The day after our impromptu water park excursion, I wasn’t able to stop thinking about Millie.
Every moment—the way she laughed, how she stepped up to help in ways I never expected—left me with a feeling I wasn’t sure how to navigate.
It was impulsive of me to ask her to come to Italy with us. But I’m not sure how Aura or I would do without seeing her for an entire week. I’ve gotten so used to her being around all the time, and frankly, I didn’t want to go on this trip without her.
It feels strange to admit, but the feelings I have for Millie have only grown stronger since I met her. What started as a simple admiration of her dedication and work ethic has deepened into something much more complicated.
Sometimes I catch myself watching her when she thinks I’m not looking—how her eyes light up when Aura giggles, or how gently she rocks her when she’s fussy. It’s these small moments that have lodged themselves deep inside me, unshakable and persistent.
Every time I see her, especially when she’s with Aura, I feel something tight in my chest. It’s not just that she’s good with mydaughter. She is—she’s great with her. It’s that Millie’s presence seems to make everything in my life feel more…complete.
She’s sweet to everyone, and the way she cares for my daughter pulls at my heartstrings more than I’d like to admit. The way she anticipates Aura’s needs, the way she smiles at her, even when it’s the middle of the night and she’s sleep-deprived—there’s something in her that makes me want to be close to her. I want to protect that, hold on to it.
Millie has gone above and beyond as Aura’s nanny. She doesn’t just watch over her. She’s always thinking of ways to make life easier for both of us. Every time I turn around, there’s a new baby item in the house—a toy, a onesie, some new baby book she picked up that she thought Aura would love.
She even started organizing little activities to stimulate Aura’s development, like gently encouraging her to reach for toys or introducing new textures for sensory play. It’s clear she’s not just here for the paycheck; she’s invested, emotionally and fully.
Not to mention that Millie has been preparing to start Aura on solid foods once she turns six months old. She’s been researching recipes, buying fresh organic produce, and planning out a menu of homemade baby food to introduce. I’ve watched her meticulously wash and steam vegetables, puree tiny batches, and carefully freeze portions for later.
It’s impressive how seriously she takes this—and honestly, I can’t wait to see Aura try the food she’s made. Knowing Millie is so dedicated to this next step feels like a huge relief."Alright, Aura," I say to myself as I walk into her nursery. “Let’s get you ready for the day, shall we?”
I still can’t believe Aura is almost six months old. Time seems to slip through my fingers like sand, and I feel like I’m grasping at every little moment with her. It seems like just yesterday she was a tiny, squishy baby.
She’s growing up too fast, and I’m trying my best to savor every second.
I’ve been running around like a madman these past couple ofweeks, getting everything prepared for our trip to Italy. I got Aura her passport a few months ago, knowing it would take a while for it to come through. Now that it’s here, I can’t help but stare at it, noticing how different she looks in the photo. She’s changed so much since the photo. I’ve been trying to get everything in order, but I still need to pack our things, make sure I don’t forget any important travel documents, and—wait a minute.
Millie. Does she have a passport?
Would she really have agreed to come with us if she didn’t? I figure she must, but it’s one of those things I should probably double-check before we leave. It’s just been a whirlwind of excitement, and I haven’t stopped to think about the practical stuff.
I glance over at Aura, who’s giggling at some toys in her crib, and I sigh. I’m nervous. I’m excited, but I’m nervous too. This trip could change everything. It feels like the stakes are higher now that Millie’s coming along, but I can’t quite figure out what’s making me feel this way.
Two weeks to go.
I’m sitting in the living room, flipping through the last-minute details of the trip, when a thought hits me. I want to spend more time with Millie before we leave.
I want to ask her over for dinner, but I need a reason—something that doesn’t make me seem too eager. Truth is, I really want her to come. I just hate how hard it is to admit that... even to myself.
Me
Hey Bumper, I just found this old Italian cookbook my grandmother gave me. I want to try one of the recipes but could definitely use your expert opinion. Think you can come over and help me not mess it up?
Bumper
Absolutely! Let me just close up the cafe and I’ll head over. What’s the dish?
Me
Stuffed shells. I have the ingredients ready.
Bumper
Sounds delicious. I’ll be there soon.
I hit send and try to act casual, though inside I’m pretty excited. I don’t want to make a big deal of it, but honestly, I just want to spend some time with her before the trip.
I clean up the kitchen, light a few candles—ones my mom gave me when she lived here briefly—and sit on the couch, hoping to look casual. I turn on the football game to distract myself. It’s one of my favorite pastimes, even though I can’t focus on it right now. The way my thoughts keep circling back to Millie makes it impossible to enjoy the game fully.
