For 19 years, my husband, Erik, 49, and I haven’t had a moment to ourselves. In April 2001, when we met at a friend’s wedding in Florida, I was newly divorced, with two young sons, Henry, then seven, and Matt, four. We had a whirlwind romance and, just eight months later, I sold my London flat and moved to America to be with Erik.
Erik was a wonderful stepdad, and the boys adored him. Our blended family was completed by the arrival of our daughter Lily in September 2002.
I’ve juggled a career as a novelist with full-time motherhood for 26 years, but with Lily off to uni this autumn, suddenly that was all about to change.
Even though he loves his family, I know Erik has always looked forward…
