His gaze flickered up to hers, something like anxiety in his eyes. A heartbeat later, he nodded once and pointed to the corner with his chin. They walked together, and the others gave them space. Naomi’s heart beat like she was in danger. She could feel her pulse in her throat.

At the wall of the berth, she stopped. Filip turned to face her. The memory of him as an infant, toothless and grabbing onto her finger with a grin of unmistakable pride intruded powerfully into her mind and she took a moment to shove it away.

“It’s been good seeing you,” she said.

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer, then, “You too.”

“The ship,” she said. “When it’s done, it’s yours, all right?”

Filip looked over her shoulder toward the gantry. “Mine?”

“I want you to have it. Resell it, keep the money for yourself. Or hold it, if you want. Yours, though. No one else.”

He tilted his head. “You’re not coming with?”

“I didn’t come here to join back in,” she said, then sighed. “I came because he said you were in trouble. I came because of you. Whatever he’s doing, whatever he’s having you do, I can’t be part of it. Not before. Not now either.”

For a long moment, Filip didn’t move. Her throat felt too narrow, like she couldn’t get air through it.

“I understand,” her son said. Her son who was leaving again. Who was going back to Marco and everything he was.

“Your father isn’t a good man,” Naomi said, the words spilling out. “I know you love him. I loved him too once, but he isn’t…”

“You don’t have to justify it,” Filip said. “You did this for us, and I appreciate it. This is all you’re willing to do, and that’s disappointing, but he told me it might happen this way.”

“You could come with me.” She hadn’t meant to say it, but as soon as she did, she meant it to her marrow. “The ship I’m on needs crew. We’re independent and we’re well stocked. Come do a tour with me, yeah? Get to… get to know each other?”

For the first time, a real expression cracked her son’s reserve. Three thin lines drew themselves between his brows and he smiled with what could have been confusion or pity. “Kind of in the middle of something,” he said.

She wanted to beg. She wanted to pick him up and carry him away. She wanted him back. It hurt worse than sickness that she couldn’t have him.

“Maybe after, then,” she said. “When you want it, you say it. There’s room for you on the Rocinante.”