The tension in the room was palpable, and when Bridget reached and stroked long, manicured fingernails through Cyril's hair, jealousy flared through Marissa, burning in her veins.  This reaction, she had expected and done her best to prepare for, the feeling that he was<em>her</em>husband and that this other woman had no right to him.  She had spent months dealing with that, and also dealing with the sense of betrayal, the notion that she hadn't been enough for him.  And yet, Bridget's hand in his hair brought all of the self-doubt crashing back around her.<br/><br/>Straightening her spine, Marissa pushed it away, reminding herself that this was her idea.  He'd been willing to give this up because she'd been important enough for him to do so, and so she had to get through this.  This wasn't about Cyril and Bridget, it was about her learning what her husband's needs were.  She'd gone through dealing with all the negative stuff and now she just needed to keep that crap in its neat little compartment.<br/><br/>She forced her gaze away from Cyril, who did not look at her anyway.  She felt a little lost; not knowing what would happen here, she'd assumed the details all wrong.  She had thought that this would be more like a counseling session, she supposed.  Expected Bridget to sit separately from them and talk her through things.  And that wasn't what was happening at all; instead, she felt like she'd walked into the Twilight Zone, a world where nothing made sense.<br/><br/>"Well," she started, her voice cracking, "I suppose that I do have questions.  Can you tell me why Cyril isn't looking up?"  There, that one was an easy one to start out with, right?