Chapter 35 Ruby
RUBY
I slide into the chair across from Athena, amused to be sitting in my own dining room as a guest. The table is set with my dishes but arranged in a way I would never think to display them—artfully mismatched plates and bowls, cloth napkins I didn’t even know I owned folded into elegant triangles.
The center of the table holds a stunning arrangement of fresh herbs, lemons, and greenery—nothing like the sad grocery store bouquets I occasionally remember to buy.
“Ruby! We’re so delighted you could join us,” Athena’s mother exclaims in a thick Greek accent. She’s stunning for her age—elegant and poised in a way that makes me immediately conscious of my posture.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I reply, shooting Athena a quick glance. She looks tense—I recognize the slight tightness around her eyes that I’ve come to associate with her rare moments of uncertainty.
“I’m Sophia,” her mother continues, “and this is Demetria, Athena’s little sister.”
Demetria, dressed like a boho hippie chick, gives me a smile that’s equal parts warmth and assessment. The family resemblance is striking—all three women share the same dark eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” I lie smoothly.
“Really?” Demetria’s eyebrows shoot up as she glances at Athena. “That’s surprising. My sister is usually so private about her life here. She never tells us anything.”
Athena clears her throat. “Ruby and I have seen a lot of each other since Zeus moved in with her. I go over there to see him a few times a week, so we talk a lot.” She turns to me. “I told them you confiscated my cat.”
I nearly choke on my water. “Yes, Zeus is…quite the character,” I manage. “I do love the little furball.”
Athena’s eyes widen at my description, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she takes a sip of wine to hide her amusement. The idea of anyone referring to her massive, regal cat as a “little furball” clearly strikes her as absurd.
I smile, remembering last night’s battle for bed space.
Zeus had planted himself squarely in the middle of Athena’s king-size mattress, his huge body somehow expanding.
Every time I shifted to get comfortable, he stretched, yawned, or simply rolled over, pushing me inexorably toward the edge until I was clinging to the last six inches of mattress while he purred contentedly in his sleep.
By morning, I was practically hanging off the side while His Majesty sprawled diagonally across what should have been my sleeping space.
I should have moved to one of the guest rooms, but I was too tired to think.
I guess that’s where I’ll be sleeping tonight.
“He’s very…territorial about the bed,” I add with a hint of humor. “Other than that, he’s adorable.
“That beast has never respected boundaries,” Sophia says, placing a large dish of food in the center of the table. The aroma is intoxicating. “I’m surprised you agreed to take him.”
She begins serving what I recognize as moussaka—layers of eggplant, potatoes, and some kind of meat sauce topped with a creamy béchamel.
“So, Ruby,” Sophia says as she places a generous portion on my plate, “Athena tells us you’re an attorney?”
“Yes, I specialize in corporate law. Mergers and acquisitions, mostly.” I take a bite of the moussaka and it’s delicious. “This is incredible,” I say sincerely.
Sophia beams. “Traditional recipe—my grandmother’s. Athena could make it too, if she ever bothered to cook.”
“Mom,” Athena warns, but there’s no real heat in her voice.
“It’s true!” Sophia turns to me, leaning in conspiratorially. “I taught both my girls to cook properly, but neither of them ever do. This one—” she gestures to Athena with her fork “—she always has an excuse. Too busy, too tired. As if running a business means you can’t feed yourself properly.”
I glance at Athena, loving this glimpse into her family dynamic. She rolls her eyes but doesn’t contradict her mother.
“And what firm do you work with?” Demetria asks, twirling her wine in her glass. There’s something about her that reminds me of an exotic bird—colorful, wild, watching everything with keen intelligence.
“I have my own firm,” I reply. “Walsh and Associates.”
“Oh, cool. And what about outside of work?” Sophia asks. “Are you dating?”
I feel Athena tense beside me, her fork pausing midway to her mouth.
“No,” I reply carefully. “I was married, but my wife passed away a few years ago.”
“Your wife?” Sophia asks. A moment of silence falls over the table. I watch the information register on their faces and suspect she’s more shocked about the fact that I’m gay than that I’m widowed.
But then she reaches across the table to briefly touch my hand. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “That’s a terrible loss.”
“Thank you.” I take another sip of wine, grateful for its steadying effect. “It’s been a difficult journey, but I’m doing better now.”
“And you’re good friends with my daughter?” Something in her phrasing makes me wonder if she suspects more than she’s letting on.
“We’ve been there for each other,” I say honestly. “Athena has been…very supportive during a difficult time.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Sophia’s gaze shifts to her daughter with unmistakable pride. “She has always been empathic.” Athena looks uncomfortable with this characterization and Sophia shakes her head. “There’s no shame in having a caring heart, honey.”
Demetria laughs. “Don’t let her fool you, Ruby. Behind that heart is a will of steel. When Athena decides she wants something, she gets it—one way or another.”
I blush, remembering Athena’s voice in my ear, her hands on my body. You’re mine.
“So, how is Julian’s exhibition coming along?” Athena asks, clearly desperate to change the subject.
“Dramatically, as expected,” Demetria replies, launching into a story that I soon figure out is about her artist boyfriend’s latest creative crisis.
As Demetria talks, I observe Athena with her family.
She’s different with them—there’s a softness I rarely see.
When her mother laughs particularly hard at something Demetria says, Athena watches her with such undisguised love that it brings a lump to my throat.
I’m not sure why I’m feeling emotional tonight.
Maybe it’s the aftermath of the club, or perhaps it’s something about this rare glimpse into Athena’s private world.
Tonight feels special, intimate, as if I’ve been granted temporary passage through a doorway she keeps firmly closed to most. With each laugh shared between mother and daughter, each touch or knowing glance, I’m piecing together a different Athena than the one I thought I knew—a version of her that exists only within the orbit of those she truly loves.
The conversation flows around me, carrying stories and laughter. I’m drawn into their warmth, this family circle momentarily expanded to include me.
Sophia rises from her chair to collect our empty plates. “Now, who’s ready for dessert?”
“I’ll help,” I offer, standing to gather dishes.
In the kitchen, Sophia pulls a baking dish from the oven. The smell is heavenly—butter, sugar, and something citrusy.
“It’s galaktoboureko,” she explains, noticing my appreciative sniff. “Semolina custard in filo dough, soaked in citrus syrup. Athena’s favorite since she was small.”
She begins cutting the dessert into squares. “You know,” she says without looking up, “in all the years Athena has lived in America, she’s never introduced us to a friend before. Not once.”
I’m not sure how to respond to this, so I simply wait.
“My daughter is very private about her personal life,” Sophia continues.
“Always has been. Even as a child, she kept her hurts to herself. Her joys too.” She glances toward the dining room where Athena and Demetria are still talking, then back to me.
“It makes me happy to see she has someone here who understands her.”
There’s something in her tone that makes me wonder again how much she knows.
“Athena is…” I search for the right words. “She’s remarkable. I’m lucky to know her.”
Sophia studies me for a long moment, then nods, apparently satisfied with that.
“Yes, I think perhaps you are both lucky.” She hands me two of the dessert plates. “Now, let’s not keep them waiting.”