“Why?” Yeah, he’s not seeing the humor in this at all. “You can call her Cleo for short.” “No, Tabitha. I meant, why is there a fucking cat in the house?” I bristle. “Listen, this is still my house. Still my life. If you’re expecting me to be a subservient little wife, then I’ve got news for you, pal. So yeah, if I want a cat, I’ll get one. Just like how if you want an alarm system, you’ll get one.” His jaw goes tight. “I doubt that anyone in their entire life has used the word subservient to describe you.” “Thank you,” I preen.
