Page 3 of Of Pucking Course

My heart thunders in my chest. She’s stunning.

I take in Jake’s crooked tie and the rumpled jacket of his tux. His shaggy hair hangs in his face. He looks like a disheveled mess standing next to Dakota, who looks like a goddess. Did he even bother to get his hair cut for today? Or brush it? It’s his wedding reception for fuck’s sake.

I focus on Dakota’s face. Her cheeks are blotchy, andher eyes look the slightest bit puffy. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach her beautiful brown eyes.

My chest aches. She looks like she’s pretending to be happy, struggling to keep it together.

That’s not how she should look. She should be bursting with joy. She should be flashing the giddiest smile, her heart in her eyes. Instead, she looks like she’s trying not to cry.

Everyone gathers around Jake and Dakota at the cake table. He grabs a silver cake cutter and slices a small piece from the bottom layer. The photographer slowly walks around them, snapping photos.

Jake picks up the piece of cake and holds it up while staring at Dakota. A weird grin spreads across his face.

Dakota’s tight smile starts to fade. She starts to shake her head, but a second later, Jake smashes the piece of cake in her face.

She stumbles, her back hitting the wall behind her. Jake just stands there and laughs. The entire crowd gasps, then goes quiet.

And me? All I see is red.

This motherfucker just smashed a piece of cake in Dakota’s face when she made it clear she didn’t want him to.

This piece of shit just humiliated his wife in front of all their family and friends.

I ball my fists at my sides, rage coursing through me as I stomp over to him.

Fuck trying to be the bigger man. Fuck trying to be a polite guest. I’m going to pound this motherfucker’s face in.

Chapter 2

Dakota

Istand there staring at Jake, in total shock.

My husband just smashed our wedding cake in my face. After I made it clear to him that I didn’t want him to do that.

The heat of everyone’s stare burns into me. He did this, without hesitation, in front of all our family and friends…

I study the smile on his face, how hard he’s laughing. At me and my humiliation.

Invisible flames of embarrassment crawl up my chest and cheeks. I blink, and my eyes burn with the tears I’ve been struggling to hold back.

I think back to all the conversations we had about this. I told him multiple times that I wasn’t comfortable with a cake smash to the face. And yet he still did it.

The gears in my brain clank together as the realization hits me: my husband is perfectly okay with disrespecting me and humiliating me in front of my family and friends. And I shouldn’t be surprised. Because that’s how he’s been our entire relationship.

He’s always ignored my needs. He’s always ignored what I wanted.

I think back to the day that he suggested we elope. I was working on the seating chart for our wedding when he announced that it would be way more fun if we got married, just the two of us. My heart sank. I’ve always dreamed about having a romantic outdoor wedding, ever since I was a little girl. I wanted a big wedding so I could celebrate with all my family and friends. And I told him that.

But then he pulled me into a hug, kissed me, and said, “Come on, babe. Do it for me, will you?”

So I pushed aside my feelings and went along with it. He seemed so excited about the idea of eloping—way more excited than he was about having a wedding. So I gave in to him.

He found a random chapel outside of Denver that performed quickie weddings. We got married there just a few weeks ago by some drunk old guy who stumbled his way through the ceremony. He could barely fill out the marriage license.

Just thinking about it now makes me want to sob. I can’t remember the last time Jake made me smile. But I can think of a million times he made me cry.

Like when he broke up with me right before my birthday months ago. And when he didn’t show up to my family’s Christmas dinner, even though he promised he would. And when he made a snide comment about how I was “just a kindergarten teacher” in the middle of an argument about splitting bills when we first moved in together. And when he said he didn’t like the way I did my makeup for our reception.

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