Tele leaned forward. “Helena, I have an idea. Have you ever played Greek poker?”
“Is that different from regular poker?”
“Oh, completely different.” Tele’s expression was perfectly serious—a tell-tale sign that mischief was on his mind. “Much more complicated. Higher stakes. Requires extensive cultural knowledge.”
Raph recognized the gleam in his brother’s eyes and bit back a smile. “Here we go...”
“What? Don’t you want her to feel like part of the family?” Tele was already on his feet and moving toward the antique wooden cabinet where they kept cards and board games. “Unless you’re afraid she might be better than you.”
“Tele…” Jordan warned, as she and Neo stifled their laughter.
“Mother…” Tele said, producing a deck of cards with a flourish.
Helena studied Tele’s face for a long moment. Finally, she turned to Neo. “Is he trying to trick me?”
Neo nodded in confirmation. “But I don’t think he knows who he’s up against.”
“I’m wounded,” Tele protested, placing his hand over his heart. “Here I am, trying to share our family traditions––”
“There is no such thing as Greek poker,” Helena said flatly, but she was smiling.
“There could be,” Tele countered. “We could invent it. Right now.”
“You want to invent a card game?”
“Why not? Maybe all betting could be done in ancient Greek?”
Helena looked at Tele for a moment, then at the cards in his hands, then back at his expectant face. “Alright,” she said finally. “But you should know, I memorized The Iliad in ancient Greek for a school competition.”
“Oh what? Like, the whole thing?”
“Like, the whole thing,” she echoed.
“Pff. And?” Tele asked with mock exasperation.
“And I won the competition.”
“Of course you did.” Tele couldn’t fight his grin. “Well, come on then, Helen of Troy. Let’s do this.”
As Tele and Helena knelt on the large Turkish carpet beneath the coffee table, their heads bent over the card deck, already deep in animated discussion about their new venture, Jordan scooted across the sofa to take Helena’s place next to Raph.
“She’s good for you,” she said quietly, resting her head on his shoulder.
“You really think so?”
“I know so. And you look...” Jordan paused, lifting her head to study his face. “Lighter. Like you’re not carrying quite so much weight on your shoulders.”
Raph glanced at Helena, who was laughing at something Tele had said, while Neo opened a fresh bottle of wine. “She sees things differently than I do,” he said finally. “Makes me realize I don’t have to control everything to keep it safe.”
“That’s a hard lesson for you to learn.”
“Still learning it.”
Jordan squeezed his arm. “Good. That means you’re growing.”
As if sensing his attention, Helena looked up and caught his eye. Her smile was soft, private—intended only for him. She was blending into his world seamlessly, understanding not just him but the people who mattered most to him. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone or perform some version of herself she thought they’d prefer. She was simply being Helena—warm, intelligent, slightly mischievous—and his family was embracing her completely.
In that moment, surrounded by his family’s laughter and the golden light of Napa Valley’s harvest season, Raph allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’d found something worth the risk of opening his heart completely.
