Chapter 9
Order in the Chaos
GAbrIEL
The days after Millie and I agreed on the nanny situation pass quickly.
I spend most of the time cleaning up the house, trying to make everything look more…
organized. I even rearranged the living room twice, trying to create more space for Aura to crawl and play.
Each time I stepped back, I’d run a hand through my hair and wonder if I was overthinking it—like, does any of this really matter when there’s a tiny human who’s going to wreck it all, anyway? Nevertheless, I try.
I’m a clean guy—always have been. My ma raised me that way, instilling in me the importance of keeping your space neat, even when life is chaotic. She used to say, ‘Order in your home is order in your head,’ and right now, with everything swirling around me, I’m clinging to that more than ever.
But having a baby changes everything. It feels nearly impossible to stay on top of all the things that need to be done—laundry piling up, bottles everywhere, toys scattered around.
Every day is a race to clean before the next mess appears.
It’s exhausting, but there’s a weird comfort in it too—this chaotic rhythm that’s all ours.
I catch myself smiling sometimes, even when I’m elbow-deep in a mountain of dirty clothes, because this chaos is hers.
I still try, but there’s only so much one man can do when it feels like a tornado is constantly swirling throughout the house, leaving a trail of chaos in its wake.
Sometimes I’ll look around and wonder how the hell I used to think I was tired before Aura was born. Now I am tired—bone deep, can’t-remember-the-last-time-I-showered kind of tired.
I’ve tackled the upstairs by Friday. Since Millie will stay with us on Sunday, I figure I might as well make the guest room as comfortable as possible for her.
The sheets need changing, and I’ve been putting it off for too long.
I ordered some new high thread count sheets from —ones that are supposed to feel like sleeping in a hotel bed.
I’m a sucker for details like that, even if I don’t always admit it.
There’s something about fresh, crisp sheets that makes a room feel like a sanctuary.
A dumb part of me wonders if she’ll even notice. A smaller part knows she probably will. Millie is the kind of woman who catches every detail.
I figure if I’m going to have someone stay over, I might as well make it a pleasant experience. The more comfortable this bed is, the less likely she’ll end up in mine.
And no, I don’t mean it like that. Well, maybe I do. But that’s not the point. The point is, I respect her, and I need this to stay professional. Right? Right, because mixing work and whatever this is feels like walking a tightrope over a canyon. One misstep and everything crashes down.
As I bend down to smooth out the sheets, I stub my toe on the footboard. “Merda1!” I grunt, hopping on one foot to rub the aching pain away. My phone rings, making me curse under my breath.
“Hello,” I grumble into the phone, still wincing from the pain.
“Well hello to you, partner. You want to bring that cutie pie of a baby you got and go get lunch?” Josh’s voice sounds chipper, the usual eagerness in his tone.
I like Josh. I’m lucky to have him as a partner.
He’s funny, always telling jokes and making the long overnight shifts bearable.
He’s outgoing, the type of guy who can talk to anyone about anything.
I’m the opposite. I like my quiet time, but somehow, Josh has figured out how to get me out of my shell in the two months I’ve been in town.
“Sure, let me get her and myself ready. Where are we going?” I ask, still trying to shake off the grumpiness from stubbing my toe.
There is a long pause on the other line. “I’ll come by your place. It’s a restaurant out of town. If you want to drive separately, we can, or we can just take your car. Either is good with me,” Josh says matter-of-factly.
A restaurant out of town? That’s an odd request. But hey, why not? I’m getting used to doing things outside of my comfort zone since moving here.
“Be there in thirty, be ready, old man.” Josh hangs up before I can argue with him. I’m just as young as he is. I’m 31, but Josh is just a couple of years younger. He likes to remind me of that.
Every. Chance. He. Gets.
I head to Aura’s room, where she’s peacefully sleeping in her crib. I smile at the sight of her, her tiny chest rising and falling with each gentle breath. It’s one of those rare moments when she isn’t crying or needing something, and I take full advantage of it.
My Ma went a little overboard when Haley was pregnant, buying an endless amount of clothes for Aura. Haley wasn’t exactly thrilled, but now that I’m raising Aura on my own, I’m thankful for every little thing my Ma bought.
I pick out a cute romper for her—pink with little orange flowers on it, and a matching headband with a bow.
Ma used to say, “Even if the world’s falling apart, a girl in a pretty dress feels strong.” I didn’t get it until now. Now I get it, and it breaks me a little to think I’m the one who has to keep her safe from the world’s chaos.
Aura’s hair is dark brown—somewhere between mine and Haley’s. She’s got the biggest, brightest blue eyes that remind me so much of Haley. As I change her diaper, I look into her eyes, and she stares back at me, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
I cherish these small moments with her—when she smiles or yawns and stretches her tiny body. There’s something so pure and innocent about it. It makes the sleepless nights and the stress of being a single parent worth it.
After dressing Aura, I grab the diaper bag, put a few diapers inside, and head to my bedroom to get ready.
I rarely dress up much. The whole town probably knows me as the guy who only wears jeans and a T-shirt. But since I don’t know what kind of place we’re going to. I decide to put effort into my outfit. I put on a dark gray button-down shirt and black jeans.
I spritz some of my Chanel Bleu de Chanel cologne.
Because apparently, I care what I smell like now. Thanks, Millie.
I walk downstairs, carrying Aura and her car seat, ready to head out. Just as I’m about to buckle her in, the doorbell rings, and my phone pings.
Pulling out my phone, I see it’s a text from Millie.
Bumper
It’s okay if you say no, but two of my friends were wondering if they could come over when I am at your place. I wouldn’t be distracted or anything, and Aura would be a hundred percent safe.
Me
Sure.
Bumper
Do you want to meet them?
Me
Nope. I trust your judgment of people.
It’s true. I trust Millie. I don’t need to meet her friends, and I don’t want to make things complicated. If she thinks they’re good people, then that’s enough for me.
Besides, if they’re her people, they’re probably kind.
She radiates a feeling as if everyone she cares about is enveloped in the same gentle, warm magic.
I wonder what it’s like to be around people who light her up like that.
If I ever got close to her, maybe they’d know the real her—the part she doesn’t show me.
I pocket my phone and open the door, where Josh is waiting. He’s grinning from ear to ear.
“I didn’t think you’d actually go. You clean up nicely, man. Now, where’s my favorite little princess?” he says, stepping into the house.
I chuckle and follow him into the living room. Josh has already picked up Aura’s car seat and is gently rocking it back and forth while talking to her in that high-pitched baby voice people use.
And she loves it. That little flirt. She’s already figuring out how to win people over.
I shake my head, amused by how quickly they’ve taken to each other.
The drive to the restaurant is about forty-five minutes. Josh tells me it’s on the shore of Rehoboth Beach, which I’ve heard of, but never realized it was close to Cherry Falls.
The restaurant we eat at is called Blackwall Hitch and has an amazing view of the ocean. I’m not used to places like this. It’s classy and has a certain upscale vibe that makes me feel slightly out of place.
Josh orders a grilled chicken and baked brie sandwich and winks at the waitress, who blushes a little. I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but laugh.
“I’ll have the Faroe Island Salmon, please,” I tell the waitress, handing her my menu.
The conversation flows easily. Josh talks about his life, about his friends, and about Cherry Falls in a way that makes me feel like I’m finally becoming part of the community.
But then, Josh catches me off guard with a question.
“So, did you see the signup sheet for the Fall Festival in October? It’s up on the board now—figured I’d mention it while there’s still space.”
I glance up from my sandwich, chewing slowly. I hadn’t really thought about the festival yet. October feels far off, and while the event’s always packed, I’ve never been the type to jump into things like that.
“I don’t know, man,” I grunt back, noncommittal.
Josh gives me that look—the one where he already knows the answer and is just waiting for me to catch up. “Well, I know one person who already signed up—Millie. She’s got a booth planned. Baked goods and maybe a raffle. It’s for a fundraiser to help the station.”
That makes me pause.
Millie will be there?
Suddenly, the festival doesn’t sound so overwhelming. Crowds I can deal with. But her? She’s harder to ignore.
“I guess I’ll think about it,” I say, trying to play it cool. But the thought of seeing Millie again—being close enough to talk to her, maybe even help out—makes something in my chest tighten.
“So is the whole town usually involved?” I ask, half curious, half stalling.
Josh takes another bite of his sandwich and nods. “Yeah, pretty much. The Fall Festival is a big one—music, booths, hayrides, the whole thing. Always good turnout. Cherry Festival’s the bigger summer deal, but this one’s more community-focused. You should get in while there’s room—spots go fast.”
I nod slowly, but my mind’s somewhere else.
What kind of booth is she running exactly? Will she be there all day? Will she be alone?
Why do I care so damn much?
We finish lunch and head back to my place. Josh thanks me for tagging along today. Before he leaves, he bends down to get closer to Aura and kisses her on her head to say goodbye.
It hits me how rare it is to have a friend who genuinely likes both me and my daughter. Not out of pity. Not because he has to. Just…because.
That night, I give Aura a bath, cuddle her until she’s half-asleep, then lay her in her crib.
As I sit in the quiet, I feel something I haven’t felt in a while. Homesick.
I open WhatsApp and message my two best friends from Italy. Not just for Italy, but for a time when things were simpler, when I wasn’t juggling so many roles.
Leonardo
Come va Fratello? Is something wrong? You never text this late.
Enzo
Nah, our boy probably just misses us.
Leonardo
Well? Which is it, Gabriele?
A small smile tugs at my lips. My family still calls me Gabriele. Everyone else calls me Gabriel. It’s a small thing, but it always makes me feel connected to home.
Me
Enzo is right. I got homesick and wanted to talk to someone who would fill the void.
Enzo
So, you’re telling me you haven’t found a Bella Donna?
Me
No, no, I have. It’s just, well, she’s my nanny.
Leonardo
Merda, man. Does she know you have feelings? Does she have them?
Me
I don’t know. She probably hates me more than anything else . I’m such a dick whenever I’m around her.
Enzo
But that’s not you, at least not since Aura was born.
I chuckle, though it’s bittersweet. Enzo’s right. I haven’t been the same since Aura was born. I’ve got walls up—walls I didn’t even know I had until now. And maybe it’s time I figured out how to tear them down.
As I close the chat and put my phone down, I make a mental plan to be better. Not just for Aura, but for me. I’ve got a lot to work through, but I can’t stay stuck forever.
1. Merda-Fuck
2. Come va Fratello- What’s up brother?
3. Bella Donna- beautiful woman