Three Loving Words

I hate you. I heard those words so many times from his mouth that they lost their meaning. His “three loving words” is how I mockingly referred to them. It didn’t bother me, though, because I hated him, too. He was gorgeous, with dark tousled hair, full lips, a strong jaw, and a body deserving of a magazine cover. He was rich and cared for his mother deeply. On paper, he was the perfect husband. The problem? He was my husband. I dreamed of a fairytale love story for as long as I could remember. I dreamed of a boy to fall head over heels for me and treat me like the sun rose and set at my feet, especially after living in the shadow of my perfect sister and never feeling good enough for my family. When I decided to earn my parents’ love in a dramatic fashion, I’ll admit that I never imagined marrying him would end up part of the bargain. The kicker? Enzo Faust didn’t want to marry me, either. And yet, here we are, a man that I both fear and loathe is my “I do…for better or worse.” I just didn’t anticipate that it’d be more ‘worse’ than ‘better.’ I’m Paige Stiles, and here’s my story.