Housewife Gone Wild

When Jared hugged me, all I could think about was how another woman had been in his arms and how her perfume still lingered on him.

My body stiffened before I could stop it. I stepped back quickly, then turned and fled to my bedroom.

Since our daughter was born, Jared and I had maintained separate bedrooms. He only visited mine when he wanted sex. Most nights, he slept alone in the guest room, leaving me the master suite to myself.

I didn’t care whether my rejection wounded him. I remained in my room until dinner called me downstairs.

Downstairs, I found Jared helping Yvonne feed her pony. When Wendy announced dinner, they washed up and took their places at the table.

“Dad,” Yvonne whined the instant she saw me, clutching Jared’s arm, “Mom hasn’t made fried meatballs in forever. Can you make her cook some now?”

Jared met my eyes. “Yvonne’s begging for your meatballs. Feel like making some?”

Wendy stood beside the dining table, her eyes darting between the spread of dishes she’d just prepared and my indifferent expression.

not moving from my chair.

crossing

too well—the aversion to spices and the limited palate. I’d spent years coaxing just a few bites

Wendy made three separate dishes at every meal just for her. Yet here she was, still complaining. I figured this was

her side as usual. “Why

“do you have

minutes,” Wendy added helpfully. “And that’s before all the kneading to get the texture

looked surprised. “I figured it would take

pouted. “Dad, I only want meatballs. If Mom

eat.” My patience was

outrageous demands had worked every time before, so she assumed persistence would make me

rubbed his temples. “Just eat something,” he said

sighing before dragging her spoon through

silence and retreated upstairs. Let them figure out their own