Chapter 21 Come to Cheeses
COME TO CHEESES
Bayard hadn’t slept a wink.
He’d tried. He’d lain in his comfortable bed at El Refugio de Cabra.
The pillows were fluffy down, and the duvet a silky cotton.
And yet he could not quiet his mind. He’d listened to the night sounds of the mountains.
The wind whistled through pine trees and he could hear the distant bells of goats.
The ever-present whisper of the hot springs hissed and bubbled beneath all those other sounds.
Fred had curled up beside him, occasionally quacking softly in his sleep and flapping his feet as if to paddle, but Bayard had just stared at the ceiling, replaying the entire evening over and over.
The escape room. The worry for their new friends and all the cheesemakers.
As far-fetched as it now seemed, playing it back in his mind, they’d both been convinced the threat from the Culture Vulture was real.
Perhaps that was because they’d wanted to believe it.
To have something to fight for, together.
He replayed the moment the light turned green over and over in his head.
He had a hard time savoring their relief when they finally solved the puzzles.
Because then there was that moment immediately after, when they realized they’d walked into a set-up.
The ridiculously romantic dinner. The candles. Minerva and Zephyr’s smug faces.
Well—perhaps they weren’t smug so much as pleased. Pleased with themselves? Or pleased for him and Exandra? He wasn’t sure what the difference was, but he supposed it was also the difference between betrayal and misguided meddling.
Regardless, he’d felt so manipulated. So foolish. Like a puppet whose strings had been yanked. They had overstepped.
But, if he was being honest with himself, underneath the anger and embarrassment was something else. Something he couldn’t quite name.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the vulnerability on Exandra’s face when she’d realized they were trapped.
She’d turned to him for guidance. And the way she’d looked at him when he’d done just fine, navigating the agility course despite his limp.
And yes, even the way she’d embraced him just before that final moment when they’d tumbled through the last door together, panting, having just saved (they’d thought) an entire facility.
Working together had been amazing. Even if it was only for an hour. Even if it was totally fake. When push came to shove, they’d made pretty good partners.
He gave up on sleep around five in the morning, dressed, slipped into his trainers, and stepped out into the pre-dawn darkness.
The courtyard was empty, lit only by a few lanterns and the stars overhead. Frost glimmered on the stone pathways. Bayard walked slowly, his cane grazing the stones beside the path. He was following no particular route. Just moving because staying still was impossible.
He rounded a corner near the spa facility and meditation gardens and stopped in his tracks.
Across the courtyard, silhouetted against the steam rising from the heated water in the pool, stood Exandra.
She wore her bathing suit and appeared to be warming up for a swim.
She performed a series of arms circles, then swung her arms from side to side, rotating her shoulders and wrapping her arms around herself.
She wore a black and gold swimsuit, and her hair was tucked back into a matching gold swimcap.
Without her hair to soften and hide the lines of her face, and clothes to hide the natural curves and strength of her body, he thought she looked even more beautiful, if that were possible.
Her strong, proud features were larger than life.
With her broad shoulders and generously curvy figure, Exandra looked like a statue of one of the old gods, come to life.
But she didn’t look happy. Even from this distance, he could see the tension in her stance, the way she kept shaking her head like she was arguing with herself.
He should go back. Give her space. They’d both said they wanted to be left alone.
But his feet wouldn’t move.
She turned, still stretching, and saw him outside.
They froze, staring at each other through the glass.
For a long moment, neither moved. Then Exandra looked away, raised her arms in the air, and dove into the pool so gracefully, she barely made a splash.
Bayard watched her swimming away from him, something in his chest aching so fiercely he had to press his hand against it.
They were both awake. Both alone in the darkness. Both too proud or too scared to close the distance between them.
He turned and walked the other way, and if his vision blurred a little, he told himself it was just the cold mountain air making him tear up.
By eight o’clock, the lodge’s dining room had filled with passengers enjoying a leisurely breakfast at the buffet. The smell of fresh pastries and coffee competed with the mountain air streaming through open windows.
Bayard sat alone at a corner table, pushing his frittata around his plate without eating. Fred pecked at a bowl of fruit beside him, occasionally quacking at him with what sounded like concern.
“Nonsense. I’m absolutely fine, Fred,” Bayard reassured the duck. “Just tired.”
“Liar,” said a familiar deep voice.
Bayard looked up to find Minerva and Zephyr standing beside his table, their expressions serious.
“May we sit?” Minerva asked gently, but she clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. She was already pulling out a chair.
“I’d rather be alone—” Bayard sniffed.
“Too bad,” Zephyr said, settling into the chair on his other side. “We need to talk to you.”
Across the room, Exandra had just emerged from the buffet, carrying a plate of food. She was moving warily toward the tables. She took one look at the trio at Bayard’s table, froze, and pivoted toward the opposite corner.
“Agent Thorne!” Minerva called out loud enough for the request to be impossible to ignore. “Please join us.”
Exandra’s shoulders stiffened. She held up a finger. For a moment, Bayard thought she might refuse. But then she grabbed herself a mug of coffee and stalked over to their table, sitting as far from everyone else as possible.
“What do you want now?” she asked, her voice flat.
“To apologize,” Minerva said simply. “Last night was... a bit over the top. I’ll admit it. We pushed too hard. We stressed you both out, and that wasn’t fair of us.”
“Dying dragon’s breath right, it wasn’t fair!” Exandra’s voice was low but nostrils flared as she lightly pounded the table with one fist.
“However,” Zephyr continued, “we’re not sorry for the general premise. You two really needed to talk. I’m guessing you still do. Actually talk. Not dance around each other, not make excuses, not pretend everything’s fine when you’re both clearly miserable.”
“We’re not—” Bayard started.
“You look like you haven’t slept,” Minerva said gently, looking at him. “You’ve been awake since—what? Three? Four in the morning?”
Bayard’s silence was answer enough.
“And you,” Zephyr said, turning to Exandra. “You’ve been pacing the grounds since dawn. Don’t think I didn’t see you from our window.”
Exandra glared into her coffee.
“Look,” Minerva said, “we know this isn’t easy. Transitions never are, especially when there are so many years of history and hurt between you. But Zephyr and I—we didn’t just slide into our happy ending, either.”
Bayard looked up, surprised. “What do you mean? You two found each other again and everything just... worked.”
“Oh, is that what happened?” Zephyr raised an eyebrow. “Minnie, did everything just work when we reconnected?”
“Certainly,” Minerva said dryly. “If by ‘worked,’ you mean I got stuck in mouse form in a disapparated house with no way to communicate who or where I was, and you nearly died in an extended coma from a true love’s kiss hex, then yes. It all went swimmingly.”
Bayard blinked. “I... I didn’t realize...”
“That’s because you weren’t there,” Minerva said.
“You heard the happy ending version. Two childhood sweethearts reunited after decades apart, living happily ever after at their fromagerie. But the actual process was messy and terrifying and required both of us to be extraordinarily vulnerable and brave.”
“We almost lost each other multiple times,” Zephyr added. “Because we were both so scared of being hurt again. So scared of admitting what we felt for each other.”
Exandra was staring at her coffee like it held the secrets of the universe. “That’s different,” she argued. “You two had a first time. A childhood romance. Something real to build on. We never really—” She stopped herself.
“Never what?” Minerva asked gently.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
“It clearly does matter,” Zephyr said. “Bay, Exandra—we also know something else. Something we probably should have confronted you about earlier instead of trying to engineer a romantic revelation.”
Bayard went very still. “What do you mean?”
Minerva took a breath. “We know you’ve both been sabotaging the cheese production. There’s no Culture Vulture.”
The silence that followed made their ears throb.
Fred quacked nervously.
“I…ummm… don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Exandra said, but her voice lacked conviction.
“Don’t,” Minerva said firmly. “We overheard your ‘theoretical sabotage’ discussion. We’ve watched you both acting guilty and confused. We’ve noticed that every incident has coincidentally occurred when one or both of you were not present and accounted for.”
“Not to mention the fact that the ‘trouble upstream’ someone named ‘Mayard Pontaine’ phoned in was complete and utter nonsense.” Zephyr chuckled.
“I pulled a few strings and read the report. ‘Suspicious loitering near cheesemaking facilities’ is hardly the stuff the Society normally sends its top agents to investigate.” Zephyr did his best impression of a headmaster, raising his eyebrows and looking down his nose, first at Bayard and then at Exandra.
Bayard’s face was burning. “Zephry… Minerva…”
“We’re not judging you,” Zephyr interrupted.
Then he bit back a smile. “Okay. Well, maybe I’m judging a little.
Mayard Pontaine? Really? The point is, you both did this.
You both have kept this whole ridiculous Culture Vulture scenario alive because you were desperate to stay near each other.
And now you’re both too stubborn and too scared to just admit it and talk about why you did it. ”
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Minerva said. “You’re going to talk to each other. Really talk. Figure out what you want. Because we can’t keep locking you in rooms together—”
“You’d better not,” Exandra rumbled.
“—but we also can’t watch you both be this miserable when the solution is sitting right across the table from you.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Exandra whispered.
“Why not?” Zephyr asked.
“Because it’s not that simple. We’re not—” She gestured helplessly. “We’re not like you two. We don’t have that easy comfort, that natural partnership. We have a history of being bad for each other. Of hurting each other. We’re just—”
“Broken,” Bayard finished. “We’re just broken. Or maybe it’s just me.”
“You’re not broken,” Minerva said firmly. “You’re scared. There’s a difference.”
She stood up, and Zephyr did the same. “We’re leaving now. You two can sit here and talk, or you can continue avoiding each other and being miserable. Your choice. But Bayard? I noticed you signed up for the canyoning group that’s hiking down into the gorge this morning?”
“I did,” Bayard confirmed.
Exandra’s head snapped up. “You what?”
“Maybe,” Minerva continued, ignoring Exandra’s reaction, “you could both go and use that time to have a real conversation. Away from everything else. Just the two of you.”
Bayard looked out the window, and Exandra stared at her hands, both stubbornly refusing to respond.
“Okay then. This duck needs a proper breakfast, by the way, not just a bowl of fruit.” Minerva pushed her chair back in and held out an arm for Fred. He hopped right onto it, approval for this plan radiating from his beady little eyes. “And you two need privacy.”
They left, taking Fred with them.
Bayard and Exandra sat silent and alone at the table, not quite looking at each other, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on them both.