Chapter 8
Operation Single Dad
MILLIE
The meeting with Gabriel went well, and we agreed I’ll start Sunday. I want to get there early, just in case he has anything he needs to tell me before he heads off to work. But until then, I wait.
I spent the entire evening after our meeting replaying the moment in my head—how Gabriel had opened up about Aura’s mother, how he looked at his daughter with so much care, so much love. It made my heart ache.
Aura might just be the cutest baby I’ve ever seen. Her tiny hands, that little face, and those wide, curious eyes—like she’s taking in the entire world one blink at a time.
She’s just a baby, and already life has handed her a raw deal with the woman who should’ve loved her most. She deserves so much more, and I want to be the one to give her that.
Gabriel wants his daughter to be loved, and I will do exactly that. I’ll love her with all my might.
It’s the very least I can offer, especially after everything she’s already had to face so early on.
And maybe if I can give Aura something steady, something warm and safe, it’ll be enough to make Gabriel smile more often. To soften that guarded look he always wears. To make him believe people don’t always leave.
But I remind myself to be patient. Gabriel isn’t the type to let people in easily. I’m not here to fix him or rush anything. Just to be steady. That’s the plan.
The morning after our meeting, I’m in the café, running through the motions of opening up for the day when the door chimes.
I look up to find Gabriel standing in front of the counter, holding a tumbler in his hand.
It’s one of those sleek, double-walled kinds that keeps your drink cold or hot for hours.
He gives me a small smile, a hint of something I can’t quite read in his eyes.
He says almost shyly, “I brought you an Italian soda. I wanted to thank you for last night. I rarely talk about it much, but I thought you needed to know.” He shrugs, his usual gruffness softening.
His voice is low and almost hesitant, like he’s not used to giving gifts or making small gestures. It makes my chest tighten just a little.
He doesn’t seem to realize how rare that is. A man showing up the next morning with something thoughtful just to say thank you? That kind of gesture isn’t just rare. It’s meaningful.
I smile back, trying to hide the flutter in my stomach. “Oh, uh, thank you? I’m just glad you got what you needed off your chest,” I say, leaning across the counter. “Your usual?” I ask, hoping for a bit of normalcy, a chance to act like this is just another day.
He looks me directly in the eye. “Surprise me, Bumper,” he says, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
That grin is dangerous. It slides under my skin like a secret. My fingers go a little numb, and I have to clear my throat to stop myself from blushing.
God help me. That smile should seriously be illegal. At the very least, have a warning sign before it’s showcased.
That’s unusual. I raise an eyebrow, trying to keep my expression neutral.
I take this as an opportunity to make him something I think he’ll like—something a little outside of the box.
My fingers move quickly as I prepare a drink, trying to think of something that would show him I’m paying attention.
I move to the new espresso machine and make a double shot.
While it’s brewing, I mix up raspberry milk, blending raspberry with a hint of cake batter syrup to add some sweetness.
When the espresso’s done, I pour it over the milk, garnishing the drink with a dusting of cocoa powder and a few fresh raspberries on top.
I take a second to steady myself before handing it over. I don’t want to look too eager handing it to him. It’s a simple thing, but if he doesn’t like it, that’ll be the end of the moment.
“One pink velvet macchiato,” I say, typing in the order on the cash register, already feeling proud of myself.
Gabriel’s eyes widen as he catches the unexpected color of the drink. He takes a sip and nods approvingly, sliding a twenty and a ten, saying, “Keep the change, Bumper.”
“You sure?” I ask.
He nods. “You made it with raspberry milk. No one’s ever done that.”
I pause. “Do you like it?”
“I don’t like it. I love it.”
His approval feels like a tiny victory. Not because I want to impress him, but because he’s letting me in—just a crack in that tough exterior.
There’s a quiet moment charged with electricity where I swear we’re just standing there seeing each other a little differently.
I watch him saunter over to a table, pushing Aura’s pram ahead of him. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her, tiny and peaceful in her little world. I can’t help it—my gaze follows them as they settle in.
Taking a deep breath, I grab a plate of pastries and walk over to them, trying to act casual, though inside I’m anything but.
“I know you probably don’t want me to come over here, but here are some pastries for you to eat,” I offer with a warm smile. “Do you mind if I hold her?” I offer with a smile.
Gabriel looks up at me, blinking as if caught off guard. His eyes soften, and I raise my eyebrows, silently asking, Well, can I hold your daughter?
He nods, albeit slowly, and I pick up Aura, cradling her to my chest with all the care I’ve seen Gabriel give her.
The moment she’s in my arms, it’s like something in me settles. Aura nestles against me like she belongs there. Maybe she does. Maybe this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I don’t rush the moment. Holding her gently, I feel a quiet peace wash over me—unexpected, but deeply welcome.
“Hi, my sweets. How is your day today?” I coo, my voice naturally adopting that high-pitched baby talk we all use.
Aura looks at me with wide eyes, blinking like she’s unsure whether she should smile or cry. I bounce her gently in my arms, talking to her about my day, hoping she’ll warm up to me.
I read somewhere that you should tell babies everything around them to expose them to as many words as possible in their first year of life.
“You’re good with her,” Gabriel comments, his voice soft as he watches me. “I can tell she likes you.”
“I like her too,” I reply, my heart swelling in my chest.
I glance at Gabriel and catch him watching me. Not just looking—watching. Like maybe he’s wondering what it would look like if this was our life every day. God help be because I hate to admit I’m wondering the same thing.
But neither of us says it out loud. Not yet.
I hand Aura back to Gabriel, but as soon as she’s back in his arms, she cries. It’s a sharp little wail that tugs at my heart, but I remind myself that I need to let Gabriel have his time with her. I fight the urge to take her back in my arms and comfort her. It’s just not my place.
But Gabriel doesn’t panic. He presses her close, whispering something in her ear that I can’t hear. Whatever it is, it works. She stops fussing, and I fall just a little more for both of them.
The rest of my weekend drags on, slow and stretched out as I await my new nanny job starting on Sunday.
My mind constantly returns to Gabriel and Aura. I know my heart is getting tangled in this whole situation, and that’s something I need to keep in check.
My main priority is to be the best nanny for Aura—not to get distracted by her father, no matter how good-looking or charming he may be.
But no one warned me it would be this hard. That I’d lie in bed at night thinking about the curve of his smile, or the way Aura’s hand fits perfectly inside his. Or how it felt holding her.
I tell myself to shut it down. He’s her dad. Nothing more. But those moments stick like stubborn little sparks. The warmth they leave behind makes it impossible to forget.
I try to push those thoughts away, telling myself to keep it professional. To keep my heart on lockdown until I know for sure this is just a job. But the pull is there, subtle and persistent.
On Wednesday, Melanie and Harlow texted me about a girl’s night on Friday before I officially start on Sunday. I agree with that, needing some time to unwind before jumping into everything.
Friday arrives, and I open the café early, spending the day training the new baristas I hired to help once we officially open. Everything at the café is going well. I pinch myself sometimes just to make sure this is all real.
Before I close on Friday, my brother Asher arrives to finish installing the lighting above the syrup wall.
“Hey Mills!” Asher calls as he enters, a smile as bright as ever. He’s a big guy with broad shoulders, and his energy always fills up the room.
He looks like our dad, even more so than his identical twin brother, Reuben, though Asher and I are the closest.
“How’s it going ?” he asks, climbing up a ladder.
“I’m good, Ash,” I reply. “Busy, but good. I start a night job on Sunday, and the café opens soon, so it’s a little hectic, but I’m excited. I’ve been wanting this for so long,” I sigh, leaning against the counter for a moment.
Asher stops, looks at me with a concerned frown, and sets down the tool he’s holding. “Why’d you get a night job? Doing what?”
I knew my siblings would question why I got a second job. But this one’s different, and I don’t feel like I owe them an explanation. Still, I know they’re coming from a place of concern, so I try to keep it light.
“Relax, Dad,” I joke, knowing full well Asher is the most protective sibling.
“I just got a job as a nanny for a baby overnight while the dad works. He is Josh’s new partner, and we’ve already met.
It will be nothing intense. He just needs someone to be there while his daughter sleeps, to feed and change her. ”
Asher crosses his arms, standing firmly in his “dad” pose. “Even if he is JJ’s new partner, I don’t like the idea of you working two jobs, Millie. Is the café not going to bring enough revenue for you to live comfortably?”