In the glittering yet often cutthroat world of celebrity exes, few stories unfold with the peculiar charm and controversy of Gary Lineker’s ongoing saga with his former wife, the stunning Welsh model Danielle Bux. The former England football legend, now a household name as the sharp-tongued host of BBC’s Match of the Day, has long been admired for his on-pitch prowess and off-pitch wit. But it’s his “weird” – as he himself calls it – post-divorce dynamic with Bux that has tongues wagging across tabloids and social media feeds. Picture this: a divorced duo who text three times a day, jet off on sun-soaked holidays together, and share intimate, candlelit dinners without a whiff of awkwardness. And the kicker? Bux’s current husband, the unflappable American entertainment lawyer Nate Greenwald, couldn’t care less. “He’s not got a jealous bone in his body,” Lineker quipped in a candid Radio Times interview, painting a portrait of modern love that’s equal parts enviable and eyebrow-raising.

Their story begins in 2007, a classic tale of opposites attracting amid the flashbulbs of London’s high society. Lineker, then 46 and a divorced father of four from his first marriage to Michelle Cockayne, met the 26-year-old Bux – a rising star in modeling circles, known for her sultry campaigns with brands like La Senza and her roles in films such as Rab C. Nesbitt. Despite the 20-year age gap, sparks flew fast. By 2009, they exchanged vows in a lavish ceremony in Positano, Italy, a sun-drenched cliffside idyll that screamed romance. For seven blissful years, they navigated the spotlight: Lineker’s commentary gigs, Bux’s foray into acting, and blended family holidays that seemed picture-perfect. Yet, cracks emerged around 2016, reportedly over Bux’s desire for a child of their own – a dream Lineker, content with his ready-made brood, couldn’t fulfill. The split was amicable, a “logical” parting as Lineker later described it, with no acrimony or asset battles to sour the ink.

Fast-forward to today, and their connection has evolved into something straight out of a rom-com script no one dared pitch. Divorced for nearly a decade, the pair remain “best mates,” as Lineker affectionately puts it. They holiday in Ibiza, where paparazzi snapped them lounging poolside last summer, all easy laughter and shared inside jokes. Christmas dinners have become an annual ritual – think cozy gatherings with Bux’s daughter Ella from a previous relationship, plates piled high with festive fare, and Instagram posts captioned “Always a delight.” Just last December, Lineker ditched the glitzy BBC Sports Personality of the Year awards – rubbing shoulders with Premier League stars and royals be damned – to hunker down for a private feast with Bux in London. Eyewitnesses described the scene as “intensely romantic”: dim lights flickering over half-empty wine glasses, their heads tilted close in animated conversation, the air thick with nostalgia and unspoken ease.

Enter Nate Greenwald, the plot twist that elevates this from quirky to downright revolutionary. Bux, now 45 and thriving in Los Angeles, married the sharp-suited lawyer in 2019 after he literally moved in next door – a meet-cute that Lineker chuckles about. Together, they’ve welcomed little Romy, now four, into a blended family that includes Lineker’s sons as honorary uncles. Greenwald’s laissez-faire attitude toward his wife’s ex is the stuff of envy for lesser mortals. “We get on really well,” Lineker revealed. “We go out for dinner when I’m in LA. It might be unusual… but frankly, I don’t care.” No simmering resentment, no passive-aggressive side-eyes – just three adults prioritizing harmony over Hollywood drama. Bux echoes this in rare interviews, praising Lineker as “the most thoughtful, funny, and kind person” she knows, while Greenwald plays the cool confidant, unfazed by the optics.

Critics might label it bizarre, a relic of Lineker’s unflinchingly honest persona – the same man who once sparked a BBC storm by tweeting about refugees. But for those in the know, it’s a masterclass in emotional maturity. In an era of messy breakups and social media feuds, Lineker and Bux’s arrangement challenges the narrative: divorce doesn’t have to mean erasure. It can mean evolution – late-night calls dissecting The Rest Is Football podcasts or Bux cheering Lineker’s viral clashes with Tory politicians. Their bond, forged in love and tempered by loss, reminds us that the heart’s affections don’t always follow a tidy timeline.

As Lineker, now 64 and proudly single (“I like being on my own – it sounds mad, but it’s true”), eyes another World Cup commentary stint, one wonders: will this unusual trio inspire a wave of jealousy-free ex-dynamics? Or is it just the Lineker way – bold, unapologetic, and utterly captivating? Whatever the verdict, their story proves that sometimes, the most romantic tales aren’t the ones that last forever, but the ones that beautifully linger.