Page 1 of The Problem with Dating
Prologue
Iwinced because, even though I had been prepared for the sting, it still stung like a sonofabitch.
But then, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
I had known the second I had forgotten Mayor Garrison’s wife’s name that Marco was going to lose his shit over the slight. Even though everyone else had been gracious about it, to Marco, it had been an embarrassing oversight, and that was one thing he didn’t tolerate.
Public perfection was a must.
As a city councilman for Bratton, California, public appearances were everything. It didn’t matter that, at the age of thirty-five, he still hadn’t risen above a city councilman. It didn’t matter that politics in the small town of Bratton weren’t cutthroat with excitement. It didn’t matter that he’ll probably never be voted into anything higher than one of Bratton’s city councilmen. Marco thought he was someone important. And looking at him, you might think he was.
Marco Romano was six-foot-one of immaculate perfection. His dark brown hair was always cut and styled by a professional. His suits were always tailored to fit his tall, muscular frame. He had dark brown eyes, and a face that made you take a second look. Marco actually looked like the younger version of Alessio Boni, the actor. He was simply a good-looking man.
He was also an abusive asshole who I was unfortunately married to.
Replacing the bloody alcohol pad with a fresh one, I dabbed at the split that now cut across my lower lip and cursed inwardly. Split lips were a bitch because, until they healed completely, you had to deal with the possibility of them splitting open again every time you opened your mouth. And God help you if you liked salty foods.
Now, granted, this was the first time I’ve had to deal with a split lip this severe before, but I’ve had them before. As a kid, I’d been wild. I had taken after my dad in all things tough, much to my mother’s dismay. Rather than play dress-up or hold fake tea parties with my dolls, I had been helping my dad do the yard, change the oil on our cars, or just roughhousing. So, I’ve known broken arms, stubbed toes, sprained ankles, and, yes, split lips.
Looking in the mirror, and dabbing the cut, this has, however, been the first time I’ve experienced a split lip at the hands of another human being.
The bathroom door swinging open caused me to jump in surprise. “What the hell’s taking you so long?”
“The bleeding won’t stop,” I replied casually.
“Quit being dramatic, Echo,” Marco huffed. “It’s not that big of a deal.” He believed that, too. Marco believed that, as long as it wasn’t a closed fist, it wasn’t that big of a deal. At least, that’s how he explained it the first time he hit me, a little over eight months ago.
Three months after we’d gotten married.
However, he was wrong. He didn’t get to dictate what was acceptable for my body or peace of mind. But then, a lot of Marco’s philosophies hadn’t started to take form until after we had gotten married. Apparently, being Marco Romano’s girlfriend was quite a difference experience from being his wife.
I stopped cleaning up my cut and turned to look at him. “It is a big deal, Marco,” I told him. “Abuse, inanyform, is a big deal.”
“Getting slapped around because you don’t know how to act in public is a far cry from abuse, Echo,” he shot back. “Quit being weak.” Before I could tell him to go fuck himself, he added, “If you’d just get your shit together, I wouldn’t need to discipline you.”
I looked at my husband of not even a year and said, “I told you what would happen if you ever hit me again.”
He had the nerve to smirk. “And where are you going to go, Echo? To your parents? To one of your friend’s houses?”
The bastard.
Both my parents had died in a car wreck three years ago, shortly before I had started dating Marco, and I didn’t have any friends. Marco had taken me in during my grief, and I’ve known nothing else since. I didn’t even have a job because Marco needed a wife and homemaker, not a career woman.
“I’m not helpless,” I informed him.
“And what makes you think I’ll let you leave?” he asked menacingly.
This time, I was the one who smirked. “My ace in the hole, Marco,” I replied. “My ace.”
Chapter 1
Echo - (Three Years Later)~
How early was too early to drink?
As I looked around the lonely, empty house, boxes scattered everywhere, I knew the next few months were going to be rough. While I didn’t have a problem doing things on my own, there were still only twenty-four hours in a day, no matter my determination.
I was finally moving into my new place this weekend, and I had one week to get it semi-livable before I started my new job at Granger High as their newest math teacher. Even though school didn’t technically begin until mid-August, the teachers started working the first week of August in preparation for the new school year.
