Page 10 of His Vengeful Tradwife

She flicked another glance over at Amanda and, instead of the jealousy sheshouldhave felt towards the other woman, my wife only gave Amanda a huge megawatt smile.

"Hi there, honey."

Amanda was bent over trying to scrub the throw-up from her car seats and she popped her head up. Her hair was stickingout in all directions, and I could see curse words forming inarticulately in her throat, but Tallulah had already turned away.

"Just coming back to get some flats for dancing," she chirped, then brushed past me.

I could hear her calling to Gabriel and Seraphina, making sure they were all right, and she took a moment to clean Gabriel up.

Then she was out a few minutes later, hips swaying as she moved past me without another glance and back to the truck.

I turned my head to see a man open his door and hop out to help her in. He looked like he was only in his 20s, big and blonde, wearing a tight T-shirt and tighter jeans.

He saw me staring at him and gave me a little salute.

"How's it going, boss?"

My vocal cords for a moment were strangled with fury, but he didn't wait for an answer, just grabbed my wife by her shapely hips and tossed her gently up in the passenger seat. Then he went around to his side and off they went.

The rage boiled up in me and my breathing sounded ragged.

Glad she was having a nice fucking time with someone's 25-year-old ranch hand while I was here covered in shit!

Unfortunately, I knew it was my own dumbass fault for not taking the diaper bag. I took several deep breaths, then gritted my teeth. I would do better with the kids. I should have known Gabriel got carsick. That was my fault, too.

After everyone was cleaned up, I let the kids play outside and then watch Bluey. Amanda and I sat on the couch with them.

"Who was that guy with your wife?" Amanda asked.

"I don't know," I said.

"Cheer up," Amanda replied, nudging me. "Maybe she was cheating on you. That way you can stop feeling guilty."

"I guess," I said.

We sat in silence.

It was barely 5 pm when the kids announced they were hungry again. And they said they wanted macaroni and cheese.

"Momalways makes the best macaroni and cheese," Seraphina said definitively.

Well,by fucking God, I was not going to let Tallulah win this one too. I had a law degree and was a very successful trial lawyer. I could make macaroni and cheese. Gritting my teeth, I pulled up Tallulah's TikTok channel, and I scrolled to her wildly successful Not Your Granny's Mac & Cheese recipe.

It had a lot of cheeses I was unfamiliar with, but I threw my fucking back into making this goddamn macaroni and cheese. I measured English marscapone, stirred in Balkan donkey milk, sprinkled saffron on top of it.

And when I presented it to my three children, they all made exaggerated gagging and retching noises.

"This isn't Mom's!" Seraphina cried. "She says this one is just for her BRAND."

"Dad, there's raw egg on top of this," Gabriel pointed out, not unkindly. "I don't think you should give it to Emmylou."

"What is your mother's recipe, then?" I asked with exasperation.

"This," Seraphina said, going to the cupboard and getting a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

"Right," I replied, ripping open several boxes with my teeth, and scattering macaroni all over the counter.

By the time the kids had eaten, the kitchen was an absolute disaster area, with dishes piled high in messy stacks all over the stove and granite counters.

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