The Billionaire I Divorced Twice

I have divorced the same man twice. I have loved him every single day in between, including the days I was signing.

Everyone knows the story. Rich man, beautiful glass house, a woman in another country. They know he cheated. They know I found out. They know I left.

Every fact in that is correct, and the story is a lie, and I am the one who built it — because the truth needs a sentence I have never said out loud to another human being, and I would rather be pitied by strangers for the rest of my life than say it.

Our son died when he was four.

And I took every photograph off the walls in a single afternoon, and I filled the holes, and I painted them, and my husband came home and looked at a clean wall and never asked me why.

He thinks I couldn't bear to hear our son's name.

So for eight years, in a house you could see straight through, he did not say it. Not once. He is the kindest man I have ever met and he stood outside that door and waited for me, and I did not come, and I watched him get quieter, and I let it happen.

And then a stranger in a hotel bar in Rotterdam asked my husband an ordinary question.

What was his name?

She wasn't beautiful. She wasn't a schemer. She was a tired woman with a bad knee who said his glass was overrated. And she asked, and he answered, and it was the first time in two years that anyone on this earth had let him say Jonah out loud.

He had a reason. It is the best reason I have ever heard, and I understand it completely, and I have never once let him spend it on me — because a reason is not a permission, and he knows it, and he has never tried.

So we divorced. And then, three years later, I married him again. In a register office, with my whole heart, and a confession in my mouth I gave myself until our first anniversary to say.

He was standing next to me with one in his.

We were doing exactly the same thing. Neither of us knew. Both of us failed.

And then an email arrived with a subject line three words long, and I thought it was about my dead son, and it was about a living one.

A devastating, intensely romantic marriage-in-crisis novel about two people who loved each other completely and could not save each other. Both of them are guilty. Neither of them is the villain.

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