Updated Nov 20, 2025 • ~6 min read
Three weeks after the festival, Ivy had a breakdown.
Not a panic attack. Not stress-baking. A full, complete, everything-is-too-much breakdown.
It started when her oven broke during morning rush. Then her best employee quit via text. Then a supplier messed up her order—sending all-purpose flour instead of bread flour. Then a one-star review appeared from someone claiming they found hair in their croissant (they absolutely didn’t; Ivy was meticulous about hairnets).
By noon, she was holding it together by the thinnest thread.
By 2 PM, when a pipe burst in the bathroom and water started flooding toward her storage area, the thread snapped.
She called Bash. “I can’t do this.”
“What happened?”
“Everything. Everything happened. The oven, the employee, the flour, the review, the pipe—” Her voice broke. “I can’t do this. I’m not cut out for this. I should just quit and go work for someone else where I don’t have to worry about everything falling apart—”
“I’m coming over,” Bash said. “Right now. Don’t move.”
He was there in three minutes, probably sprinted. Found her sitting on the floor of her bakery, surrounded by the chaos of a half-finished day.
He didn’t say anything. Just sat beside her and pulled her into his arms.
Ivy broke.
All the stress of the past months came pouring out. The pressure of success. The fear of failing. The weight of everyone’s expectations. She sobbed into his shirt while he held her, stroking her hair, murmuring soft reassurances in French.
When she finally calmed down, he said, “Better?”
“A little.”
“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to call a plumber for the pipe. You’re going to call your HVAC guy for the oven. We’ll handle the flour situation tomorrow. The review is bullshit and everyone knows it. And the employee who quit? Her loss. You’ll find someone better.”
“Bash—”
“You’re not quitting,” he said firmly. “You’re having a bad day. A spectacularly bad day. But one bad day doesn’t erase everything you’ve built. Sweet Haven is incredible. You’re incredible. And you’re not doing this alone. You have me.”
Ivy’s eyes welled up again. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not. This is what partnership means. When you can’t hold it together, I hold it together for both of us. And when I inevitably have my next spiral, you’ll do the same for me.”
“When you inevitably have your next spiral?”
“I’m self-aware enough to know it’s ‘when,’ not ‘if.'” He kissed her forehead. “Come on. Let’s deal with this one crisis at a time.”
They spent the next four hours fixing everything.
Bash called the plumber—his guy, who came within an hour. Fixed the pipe. Checked everything else while he was there.
The HVAC guy couldn’t come until tomorrow, so Bash offered Ivy his ovens. “Use Moreau’s kitchen in the morning. We don’t open until five. You can bake there.”
“I can’t intrude on your space—”
“You’re not intruding. We’re partners. What’s mine is yours.”
They dealt with the flour situation—Bash called his supplier, who rushed the correct order. It would arrive by midnight.
The employee situation was trickier. Ivy would have to hire someone new, train them, hope they worked out.
“I’ll ask around,” Bash said. “See if anyone in the restaurant community knows someone good.”
By 6 PM, the immediate crises were handled. The bakery was closed for the day—Ivy had put a sign on the door apologizing and offering free coffee to anyone who came by tomorrow.
They sat at one of her small tables, exhausted.
“Thank you,” Ivy said. “For all of this. For not letting me quit.”
“You weren’t really going to quit.”
“I felt like it.”
“Feelings aren’t facts,” Bash said. “You built this place from nothing. One bad day doesn’t change that.”
“Says the man who tried to break up with me because he was scared.”
He winced. “Fair point. We’re both disasters sometimes.”
“But we’re disasters together.”
“Exactly.”
Ivy leaned her head on his shoulder. “What if this keeps happening? What if I can’t handle the pressure?”
“Then we figure it out. Together. Maybe you hire more staff. Maybe you reduce hours. Maybe we collaborate more officially and share resources. There are solutions, Ivy. You don’t have to carry all this alone.”
“I’m not used to having help.”
“I know. Foster care taught you to be self-sufficient. But you have me now. And Margot. And Leo. And the whole ridiculous town. You’re not alone anymore.”
She turned to look at him. Really look at him. This man who’d started as her enemy and become her everything.
“I love you,” she said. “So much it scares me sometimes.”
“I love you too. And yeah, it’s terrifying. But it’s also the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
They sat there as the sun set, holding each other in her quiet bakery.
“You know what I realized today?” Ivy said. “When everything was falling apart and I called you?”
“What?”
“That you’d come. That you’d help. That I could count on you.” She squeezed his hand. “I’ve never had that before. Someone who just… shows up. No questions. No judgment. Just there.”
Bash’s eyes were suspiciously bright. “You’d do the same for me.”
“Every time.”
“I know. That’s why we work.”
They ordered takeout and ate it in the closed bakery. Talked about expanding their partnership. Maybe officially combining some operations. Sharing suppliers. Covering for each other when one needed a break.
“What if we formalized it?” Bash said. “Created an LLC or something. Moreau’s and Sweet Haven stay separate, but we have a joint entity for collaborations. For the festival. For future projects.”
“Like a culinary partnership?”
“Exactly.”
Ivy considered. “I like it. Structure without losing our independence.”
“We can work out details with a lawyer. Make sure everything’s fair. Protected.”
“Look at us. Being adults. Having rational business conversations.”
“I’m very proud of us,” Bash said solemnly.
They cleaned up the takeout containers, and Bash walked her upstairs to her apartment.
“Stay?” Ivy asked. “Tonight. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Okay.”
They curled up on her couch, watching terrible reality TV and not talking about anything important. Just being together. Present. Solid.
And when Ivy finally fell asleep, it was with her head on Bash’s shoulder and the certain knowledge that whatever came next, they’d face it together.
Bad days and good days. Crises and victories. All of it.
Together.
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