She nodded and bit into the brownie, desperate for the feel-good qualities of chocolate. It was a relief when Hunter and Holly tumbled through the door, chattering with the excitement of having ridden home alone.

The hotel events room with its white cloth–covered tables, fresh flowers and luxury afternoon tea stand looked like many of the medical conferences Libby had attended over the years. The irony wasn’t lost on her, given this weekend’s live-in workshop was called Heal Your Marriage.

“Nervous?” Nick’s hand shook slightly as he relieved her of an empty cup and saucer.

“Yep. You?”

“Same.”

“We shouldn’t be. It’s not like we haven’t sat down with a counselor before.”

But they both knew far more was at stake this time.

It was day two of the weekend workshop and just like the day before, they’d spent the morning with the group, learning and practicing communication skills. They felt clunky and odd to Libby and when she and Nick had tried using them in a conversation, they’d both dissolved into laughter. Although laughing wasn’t the aim, it had been the closest thing to normal she’d experienced with her husband in months. When they’d apologized to their mentor couple for cracking up, Liz and Jason had been sanguine, reassuring them that with practice, the tools would become second nature.

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.”