A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Here's the next chapter. Please review!

Chapter 1

Six months later

She wrapped her arms around her petite body, hugging the robe tighter around her, trying to hold back a shiver as the cool air from the basement swept up around her bare legs. Her naked feet planted on the top of the rough staircase. A single light shone, illuminating the shell of a boat, and a man crouching at the far end of it. Her eyes registered the half-empty bottle of bourbon standing on the counter, just out of reach, but she had no doubt he could reach it, if he stretched. She was certain it had been at least filled up to three quarters the last time she'd stuck her head in.

She let out an inaudible sigh at the sight of her husband, spending more time working on the boat than he did working on her. The life as a married woman just wasn't at all like what she had imagined; it had all gone so well until that day six months ago. They had been happy, expecting a child. But they weren't anymore. And she would probably never become a mother. She pushed back all thoughts about the child she was supposed to have had. Turning her head back to her husband and wondered if there was any way she could get him to come back to her. She wondered why he wouldn't want to face her, why he had to take his refuge in the darkness of the basement, lurking in the shadows behind his boat. She wondered if he knew she'd spent the last hour in bed, frantically clinging on the small hope left in her body, that he would abandon this darkened place, and join her in bed. She wondered when the last time they'd slept in the same bed had been. She wondered if it was too much to hope for that they would tonight.

He was well aware of her silent company. Wasn't sure if it bothered him or if he should welcome it. He chose the former, as the distance felt too great between them, too big to be fixed by him coming to bed with her, like her silent pleading was indicating. He reached out toward the bottle of bourbon, not caring about the coffee cup next to him that he knew was still half-full. He took a long drink right out of the bottle.

"When are you coming to bed?" her low voice carried through the air thick with sawdust and what used to be heated feelings that were now cooling rapidly. He picked up the brush again.

"Don't know," his voice was raspy, as if he hadn't used it in a while, and also, she suspected, due to having too much to drink.

"Are you ever coming to bed?" her small hands placed on the rail.

"Maybe," he still wasn't looking up at her. Frustration was beginning to tear at her. She took his answer as a no. Wondering why he was so reluctant to share a bed with her, was it really too much to ask for wanting to try and fix their wounded marriage? She thought she'd try an approach that usually would have coaxed him into coming with her; despite that her frequent attempts over the past six months had proven insufficient and futile, she wasn't sure she was ready to give him up.

"I bought a new nightgown," she said, once again pulling the robe tighter around her, shielding the new silk she was wearing underneath. "Thought you might wanna see it,"

"Maybe later," was the reply she received. It wasn't the one she was looking for. She started to feel slightly exasperated, her fingers tenderly playing with the wedding band on her finger. She knew the inscription on its inside by heart, Yours Forever. She didn't know how long forever was; right now it seemed to be barely two years. One year and nine months to be exact, since their secret wedding. She was surprised that time had moved so quickly. His wedding vows were still crystal clear in her memory. She wondered if they would even make it to their second anniversary – right now that seemed very far away.

She fought the urge to descend the stair case and remind him of why she wished him to come to bed with her, afraid she'd get pushed away, abandoned for some goddamned boat's sake. Though she knew spending the night together would not make them forget the past, it could be the opening of the door he'd shut himself in behind during these months. That was all she wanted.

She gave up a sad laugh, it echoed like bad lie through the basement. Though it caused him to glance up at her, as if startled to find her still there. She wasn't sure what she should make of that interpretation.

"You're not coming to bed, are you?" she said sadly, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"Jen…" he began, sounding more exasperated than sorry. That was all she needed to hear.

"Don't," she just said, hot tears burning behind her eyelids, but she pushed them back, not intending on showing vulnerability, not wanting him to come back her just because she was crying.

She shrugged, her eyes stroking the smooth surface of the boat. She turned away, stopping in the doorway to glance back at him. She gave him a piece of her mind before she walked out.

"You care more about that boat, and your bourbon, than you care about me,"

To be continued…