Page 32 of His Vengeful Tradwife

"Adequate?" Maverick yelped, his eyes narrowing at me.

He tightened his mouth and I saw the tendons stand out in his arms as he gripped the chair. Naturally he could not tell his parents any of the many more-than-adequate things he had done with his cock so he only glared at me.

They looked displeased.

"Perhaps you felt unsatisfied with your sexual relationship with your wife, is that it? You wanted something you felt you couldn't get from her? Perhaps you asked her to dress up like a nun or the pope and she refused?"

"No!" Maverick cried. "God, Mother. Nothing like that! Having sex with Tallulah was the best thing in the world."

"So why did you cheat on her?" his father asked, glaring over his spectacles.

I felt my body tense a bit.

Yes, I did want to know the answer to this. I wanted to know very much why my madly in love, jealous, intensely devoted husband had cheated on me.

"I don't know! I can't explain it! It's like I went mad! It wasn't about the sex."

"So you had a mistress but it wasn't about sex? Got it!" his father said scornfully.

They flipped through a big psychiatric diagnostic book, pointing at different passages.

"You told me she was yoursoulmate," I said, as my in-laws both made noises of disgust.

"What in the world made you think that sour bitch was your soulmate?" my mother-in-law asked. "Had you been upset with Tallulah for any reason?"

"No--no, not really," he said, glancing over at me.

Ah-ha!

"I don't know--I guess I had been a little upset with her about her channel."

"Her channel?" Dr. Laurent asked. "The channel that brings in many millions of dollars a year for your family?"

Maverick shifted a bit. "Well, yes, but you know I always thought you were too smart for all that, Tallulah. Of course you did a great job with your channel, but you could do even bigger things."

"What did you even know about my channel?" I retorted. "You refused to get involved. You never help. You don't watch my videos."

"I-I can start watching them. It's just--chickens, you know! Collecting eggs? Making cottage cheese? Tallulah, I know you're goddamn brilliant! You were doing a graduate degree in art history!"

Anger started gathering under my skin.

I fucking knew it.

I knew he had a fucking problem with my channel. He would just never admit it, the weak, cowardly, avoidant, cheating, betraying, jackass bastard idiot.

"There is no money in art history," I said between clenched teeth. "I found something I could do for my family, to make good money. You think we could have had a comfortable house, been able to pay off your law school loans, afford this vacation, with art history?"

My in-laws were scribbling madly.

"I've seen a lot of things in my day," my father-in-law said, looking at Maverick like he was a bug he wanted to squash onthe sidewalk. "But I've never seen a man get a divorce because he thought he was too good for chickens. I'm sick of the sight of you. Tallulah, let's get together for wine hour later. Maverick, you are not invited. Do not bring your little mistress."

"She's not my mistress!" Maverick said in agony. "Tallulah, I'll do chickens with you!" he said anxiously. "Is that what you want? I swear to God, I'll do it! I'll milk the cows every morning. I'll churn some fucking butter!"

His mother began to stack books in his arms, things likeIntroductory Feminist TheoryandManaging Your Feelings for Men.

I escaped out a side door as he was protesting.

I wanted to think about things.

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