I wiped the flour from my hands onto my apron, glancing at the clock above the ovens. 4:47 a.m. The bakery was still dark outside the windows, the city asleep, but inside it was warm and alive with the scent of rising yeast and browning butter. I’d been here since three, prepping for the morning rush. The croissants were proofing, the sourdough shaped and waiting for the final bake. Everything was perfect.

Almost everything.

The back door clicked open, and there he was—Jaden, my new ...