Chapter 12
Sleepless Nights and Opening Lights
MILLIE
Watching Aura is the dream job. I knew when I took this job that I would love it.
I just never expected to love it this much.
There’s something so peaceful about the way she looks up with those curious eyes, the way she snuggles into my arms when she needs comfort.
I can’t help but smile every time she lets out that little sigh, content in my arms. She’s such a sweet baby, and being her nanny feels like a privilege.
Aura and I chill on the couch for a while, my eyes glued to the screen as I watch my favorite show, Snack vs Chef.
I’m the type of person who always has a weird fascination with food competition shows.
It’s a guilty pleasure of mine, but tonight it feels different.
I’m holding Aura in my arms, her tiny body pressed against me as I absentmindedly stroke her soft hair.
I know they say that babies can become dependent on being held all the time, but I can’t help it.
It feels right. And besides, I’m convinced it’s allowing her to get to know me better.
There’s something about bonding with her like this that makes my heart feel full in a way I didn’t know was possible.
I never imagined I’d fall so hard and fast for a baby that wasn’t mine. But here I am, totally wrapped around this tiny girl’s finger. She’s more than just Gabriel’s daughter—she’s this bright, sweet little soul who makes everything feel softer.
And being with her like this, at night, when the world is quiet, and she’s curled up like she trusts me more than anyone—it makes everything else fade away. I’m not thinking about my to-do list, or the stress of opening the café, or even my messy heart. I’m just here. With her. Completely present.
After a while, I glance at the clock. It’s getting late—around ten.
Time to get ready for bed. I rise gently from the couch, making sure Aura stays safely cradled in my arms. The last thing I want is for her to stir in her sleep.
I head up the stairs, and, true to Gabriel’s instructions, I find the guest bedroom quickly.
When I walk in, I’m immediately taken aback by how beautiful the room is.
The bed frame is massive—a beautifully carved wooden frame that looks both sturdy and elegant.
A soft, cream-colored comforter covers the mattress, and small touches—like neatly folded towels on the bed and carefully arranged throw pillows—make the space feel warm and inviting.
But what catches my eye the most are the snacks.
There’s a small tray of Italian sodas, some cookie dough bites, and chips. A note is at the center of it all.
Thank you for watching my little girl while I work. I was nervous to leave her with a random person, but if there’s anyone who I trust with my daughter, it’s you. It’s been good to get to know each other a little over the past few weeks.
This man, damn, he is sending me a million different signals, and I don’t know what to do with any of them. It’s not lost on me that I find him ridiculously attractive, and sure, I’d love to see if we could be something more, but is that crazy?
He’s the father of the baby I’m caring for, and I’m pretty sure he’s got enough on his plate as it is. But how could I not feel this way about him? There’s something about the way he looks at me—like I’m someone worth paying attention to, not just his daughter’s nanny.
And the worst part? He doesn’t even try. He just shows up—quiet, thoughtful, strong—and somehow shakes me without even knowing it. This note? It’s simple. Sweet. But to me, it feels like a full-blown confession. And I don’t know if I’m reading into it too much… or not enough.
I gently place the note down and sit on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to reflect on everything.
It feels surreal, honestly. Gabriel and I have shared conversations over the past few weeks, but there’s this unspoken tension that I can’t ignore.
I’m not blind to the way our interactions sometimes seem to carry a little more weight than they should.
I look down at Aura, who is peacefully asleep in my arms. I gently rock her and lay her in the bassinet next to the bed.
Sleep doesn’t come easily. I keep replaying the words from the note over and over in my mind. If there’s anyone I trust with my daughter, it’s you.
Is that a sign? Does he trust me, or is he just being polite? I can’t decide. So, instead of worrying about it, I focus on Aura.
She wakes up three times throughout the night, each time stirring for a feeding. Waking up to care for her isn’t a bother at all to me. It feels right.
“Hi pretty girl,” I whisper as I scoop her up from the bassinet, “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
I can’t help but talk to her like she’s an adult—like she’ll answer me. But it’s soothing to say something, even if she’s still too young to understand.
Aura is such a cute baby and has such a big head of hair that I’m certain she’s inherited it from her dad.
She’s a tiny baby, but I love how she looks at me with such curiosity.
There’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll grow into a smart, independent little girl—though I’m sure Gabriel will miss these early mornings when all she needs is to be held and fed.
After I finish feeding Aura, I rock her gently back to sleep and lay her in the bassinet beside the bed. I settle back down, pulling the blanket around myself, and let sleep finally take over.
I dream of warmth. Laughter. Something soft and safe. I don’t remember the details, just the feeling that I wasn’t alone. That maybe I belonged somewhere.
But just as I’m drifting off into a peaceful slumber, I hear a noise. A sound I can’t quite place. My heart skips a beat, and I shoot up in bed, my eyes wide open.
“Hey there, Bumper,” he says in that voice of his, deep and a little teasing, but there’s a warmth there that makes my heart flutter.
What time is it?
It can’t be 6 am already, can it? I leap out of bed and rush to the bathroom, eager to fix my face and brush my teeth before facing anyone. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I groan—I look like a mess, with sleep creases on my cheek and hair sticking out everywhere.
Why is it I feel more nervous seeing him first thing in the morning than I do during a health inspection at the café? Probably because he sees too much without even trying.
When I walk back into the bedroom, I find Gabriel sitting on the edge of the bed, holding Aura in his arms. Seeing him like that, so effortlessly caring for his daughter, does something to me I can’t quite explain. He looks like he’s been doing this forever—holding his baby girl with such ease.
“Hey sorry,” I mutter, feeling slightly embarrassed, “I just needed to freshen up before I had any human interaction. You know, morning breath and all.”
Gabriel looks up at me, a glint in his eyes as he shakes his head. “Bumper, I don’t care what you look like in the morning when you wake up. It doesn’t change the fact that you still look beautiful.”
Did he just… I think he did.
My heart stutters. One beat, then another, like it’s trying to figure out whether it should believe him or panic. I cover it with a laugh, but it sounds shaky even to my own ears.
I try to ignore the way my stomach flips at his words, but it’s impossible. He has a way of disarming me with that easy confidence, the way he speaks without hesitation, like every word he says matters. I can’t decide if I want to crawl under the covers or let myself get lost in the moment.
I make my way downstairs with Gabriel and Aura.
The sunlight is streaming through the windows, and it makes everything feel warm and safe.
It’s peaceful here—something I didn’t expect to find in this house.
Gabriel is at the kitchen counter, shirtless as he prepares breakfast, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
He’s just standing there, his back muscles rippling as he cracks eggs into a pan.
“I can make some breakfast if you’d like,” he says, glancing at me over his shoulder. “I mean, that is, if you don’t have to go straight to the café.”
I shake my head, trying to focus. “No, that’s okay. I’d love some eggs.”
As he finishes cooking, I sit at the kitchen table, watching him work. I don’t know what it is, but the more time I spend around Gabriel, the more I want to be around him. The more I want to know him—who he is when he’s not busy being a father or a cop.
Once Gabriel finishes cooking, he places the plate in front of me, and I eagerly dig in. The scrambled eggs with feta, tomatoes, and spinach are amazing—just the breakfast that feels comforting and filling. It’s like he knows exactly what I need, and that’s both sweet and a little overwhelming.
“Eat, Bumper,” he says, sitting down across from me.
He watches me as I take the first bite, and I try to keep my eyes on my plate. But I can feel it—that quiet intensity in the way he looks at me. Like he sees more than I want to show.
“You’re going to crush today,” he says after a moment, voice steady. “I hope you know that.”
I look up, fork halfway to my mouth. “You think so?”
He smiles, a soft lift of the corner of his mouth. “No doubt in my mind.”
And just like that, something cracks open inside of me. A part of me that’s been holding on through months of planning, stress, and self-doubt now feels wrapped in this quiet moment of support. Of faith. His faith.
I leave Gabriel’s house a little later, heading straight to the café.
The last inspections are scheduled for today, and everything has to be perfect.
I can hardly wait for the grand opening.
The anticipation is overwhelming, but there’s a sense of calm in knowing I’m ready for it.
The café has been a dream of mine for so long, and it’s finally coming to life.