Chapter 10
The Magic Beanie Touch
MILLIE
Sunday comes quickly, and I feel like a ball of anxiety. It’s like my whole body is holding its breath, just waiting for something to happen. I’ve babysat for many families before. I know I have the experience.
To be honest, watching Aura isn’t the part I’m nervous about—it’s the fact that I will have to have human interaction with Gabriel without completely making a fool out of myself.
What if I say the wrong thing? What if I sound like an idiot? I mean, he’s already seen me flustered, and I’m not sure how much more of that I can handle before I become the awkward, bumbling mess that everyone expects me to be when I’m around him.
There’s something about him that makes every word I say feel like it’s under a microscope.
I’m not sure he even realizes it. That quiet, brooding energy of his makes it impossible to tell what he’s thinking.
It’s not that he’s rude, he just is unreadable.
And frustratingly attractive. Which doesn’t help at all.
The cafe closes at noon on Sundays, and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished so far.
We aren’t even open officially yet, and Beanstalk is already a welcoming space that is getting regular customers, and most importantly, mine.
I want to expand the bakery selection, and maybe add some unique savory pastries, but for now, I’m content with small, manageable goals.
My hands are always busy, but my mind feels just as full.
Sometimes I think if I don’t keep moving, I’ll get swallowed whole by the weight of uncertainty.
That’s why I throw myself into work. Maybe a tiny part of me enjoys the way Gabriel looked impressed the last time he visited that cafe.
Not that I’m working hard for him, obviously. But…it’s a bonus he noticed.
When I get home, I take my shoes off and put them on the shoe rack beside my door. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten yet today. I check the clock on the wall. It’s already past one. I should’ve eaten earlier, but the chaos of the morning distracted me.
As I saunter over to the kitchen and open my fridge, I debate what to make for lunch.
I decide to make a truffle macaroni bake.
It’s rich and creamy. It’s the perfect dish to settle any lingering nerves.
Whatever is left I can take for Gabriel to eat on his shift as a little “thank you” for hiring me.
It’s the least I can do, especially considering how much my life is about to shift to helping him out.
Being in the kitchen has always given me a sense of security.
When all else fails, I know that when I am in the kitchen, I’m in charge.
The precise measurements, the blending of flavors, the careful timing of things—it all feels like a dance I’ve mastered.
There’s something meditative about it, something that quiets the chaos in my head.
While my macaroni is in the oven, I clean up the countertops and feed my sourdough starters. I’ve been experimenting with different breads lately. Sourdough is one of the most challenging, but also the most rewarding.
It takes forever to get a loaf out of it, but when it rises and bakes into a golden, crackling crust, the payoff is always worth the wait. Eventually I want to offer freshly baked bread at the café, but for now, I’m just playing with recipes and making sure I can nail the basics.
Bread is honest. It makes you slow down and be patient. There’s something poetic about that, especially now.
I head to the couch and grab the softest blanket I own, wrapping it around me as I settle in. When I check my phone, I see the family group chat is blowing up with messages.
Reuben
Is no one going to bring up the fact that our little sister is starting a NIGHT job when she is already working so much?
Kenna
Rue, grow up. She’s an adult and can make her own decisions. I would hope that of all people, you would support her!
Lucie
Reuben, be happy for Mills. She has a bomb cafe/bakery that is doing really well and has a side gig to have extra spending money. We all know everything she is gonna make at Beanstalk is going right back into Beanstalk.
Asher
I’m with Rue on this one. Why does she need to have a “night job”
Me
Stop talking about me like I’m not in the GC. If you want to talk trash about my life decisions, make another chat, but please leave me out of it. And to think I was gonna text you guys to see if you would want to do a sibling sleepover at Gran and Gramp’s house on Friday night.
Lucie
Sis, I think you, Kenny, and I are long overdue for a sister-only sleepover. Especially since our brothers are being total jerks to you right now.
Kenna
I second this.
Me
Done deal sisters. NO brOTHERS ALLOWED!
Asher
What! That’s not fair! Sibling sleepovers are for all siblings.
Reuben
Yeah, what are you gonna tell Gran and Gramps?
Kenna
The truth. Mills got a night job that is only four nights a week. She sleeps practically the entire time, AND she can still run the cafe without getting burned out.
The timer dings, snapping me out of my daydream. I jump up, pull the macaroni from the oven, and let it cool. The cheesy, truffly smell is mouthwatering. I plate a serving to eat and grab a container for the leftovers.
It is three in the afternoon now, and I figure it’s as good a time as any to check in with Gabriel and confirm any last-minute details. I pull out my phone and send him a text.
Me
Hi! It’s Millie. I just wanted to shoot you a text to find out any last-minute details before tonight.
A few seconds pass before three dots appear on the screen. Gabriel’s response feels like it takes forever to come through.
Gabby
Uh, let me think.
More dots. A few minutes later, the message finally arrives.
Gabby
Okay, so she has a sock that goes on either of her feet.
It tracks a lot of different things, but I use it to make sure she is still breathing.
It’s stupid, I know, but it eases my mind.
She sleeps in her bassinet, which is right next to the bed.
I bought one for the guest bedroom so you don’t have to move the one in my room.
When she wakes up during the night, it is always to eat, but she could always use a diaper change.
She wakes up two or three times throughout the night.
My heart softens a little. It’s sweet how protective he is of Aura. That he’s so concerned about her breathing. Even with something as small as a tracker sock, tells me just how much he cares. It’s something that I find unexpectedly endearing.
There’s this whole other side of him—a vulnerable, tired, deeply committed side that I never get to see for more than a glimpse. And it makes my stomach flip. Not in a fireworks way. More like… slow, creeping warmth. Like sitting too close to the fire and not realizing you’re blushing.
A sudden knock at the door breaks me from my thoughts, and I stand up quickly, confused about who would be visiting. When I open the door, I’m greeted by my sweet mom, looking as put together as ever.
“Hey Mom, what’s up?” I ask, letting her in.
She smiles at me warmly but looks slightly concerned.
“Your brothers sent me,” she says, sitting down on the couch. “They told me it was an extreme emergency—their words, not mine. So, what’s going on? What has both your brothers in a frenzy?”
Oh, no. Not this. I know exactly what this is about.
“Mom,” I sigh, rubbing my temples. “As usual, Asher and Reuben are exaggerating. I got a night job. It’s four nights a week nannying a three-month-old little girl.
Her dad works long overnight shifts, and his mom was helping, but she lives in Italy, so…
yeah. Now I’m stepping in. I’m going to be asleep most of the time other than to feed and change her in the middle of the night. ”
Mom raises her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, honeybean. I can see that your brothers blew the situation out of proportion. But tell me more about this job.”
Finally, someone who gets it.
“Well, like I said, it’s only four nights a week,” I explain.
“The dad works twelve-hour shifts. His mom was helping, but she’s got her own life.
They were interviewing a college student at the café, and let me tell you—she was horrible.
She didn’t even want to help when the baby was awake.
She just assumed it would be easy when the baby was sleeping. So, I offered to take the job.”
Mom nods, looking proud. “Alright, honeybean. It sounds like you did this family a solid. When do you begin?”
“In about two hours,” I say, looking at the clock.
Mom stands, patting my back. “Well, I’ll let you get ready then. It’s already half-past three. Don’t worry about your brothers. I’ll handle them.”
I spend the next hour getting ready. I take a long, relaxing bath, using the fancy salts I bought at the new store down the street from the café. It’s a little luxury I allow myself now and then.
Since I’m not washing my hair, I brush through it and give the curls a little touch-up. I remove my makeup except for my mascara and eyebrows, keeping it simple. I throw on an oversized hoodie and leggings and check myself out in the mirror.
You got this. It’s just a baby and a really, incredibly hot dad.
One who, for whatever reason, seems determined to keep a ten-foot wall between us even when we’re sitting three feet apart.
I take a deep breath and leave my house at 5:15. The drive is short—only ten minutes—but it’s long enough to give me a few moments to second-guess myself.
Gabriel’s neighborhood is quiet, wrapped in that early evening stillness that always makes the world feel a little softer. His house is beautiful—simple, sturdy, well kept. Just like him. It looks like a place that doesn’t let people in easily, but once you’re inside… you might never want to leave.
I walk up the flower-lined pathway, taking a deep breath before I ring the doorbell.
I hear Gabriel’s voice from inside. “It’s open, come in.”
When I walk into the house, I’m immediately greeted by the sound of a very unhappy baby.
“Aura, baby, what’s wrong?” Gabriel says, his voice filled with quiet desperation. “I fed you and changed you. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”
I can’t help but smirk at him. “I don’t think babies can talk back when you ask them a question at this age.”
Gabriel’s head snaps, eyes narrowing in irritation. “I know she can’t talk back, but she’s been crying for over an hour, and I don’t know what to do.”
His voice isn’t angry exactly—it’s exhausted. Tense in a way that feels deeply personal, like he’s carrying something he doesn’t trust anyone else to hold.
I walk over to where he’s sitting with Aura. He’s already in his uniform, and the sight of him is mouthwatering, only heightens my nervousness.
“Here, give her to me. I want to try something.”
Gabriel hesitates for a moment before handing her to me. The baby feels warm from crying and fragile. I sing “You Are My Sunshine,” gently bouncing her, and after the first verse, she quiets down. Her little eyes lock on mine, and for a moment, I forget everything else.
“How did you do that?” Gabriel asks, his voice tinged with awe. “I’ve tried singing to her. She kept crying.”
I shrug, smiling. “I guess I have the magic Beanie touch. My brother calls me that too.”
Gabriel stands to finish getting ready, walking up the stairs with an expression that suggests he’s both relieved and surprised. “I started calling her that before she was born. She looked like a bean when Haley first got pregnant.”
There’s something in his voice when he says Haley’s name. A quiet ache. Not sharp, but lingering—like something he’s folded away and doesn’t plan to unfold soon. I want to ask, but I don’t. I just hold the silence for him.
I set Aura down on her play mat and head to the kitchen to put away the macaroni bake I made earlier. As I’m putting it away, I remember I brought an extra container for Gabriel. I grab it just as Gabriel walks down the stairs.
He walks over to Aura and whispers goodbye to her. Then, he makes his way toward the kitchen island where I’m standing.
“You didn’t have to make me anything, Bumper,” he says flatly, glancing at the container of macaroni in my hands.
I hand it to him without a word at first, and when our fingers brush, I swear something flickers in his expression—like he’s surprised I’m real. Or maybe surprised I’m still here.
I shrug my shoulders, holding it out to him. “Have a good shift, Gabby. Be careful.”
He gives a small nod—almost imperceptible. And then he’s gone.
And just like that, he’s out the door, leaving me standing there with a small smile on my face and my heart thudding a little harder than it probably should.