Chapter 15 From Pasta to Passion
From Pasta to Passion
GAbrIEL
One month after water park day
The day after our impromptu water park excursion, I wasn’t able to stop thinking about Millie.
Every moment—the way she laughed, how she stepped up to help in ways I never expected—left me with a feeling I wasn’t sure how to navigate.
It was impulsive of me to ask her to come to Italy with us. But I’m not sure how Aura or I would do without seeing her for an entire week. I’ve gotten so used to her being around all the time, and frankly, I didn’t want to go on this trip without her.
It feels strange to admit, but the feelings I have for Millie have only grown stronger since I met her. What started as a simple admiration of her dedication and work ethic has deepened into something much more complicated.
Sometimes I catch myself watching her when she thinks I’m not looking—how her eyes light up when Aura giggles, or how gently she rocks her when she’s fussy. It’s these small moments that have lodged themselves deep inside me, unshakable and persistent.
Every time I see her, especially when she’s with Aura, I feel something tight in my chest. It’s not just that she’s good with my daughter. She is—she’s great with her. It’s that Millie’s presence seems to make everything in my life feel more…complete.
She’s sweet to everyone, and the way she cares for my daughter pulls at my heartstrings more than I’d like to admit.
The way she anticipates Aura’s needs, the way she smiles at her, even when it’s the middle of the night and she’s sleep-deprived—there’s something in her that makes me want to be close to her. I want to protect that, hold on to it.
Millie has gone above and beyond as Aura’s nanny. She doesn’t just watch over her. She’s always thinking of ways to make life easier for both of us. Every time I turn around, there’s a new baby item in the house—a toy, a onesie, some new baby book she picked up that she thought Aura would love.
She even started organizing little activities to stimulate Aura’s development, like gently encouraging her to reach for toys or introducing new textures for sensory play. It’s clear she’s not just here for the paycheck; she’s invested, emotionally and fully.
Not to mention that Millie has been preparing to start Aura on solid foods once she turns six months old.
She’s been researching recipes, buying fresh organic produce, and planning out a menu of homemade baby food to introduce.
I’ve watched her meticulously wash and steam vegetables, puree tiny batches, and carefully freeze portions for later.
It’s impressive how seriously she takes this—and honestly, I can’t wait to see Aura try the food she’s made. Knowing Millie is so dedicated to this next step feels like a huge relief."Alright, Aura," I say to myself as I walk into her nursery. “Let’s get you ready for the day, shall we?”
I still can’t believe Aura is almost six months old. Time seems to slip through my fingers like sand, and I feel like I’m grasping at every little moment with her. It seems like just yesterday she was a tiny, squishy baby.
She’s growing up too fast, and I’m trying my best to savor every second.
I’ve been running around like a madman these past couple of weeks, getting everything prepared for our trip to Italy.
I got Aura her passport a few months ago, knowing it would take a while for it to come through.
Now that it’s here, I can’t help but stare at it, noticing how different she looks in the photo.
She’s changed so much since the photo. I’ve been trying to get everything in order, but I still need to pack our things, make sure I don’t forget any important travel documents, and—wait a minute.
Millie. Does she have a passport?
Would she really have agreed to come with us if she didn’t? I figure she must, but it’s one of those things I should probably double-check before we leave. It’s just been a whirlwind of excitement, and I haven’t stopped to think about the practical stuff.
I glance over at Aura, who’s giggling at some toys in her crib, and I sigh. I’m nervous. I’m excited, but I’m nervous too. This trip could change everything. It feels like the stakes are higher now that Millie’s coming along, but I can’t quite figure out what’s making me feel this way.
Two weeks to go.
I’m sitting in the living room, flipping through the last-minute details of the trip, when a thought hits me. I want to spend more time with Millie before we leave.
I want to ask her over for dinner, but I need a reason—something that doesn’t make me seem too eager. Truth is, I really want her to come. I just hate how hard it is to admit that... even to myself.
Me
Hey Bumper, I just found this old Italian cookbook my grandmother gave me. I want to try one of the recipes but could definitely use your expert opinion. Think you can come over and help me not mess it up?
Bumper
Absolutely! Let me just close up the cafe and I’ll head over. What’s the dish?
Me
Stuffed shells. I have the ingredients ready.
Bumper
Sounds delicious. I’ll be there soon.
I hit send and try to act casual, though inside I’m pretty excited. I don’t want to make a big deal of it, but honestly, I just want to spend some time with her before the trip.
I clean up the kitchen, light a few candles—ones my mom gave me when she lived here briefly—and sit on the couch, hoping to look casual.
I turn on the football game to distract myself.
It’s one of my favorite pastimes, even though I can’t focus on it right now.
The way my thoughts keep circling back to Millie makes it impossible to enjoy the game fully.
Aura begins to get fussy, and she wants one of two things. A bottle or a nap.
After two failed attempts at a bottle, I sit in the rocker and try to get her down for a nap, to no avail.
It’s not long before I hear Millie from downstairs.
“Gabriel! I’m here!” Millie calls up.
A rush of relief floods me, and I stand with Aura. As I walk downstairs, I already know what’s about to happen. As soon as Aura sees Millie, all tension will melt away.
Of course, I’m right.
Aura’s face lights up as soon as she spots Millie. She coos and kicks her little feet, and I swear, it’s like the two of them share some sort of unspoken bond. Millie leans down, smiling softly, and Aura reaches out for her, her tiny arms stretching like she’s trying to crawl to her.
“You have no idea how great your timing is, Bumper.” I sigh in relief.
“What do you mean?” she says in a high-pitched voice, looking at Aura like she’s the most precious thing in the world.
I catch myself, my heart twinging painfully at how they look together. And just like that, I realize—again—that it might not be the best idea to tell Millie how I feel. She’s too important to Aura. If I messed things up, if I ruined this delicate dynamic between us, I’d never forgive myself.
No matter what I feel, I need to keep my daughter’s happiness my top priority. Meaning I need to keep my feelings for Millie at bay.
“So, you found Grandma’s secret recipe and thought you could wing it without me, huh?” Millie says, teasing me as she walks toward the kitchen.
I shake my head. “Not exactly. I’m just hoping you can stop me from turning it into a disaster.”
She laughs softly. “Well, it smells good in here, so I don’t know why it would be a disaster.”
I can’t help but smile. “Thanks, Bumper. I did my best.”
Her eyes soften as she looks at me. “You’re not half bad in the kitchen, you know.”
I look away, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. She sets Aura in her bouncer and starts unpacking the ingredients.
I feel a pang of guilt for how nervous I’ve been around her lately. I want things to be easy, but my own feelings keep getting in the way.
I walk toward the island where Millie is carefully preparing the sauce.
“Look,” I say, my voice softening. “I’m sorry if I’ve been awkward or distant lately. I just—”
Millie looks up at me with a knowing smile. “Gabriel, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”
I take a deep breath. “Thanks for coming over, Bumper. It means a lot.”
She shrugs playfully. “I wouldn’t miss it. Plus, I love a good Italian meal.”
We work side by side, the tension slowly easing between us as the kitchen fills with the smell of basil and tomato sauce.
“Look,” I say, my voice softening as I step a little closer. “I’m sorry. I was an ass earlier, and I shouldn’t have been so rude to you. Let me make it up to you. Stay. Eat with me.”
She pauses. Her hands still on the countertop, eyes focused on the jar she just finished labeling. When she finally looks up at me, there’s something in her gaze that makes my stomach twist. She’s hurt. And it’s my fault.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she breathes. Her voice is gentle but distant. “But thank you for the invitation.”
The pang in my chest tightens, sharp and unrelenting. I walk around the island, careful not to startle her, and gently lift her chin between my fingers.
“I don’t care if it’s not a good idea, Bumper. It’s killing me to see you upset—especially knowing I’m the reason. Please.”
Her breath catches, and for a moment, she doesn’t speak. Then, slowly, she nods. “Okay, Gab. I’ll stay.”
We eat in silence. Well—mostly. I try to make small talk here and there.
Complimenting her on the way she handled the béchamel, asking if she thinks we used enough ricotta.
She answers politely, but the weight between us doesn’t lift.
The food is good—great, even—but it tastes like nothing with the tension thick in the air.
After we clear our plates, I rinse everything off and pull out the ingredients for Italian soda and the frozen maritozzi my mom made months ago and left in my freezer. I plate the pastry, pour the syrup over the ice, and carry them both over.
“A peace offering for my rudeness,” I say, setting the plate and glass down in front of her.
She thanks me, still a little too quiet for my liking, and takes a sip of the soda. The second the flavors hit her, she closes her eyes and lets out a soft moan of satisfaction.
“Oh my God,” she says, voice breathy. “That’s insanely good.”
I smile for what feels like the first time all evening. “Glad something’s going right tonight.”
She looks back up at me, and for once, I don’t hold back.
“Bumper, I have to admit something.” I let out a breath. “I didn’t really fail at cooking. Hell—I could cook that meal blindfolded. I just… I wanted you to come over and eat dinner with me. So, I said the first thing I thought might get you here.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly, a flicker of something passing through her eyes. Surprise, maybe. Amusement. Warmth. She’s quiet at first, her gaze steady and unreadable.
And in that silence, all I can think is—I hope I didn’t just screw everything up again.
I think she’s shocked at my confession but stands up and walks over to me. She sits down on my lap, straddling me. My dick perks up, and I internally shake my head, thinking of anything to calm him down.
“Gabriel, you didn’t need to make up an excuse to get me to come over. I would have come over if you wanted me to. I don’t just love your daughter, I care about you too,” she says.
The desire to crush my lips into hers overwhelms me. She pulls away from the hug and licks her bottom lip. Oh, fuck it.
I grab her face, pulling it down to mine, kissing her as if it were my lifeline to live. Her mouth feels like heaven. Warm and wet. Lips like a fucking dream. Soft yet firm.
She hesitates, probably from shock, but then she melts into me, plunging her fingers into my hair.
The rational part of my brain is non-existent as I swiped my tongue over hers, pulling her body into mine as she rocked into me.
The thought of taking her to my bed was all I could think about, but when Aura cries, Millie jumps off of me as if she were being shocked.
The moment was over.