Three Loving Words

by DC Renee

  “Neither do you,” I answered with the only thing my fuzzy mind could think of. He laughed in my face.

  “If you really thought that way, you would stop staring at me like I’m the answer to all your prayers.”

  “You arrogant bastard! You’re my worst nightmare. I can’t live the life I always dreamed of because I’m stuck here with you. And today … today, I finally had a good day in a long fucking time.” And here came the cursing … only with Enzo. “But I should have known better than to dwell on it because the minute I’m around you, everything goes to shit.”

  “Why the hell did you have a good day?”

  “It doesn’t fucking matter! What matters is that no one can be happy around you. You kill everyone’s spirit. You kill my spirit. I hate you, Enzo. I fucking hate you!”

  That hadn’t been the first time I felt that way, but it had been the first time I’d said the words to him. He should have been used to them since he said them every other day, but he wasn’t. The way his eyes blazed was a clear indication that I had pushed yet another button; one I didn’t think I’d ever pushed before. Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling so bold. In fact, I was petrified. I had played with the bull thinking I wasn’t wearing red, but I had a feeling that this bull was about to see red no matter what.

  “You fucking … you …” He pointed his finger at me and I shivered, visibly shying away from him. He narrowed his eyes, but the fire in them grew hotter. “You ... your fucking fault … and you dare … you …” It was as if his thoughts were jumbled. He stepped back, his body wound tight; I noticed his hands balled into fists. I didn’t even have time to blink before he stepped back, his arm raised. My body screamed to cover itself, to protect my head, my ribs, anything that he’d try to connect with. The punch didn’t come, but the loud noise did. He had turned at the last possible second and slammed his fist into the wall by my head. The force of it was enough to leave a dent in the drywall. I jumped back and hugged myself, preparing for the next strike to land, maybe this time on me. I knew I had closed my eyes because I never saw him walk away or heard his footsteps over the blood pounding in my head, but when I opened my eyes, I was alone. I abandoned the chicken and made it to my room just in time for the tears to come.

  *****

  You know how time seemed to be really finicky when you really needed it to be constant? I was not referring to the steady rhythm of the second hand or the clock that ran a little fast. I was talking about how it seemed to stand still or crawl when you needed it to be the next day already, or when you looked up from your work and wondered, “Where did the time go?” As I blubbered in my room, my entire body a nervous, frightened ball of frustration, time stood still. I vaguely heard noises in the house, but I was too wrapped up in myself and the level of being scared from what I had just undergone to truly care about anything but my own self-pity. I swore the night had come and passed as I pondered how I got myself into this mess, how right Nora was, how horrible my husband could be, and more importantly, how I managed to avoid the beating I was sure I was going to get from Enzo.

  When I looked at the clock, only about two hours had passed. It wasn’t even fully dark outside. The way my mind had been processing everything, I would have bet my life I had been sitting in that position for days, not two hours. The only reason I had even taken a break from my thoughts was because my stomach had so kindly reminded me that I hadn’t eaten after all.

  I opened the door quietly and listened for sounds. To an outsider, I probably looked like the girl in the opening scene of a horror movie – the one who got killed moments after you finished yelling, “Don’t open the door,” at the screen. It should have been a premonition for me, but I didn’t listen to my overactive imagination. When everything sounded quiet, I made my way to the kitchen but stopped short when I saw Enzo sitting at the table. Should have listened to the moviegoers, I told myself. He looked up, but the expression on his face was blank. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, and I took a step back, preparing myself to hide, cower, run – anything to get away from Enzo.

  As he watched me, I saw the emotions flicker in his eyes, but I couldn’t tell what they were. Maybe I refused to see them for what they seemed. He couldn’t have shown me pain and regret, I reasoned, unless it was because he married me, but I already knew that. That steeled my spine just a fraction, but it was enough to visibly stand up straighter. We continued to stare at each other, neither wanting to be the first to look away and admit defeat in this little battle we were fighting.

  He shifted his hand and I lost the staring contest as my eyes automatically moved to where his hand had been, and they zeroed in on what he was doing. He was eating my food! The nerve of that guy. Given I hadn’t finished cooking everything when he had taken my good moment from me, and now, it looked like a presentable meal – a partially eaten presentable meal. I narrowed my eyes and opened my mouth to offer him a snide remark, but as my eyes roamed up to his hand, I bit my tongue. His hand was swollen, a deep pink shade, and his knuckles were missing some skin. From the looks of it, I was pretty sure he had hit his hand more than just the one time I heard. It needed attention, that much I knew, and the way he was moving it a little awkwardly while trying to hold his fork was proof that it bothered him. I should have felt satisfied that he was in pain; I should have felt happy that he had done that to himself. I should have whispered, “Serves him right,” but I didn’t do any of those things. I was not even sure why.

  I had lost my appetite at some point, most likely when I first spotted Enzo in the kitchen, but I didn’t want him to know I was leaving without fulfilling my purpose because he scared me away. I went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. I could feel his eyes trained on the back of my head, and it was a bit unnerving, causing me to take extra time to grab a simple bottle of water. I closed the fridge and was about to turn away, but at the last minute, I opened the freezer and grabbed an ice pack. He didn’t deserve my kindness, however little it was, but I was still me, and I couldn’t let his hand go without at least the minimum amount of care. I walked past him and dropped the ice pack on the table beside his hand without saying a word. I tried not to look at his face for his reaction; I tried not to even care, but I glanced quickly as I continued to walk away. I read something that looked an awful lot like shock across his features. I had made it to the end of the kitchen when he called out my name.

  “Paige.” He spoke it a little loudly as if I had been farther away than I truly was.

  I stopped without turning, not bothering with a response.

  “There’s actually enough for two.” His words were so sincere that it stopped the laugh that bubbled up inside me. He was giving me an open invitation to share a meal, a meal I had technically prepared. I knew there was enough for two when I had originally told him there wasn’t. I hadn’t wanted to share it with him, but something about the earnest look in his eyes and the way his words almost sounded pleading made me stop the snide remark that was on the tip of my tongue.

  I found myself nodding before I grabbed myself a plate and sat next to Enzo. With his battered hand, he put some food on my plate. I lowered my head and smiled slightly to myself. It had been the most endearing thing I had ever seen from Enzo. That was how low my expectations were.

  We ate in complete silence, the awkwardness between us so palpable, I was sure you could reach out and touch it. Yet somehow, it felt like a step, but to where? That was unknown.

  Enzo finished his dinner before I did, but he sat for another minute staring at his empty plate. I wondered what he was thinking as he did this, but I didn’t dare ask. Finally, he seemed to snap out of his trance and got up with his plate and silverware. I must say I was slightly amazed that he had the manners to put his plate in the sink, especially considering the lack of manners I’d observed in almost every other department.

  He turned back to the table and my head slowly lifted so my eyes met his. He waited until he was sure he had my attention before he spoke.
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  “I never have nor will I ever hit a girl … not even you.”

  He left me there with my mouth agape. If there was one thing I learned about Enzo, he seemed to keep his word, and that had been another silent promise to me.

  *****

  The first time we had to go to a family function together as a “happy couple” was shortly after that shocking incident. That entire event had rattled me for the next week. I couldn’t merge the two sides of Enzo I had seen. I didn’t know what it was about him that had me running for the hills and feeling a tiny bit of compassion if and when he allowed a bit of vulnerability to pass through his eyes. He was a cruel human being, one who had done unspeakable things to me against my wishes, one who had made my fragile confidence constantly waver, yet there were moments when I actually didn’t fear him. There were moments when I could imagine meeting him in a different universe and finding him charming. According to the dozens of women who screamed his name on a weekly basis, he had to have some endearing qualities. I was just never lucky enough to have them directed at me.

  It was while I was in this confused state that Enzo announced we were going to a charity event that his family was hosting. Of course, they went to charity events. I rolled my eyes. People with money and nothing to do seemed to always hit up charity events, not that there was anything wrong with them, but they were reserved for the upper-class members of society. And I was anything but upper class.

  “I’m not going,” I told him.

  “It wasn’t a question.”

  “Yeah, well, it should have been, and my answer is no.”

  “I think you’re forgetting, little girl, that I call the shots and if I say we’re going to a charity event, then we’re going. End of story.”

  “You’ll just wish I wasn’t there!” I screamed at his retreating back. He halted in his tracks, turning right around with a venom in his eyes scarier than any poisonous snake I had ever heard of.

  “You’re going to buy a nice, fancy dress. You’re going to get your hair and makeup done if you don’t know how to do it on your own. You’re going to dote on me and act every bit the loving wife you should be.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “You really want to challenge me?” I gulped, the air lodging in my throat and preventing me from speaking. His tone had been menacing and his posture promised retribution; I was scared out of my mind, yet I still wanted to stand up for myself. But he was right. I wasn’t sure what he’d do, but I didn’t want to challenge him. It was ironic considering he had promised never to touch and never to hit me, so what could he really do? It was not as if my life was a peach and I was worried he’d take it away from me. I was already miserable. How much worse could it get?

  One look into his eyes told me that he’d somehow manage to make it much worse; maybe not physically or even to the obvious eye, but he’d make things even worse.

  “And you?” I half-whispered my only remaining challenger.

  “And me what?”

  “Are you going to be every bit the loving husband you should be?”

  I saw his eyes scan mine, jumping from one to the other as he narrowed his own. I was being defiant the only way I could, yet my question was actually sincere. If he treated me with fake love, sure, it would be make-believe, but for one night, I would get to live in a fantasy world, one where I married the love of my life and all my childhood dreams came true.

  “Yeah, whatever.” He said it so nonchalantly that I didn’t believe him, but my dumb, romantic heart didn’t care. I was going to get some sort of love, and I was going to take it however it came. A backward Cinderella story in the making.

  “And make sure you wear your wedding ring,” he added before he walked away. “Whenever we go to these things, always wear it.”

  “Only on these occasions?” I regretted the words the minute they hit my lips, but with everything Enzo complained about, I couldn’t fathom that he hadn’t laid into me for not wearing it before.

  “I never thought much about rings.” He shrugged. “You could take them off as easily as you put them on. But for pretenses, wear it. I will, too.”

  He was a puzzle. The things that bothered him, the things that didn’t … he was an enigma, but if that was one less fight to have with him, I was thankful. Who was I to question small favors?

  Eight

  Enzo

  My dad had made it very clear. I had to appear happy; I had to put on a front that all was well in the world between Paige and myself. I was starting to get tired of these games he was playing with my life, but I didn’t really have a choice.

  The evening had started poorly. I knocked on Paige’s door to let her know we were leaving.

  “I’m giving you five more minutes before I open the door and drag you out.” One thing I learned thanks to my mom was that women took forever to get ready, and no amount of threatening could make them hurry up. I needed her to look good so I wasn’t barging in unless there was an emergency.

  Her attitude lately had been unnerving. She had often been smiling and humming softly when she didn’t think I was around. I noticed, though, and it pissed me off. I wanted to know what in the hell had put her in such a good mood. Part of me was upset that she was in a good mood in the first place. What right did she have to be happy? She should be miserable every day of her life. Another part of me liked to listen to her sing under her breath, yet I hated myself for liking it. And a final part of me wasn’t too keen on the fact that some outside influence had made her so carefree. It was my right and my right alone to do that to her.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised by her response to my demand given her demeanor of late, but when I heard her sing out, “Coming,” like I had been some date waiting to take her out, I could feel my jaw hang slightly open. It fell to the floor the minute she opened the door.

  I had seen plenty of beautiful women dressed to the nines in expensive dresses with professional hair and makeup. I had been with most of those women and always appreciated the arm candy purpose they served as well as the bedroom skills they always seemed to possess. Nothing, none of those women from my past, could have prepared me for the sight before me. The zipper at the front of my pants was straining, my arousal was probably evident in space, but Paige didn’t seem to notice. Her bright eyes shined with an enthusiasm that I had never seen on her before. It made the deep blue hue shimmer. She had light makeup on, but more than I had ever seen on her since the wedding and it enhanced her very delicate features. Her hair fell in ringlets around her shoulders, with a few wisps falling perfectly on her breasts, drawing attention to an area I shouldn’t want my eyes to travel to. And the dress was a black strapless gown that had some kind of sheer gauze material that bunched at random intervals along her bodice. The bottom flared out a bit with strips of that same gauzy material hanging down to form some kind of train.

  It wasn’t designer, and from the conversation I overheard her having with someone, it was a steal; something she had been proud of from the squealing noises she had made when she had told the person on the phone about it. I had never known a girl who didn’t brag about the amount she spent rather than the amount she didn’t spend. I wasn’t sure at the time whether I should be impressed or concerned. The same still stood true.

  If a man could describe the dress you were wearing in the amount of detail I just did, it was because he scanned the hell out of it. There were only two reasons for that – he was either gay and was admiring it or he was envisioning every inch of you under it. For me, it was the latter. The way it hugged her every curve and cinched her in places my hands itched to touch had me groaning.

  She had done me proud, but a very tiny caveman part of my brain hated that I wasn’t going to be the only guy ogling her. I clenched my hands into fists to prevent myself from slamming the wall by the door. I had no reason to feel that way. No reason! I hated Paige. I hated the way she looked, how enticing she was, how badly I wanted to taste her, how sweet she seemed, how she made
me feel like such a bastard, how feisty her personality was, how she made me marry her, and how she was responsible for all this. I didn’t give a damn if others found her attractive. Let them! I didn’t fucking care! Yet I did. Because you have to play the role of husband, I reasoned.

  “If you embarrass me, I’ll make you pay,” I gritted through my teeth.

  She narrowed her eyes at me for a fraction of a second before she visibly shook her head and plastered a smile back on her face. “Don’t worry, Enzo. Tonight will be perfect.” The way she said it with a dreamy smile on her face made me actually believe it as well. The next thing I knew, I was smiling too.

  Nine

  Paige

  As we left the house, Enzo was finally in a good mood. He had been in a foul mood since … well, forever, but more so over the past week. He hadn’t said a word to me on the way to the charity event, which was held at some museum. We rode in a Town Car and I was pretty giddy for that. It had been my first time being “chauffeured.” I knew it was all a ruse, but I was going to pretend it wasn’t until I absolutely had to face reality.

  I felt like a princess. When Tami saw me trying to find a dress online for under one hundred dollars, she tsked and said, “Oh darlin’, you ain’t gonna find nothing good on the web. I’ll take ya to my favorite shops tomorrow and we’ll get ya sumthing good.”

  I loved her accent. If I was feeling bad, I just had to go talk to her and she cheered me right up. And she was true to her word. She took me to some seedy looking shops in a part of town I probably didn’t want to be in, but once inside, I was awed. They had dresses that rivaled any runway and all at a fraction of the cost. When I put on a black gown with ruffled chiffon at the second stop, I knew I had found the one.

  The way Enzo looked at me when he first saw me; I knew I had chosen right. I was going to be the perfect wife, if only for a night. When we arrived at the museum, there was someone waiting to open the car door for me. If Cinderella had been real, she would have been me minus the Prince Charming and add in Prince Asshole. When the guy held my hand to help me out, I probably gripped his hand too tightly, nervous for the evening. He didn’t seem to mind, but that was probably because it was his job. He smiled jovially at me and gave me a wink before his eyes took in my dress.