalini was practical and would never buy something for herself unless she saw an immediate need for it.

Christmas was coming up, and I knew I could give it to her as a present. But now I was second-guessing myself and wondering if it’d be perceived as some sort of romantic gesture. Especially when a large part of me wanted it to be.

I was glad I had a therapy session later where I could start to unpack the knot of conflicting emotions I felt every time I saw her. I wanted to be honest with Nalini. I agreed she shouldn’t be a replacement for Julia, but I also wanted to treat the woman who’d breathed life back into me with something beautiful.

My emotions seemed at war with each other, and I needed to find some way to start getting them out. Without thinking, I pulled out my guitar and started playing. It was the first time I’d touched the instrument since Julia passed, and time felt like it stood still. A melody and chord progression that had been a whisper in the back of my head for months leaped onto the strings, and before long, a notebook was laid out on my bed so I could jot down thoughts on lyrics. I didn’t know how long I’d worked as the song came out, a song about feeling something new and the guilt that came from moving on. I hadn’t written anything in years; I’d forgotten the way they poured out of me.

When I finally stood up, my body reminded me I was thirty-two and not twenty-one. My back was screaming, my legs were numb, and I was certain I should’ve gone to the bathroom an hour ago. I needed to stretch or else my back would start spasming, and my fingers were burning from the ghosts of long-gone callouses and the friction of the guitar strings.

There was something about writing in this house that brought back some of the magic we had when RaineFall first started. It reminded me of how things used to be, how maybe if we actually worked on our issues, it might be again.

I headed into the kitchen to make myself lunch, finding Nalini settled on the couch with my laptop open and checklists surrounding her.

“I didn’t realize you still wrote songs,” she said, dipping the grilled cheese she’d burned into a bowl of tomato soup, “I heard you playing.”

“How’d you know I was writing?” I asked, walking into the kitchen to find something to eat.

“I was there for you writing like half of Fire & Raine,“ Nalini chuckled. “I remember what your process sounded like.” I hadn’t realized my songwriting process was obvious or she’d be able to clock exactly what I was doing. She’d been the first listener to so many of our songs, long before we signed our record deal or our first concert tarnished her name.

Nalini probably would’ve been our biggest fan if Jack hadn’t thrown it all into the fire. I wasn’t sure how long it’d be before he got out of rehab and got his devices back. But if we were going to move on, I had to make sure he wouldn’t do it again. That he wouldn’t torch the things or people who were important to us just because he was hurt. Nalini was the biggest example of it happening, but it wasn’t the only one. He’d have to work with us, instead of against us.

“I actually haven’t written in a while,” I admitted, staring at the poor pan she’d made her grilled cheese in, and I wondered how so much of the burned bread had somehow fused itself to it. ”I’m not sure if it’s going to go anywhere,” I continued before deciding to make PB&J, “or if it’s just going to be for me.”

“No big solo career?” Nalini teased, “I guess that’s not the best idea. Jack would probably take it personally.”

“Probably,” I agreed, “but I’m working towards not thinking about whether or not he approves of my decisions. But even then, I don’t have what it takes to be a solo artist. I loved RaineFall, I loved being a trio, but being the only center of attention? I can pass.”

“You’re the only person I know who’d say playing a tour of sold-out stadiums wasn’t being the center of attention,” Nalini pointed out as I walked back in with my sandwich. “Everyone was there to see all three of you. And I might not have followed closely, and I may have blocked every single RaineFall fan account on social media. But I have no doubt you were as important to the success of the band as your brothers were. They wouldn’t have had their songs if it weren’t for you.”

“I thought you were RaineFall’s biggest hater,” I jokingly scoffed, “With that kind of title, I don’t think you’re supposed to be saying nice things to their songwriter.”