Being caught in a cupboard in a compromising position with my latest hook up by my new colleague isn't a great introduction.
The worse thing, that new colleague - she's my estranged wife who's been MIA for more than a decade.
Throw in the fact that neither of our families knew we were married in the first place and it's safe to say, events maybe aren't going as smoothly as planned.
Thea and I married ten years ago in Vegas, the day we both qualified as doctors. I knew plenty about her: the way she kissed, how she liked her coffee and the best way to make her see stars.
What I didn't know was that she was the daughter of a Lord, was ridiculously wealthy and she'd signed up to Doctors Without Borders.
The morning after our wedding, she was gone.
For a decade, all I've had are postcards, sent to wherever I've been working, with no return address. Those, and a heart that no matter how good a doctor I am, I just can't fix.
Now Thea's back in London.
And she wants to be back in my bed.
Our first proposal wasn't perfect. Would the second lead to the same fate?
