I think back to her minor meltdown in Vegas when she couldn't secure a private charter for the whole journey. My definition of comfortable travel has always been business class on international flights, but Athena exists in a different stratosphere of wealth. Even flying first-class commercial—something I've done only once before—was, in her words, "settling."
The driver pulls up alongside the aircraft where our luggage is already being loaded. Athena's shoulders remain tight, her fingers drumming against her thigh as we come to a stop.
“Are you okay?” I ask, covering her restless hand with mine.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she replies too quickly, then sighs. “I’m just…this is all very sudden. The wedding, bringing you home…” She trails off, staring out the window.
“Having your worlds collide?” I offer.
She nods, turning back to me. “I won’t lie. I’m nervous. But I want you here, so please don’t doubt that. It’s been this crazy secret fantasy of mine ever since I was a teenager. Bringing my girlfriend home, celebrating things together…” She as we get out of the car. “But they’re good nerves, I promise.”
The stairs of the jet are lowered, and a flight attendant appears at the top.
“Ms. Stavros, Ms. Walsh,” she greets us in accented English. “Please come on board. We’re ready for departure.”
Stepping into the cabin feels like entering another dimension. The interior gleams with polished wood and cream leather, more luxurious living room than aircraft. A small dining area with four seats sits at one end, while plush couches line the other. There’s a separate bedroom visible through an open door at the rear.
“This is…” I struggle to find words that don’t make me sound like a wide-eyed tourist.
“It’s our family jet,” Athena says casually, as if everyone has one.
“Would you like champagne before takeoff?” the attendant asks.
“Why not?” she replies, and I nod in agreement. If there was ever a time for champagne, it’s now, on a private jet, heading to a Greek island. We settle into the wide leather seats, and within minutes, we’re taxiing toward the runway with a glass of champagne in hand.
“To our first trip together,” I say, raising my glass.
“And to many more,” Athena adds, clinking her flute against mine. Her eyes soften as she looks at me. “I’m really glad you’re here, Ruby. Thank you for coming.”
Soon we’re climbing through fluffy white clouds into the brilliant blue Mediterranean sky. Athens sprawls beneath us, a concrete metropolis of beige and terra-cotta buildings densely packed across hills, stretching all the way to the glittering blue coastline. The Acropolis stands proud at the city’s heart, a golden crown atop its ancient hill, while modern highways snake between neighborhoods like silver ribbons.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, pressing my face to the window like a child. “I can’t believe I’ve never been to Greece before. All those trips to Europe, and I always chose Paris or London instead.”
“You chose the cities of mortals,” Athena shoots me a playful smile, “when you could have visited the land of gods. It’s okay, you’re forgiven. You’re here now to redeem yourself.”
The flight attendant appears with a light breakfast spread—fresh yogurt with honey and walnuts, warm pastries filled with cheese and raisins, and slices of ripe fruit that burst with flavor.
“A word of warning,” Athena says, watching me savor each bite. “My mother will consider it her personal missionto feed you until you can barely move. It’s the Greek way.” Her eyes crinkle with amusement. “When a Greek mother says ‘eat,’ it’s not a suggestion—it’s a command.”
I laugh, helping myself to a pastry. “I’ve already had my preview in Vegas, remember? Your mother’s moussaka, the pastitsio, all those containers of food she sent over.” I take a bite and sigh with pleasure. “Trust me, I know exactly what I’m getting myself into, and I’m here for it.”
According to the captain’s announcement, we’re passing over Kea, one of the Cycladic islands. I gaze down at the land rising from the azure sea. “It looks so wild and untamed. Different from what I expected.”
“The Greek islands are incredibly diverse. Some are lush and green, others volcanic and stark.” Athena’s voice takes on a softer quality when she talks about her homeland. “That’s Kythnos coming up next, and beyond it, Serifos. My auntie had a summer house there when I was young.”
“It must have been idyllic, growing up in Greece,” I say.
Athena’s gaze turns distant, reflective. “It was…intense. Beautiful and complicated. My father had very specific ideas about how his children should be raised—especially me, his oldest daughter. Frankly, his expectations were immense, and he trained me to take over his company one day. I never carried on his legacy, as I had no interest in shipping, but I sold it and reinvested successfully. I have no idea if he’d be proud of me or scold me for that. In the end, I had to make a decision, and I chose to take myself far away from Greece so I could live my life freely.” She shrugs. “But yes, parts of my childhood were idyllic. My best memories are by the sea, away from life.”
As we continue our journey, Athena points out more islands dotting the Aegean—each with its own mythology, its own character. The champagne settles warmly in mysystem, creating a pleasant haze as I watch the sea change color beneath us—deep navy to turquoise to almost translucent aquamarine near the shorelines. Fishing boats appear as tiny white specks against the vast blue canvas and I catch glimpses of ferries leaving foamy trails as they connect the scattered islands.
As we prepare for landing, I look out at the approaching island—a crescent of steep cliffs rising from the sea, topped with clusters of white buildings. They cling to the volcanic slopes, stacked in tiers that follow the natural contours of the land. The white walls catch the sunlight, creating a striking contrast against the deep blue sea and darker volcanic rock. I see villages, narrow paths winding between homes, courtyards tucked into unexpected corners, hotels perched on cliff edges, boats dotting the harbor below, and those iconic, blue-domed churches I’ve seen in countless travel photos.
“Oh my God,” I breathe. “It’s even more beautiful than the pictures.”
Athena watches me with undisguised pleasure. “Wait until you see the sunset. It’s what inspired all those myths about gods and mortals falling in love.”
FIFTY-SIX
