Occam's razor."
"Yes. When formulating a theory, eliminate as few assumptions as possible. In other words, the simplest explanation is the most likely.

You are not a perfect woman.You have an evil temper, you’re as blind as a mole, you’re a deplorable poet, and frankly, your French accent could use some work.” Supporting himself on his elbows, Leo took her face in his hands. “But when I put those things together with the rest of you, it makes you into the most perfectly imperfect woman I’ve ever known.

I love you, Marks. My heart is completely and utterly yours. And unfortunately for you, the rest of me comes with it.

When Christopher finished, there was a moment of silence.
Leo looked at Cam expectantly. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Now is the time when you dredge up one of your blasted Romany sayings. Something about roosters laying eggs, or pigs dancing in the orchard. It’s what you always do. Let’s have it.”
Cam gave him a sardonic glance. “I can’t think of one right now.”
“By God, I’ve had to listen to hundreds of them. And Phelan doesn’t have to hear even one?

In the fairy tale you mentioned last night, I would probably be the villain. But it's possible the villain would treat you far better than the prince would have.

He shook his head, staring at her like a condemned man who beheld the face of his executioner. "Aline," he whispered, "Do you know what hell is?"

"Yes." Her eyes overflowed. "Trying to exist with your heart living somewhere outside your body."

"No. It's knowing that you have so little faith in my love, you would have condemned me to a lifetime of agony." His face contorted suddenly. "To something worse than death.