“You know, Gabriel wasn’t always the serious one. When he was a kid, he had this wild streak—climbing trees higher than any of the boys, chasing after the neighborhood dogs with no fear at all. He was always stubborn, like his mamma here.” He nods toward Mamma, who laughs and swats him.
“And that stubbornness,” Papa continues, “sometimes got him into trouble, but it also made him fiercely protective. Especially when his sister moved away.”
I feel a tug in my chest—how much my family has shaped me, and how much they still mean to me.
Millie listens, genuinely interested, her hand finding mine under the table. She squeezes gently.
I glance at Millie, who is laughing with Siena, letting the little girl twirl a lock of her hair.
“Thanks for coming,” I say softly.
Millie meets my eyes, her warmth anchoring me. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
As the afternoon shifts toward evening, the light softens, and the family begins to pack up. Millie holds Aura before I take her, her head resting against my shoulder.
Mamma kisses Aura’s forehead. “You’ll come back soon, right?”
“Of course,” Millie replies.
I sling my arm around Millie’s waist as we walk to the car, the olive trees swaying gently in the warm breeze.
I glance at Millie and Aura and feel it clear and true.
This is home.
Every small sound seems magnified in this stillness—Millie’s soft breath, the faint rustle of fabric, the occasional coo from Aura—but I treasure this fragile calm.
I slide Aura into her seat carefully, trying not to jostle her too much, but her little hands twitch, and I hold my breath, praying she stays asleep.
A tiny sigh escapes her lips, but she doesn’t stir. I feel a small wave of relief wash over me. My heart swells with affection for both her and Millie, who has made everything about this trip so much better.
I lean over the car seat and brush a stray curl from Aura’s forehead, my fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary, memorizing the soft warmth of her skin. It hits me how precious these quiet moments are, how fleeting childhood is, and how deeply entwined my life has become with these two incredible souls.
Millie’s natural ease and warmth with my family only adds to her incredible ability to adapt and make the best out of every situation. Her knack for making Aura laugh, even when she’s tired, has only deepened my feelings for her. Every moment spent with Millie feels precious—something I want to hold onto tightly, never wanting to let slip away.
As I start the engine and drive, I glance at Millie and Aura inthe back seat. Millie’s hair is a little messy from the morning, and the soft breeze coming through the cracked window makes it sway gently.
Her face is lit with a soft, unguarded smile, and I can see how much she enjoys being with Aura. The way she makes eye contact with my daughter, speaking to her softly, is such a natural act of love.
Aura’s giggles fill the space, and I can’t help but smile, my heart feeling fuller than it ever has. I have this quiet moment of clarity—a realization that this trip, this experience has been everything I never knew I needed. A sense of peace settles over me, a calmness that is unlike anything I’ve ever known before.
I steal glances at Millie’s profile, marveling at the way the sunlight kisses the curve of her cheek and how even amid all this chaos, she exudes this calm, radiant presence. I think about how lucky I am that she came with me, to be part of this messy, beautiful life.
As we near the airport, the buzz of the day settles in. I glance at Millie, whose smile fades slightly as she stares out the window, her fingers absently playing with the edge of the seatbelt. It’s clear that while we’re all ready to return, leaving Italy tugs at her heart.
I reach over, pulling a small pill out of my pocket. “Here, Bumper,” I say softly, offering it to her. “I got you something to help with the flight. I want you to be comfortable this time.”
She glances at me, her eyebrows knitting together, but then she sees the concern in my eyes. “You’re a good man, Gabriel,” she murmurs, taking the pill between her fingers. “Thank you.” She pops it in her mouth, washing it down with water from the bottle on the dashboard.
“Anything to make this trip easier for you,” I reply, turning my gaze back to the road.
The hustle of the airport is always an energy I feel as soon as we arrive—an adrenaline rush mixed with the tension of travel.
There’s something thrilling about it, yet the noise and rush ofother travelers always feels overwhelming. But this time, with Millie by my side, it feels different.
“I’ll be counting down the days until we get to come back. Italy was a dream,” Millie says, her voice distant as she looks out to the stream of travelers.
I can’t help but agree, my heart aching at the thought of leaving. But there’s no use in lingering over something we can’t change. “We’ll be back. I promise,” I assure her, squeezing her hand before we head to the gate.
