I grunt. “Sure, Bumper” My words sound worse than I mean them to. I’m not angry with her—I’m just… drained.
With a smile that seems staged, she turns and gives me the drink carrier. “On the house, have a nice day!”
I offer no response. Nodding, I toss a twenty on the counter and leave. I don’t need to feel good about it. I need to leave the café already, ignoring the guilt I feel for the way I treated her.
But I can’t bring myself to go back in and fix it. I just need to get home, see Aura, and forget about all of this.
After my first night as a Cherry Falls patrol officer, I need something to take my mind off of all the anxiety that is making life impossible to enjoy. It’s been months since I was on the job, and getting thrust back into it was a nightmare. Especially after countless sleepless nights.
Cherry Falls is quieter than I’m used to. Too quiet sometimes. But there’s a healing quality to it, too. My family is from Italy, and I’ve lived my whole life surrounded by chaos. But here in this small sleepy town, there’s peace. And I think that peace might be exactly what my baby girl and I need.
Of course, it’s not so simple. I’ve spent the last month trying to put my and my daughter’s lives back together after her mother, Haley, left. The emotional strain of raising Aura alone is brutal, and some days I can barely keep it together.
There is a part of me that is happy she left, but there’s also this part of me that hurts for our daughter. I hate thinking that Aura may grow up without her mother in her life. I’ll never falter loving Aura, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure she doesn’t grow up with that hole in her life.
But I’m never going to let Haley back into our lives. Not after everything. I won’t risk Aura going through that heartbreak again. I can’t.
And yet, for all the pain I’ve been through, something about that moment in the cafe won’t leave me alone.
The way her eyes met mine. That brief crack in her armor when I said something cold. The smile she forced. I’ve seen many people's fake smiles. Hell, I’ve faked enough of them myself to know the difference. There was something underneath hers though, a flicker of pride or maybe something bruised. Either way, it didn’t sit right. Not because I care, I don’t. Not in any way thatmatters, but because it felt like I was seeing someone trying to stand their ground, and I bulldozed through it without a second thought.
I pull into the driveway. The house is silent as I get out of the car. It’s a weird quiet when you’re not used to it. I’m used to noise—constant chatter, the hum of city life, even the screaming matches between Haley and me before she left. But now, everything’s still. Just me, Aura, and my mom.
I take a minute to sit in the car, the weight of it all pressing down on me. My mom’s been watching Aura while I work, but I can’t keep asking her to drop everything. I have to figure out a way to balance work and being a decent dad. I need to make sure Aura has everything she needs. But I also need to make sure I don’t lose myself.
When I walk through the front door, the comforting smell of my mom’s maritozzi hits me like a wave. There’s something about those pastries—so soft, so sweet—that brings me back to my childhood when everything felt simpler. It’s like a moment of calm in the middle of the chaos I’m living now.
“Buongiorno1, Mamma,” I say, stepping inside.
She turns around from the stove. Her face lights up when she sees me.
“Buongiorno mio bellissimo figlio2,” she says, wrapping me in one of her signature hugs, the kind that always makes everything feel better.
“How was Beanie? Did she eat well? Sleep, okay?” I ask, my voice thick with concern.
She rolls her eyes at me, but I can see the amusement in her eyes.
“Yes, amore mio3. She was the perfect angel she’s always been. I think she smiled for the first time while I was feeding her last night!”
My heart skips a beat. A smile. My baby girl smiled for the first time, and I wasn’t there to see it. That hurts more than I want to admit.
I try to hide the sinking feeling in my chest, but I can’t. “I’m missing so much,” I mutter. It’s not something I say aloud often, but today I can’t keep it in. The guilt is suffocating.
She waves it off like it’s no big deal. “Amore mio, you’re doing the best you can. She’s here with me, and she’s thriving. Don’t worry.”
But I worry. I amalwaysworried. It’s who I am now. After everything that’s happened, all I can think about is being a good father. I want to be there for every moment, but sometimes it feels like I’m already losing time. And that kills me.
Aura cries from the living room, and I’m on my feet in an instant, rushing over to her swing. I pick her up gently, shushing her, rocking her slowly in my arms. There’s a certain peace in this moment—the soft warmth of her body against mine, the little sounds she makes. This is all I want. To be present. To give her everything I can.
Working nights is tough, yet it is a sacrifice made gladly to enjoy the days with Aura.
I sit down on the couch after setting Aura back in her swing, my mind running through a dozen different things at once. The logistics of it all—how am I going to manage work and still be there for her? I’ve been thinking about hiring a nanny, someone to help with her while I’m working. But even that feels like a step too far. I don’t want to disrupt her routine. I want her to feel secure, like she’s got a stable foundation, even at this age.
When I bring it up with my mom, she immediately jumps in. “Amore mio, I can watch her for as long as you need. I don’t mind,” she says, her voice filled with that familiar, unconditional love.
I hesitate. I don’t want to burden her. She’s already helped so much.
“I know, Mamma, but I don’t want my life to derail yours.Before you say it, yes, it is derailing your life. Mamma, you live in Italy. Your life is in Italy. Asking you to stay here indefinitely is too much of an ask.”
