Page 2 of His Vengeful Tradwife

“These may look tricky to make,” she says in her light, musical little voice. “But with a little patience, you too can master them! They are a delightful treat to surprise your family with at the end of the day.”

Oh god, this is going to be so painful for her. Me and the kids are Tallulah’s whole world.

Amanda clears her throat in disgust. "It's all so backwards and patriarchal. She'sliterallyperforming for the male gaze."She shudders. "We've come so far and it's women like your wife who want to send us back to the 1950s. Just because I have a vagina doesn't mean I'm going tocookfor you."

I laugh at her fiery speech. "I love your mind," I say. "You're the smartest person I know."

Then I rub her back as we just stand in the kitchen, holding each other. Two people madly in love.

"Do you think she has any idea?" Amanda asks. "Any idea that things aren't peachy-keen perfect in her little queendom?"

"I don't think so," I say.

My jaw aches from clenching it all the time. I know we can't go on like this, sneaking around to snatch a few secret moments with each other. My wife hasadoredme ever since we got married 9 years ago, and it’s been weighing heavily on me to know I’ll cause her pain. I know it's the right thing to do, and it's the only way I'll ever be truly happy and fulfilled, but I still haven't pulled the plug yet.

"How many more years of your life do you want to waste talking about goddamn macarons?" Amanda demands.

And, finally, I nod my head.

"All right," I say. "I'll tell her today.”

I go home turning every option over in my mind, trying to find the magic one that is gentle enough to keep Tallulah from falling apart.

When I finally arrive home, my balls are empty but my suit is still immaculate. I've been cheating on my wife for almost 6 months now and it's easy enough to cover my tracks, but it's goddamn exhausting.

It ends now. I'll feel a lot better if I just tell her the truth.

It's late when I get home, and Tallulah and the kids have already eaten. I can see my dinner still carefully wrapped in tinfoil and warming on the stove, as my wife always does when Ihave to work late. Which, between my latest case and snatching any time I can with Amanda, has been happening a lot lately.

My wife is sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and organizing her box of dress patterns. It looks like she's got another sewing project going, making old-fashioned bonnets for her and the kids. The baby is probably already asleep, our other kids playing in the backyard.

There’s no better time to do it.

"Tallulah," I say, my voice suddenly sounding scratchy and strained.

She looks up.

In all ways, my wife is the opposite of Amanda. While Amanda is tall, lithe, and dresses in professional black or dark clothes, Tallulah has long auburn hair, creamy pale skin, and an hourglass figure that she often dresses in vintage-style 1950s swingy dresses with high necklines, always with a crisp little white apron over the skirt.

"We need to talk."

She cocks her head.

"Yes, Maverick? What did you want to say to me?"

I pull the chair out across from her and sit down at the table.

Oh, god, I'm about to destroy her life in a few short words, but I don't want to hurt her, not really. I just want out. For the last few seconds before her world is shattered, I pause to make sure I can find the right words.

I still care about her very deeply, of course, and don't want to give her unnecessary pain. We've had a good 9 years.

But Amanda is mysoulmate.

I think it's best to just rip off the bandage.

"Tallulah, I want a divorce. I'm just not happy with you anymore, and I'm tired of pretending I am. And I'm sorry, but nothing you can say will change my mind. I've thought this for a long time."

My heart is pounding harder than I expected after my little speech, and the blood is rushing in my ears. About now is when I should start feeling free. Finally, after so many months, I've admitted the truth.

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