Gabby
Okay, so she has a sock that goes on either of her feet. It tracks a lot of different things, but I use it to make sure she is still breathing. It’s stupid, I know, but it eases my mind. She sleeps in her bassinet, which is right next to the bed. I bought one for the guest bedroom so you don’t have to move the one in my room. When she wakes up during the night, it is always to eat, but she could always use a diaper change. She wakes up two or three times throughout the night.
My heart softens a little. It’s sweet how protective he is of Aura. That he’s so concerned about her breathing. Even with something as small as a tracker sock, tells me just how much he cares. It’s something that I find unexpectedly endearing.
There’s this whole other side of him—a vulnerable, tired, deeply committed side that I never get to see for more than a glimpse. And it makes my stomach flip. Not in a fireworks way. More like… slow, creeping warmth. Like sitting too close to the fire and not realizing you’re blushing.
A sudden knock at the door breaks me from my thoughts, and I stand up quickly, confused about who would be visiting. When I open the door, I’m greeted by my sweet mom, looking as put together as ever.
“Hey Mom, what’s up?” I ask, letting her in.
She smiles at me warmly but looks slightly concerned.
“Your brothers sent me,” she says, sitting down on the couch. “They told me it was anextreme emergency—their words, not mine. So, what’s going on? What has both your brothers in a frenzy?”
Oh, no. Not this. I know exactly what this is about.
“Mom,” I sigh, rubbing my temples. “As usual, Asher and Reuben are exaggerating. I got a night job. It’s four nights a week nannying a three-month-old little girl. Her dad works long overnight shifts, and his mom was helping, but she lives in Italy,so… yeah. Now I’m stepping in. I’m going to be asleep most of the time other than to feed and change her in the middle of the night.”
Mom raises her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, honeybean. I can see that your brothers blew the situation out of proportion. But tell me more about this job.”
Finally, someone who gets it.
“Well, like I said, it’s only four nights a week,” I explain. “The dad works twelve-hour shifts. His mom was helping, but she’s got her own life. They were interviewing a college student at the café, and let me tell you—she was horrible. She didn’t even want to help when the baby was awake. She just assumed it would be easy when the baby was sleeping. So, I offered to take the job.”
Mom nods, looking proud. “Alright, honeybean. It sounds like you did this family a solid. When do you begin?”
“In about two hours,” I say, looking at the clock.
Mom stands, patting my back. “Well, I’ll let you get ready then. It’s already half-past three. Don’t worry about your brothers. I’ll handle them.”
I spend the next hour getting ready. I take a long, relaxing bath, using the fancy salts I bought at the new store down the street from the café. It’s a little luxury I allow myself now and then.
Since I’m not washing my hair, I brush through it and give the curls a little touch-up. I remove my makeup except for my mascara and eyebrows, keeping it simple. I throw on an oversized hoodie and leggings and check myself out in the mirror.
You got this. It’s just a baby and a really,incrediblyhot dad.
One who, for whatever reason, seems determined to keep a ten-foot wall between us even when we’re sitting three feet apart.
I take a deep breath and leave my house at 5:15. The drive is short—only ten minutes—but it’s long enough to give me a few moments to second-guess myself.
Gabriel’s neighborhood is quiet, wrapped in that early evening stillness that always makes the world feel a little softer. His house is beautiful—simple, sturdy, well kept. Just like him. It looks like a place that doesn’t let people in easily, but once you’re inside… you might never want to leave.
I walk up the flower-lined pathway, taking a deep breath before I ring the doorbell.
I hear Gabriel’s voice from inside. “It’s open, come in.”
When I walk into the house, I’m immediately greeted by the sound of a very unhappy baby.
“Aura, baby, what’s wrong?” Gabriel says, his voice filled with quiet desperation. “I fed you and changed you. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”
I can’t help but smirk at him. “I don’t think babies can talk back when you ask them a question at this age.”
Gabriel’s head snaps, eyes narrowing in irritation. “I know she can’t talk back, but she’s been crying for over an hour, and I don’t know what to do.”
His voice isn’t angry exactly—it’s exhausted. Tense in a way that feels deeply personal, like he’s carrying something he doesn’t trust anyone else to hold.
I walk over to where he’s sitting with Aura. He’s already in his uniform, and the sight of him is mouthwatering, only heightens my nervousness.
