"I’m right here, Sara," he replied quietly. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could make out his dim shape slumped in a chair in the corner of the cabin.

"Stephan, come back to bed," she beseeched. "It’s cold without you . . ."

He shook his head, or at least that was what it looked like in the dimness. "I can’t do this any more, Sara." She sat upright again. "Whyever the hell not?" she demanded.

"I just . . . can’t keep doing this," Stephan muttered.

"Give me one good reason why and I’ll go back to my cabin," the woman replied, her feelings hurt but trying valiantly to make the best of the situation.

"Because I . . . I don’t love you," Stephan ventured.

"So what?" Sara retorted, fully awake now. "That’s a shitty reason not to have sex with me."

He grimaced, or it seemed like a grimace. "You talk like a sailor."

"After two months on this damn ship, are you surprised? Do you have any more reasons or are you coming back to bed?" She let the sheet slip a little, a wasted gesture since there still was no light in the small cabin.

"Sara, there’s something I haven’t told you," Stephan said.

"What, you’re married?" she asked, laughingly.

His head snapped up. "Uhh, yes, actually."

"Oh."

They sat in silence.