Matchmaker Mayhem No Chapter 86: Mei’s Baguette Battle

Chapter 86: i’s Baguette Battle

The competition had barely begun, and already, Ava was convinced Julian’s so-called "perfect matches" were about to implode.

She, Ryan, and the rest of the L’Amour ??lite competitors were scattered throughout a stunning open-air café along the Seine, where their assigned clients were eting for the first ti.

Instead of effortless chemistry and dreamy Parisian romance, the entire event resembled a social experint gone terribly wrong.

Ava leaned toward Ryan, muttering, "This is painful."

Ryan, casually sipping his espresso, smirked. "It’s like watching two people try to communicate using only Morse code and regret."

Ava sighed, rubbing her temples. "I knew it. Julian’s algorithm is a disaster."

Ryan glanced around the café. Similar disasters were unfolding at every table. One couple was already visibly arguing over what counted as authentic Parisian food, while another pair sat so stiffly it looked like they were attending a job interview instead of a date.

Ryan grinned. "You love to say ’I told you so.’"

"I do," Ava admitted, watching as her client nervously adjusted her scarf for the tenth ti. "But right now, I need to fix this."

Ryan leaned back, amused. "Fixing Julian’s failures? You’re going to need a lot of coffee."

Before Ava could respond, a commotion erupted from across the street.

And, of course, it involved i.

---

"Step away from my bread, mada!"

Ava groaned. "Oh no."

Ryan turned, already grinning. "Oh yes."

Across the street, i was locked in an intense standoff with a very posh-looking Parisian woman in front of a bakery stall.

The reason?

A single, golden baguette.

The woman, dressed in an elegant coat and pearl earrings, lifted her chin defiantly. "C’est à moi!"

i huffed, gripping the baguette like a lifeline. "Excusez-moi, but I saw it first."

The vendor, a confused young man who was very clearly not paid enough for this, looked between the two won in silent terror.

A crowd had already started forming.

Harold, standing beside i, looked exhausted but unsurprised. "i, please."

Ava, horrified yet completely invested, whispered, "Is she... bidding on a baguette?"

Ryan’s shoulders shook with laughter. "She absolutely is."

The Parisian woman narrowed her eyes. "Thirty euros."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

i gasped louder. "Forty euros!"

Harold groaned. "For bread? i, no!"

Ava, who was supposed to be matchmaking, found herself fully invested.

The vendor hesitated. "Uh, mada, c’est trop cher..." (It’s too expensive...)

i, undeterred, huffed. "I have not co all the way to Paris to be defeated by a baguette!"

The Parisian woman, sensing a formidable opponent, narrowed her eyes. "Fifty euros."

A hush fell over the crowd.

Harold dramatically clutched his chest. "Mon dieu..."

Ryan, wiping tears of laughter, leaned toward Ava. "Should we intervene?"

Ava shook her head. "I want to see how this plays out."

i inhaled deeply. Then, in perfect French, she declared:

"Soixante euros!"

Sixty euros.

The crowd erupted into oohs and mon dieus.

The Parisian woman, after a long, painful pause, sighed. Then, with a dramatic wave of her hand, she relinquished the baguette.

i held it up triumphantly. "Vive la baguette!"

Ryan outright cackled. "I love her."

Ava covered her face. "I don’t know her."

Harold muttered, "We could’ve bought an entire bakery."

The vendor, still processing what had just happened, shakily handed i a paper bag. "Uh... bonne journée...?"

i bead. "You too, darling!"

As the crowd dispersed, i strutted back toward Ava and Ryan, holding the baguette like it was an Olympic trophy.

"Victory," she declared, dropping it onto their café table.

Ava stared at it. "Sixty euros, i."

i waved a hand. "Worth it."

Ryan, still amused, picked it up. "This better be the best baguette in existence."

i grinned. "Nothing but the finest for my favorite lovebirds."

Ava choked on air. "Excuse ?"

i winked, already strolling away. "You heard ."

Ryan just smirked, breaking off a piece of baguette. "She’s never going to stop, you know."

Ava groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "I know."

---

Later that evening, a completely different kind of baguette battle unfolded.

The warm scent of freshly baked bread filled the air as Ava, Ryan, and i stepped into Boulangerie St. Pierre, one of the most famous bakeries in Paris. Sunlight stread through the large glass windows, illuminating rows of golden-brown baguettes, delicate croissants, and fluffy brioche, all arranged like edible masterpieces behind the counter.

Ava took a deep breath, inhaling the rich aroma of butter and flour, feeling a rare mont of peace settle over her. "Okay, I’ll admit it—this place slls like heaven."

Ryan, standing beside her, grinned. "Told you. I know how to pick ’em."

Ava smirked, nudging him playfully. "For once."

Before Ryan could respond, i clapped her hands together, her eyes twinkling with excitent. "Alright, my matchmaking minions! Today’s lesson isn’t just about love—it’s about survival!"

Ava arched a brow. "That’s... concerning."

Ryan sighed. "Here we go."

i reached into her bag and dramatically pulled out a golden baguette, wrapped in an elegant ribbon. "This, my dear children, is the legendary Baguette d’Or."

Ryan blinked. "Did you... just na a baguette?"

i ignored him. "Today’s mission is simple: One of you must protect the baguette at all costs, while the other two try to steal it. This is a test of strategy, patience, and cunning."

Ava crossed her arms. "Or we could just buy another baguette."

Harold, who had been quiet until now, gasped. "Excuse ? That would violate the integrity of the ga!"

Ryan chuckled. "I knew you’d be into this."

i leaned in closer, lowering her voice as if revealing a great secret. "The rules are simple—whoever possesses the baguette by the ti we leave the bakery wins. No matter the thod."

Ava sighed. "We’re seriously doing this?"

i winked. "Oh, we’re doing this."

As soon as the ga started, i handed the baguette to Harold, who clutched it like a priceless artifact and imdiately bolted toward the back of the bakery.

Ryan smirked. "Ten bucks says he trips on a display case in the next five minutes."

Ava laughed, shaking her head. "Let’s just make sure i doesn’t win. She’s way too competitive."

They split up, weaving through the crowded bakery as Harold zigzagged between custors, doing his best to keep the baguette out of sight.

i, however, was already one step ahead. She pretended to faint near the pastry counter, causing a flustered baker to rush to her aid. "Oh dear, I feel so faint! Perhaps so éclairs will revive ?"

Ava snorted. "Classic distraction technique."

Ryan shook his head. "She’s definitely done this before."

anwhile, Harold, who had successfully avoided detection so far, attempted to hide behind a towering display of croissants. But, as predicted, his nerves got the better of him—he bumped into a shelf, sending a cascade of pastries tumbling to the ground.

The entire bakery turned in his direction.

Harold froze.

The baguette flew into the air.

Ryan lunged, diving forward in an attempt to catch it.

At the sa ti, i cartwheeled—yes, cartwheeled—in an uncharacteristically athletic move to intercept it.

Ava, however, had the simplest strategy.

She simply stuck out her arm and snatched the baguette out of mid-air.

"Got it!" Ava declared triumphantly.

Ryan, still on the floor from his failed dive, looked up at her, panting. "That... was unfairly smooth."

i pouted from where she had landed in a dramatic pose. "I demand a rematch!"

Harold, dusting crumbs off himself, sighed. "I need a vacation."

The bakery staff stared at them, utterly bewildered.

Ava turned toward the counter, holding up the baguette. "So... should we actually buy this before we get kicked out?"

The cashier nodded wordlessly.

---

Back at their apartnt, the golden hues of the Parisian sunset bathed the rooftop in a warm glow. The city stretched beneath them, the Eiffel Tower shimring in the distance, its golden lights just beginning to flicker on.

Ava leaned against the railing, breaking off a piece of the baguette and popping it into her mouth.

Ryan, sitting beside her, nudged her shoulder. "So, you won. How does victory feel?"

Ava grinned. "It tastes like overpriced bread."

Ryan laughed, shaking his head. "Okay, but honestly, that was the best I’ve seen you laugh in days."

Ava tilted her head slightly. "Was I that stressed?"

Ryan gave her a knowing look. "You don’t have to pretend with , Matchmaker."

Ava exhaled softly, staring at the skyline. "It’s just... Julian’s algorithm, the competition, everything—it’s starting to feel like we’re fighting an impossible battle."

Ryan was quiet for a mont before he reached for her hand. His fingers wrapped around hers, warm and steady.

"You’re not fighting it alone," he said simply.

Ava’s heart did that thing again—the stupid flutter that she was definitely not acknowledging.

For once, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she gave his hand a small squeeze.

Ryan smirked. "And if you ever need a break from the stress... we can always start another food fight."

Ava chuckled. "You just want an excuse to roll around in a bakery again."

Ryan grinned. "Busted."

They sat there in comfortable silence, watching the city lights twinkle to life.

Sowhere in the apartnt, i was probably plotting her next ridiculous challenge.

But for now, Ava let herself enjoy the mont—the sound of Ryan’s quiet laughter, the warmth of his hand in hers, and the taste of victory (and bread).

Paris was chaotic.

But with Ryan beside her...

She kind of loved it.