RUBY
The evening air is fragrant with lemon and oregano as we’re gathered around the long table on the terrace.
Flickering lanterns cast a glow over the feast spread before us: platters of grilled fish, lamb souvlaki, roasted vegetables, and countless small dishes I’m still learning the names of.
My wineglass has been refilled so many times I’ve lost count, and the conversations ebb and flow around me in a blend of Greek and English, courtesy of Athena’s extended family, with the occasional French between Julian’s parents and his best man.
I’m seated between Athena and Ariana, her nine-year-old niece once removed. Ariana’s sister, Delphi, is currently teaching Julian’s best man, Phillipe, Greek. He’s butchering the pronunciation, which sends the girls into fits of giggles.
“Ef-cha-ri-sto!” Phillipe declares triumphantly, raising his glass. “Did I say that right?”
“Almost!” Ariana calls out from beside me. “But you say it like this: ef-KHA-ri-sto.” She emphasizes the middle syllable, her small face serious with the responsibility of her teaching role.
Phillipe repeats the word, still getting it wrong, and the girls dissolve into laughter again.
Across from me, Julian’s parents sit quietly, smiling politely but looking slightly overwhelmed.
The Beaumont couple are elegant and reserved, a stark contrast to the boisterous Stavros clan.
When Julian’s father hesitantly reaches for more bread, Athena’s mom immediately leaps up to pile more food onto his plate, ignoring his protests.
“You must eat!” she insists. “Tomorrow is a big day! No one leaves my table hungry!”
Demetria and Julian sit at the far end, hands intertwined on the table. Her glow is unmistakable now that Athena has told me in confidence about her pregnancy. I’ve also noticed Sophia is pouring alcohol-free wine into Demetria’s glass. Clearly, this is not a thing until they’re married.
Athena’s aunt, Ana, is engaged in animated conversation with her son and daughter-in-law, their hands flying as they speak rapid-fire Greek.
Every few minutes, Ana turns to include Julian’s mother in the conversation, switching to broken English before inevitably slipping back into Greek as the discussion intensifies.
“I warned you,” Athena murmurs in my ear. “Total chaos. Are you regretting coming yet?”
I turn to her with a smile. “Not even a little. This is wonderful. All of it.”
And it is. The noise, the laughter, the constant flow of food and conversation—it’s overwhelming in the best possible way.
“More wine?” Athena’s cousin Christos offers, already tilting the bottle toward my glass.
“No thank you, I’ve really had enough,” I say.
When he tries again, Athena steps in. “She said no, Christos.” Athena places her hand over my glass. “Are you trying to get my…” She hesitates for the briefest moment. “…my friend drunk before the wedding?”
“Just being hospitable,” Christos grins, unrepentant. “Everyone should be a little tipsy before a Greek wedding. It’s tradition!”
“It is not tradition,” Sophia corrects from across the table, wagging her finger. “Do not listen to him, Ruby. He is a terrible influence.”
“The worst,” Ana agrees, reaching over to lovingly swat her son’s arm. “Just like his father.”
This sets off another round of lively debate, half in Greek, half in English.
Athena suddenly looks into the living room, then glances around the crowded table with a puzzled look. She says something to her mother in Greek, her tone questioning.
Sophia replies, gesturing toward the living room where one of the staff members is transforming the sofas into sleeping quarters.
Athena’s brow furrows. “But Mom, that’s ridiculous,” she continues in English. “Ruby and I can share my room, and the twins can take Ruby’s room. Right, Ruby?”
It takes me a moment to process what’s happening. I’ve been so absorbed in the warmth and joy of the evening that I hadn’t considered the sleeping arrangements with so many people here.
“Of course,” I say quickly. “I didn’t realize you were short of bedrooms. I’d be more than happy to share with Athena.”
Sophia looks from Athena to me and back again, then whispers something to Athena in Greek.
Athena’s expression darkens and she stares at her mother for a long moment. Then she responds in rapid-fire Greek. She sounds angry and continues even when her mother tries to hush her.
A silence falls over the table. The Greeks stare at Athena and Sophia, their expressions ranging from shock to uncomfortable curiosity. The non-Greeks—Julian’s gang and me—exchange confused glances, aware we’re missing something significant.
Athena pushes back from the table, and without another word, she strides into the house. I hesitate only briefly before following her, feeling every eye on my back as I go.
I find her in the kitchen, leaning against the fridge.
“What’s going on?” I ask softly, keeping my distance. I’ve never seen her like this—unguarded anger bleeding through her usual composure.
Athena doesn’t answer immediately, and I watch as she consciously tries to calm herself.
“My mother thinks we shouldn’t share a room,” she finally says.
I frown. “Why?”
“She thinks it’s inappropriate.”
I stare at her, still buffering, until suddenly the pieces click into place. “Because I’m gay?”
Athena nods, a muscle working in her jaw. “She knows, Ruby. I think she knows we’re together. She just chose to ignore it.” She shakes her head and reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together.
I glance toward the terrace, suddenly aware of how exposed we are. “It’s probably best if you don’t touch me like this here.”
“I don’t care.” Athena’s grip tightens. “She knows. God knows how long she’s known, and still she continued trying to set me up with men. The point is, she’s not oblivious. She’s choosing to deny who I am. Who we are.”
“But she’s never said anything to indicate that she knows you’re gay, right?”
“No. That would require us actually talking about it.” Athena lets out a bitter laugh. “We don’t do that in my family. We don’t discuss uncomfortable truths. We just pretend they don’t exist.”
I lean closer, lowering my voice. “Maybe this is your way in. Maybe it’s time—”
“For what? A dramatic coming-out at my sister’s wedding? That would go over well.”
“No, of course not,” I say. “But a conversation. A real one, just between you and your mother. She invited me here, Athena. She likes me. That has to count for something.”
Athena looks at me, her expression softening slightly. “You don’t understand Greek mothers. They can love you fiercely and still never accept certain parts of you. They can invite your ‘friend’ to family events while deliberately denying the nature of your relationship.”
From the terrace comes the sound of renewed conversation, gradually rising in volume. Life continuing despite our momentary drama. Demetria’s laugh rings out, musical and carefree.
“Tomorrow is your sister’s day,” I remind her. “Whatever happens between you and your mother, it should happen after the wedding.”
Athena sighs, the fight draining out of her.
“Is it my sister’s day, though? Because from where I stand, it looks more like my mother’s day.
It wasn’t my sister’s idea to get married, and she’s always made fun of mom’s yacht club and the women who hang out there.
Now she’s going to have her wedding there, and all mom’s friends are invited.
” She shrugs. “But you’re right. I’ll let it go for now. ”
“Hey.” I touch her cheek, drawing her gaze to mine. “I’m here for all of it. And if you want me to talk to your mom…”
“Thank you. But this is something I have to do myself.” She leans into my touch, her eyes closing briefly.
“Let’s go back outside. I promise I’ll keep the peace before the wedding.
” She lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “Besides, it’ll be interesting to watch my mother dig herself out of this hole.
People will surely be asking why it’s ‘inappropriate’ for us to share a room. ”
I can’t help but laugh along. “Okay. That sounds uncomfortable.”
“It will be,” she says. “But Mom brought this on herself. If she wants to play the denial game, she’d better be ready for the championship round.”