“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 youtrying 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 respondsin 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 tryingto 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.”
