Enzo
So, you’re telling me you haven’t found a Bella Donna?
Me
No, no, I have. It’s just, well, she’s my nanny.
Leonardo
Merda, man. Does she know you have feelings? Does she have them?
Me
I don’t know. She probably hates me more than anything else . I’m such a dick whenever I’m around her.
Enzo
But that’s not you, at least not since Aura was born.
I chuckle, though it’s bittersweet. Enzo’s right. I haven’t been the same since Aura was born. I’ve got walls up—walls I didn’t even know I had until now. And maybe it’s time I figured out how to tear them down.
As I close the chat and put my phone down, I make a mental plan to be better. Not just for Aura, but for me. I’ve got a lot to work through, but I can’t stay stuck forever.
1. Merda-Fuck
2. Come va Fratello- What’s up brother?
3. Bella Donna- beautiful woman
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 thebakery 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 forhim, 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.
