Leo and Emma appear to be the perfect couple. They're the couple that are so great their friends find them annoying. They couldn't possibly be keeping secrets from each other, or could they? You guessed it. Emma has been keeping secrets that might cause Leo to think she was someone other than his loving, faithful wife. Leo is an obit writer. This is not a macabre occupation unless you're assigned to rewrite the obit of your TV celebrity marine biologist wife whose undergoing chemo. Leo and Emma met when he interviewed her about her grandmother at the grand dame's funeral and the two became inseparable. Emma had no qualms about proposing to Leo who was only too happy to accept. Their precious daughter Ruby and their rescue dog John Keats round out their cheery, London household. When things do get dreary, Emma takes herself to the sea cliffs to search for a rare crab specie and work through her dark doldrums. Could this be too laissez faire an attitude for maintaining wedded bliss? Should Leo leave her be to battle her own demons? Is Emma above board in regards to her spending time alone or away from home with her longtime friend, Jill? Will Leo's trust run out with Emma's flimsy alibis? The narrations shift quickly from Leon, Emma and several others to move the secrets withheld plot along its speeding tracks until it crashes into shambles. The intrigue dips into the depths of postpartum depression. Sadly, this is where the story loses its hold on what was evolving into cunning, crosshair conundrums, downward into despair. Emma tells Leo, "when we experience more loss than is bearable, we hold onto everything as tightly as we can." Leon tells Emma, "I tell you everything, and I always have, because if we aren't honest with each other, what's the point?" I say, with all honesty, "The Love of My Life" is not worth your time of day.
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