“You know I agree with you on that point,” Emma said. “I only meant to point out that you matter, too. You do a lot of good.”

“Not enough.” Vic’s jaw tightened. “Not as much as people like Brogan who put their lives on the line in frigid seas to save strangers. Not nearly as much as I would like to do if I could.”

“You can’t get on the boats, Vic.” Emma’s tone made Sophia suspect they’d had this talk before.

“No one moves as quickly or speaks as freely when I’m around,” Vic explained. “I’d only slow them down.”

“And so would I,” Emma said. “Brogan is so appreciative of what you—”

“No,” Vic cut her off. “I don’t need anyone’s appreciation, and I didn’t do it for Brogan.”

“You didn’t?” Sophia asked.

“Well, not completely for her. Brogan is my friend, and that matters, but there are a lot of other people on those boats tonight, and there are people in the water, and people waiting up, praying for their safe return, and they are all my people. I bear a responsibility to every one of them.”

Sophia took her hand, wanting desperately to soothe the anguish in her voice.

“I’m fine,” Vic said quickly. “I’m sorry I snapped. Emma, forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You’re entitled to your emotions.”

Vic snorted softly. “Never mind my emotions, how are you doing?”

Emma smiled faintly. “I’m getting used to this. It’s part and parcel of the woman I married. A part of me will always hate it when she does these things, but a much bigger part of me loves her for being the kind of person who does.”

Vic stared into her glass. “I could not love thee dear, so much, loved I not honour more.”

Sophia stared at her, trying to process the statement, and who it referred to. She turned to Emma for some clarity, but she only shrugged.

“Richard Lovelace,” Vic finally said.

“The poet?” Emma laughed.

“Because of what you said about hating that Brogan has to go but loving that she is the kind of person who—” she looked around as if waiting for someone else to finish. “She loves honour more than anything, and if she didn’t, she wouldn’t be the person worth loving as much as you— god, what do they teach you all in American schools?”

They both burst out laughing again.

“Sorry,” Emma said without sounding sorry. “We didn’t go to prep schools, and you don’t hold your alcohol as well as you think you do if you’re drunk-quoting cavalier poets. Sophia, I think it’s time you get her to bed.”