Page 30 of Not In Love

Sighing, Kash looked through the landing window.

Outside, the February sun was shining as if the military general bride had ordered it to be just so, to kick off the wedding events. The sky was a sharp, cloudless blue, the front windows throwing long slats of light onto the floor.

It was warm enough that someone had propped the back door open, and the fresh air carried with it a breeze of voices, flower samples, and music from someone’s Bluetooth speaker.

January had passed by in a blur—admin meetings for a reorg, patient consults, and a stretch of on-call nights that bled into days after one of her cardiologists quit.

As Kash came down, she discovered three folding tables set up in the dining room, five cousins in the backyard testing lighting angles, and piles of printed programs spread out across the kitchen island.

Wedding prep had overtaken her home.

“Thank you again, seriously,” Muriel said, brushing past her in a whirlwind of linen samples and colorful flash cards. “You’ve saved us from my mom’s backyard, which still has a patch of snow and two dying plastic flamingos.”

Kash shrugged, feeling grungy in her wrinkled sweats against Muriel’s stylish pale-yellow pantsuit. It hit her suddenly that this woman was going to be her sister-in-law. That she made her taciturn brother happy. “No problem at all,” she said, clearing her throat. “And honestly, I’m sorry if my reaction to your announcement was less than utter joy. All of January was like a fog and work was a lot.”

Muriel stared at her. Kash had the feeling that she was being probed. “I didn’t doubt for a second that you’re genuinely happy for me and Kaif.”

“That’s good,” Kash said, her throat prickly.

“Opening your house to this madness says more than any words could.”

“Right. I’m glad that’s sorted. Let me know when I should bring Tia to your cousin, the one that’s making the dresses.”

“Kaif has that duty,” Muriel said without missing a beat.

Kash hesitated, the one thing she wanted to know dancing on her lips, begging to be voiced out loud. “Did you—have you heard from Diego?” She tugged at the collar of her sweatshirt, pretending disinterest. “It’s just that he’s been gone for weeks, and Tia keeps asking.”

Muriel didn’t look surprised. If anything, there was something dangerously like sympathy in her eyes. It was a testament to how much she had changed in a few weeks that Kash didn’t run away screaming from that look. “I don’t have a specific date, but he won’t miss the wedding. So two more weeks at the most.”

Kash nodded, trying to keep her face neutral. She stepped aside as Muriel sailed toward the backyard, calling out for someone to double-check the floral arch measurements.

Kaif passed her on his way from the kitchen, a plastic tub with various knickknacks in his hand. “I hope you aren’t worrying about the house,” he said, looking far too serious. “It’s my job to ensure they aren’t denting or dinging anything.”

“I noticed,” Kash replied, and they shared a brief smile before he ducked past.

She was glad to have him back in Portland, looking to settle down permanently. But there was a cautiousness in his voice, in the way he hovered instead of sat, asked instead of assumed.

It had been years since they’d had the easy banter of childhood, and in the wake of Katrina’s death, that old rhythm had simply… gone missing. She didn’t know how to bring it back. Or if he even missed it, like she did.

“Okay!” Muriel called brightly, lifting her clipboard like a weapon of charm. “People, we only have two weekends before the wedding and less before my badass to-be-sister-in-law throws us out.”

Kash opened a can of soda and tucked herself into a corner of the dining room, happy to watch the whole chaotic scene unfold around her. A steady stream of sunlight poured through the bay window, warming the hardwood beneath her bare feet.

Two of Muriel’s friends were on the floor with swatches of fabric and spools of ribbon, debating bow sizes for the ceremony chairs. Tia was zipping around the house in a blur, a clipboard in hand and a sparkly pink pen tucked behind one ear, shouting things like “Muriel says ‘function before aesthetics’” and “As the only flower girl, my look has to be flawless.”

Kash laughed, set her can down and reached for the guest favors Muriel had dropped off in bulk—tiny glass jars meant to be filled with spiced chai blends. Based on the recipe list tacked on the box, she began scooping measured amounts of cardamom, cinnamon, dried ginger, and cloves into them.

The actions were repetitive, and oddly soothing. But the warm sweetness of the cardamom, and the lingering bite of the ginger inevitably brought a memory of him. Of that rainy Sunday in December when Diego had made chai for her just the way she liked it.

Not that she needed a reminder to think of him when he pervaded her every waking thought.

“Papa!”

Tia’s voice rang out from the front hall, high and thrilled.

Kash froze, the spoon in her hand suspended mid-air. It was like she’d conjured him straight out of her thoughts. The fog she’d mentioned to Muriel lifted, as easily as if someone had wiped a dirty window. Her stomach rolled as she tilted her head to catch a glance of him past the people crowding him.

He looked… good. Better than good.

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