Now that the break was over, she and Nick were about to have a couple’s session with the facilitators, Teresa and Chris. If it was anything like Libby’s earlier individual session with Teresa, she’d need another fast swim in the hotel pool to exorcise the parade of emotions marching through her.
Nick held out his hand. “Ready?”
Libby looked at his wide hand, studying its familiar scatter of white scars—the legacy of a lifetime spent on boats. She thought about how once she’d never needed to think twice about holding it and accepting the love it represented. Teresa’s voice from another session reminded her that for some couples being intimate after an affair took good will and practice. Libby had lacked both in recent months, including this weekend. She’d insisted on a hotel room with two separate beds.
But Libby prided herself on keeping her word. She’d promised Nick she wanted to try and save their marriage, although sometimes she wondered if that took more effort than walking away. Whenever she considered that, she focused on the girls, who loved their father. Her love for Nick still existed, although under her anger and despair, it had changed its shape and form to be almost unrecognizable.
Forcing herself to act, she slid her hand into Nick’s. It was sweaty and, in an odd way, that was reassuring. “Ready.”
During the session, Libby wondered if Nick regretted his insistence they spend $3,500 only to have more pain heaped upon him. Despite the room being on the cool side, circles of sweat stained his shirt.
“I want her to forgive me,” Nick said.
“Can you forgive yourself?” Chris asked.
“It feels wrong to do that before Libby’s forgiven me.”
Libby silently agreed. Nick had hurt her and she decided when he was forgiven.
“It’s not wrong,” Chris said. “One mistake doesn’t define a person and your mistake doesn’t define you. From what you’ve told me individually and as a couple, you’ve made amends and committed to Libby and your children.”
“I have.”
“So why can’t you forgive yourself?”
Nick’s eyes were fixed on the intricate pattern woven into the plush carpet. His voice was soft. “Because when Libby looks at me, I see how much I’ve hurt her.”
“Do you think there’s more you could be doing?”
Nick threw a beseeching glance at Libby. “I’d do more if I knew what you wanted.” He faced Chris. “Thing is, I’m out of ideas, so I just keep doing the same things over and over.”
“And what are they?”
“Libby works long hours so I do a lot of the cooking and after-school activities with the girls. I’ve been trying hard to make home a pleasant place to be. I cook her favorite meals, buy her flowers, buy her books she might enjoy, give her time alone …”
Chris turned to Libby, his features benign. “Do you feel this shows Nick’s commitment to you and the marriage?”
“He’s always done that stuff. He was doing it during the two years he knew he’d fathered a child with another woman!”
Chris didn’t react to her outburst. “What more do you need Nick to do?”
Libby’s fingers dug into the arms of the chair. “I don’t know. I just wish he’d never done what he did.”
Nick tugged at his hair. “So do I. You know I do. I keep telling you it’s the biggest regret of my life. It’s why I’m putting up with you punishing me by wanting to know where I am every minute of the day, and you asking me over and over what happened that night.”
“It’s very normal for a betrayed spouse to need those reassurances, Nick,” Chris said smoothly. “Accepting it with grace is part of your commitment to Libby.”
“Thank you!” Libby felt vindicated. “He needed to hear that.”
“We’ve talked about anger and punishment, Libby,” Chris said. “How it’s normal to feel all those emotions at the time. But what we do with the anger is the important part. There comes a point when holding onto anger and pain causes more damage than the initial betrayal.”
Libby thought of Leo. “That’s not possible.”
“Think of it like constantly picking at a scab. It prevents the wound from fully healing. That’s counterproductive if you want the marriage to change, heal and grow.” Chris leaned forward slightly. “And it’s exhausting. Have you felt that?”
Libby hesitated, uncertain if she wanted to answer. She glanced at Nick, taking in his mix of contrition and sadness, but she couldn’t miss the slither of aggravated discontent that ran through it. She sighed. “My anger’s volcanic and it wrings me out. Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself. I hate how it’s controlling me.”
“Learning how to control it takes time. If you try the different techniques we talked about yesterday, you’ll work out which ones suit you and which don’t. That way you can build up a repertoire. I strongly recommend your list includes meditation.”
“I’ve already tried swimming. I was a lot calmer after twenty laps.”
“That’s great to hear,” Teresa said. “There are always stressors in a marriage, but yours has borne the cyclonic gale of the two biggest traumas a relationship can experience. The death of a child and the arrival of an affair child—”
“It wasn’t an affair!”
“Nick,” Teresa said firmly, unfazed by his protest. “Does calling it something else lessen the impact on your marriage?”
He sat back in his chair, shame circling him. “No. But can we please refer to Leo by name?”
“Affair child works for me,” Libby muttered.
“You sound angry, Libby,” Teresa said.
“You think!” She heard herself and blew out a long breath, seeking calm. “Sorry. It’s just … right now, it’s taking everything I’ve got to work on our relationship. I can’t deal with the child too.”
“But he—”
“Nick, can you hear Libby?” Teresa interrupted.
“Yes.”
“Sometimes couples try to rush to fix everything all at once. It inevitably sinks them. Right now, you need to respect Libby’s feelings regarding Leo just as she’s respected yours with your current access arrangements. Does that sound fair?”
Nick’s leg jiggled up and down, a clear sign he was reluctant to reply.
