“He’s such a cool kid, Jones.” Leo smiled a smile she knew well—his lips pressed together, the light oozing out his eyes. “He’s seven. I met his mom when we worked a Med season together. I was the first officer then, and she was a stew. Janna’s her name.”

Janna. Joey cycled that name through her stuffed file of inconsequential factoids accumulated from Facebook-stalking Leo’s profile came up dry. She felt stupid, and a little sad, at how far off Leo’s reality was from the fiction she’d spun, of his cavorting with the supermodel, graduates-of-Ivies girls on his friends list.

“Anyway, it didn’t work out, but we got Arthur, and he’s amazing, the most inquisitive kid. He won’t stop asking questions.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“Yeah. Takes after his Old Man. Sometimes you want to be like, Arthur, buddy, give me a breather, but he has to know things. Everything. Why sometimes people cry and say they’re okay when they’re not really okay. How a weed is different from a plant.” Leo shook his head. “God, I love that kid.”

"So when you’re in season, he’s with—”

“His mom. Yeah. We both rent apartments on the same street in Monaco. When I’m gone, I FaceTime with Arthur of course, but the distance is hard on us both. It’s funny, Arthur’s into ballet these days—”

“Ballet? That’s awesome.”

“He’s obsessed. He’s teaching me how to plié.” Leo stood and did a bouncy thing with his toes turned out.

Joey giggled. “Do that again, please.”

“Sorry, Jones, that ends the entertainment portion of this boat ride.”

“Given the evidence, I think Arthur needs to up his teaching game.”

“Yeah.” Leo looked out distantly to sea. “Well, he’s not here to teach me. He had a recital recently, and he was so bummed I wasn’t there. Janna had me on FaceTime, but the connection kept cutting out, and I missed his big solo. Later he was like, Did you see me, Dad?, and I pretended I had, but I wasn’t describing his big leap or whatever, or how elongated he had his arm, and he knew. He knew. And you know what, Jones? I felt just like my father.”

“Come on, Leo, you’re nothing like Rand. I may not have seen you in fifteen years, or with Arthur, but if you ask me what I know for sure, it’s that you’re a good dad.”

“I don’t know, Jones. I really don’t. What if that’s just what I tell myself to be able to live with myself? Because the truth is, I’m not around a lot. I’m out here.”

“You’re working to provide for Arthur. And you’re there when it counts.”

“Maybe. I like to think being out at sea makes me a better dad. You know how I am…”