There's no way I'll go back to East Lewis, my husband of thirty years. Ever.
That's what I tell myself when I return from Texas to New York after a six-month separation. He can keep his irresistible charm, his sexiness, and his fame. I don't care if I feel comforted in his arms or if I crave him even though I despise myself for the things I ask him to do.
When he betrayed me, I made the mistake of staying with him in this marriage of convenience far too long. I'm not stupid enough to give him another chance. I'm not.
That's easier said than done when a family crisis occurs, a younger woman starts chasing him, and nightmarish flashbacks cause my world to fall apart.
I don't know what's real or fake, or if I'm terrible person. Will East even want me when he knows who I really am and what I've done? Can I forgive myself and East and trust in love and forgiveness to wash the sins of our pasts away?
