all right?”
Maggie considered the question, then sank into the winged armchair before the desk. “No. Everything’s not all right. I just finished my last session with the Weatherbys.”
“They’ve resolved their issues, then. How wonderful.”
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?”
Meeting Lyn’s confused stare, Maggie elaborated. “What was supposed to have been a normal session turned into a ten-minute explanation of why they no longer needed relationship counseling. Judging by how neither of them could keep their hands off each other for even that short time, I didn’t bother trying to convince them otherwise.”
“They claim sex is responsible for their recovery?”
“Not just sex—incredible sex. Apparently there’s a big difference.”
“I wouldn’t argue, would you?”
Lyn grinned, but Maggie didn’t appreciate the attempt at humor. She was too busy vacillating between disbelief over the Weatherbys’ miraculous recovery and worry because she hadn’t accurately recognized their symptoms. Now was not the time to ruminate on her own lackluster sex life.
“They claim that visiting a superclub has cured them of their problems handling emotional stresses. After a week at this, this superclub—” she waved the brochure wildly “—he’s not shutting down when they try to talk and she has stopped feeling resentful.”
“Wow. A superclub cured all that? A superclub is one of those resorts that cater to newlyweds and lovers, isn’t it?”
“The very same.”
Lyn stood, holding her glasses in place on the bridge of her nose. “Is that a brochure for the place? Let me see.”
Maggie half sat on the edge of the desk and spread the brochure before them. She squinted at the blurb.
Fantasy, role-playing…titillating sex.
The words might have been illuminated in neon the way they leaped off the page, but as bold as the advertising was, she had to admit, the superclub looked, well…romantic.
Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast.
Falling in bed, hmm. She could definitely see that happening. With its steep Mansard roofs and white gingerbread trim, Falling Inn Bed, and Breakfast was a place from another era, so picture-perfect it might have been a movie set designed to fire the imagination about what took place behind those sparkling paned windows.
Maggie could easily envision women garbed in bustled gowns, heels clicking over polished wooden floors, and men smiling debonair smiles, as they danced the candlelit nights away at grand balls and fetes. Lovers drifting into shadows for stolen moments, unconcerned as they gazed at each other with the sort of longing the Weatherbys had displayed in full view of her, Baltimore Healthcare’s office staff and the waiting patients.
A place designed for lovers.
Men would whisper extravagant compliments and seduce their ladies with simple, but longing caresses. The graze of eager fingers against a smooth cheek. The intimate brush of knees while gliding effortlessly over a ballroom floor. Hushed breaths and lingering kisses and passion. Love. Romance.
Maggie smiled despite herself. Her entire career was built on the reality of relationships, not these whimsical imaginings of melodramatic avowals of devotion and happily-ever-afters.
Lyn must have been similarly affected, because she asked, “You don’t believe a visit to this superclub and lots of good sex helped the Weatherbys overcome their issues?”
“I’m not saying sex didn’t help, but it can’t be that simple. You know as well as I do relationship issues aren’t diseases to be eradicated with a round of antibiotics.” Maggie glanced back at the picture of the romantic resort. “Or miracles, for that matter. Relationships require work. Men and women are different creatures, and if they don’t respect those differences and keep the lines of communication open, their relationships run the risk of failure.”
“That’s all very true, Maggie, but sex plays an important part, too. Apparently, the Weatherbys were suffering from a lull. They’ve been married for years. It happens. If a superclub helped them put some passion back into their lives, I say good for them.” She hesitated. “So what’s the problem?”
Maggie let her eyes drift shut for the barest of instants, rallying the courage to force the awful truth past her suddenly tight throat. “I was working them through their differing reactions to stress. He’d become emotionally absent and she responded with anger. I didn’t recognize that they needed intimacy to help them become available to each other again. I had them journaling, but they came up with sex to communicate.”
“You’ve earned more of a highly regarded reputation in your three years of counseling than most therapists enjoy after decades in this business. But if you’re expecting perfection from yourself, you’re bound to be disappointed.”
“Not perfection, Lyn.” Maggie huffed, sinking back in the chair. “All right, maybe perfection. I believe in high expectations. Shoot for the stars and all that.”
“There’s something to be said for setting realistic, attainable goals, Maggie. You can’t attain perfection.”
“Apparently not this week, I can’t. This episode with the Weatherbys has me thinking about Angie and Raymond.”
After several years of living together, Angie Westlake and Raymond Mueller had been referred to Maggie for help sorting through some poor communication habits that were hindering them from making their relationship permanent. They professed to the same goals of a stable marriage and children and seemed to have love and dedication on their side.
Maggie had believed she could guide them through this rocky spot in their relationship, but after several months of counseling sessions—and practically every trick in her repertoire—she was forced to admit to an abysmal lack of progress. She genuinely liked the couple and worried they’d soon lose heart and decide to part ways.
“We all win some and lose some.” Lyn correctly identified Maggie’s dismay. “And you haven’t lost Angie and Raymond yet.”
“But I’m going to.” She exhaled sharply. “Maybe I should refer them to you, or someone else with more experience in this area, since I obviously have a weak spot in my therapy.”
“You’ve already suggested involving an associate to get another viewpoint on their problem. They’re the ones uncomfortable with the idea.”
“But I’m not helping them.”
“You might not be able to keep them together,” Lyn corrected. “But you are helping them discover whether or not they should undertake a marriage. Think of how complex their lives will be if they have to drag children through a divorce later on.”
Maggie couldn’t argue the point, but such a skinny ray of sunlight couldn’t penetrate the storm clouds gathering inside her. “I’m well aware I can’t keep all my couples together, but I don’t want to lose Angie and Raymond. They belong together.”
“Then let’s
