Chapter 21
Operation Don’t Look Ugly
MILLIE
Gabriel is so much more than what meets the eye, and I am quickly realizing I am one lucky girl. It’s not like I haven’t been on any dates before. I have. But I have never been as nervous as I am now for any of them.
I crave the comfort of home as I struggle to decide what to wear on this date that I’ve just found out about. Picking up my phone, I call Melanie, needing her advice.
The phone rings and rings before she answers, “Mills! Hey girl, what’s up?”
My lips curl up into a smile, hearing her voice. I haven’t called Harlow or her a ton during the trip, so it feels good talking to her now.
But I realize before I talk that since I have called little, she doesn’t know all that has happened.
“Okay, Mel, I’m kind of on a time crunch and can’t explain fully at this moment. A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours between Gabriel and I. We had sex, he confessed his feelings for me, and now I think we are dating?” I say, covering my face as though she could see me.
The line is silent, and for a moment I think I lost connection before a hear a very loud squeal.
“Girl! This is gold! Okay, so what do you need my help with?” she asks, giggling.
I frantically open my suitcase, rummaging through to find an outfit.
“Well, I have no idea what to wear. I didn’t pack for a date! What if he thinks I look ugly?”
Melanie lets out a loud laugh that turns into a complete coughing fit. I don’t understand why she is laughing because nothing about this situation is funny.
“Stop laughing! This is not funny.”
“Oh, I’m gonna laugh. And this is totally funny. Do you really think there is a situation where that man is going to think you look ugly? Have you seen the way he looks at you? Literally, since he met you, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you,” she says.
I’d never really noticed Gabriel’s gaze on me before this trip. I mean, I’m sure he has looked in my direction more than once, but was that really in an I think you’re beautiful kind of way?
Now, though? Now I feel it. His eyes, his words, even his touch. They all whisper the same thing. I see you. It terrifies me how much I want to be seen.
“Yeah, okay. Help me find something to wear! He is literally out in the living room waiting for me to get ready,” I say frantically.
Melanie giggles and says something to someone with her. I don’t know who until they begin to speak.
“Babes, you see the zipper in your suitcase that you never put anything in because you think it is too small? Open it, wear it, and have the best time with your hot single dad,” Harlow says, ending the call.
I open the zipper and pull out a sleek black body-con dress I can already imagine hugging my curves perfectly. The fabric is smooth and stretchy, ensuring comfort and a flattering fit.
Once I put the dress on, I find it is a mid-thigh length that showcases my legs beautifully. I throw on my plaid blazer and finish it with a necklace I bought a few days ago in a small Italian boutique.
Throwing on a pair of stilettos, I spritz some of my Choco Musk perfume on my neck and the backs of my knees before I go into the living room.
My heart is pounding like I’m about to step onto a stage. What if he changes his mind or regrets everything? What if I fall harder than he does?
Gabriel is sitting on the couch. Standing when he sees me.
“Gosh, Bumper, you look… stunning. I’m not sure how I’m going to keep my eyes off you.”
I blush at his admission. Smiling, I walk towards him, wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him softly on his lips.
Pulling away, I whisper, “It’s a good thing I’m the woman you are taking on a date.”
His mom clears her throat. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt you two lovebirds, but go, have fun with each other.”
Gabriel hugs his mom, thanking her for coming to watch Aura. She says something in his ear, but I can’t make out what it is. Only that when Gabriel walks to me, his cheeks are pink from whatever she said.
I raise an eyebrow at him as he reaches me, nudging me playfully. “What did you say?”
He just laughs and shakes his head. “Something about messing up. Again.”
We walk outside the house, and Gabriel stops at his sleek, polished vehicle that reflects in the evening night. Opening the passenger door, he says, “Your carriage awaits, beautiful.”
I slip into the seat, taking in the subtle scent of Gabriel’s cologne, musk, and orange.
As he gets in, he glances over with a smile spreading across his face. “You ready, Bumper?” I nod, feeling the excitement building as he pulls away.
The ride to the restaurant is smooth, and I can’t help but admire how effortlessly he drives, his attention focused on the road all while keeping his one hand on my thigh.
The warmth of his hand is grounding, comforting. A silent promise he doesn’t even realize he’s making.
He asks me questions, genuinely interested, and I share stories about growing up and my dream of opening a coffee shop.
“So, what made you want to offer bakery services at the café?” He prompts, his voice warm and curious.
“Well, I have always had people compliment me for the baked goods I would bring to events and such. I really love it, so when I opened a café, I made it a bakery too,” I respond, going into a whole rant about my love for baking.
Our conversation flows easily, with each topic effortlessly leading to the next. I catch Gabriel glancing at me as he drives, his gaze sometimes lingering a moment longer than necessary, and it sends a pleasant shiver down my spine.
“So, where are we going to eat?” I ask as we approach a stoplight.
Gabriel laughs, his eyes sparkling with lust. “Oh, just an old place my family used to go to growing up.”
A few minutes later, we approach the restaurant. Gabriel parks the car with ease, and the engine purrs to a stop. He turns to me and says, “I hope you’re hungry, Bumper.”
He gets out of the car before I can respond. I laugh as he opens the door for me again. “Starving!” I say, stepping out of the car, the crisp air nipping at my skin. I pull my arms tight to my body as a shiver runs down my spine.
“Here, take this,” he says, pulling his coat off and draping it over my shoulders. The fabric envelops me, and I can’t help but smile into the warmth.
“Thank you.”
We enter the restaurant, and the air is filled with the inviting aroma of freshly baked bread, herbs, and sauce surrounds us. The ambiance is warm and intimate. A candle softly flickers at each table.
The host greets us, and he guides us towards a cozy corner booth in the back of the restaurant.
Everything about this place feels like a secret. Like something he’s sharing with me. A piece of his past, now folded into our present.
We sit down, and I scan the menu. Everything seems amazing. We share a few ideas of what we may order, and I get lost in his descriptions of his heritage’s authentic food.
Our server arrives shortly , taking our orders from Gabriel, including a few appetizers to share. “You’ll love the burrata dish,” he says, his eyes lighting up. Gabriel looks at me and I nod, excited to try it.
“We’ll take it, grazie.”
When our appetizers arrive, we dive right in. We share bites of burrata and bruschetta, and as he hands me a piece, our fingers brush for a moment. The simple touch sends a spark through me, and I catch his gaze on mine.
“This is amazing,” I say, savoring the flavors. “You definitely have good taste.”
“I try,” he replies, a playful smile spreading across his face. We both laugh, and I can’t help but notice how easy it is to connect with him. It’s like there is a warmth that feels both comforting and exhilarating.
We move through our main courses, and Gabriel takes time to savor each bite and comment on what he likes about the different flavors and textures. A few times, I comment on how I agree or disagree.
“Okay, so I have to know, for future reference and all. What are your favorite foods?” He asks, leaning back into the booth.
I think for a moment, knowing my answer, but weighing all of my options. “I would have to say definitely white pizza. But with tomatoes, spinach, onions, and ricotta cheese. Besides that, I would say cookie dough.” I respond, nodding my head.
“Alright. I respect your choice of toppings for pizza. Add bacon to that, and it’s perfect in my eyes. But, cookie dough? Isn’t that bad for you?”
I spend the next five minutes explaining how I have been trying to perfect a safe to eat cookie dough since my sophomore year of high school.
Our conversation continues to flow, accentuated by laughter and shared stories. The time flies.
We finish our main courses, and our server returns to offer desserts. Gabriel, already knowing about my sweet tooth, orders a maritozzi and a slice of tiramisu.
The dessert arrives shortly, and it looks absolutely divine. The maritozzi has a golden brown surface gleaming slightly, hinting at the richness of the dough.
Gabriel’s mom makes these homemade and keeps them in his freezer. Since I started nannying Aura, I have eaten my fair share of the stock in the freezer.
There is something about the dessert. Its cream is not overly sweet, but in symphony with the soft bread, the sweetness and texture of it overflows your senses.
Gabriel laughs softly. “I know how much you love your maritozzis, but I promise you, tiramisu in Italy is not the same as it is in the States.”
I nod, taking a forkful of the coffee-soaked cake, and moan in delight.
The creamy mascarpone cheese is rich and smooth, melting in my mouth instantly. The soaked ladyfingers provide a delightful contrast. Their slight bitter taste balances the sweetness perfectly.
Savoring each bite, I can taste the hint of rum that adds another layer, enhancing the overall experience.
Glancing up at Gabriel, I notice he is captivated by watching me experience authentic tiramisu.
“This is the most incredible tiramisu I’ve ever had,” I say, smiling in between bites.
As I continue to indulge, I can see the wheels turning in his eyes.