Page 34 of Notorious Man on Campus

“I’m sorry.” The words gush like a firehose trying to put out a fire long after the building’s been burnt to the ground. They’re not words I say often because I’m not often so out of control, but I mean them.

When he turns to me, his expression is like a punch to my gut, angry and hurt. Mostly hurt. I take a deep breath and wish he’d punch me again because it would be far easier than this, than seeing his pain, than feeling like I betrayed him. Did I?

“Why? Why would you do this? Ruin our wedding?” His words twist me, strangling my ability to speak, but I know I need to.

“I’m a sick bastard. You knew that, right? I … shouldn’t have.” It’s the truth. As close as I can come to baring my soul. Admitting I’m sick, but not admitting I’m afraid. I think about the flask of whiskey, but I can’t blame it on drinking. I’ve been drunk before and never lost it. I wait in the few beats of silence and, with the pain of loss searing through me, I turn to Glory. I know I owe her an apology too, but this one is harder. She’s not my friend, but Kace claims he loves her. Acts like he’s crazy about her, like the perfect example of what they call crazy in love. Doesn’t he know it’s irrational and makes you foolish? Most of all, that it doesn’t last?

Nyla squeezes my arm and I dart my eyes to hers. She’s still at my side, one step removed, but reading my mind. Her head tilts a micromillimeter in the direction of Glory. I don’t move. All eyes are on me and I clear my throat. My chest is too tight, but facing Glory, I say it anyway.

“I’m sorry I ruined your wedding.”

She smiles, of all things. “Don’t worry, the wedding isn’t over yet. It’s not ruined. In fact, years from now it’ll be a helluva story to tell our grandkids. You’ll enjoy telling it to them, I think.” Kace stands and, with a besotted look, he takes Glory in his arms and kisses her like there’s no tomorrow.

The weight of her words knock me back a step. She’s talking about me being around in thirty years to talk to her grandkids, like our friendship will last. Like her marriage will last. I shake my head, but I don’t tell her she’s crazy.

Who the fuck am I to talk?

It’s time to leave them, to get out of the confines of the vestibule. Even though I wanted to hear the forgiveness from Kace, it hits me that he needed to hear it from Glory. With Nyla returning to my side, holding onto my arm, I leave and close the door behind us. We meet the wise old minister on the side of the dais, in front of all the murmuring guests who watch us like we’re a sideshow. But I don’t give a shit about what the crowd thinks.

Except Majik. My eyes scan over the crowd of guests, ignoring their hostile stares, until I spot her. She’s her usual stoic self and I’m relieved and bothered at the same time, but I suck it up and take center stage. My steps sound loud on the hardwood floor, echoing off the towering ceiling as the chapel falls silent.

The place may as well be empty except for one person and I fix my stare on her. Majik watches me, unblinking, no hint at what she’s thinking. And of all the things about this scene that could make me nervous, not knowing what she thinks of me right now is the one and only thing that does. It shouldn’t, but it does, even more than what Kace thinks, because he’s half forgiven me already, and not what Nyla thinks because she wears her heart on her sleeve and I have plenty of warning to be wary of her certain danger.

It’s Majik who I fear and I shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter if she rejects me because she’s nothing but our house cook, because I’m leaving at the end of the year and I’ll never see her again anyway. My heart trips and falls through my gut like lead and the sudden pain in my chest halts me before I get to the podium. I can’t think about Majik. She’s not my mother or my stepmother or even a mother figure in spite of what the guys say about her, calling her their mom away from home.

I never have. I look away from her and face away from the audience of guests I don’t give a damn about. I focus on the door at the back of the church and the small exit sign above it.

“I’m sorry I interrupted Kace and Glory’s wedding. I realize now this was no time to express my personal views on marriage and weddings. It was a stupid idea and useless, since we all know that Kace and Glory would end up married no matter what anyone else thinks or says or does. They’re hopeless romantics.” A smattering of laughs relieves the tension in the room, but it does nothing to relieve me. My chest remains tight as if Cupid has his pudgy arms wrapped around my heart and is squeezing with all his might in retribution. I turn to the minister and nod. “Please resume. Don’t mind me.” Now there’s applause along with the laughs and shouts and I pass Kace on my way to the vestibule with my eye on the exit. He stops me with a low, angry voice.

“Don’t you dare leave.”

So I veer right and take my place with the groomsmen, standing next to Dylan, and keep my mouth shut, suffering my penance as the excruciating exchange of vows rambles on. Nyla sits with Majik, and no matter how hard I try to avoid looking at the pair, I still see them, even when I close my eyes.

They’re my twin judges, my conscience incarnate, my guilt personified and I don’t even believe myself as I repeat the mantra in my head. I don’t care what they think. They don’t matter.

As soon as the ceremony is over and Kace and Glory rush back up the aisle, safely away from me, I leave through the back door and walk to the reception by myself. Not even Dylan tries to stop me. After I reach the Inn and cross the patio, I enter the decked-out ballroom through the open French doors. Once inside, I head straight for the bar. Except for a ten-minute command performance with the bridal party for the photograph session, I remain with a drink in hand at the furthest corner of the bar closest to the doors, trying not to let my mind wander into the last wedding I attended when I was seven years old. Three months after my mother left us forever.

Lucky for me, the bartender and every man and boy at the wedding, along with a few young ladies, are SPU football fans and keep me occupied with football talk. Dylan and Roman visit with me, checking in like school counselors to see how I’m doing.

“You might consider slowing down with the drinking or at least switch to beer,” Dylan says. Considering he’s half lit himself and Allie is holding him up, my response to him is my raised middle finger. He snorts. “That’s what I figured you’d say, but Allie put me up to it.” She stomps on his foot and he objects and they start bickering as they, thank fuck, leave me alone.

When we all sit down for the meal, I manage to make a quick toast without making any new enemies or enhancing my notorious reputation any further.

“To the bride and groom,” I say, “I hope all your dreams for wedded bliss and a happy ever after come true.” I waste no time downing my drink directly before I utter the words that come next, on the edge of spilling from my dark soul. But I don’t believe in dreams of happy ever after.

It doesn’t take me long to eat because I don’t eat much and I excuse myself to take up my post at the bar as soon as I see someone’s uncle standing there so I’m not the first. My reprieve is short-lived when I see Majik headed my way before dessert. The band starts playing again as she reaches me.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I say. It’s open bar. I smirk. My mind is more than a little fuzzy around the edges and that’s where I aim to keep it until I hit my bed tonight.

“You can dance with Nyla,” she says. Fuck. I frown. One unfortunate side-effect of getting seriously buzzed is my filter for facial expression is next to nonexistent.

“Why? There are plenty of—”

“Do it. And switch to ice water for a while so I don’t have to drag you to your room and put you to bed.” Fuck. She sounds like… someone’s mother might sound. And I feel like an errant little boy. I grin at her because I know she could do it, could drag me across the floor and down the hallway to my room if she had to.

“Does that grin mean you’ll do as I ask?” She’s still expressionless, but I can tell she’s amused more than annoyed.

“Anything you say… Mom.” There’s a beat of silence as she looks at me and my heart thuds faster as I hold my breath, surprised at what spilled from my fucking mouth. Another beat goes by before a slow uptick hits the one corner of her mouth and she swats me on the arm.