Mom’s expression remains carefully neutral, though I catch the momentary widening of her eyes.
“It’s complicated,” I continue. “Her name is Athena. She owns the Olympus casino.”
“That’s quite a neighbor.” Mom takes a sip of her iced tea, watching me over the rim. “And she’s been helpful how?”
“She lost someone too, years ago, and she understands grief.” I pause. “She pushed me to move on and stop drowning myself in work.”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“She is.”
Mom tilts her head, studying me with the perceptiveness that used to drive me crazy as a teenager. “And is she the reason you suddenly needed to come home? Did something happen?”
I look down at my hands, at the condensation from my glass making a small puddle on the table. “She told me she has feelings for me, and I panicked. I couldn’t work, couldn’t think. So I got on a plane.”
“You ran,” Mom says gently.
“I guess I did.”
“Do you have feelings for her too?”
The directness of the question startles me, but it’s why I came home—to hear the questions I’ve been avoiding asking myself.
“Yes,” I admit. “And it terrifies me. I feel like I’m being unfaithful to Claire.”
Mom frowns. “But you’re not. You’re moving on, and that’s good, Ruby. That’s really good.”
“I know. It just feels that way.”
The café has filled with the summer afternoon crowd—tourists seeking respite from the heat, students with laptops,locals reading newspapers. A barista calls out orders over the din of conversation and the hiss of steam.
“The last time we were here,” I say, “Claire was working on her pro bono case for the environmental coalition. She had papers spread all over the table, completely oblivious to everything around her.”
Mom smiles. “She was passionate about her work.”
“She was.” I feel a familiar ache, but it’s gentler now. “We stayed until closing. The owner had to kick us out.”
“I wish we’d spent more time with her,” Mom says. “I always thought there would be more holidays, more visits.”
“She loved you both,” I assure her. “She used to say Dad’s Christmas morning waffles were worth the entire flight from Vegas.”
We both laugh at the thought of Dad standing proudly at the waffle maker in his ridiculous Santa apron, insisting that everyone needed at least three waffles to properly celebrate the holiday. I miss those days.
“We hoped you might move back after…” Mom hesitates. “After you lost her. Not just because we wanted to support you, though we did. But because this was home for you both.”
“I thought about it,” I admit. “But home stopped being a place after Claire died. It became more about where I could function, where I could keep moving forward without collapsing. And that was work. In Vegas.”
“And now?”
I consider this. “Now I’m starting to feel like I might be able to build something new. Not replace what I had with Claire but create a different kind of life.”
Mom’s eyes fill with tears. “That’s all we’ve wanted for you, sweetheart. To see you living again.” She squeezes myhand. “And if this woman has helped with that, then I’m grateful to her.”
“She’s made me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of anymore,” I admit, replaying Athena’s words by the pool.I have feelings for you.The vulnerability in her eyes as she said it shook me to my core, and I fled, claiming I needed time—which was true—but also because I was terrified of saying it back. Of speaking the truth.
“Claire would want you to be happy,” Mom says. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I do.” I take a deep breath. Outside, the summer sun still blazes, heat radiating off the bustling street. “I’ve missed this city. The energy, the hills—even the summer fog this morning.”
