Everyone joins in the toast. Aura claps along not a clue to what’s going on, just happy to be included.
The rest of dinner is full of laughter and love. The conversation flows easily between bites of food, the sound of Aura giggling as she tries to grab my fork, and the comfort of family.
The house is quiet when we walk in, the only sound being the soft click of the door as I close it behind us. The night has settled in, a calm after the whirlwind of dinner, We’ve been surrounded by love, teasing, questions about the wedding, and enough laughter to fill a thousand rooms. But now it’s just us, our little family of three.
I glance at Millie as I set my keys on the table, the weight of the evening still hanging in the air, but in a good way. She’s kicking off her shoes, letting out a small sigh, her tired eyes looking back at me with that familiar warmth. We both know what’s coming next—putting Aura down for bed.
Its a ritual we’ve since grown into, one that’s somehow both grounding and exhilarating at the same time.
Aura’s bath is filled with lavender bubbles. Millie hums a lullaby while washing her hair. I dry her off and wrap her in her favorite bunny towel. We do this together in a quiet rhythm. It’s not glamorous, but it’s everything.
Once Aura is tucked into bed, Millie and I find ourselves on the couch. She leans against me, and I can feel her relax as she unwinds on me. I can sense the worry in the way she’s chewing her lip.
“Bumper,” I say softly, breaking the silence. I pull her closer, enough to feel her heartbeat against mine. “If you want to hire more people to take on the responsibilities at the cafe, do that.”
For a moment, she doesn’t answer. Her eyes shift to the floor, her fingers continuing to make gently movements on my chest. Then, finally her voice breaks the quiet, barely a whisper.
“I don’t know, Gab,” she begins, her words slow, like she’s trying to figure it out herself. “ I think I’m just overthinking everything. The cafe, the wedding, the custody,us. It’s like everything’s happening so fast, and I don’t know how to slow it down.
I let out a quiet breath, wishing I could take some of the weight off her shoulders. “We don’t have to rush anything, Millie. I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together, no matter what.”
She looks at me then, her eyes filled with something that feels like relief. “You always know exactly what to say,” she whispers.
I shake my head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not about what I say, Bumper. It’s about what we do. And I’m here with you every step of the way.”
She leans in, her lips brushing mine in a kiss so soft, so tender, it’s almost like I can feel her soul in it.
And for a long moment, we stay there with her body curled into mine. The world finally slowing down just like Millie wished it would. In this moment, we are just two people in love, clinging to the little things that remind us we’re not alone.
In Every Way That Counts
MILLIE
One month.
That’s how much time is left until the custody hearing. It was originally supposed to happen later, but Haley got it moved earlier.
Gabriel and I are still getting married on the twenty-first despite the hearing now being on the first of December.
I’ve thought a lot about Haley. I won’t pretend that I’m not nervous about the hearing—about what she may say, about what her lawyer might throw at us. I don’t talk about it much, but every time I look at Aura, that anxiety comes forward in my thoughts. How will it feel if we are forced to share her? How will we handle it if we lose our girl?
Every scenario plays out in my mind, and the hardest part is the unknown. What if we’re not enough? What if her birth mother decides she wants to try again… and the biggest one of all—what if the system chooses her over us?
It’s easy to feel like I’m being selfish—like I’m just scared of losing my little girl. But I’m also scared for her. She’s so little, so full of joy and wonder, so utterly trusting of the world around her. She has no idea how fragile her place in our lives could be,how easily everything could be taken away. That thought gnaws at me more than anything else.
Haley is Aura’s birth mother, and I think of her sometimes, but not in the way I imagined I would. I don’t feel anger or resentment—just a quiet ache. She’s a part of Aura’s story, a part of who she is, but she’s not her mother. I have been the one to feed and love her for the past eight months. She is mine in every way that counts, and I am hers.
Nothing in the world can change that.
But I know the courts don’t see it that way. There’s a paper trail, a birth certificate, a name on a file, a legal fight to determine who gets to raise her. A legal fight that we’ve been preparing for all month.
We are meeting with our lawyer this morning, and I feel like I’m walking into a battlefield. I’m dressed in something professional but comfortable—something that says I’m here to do what needs to be done. Gabriel’s beside me, as always, but his reassuring presence can’t quell the sense of unease twisting in my stomach.
We’re sitting in the waiting room of the lawyer’s office when I realize just how much this is all weighing on me. My fingers are fidgeting, drumming against the armrest of the chair. The smell of coffee from the nearby cafe booth doesn’t even register. The air feels thick, like it’s pressing down on my shoulders, and I can’t stop the anxious thoughts from swirling.
Gabriel, as usual, picks up on my restlessness. His hands slip into mine, his grip steady and firm. I look over at him, and the warmth in his eyes settles something in me, even if it’s just for a moment.
“You’re not alone in this,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand.
