3. Don’t Cry Over Spilled Pinot
don't cry over spilled pinot
Marnie
Marnie had never seriously considered committing a wine-related crime.
Until now.
She was very close now.
They were three hours into the drive to Ottawa, and Gabriel Bouchard was asleep in his bunk like a smug Renaissance portrait, arms crossed, jaw relaxed, not a single care in the world.
He appeared unbothered by the fact that he'd completely derailed her carefully planned presentation at the last event.
Marnie, meanwhile, was wide awake in the kitchenette, stress-eating crackers and reviewing her notes for the ByWard Market pop-up.
She should let it go. The event had been fine, good, even. People had loved the Riesling pairing. The sommelier had recovered his composure. The tourism board representative had asked for her card.
But Gabriel had made her look unprepared. Like she hadn't thought through the pairings. Like she didn't know her own wines.
Which was infuriating, because she had thought them through. She'd just been trying to be diplomatic.
And now he was sleeping peacefully while she spiraled in the dark.
"Can't sleep?"
Marnie jumped, nearly dropping her cracker sleeve.
Darnell stood in the doorway to the bunk area, camera bag slung over one shoulder. He'd been so quiet all day she'd almost forgotten he was there.
"Just reviewing notes," she said.
He nodded slowly, like he didn't quite believe her but wasn't going to push. "You want tea? I've got chamomile."
"You brought tea on the bus?"
"I bring tea everywhere." He moved past her to the kitchenette, pulling a small tin from one of the cabinets. "Learned it from my grandmother. She said you can survive anything if you've got a good cup of tea. Also, if you mind your own business, which I try to do."
Marnie watched him fill the electric kettle, which she hadn't even known existed, and set it to boil.
"Is that true?" she asked.
"Don't know yet. But the tea's good."
He made two cups in companionable silence, handed her one, and then disappeared back toward his bunk without another word.
Marnie held the warm mug and felt something in her chest loosen slightly.
Maybe this tour wouldn't kill her after all.
* * *
The next morning, they arrived at the ByWard Market in downtown Ottawa to discover that their vendor space was half the size Kayla had promised and directly next to a booth selling deep-fried everything.
"This is fine," Marnie said, staring at the narrow table.
"You keep saying that," Gabriel said, appearing beside her with a crate of cheese. He'd changed into a clean T-shirt that said JE T'AIME FROMAGE and looked far too awake for someone who'd been asleep twenty minutes ago.
"Because it is fine."
"The fryer smell is going to get into the cheese."
"Then we'll work fast."
He gave her a long look, then shrugged. "Your call, boss."
"Stop calling me that."
"Stop acting like one."
Marnie opened her mouth to argue, but Kayla swooped in with a clipboard and a manic smile.
"Okay, team! We've got four hours until the dinner service. Clara's going to do some live social content, Darnell will get B-roll, and you two..." She pointed at Marnie and Gabriel. "You're doing samples and pairings. Make it fun. Make it flirty. Make it viral."
"Flirty?" Marnie repeated.
"You know. Chemistry. People love chemistry."
Gabriel was grinning now. Marnie wanted to throw a cheese wheel at him.
"We'll do our best," she said tightly.
* * *
The first hour went smoothly. Marnie poured samples of their Pinot Gris and Gamay while Gabriel explained the difference between washed-rind and bloomy-rind cheeses. People seemed genuinely interested. A few even bought bottles.
Then a woman in a velvet blazer approached the table, holding her phone out like a weapon.
"Oh my God," she said. "You're the bus couple."
Marnie blinked. "I'm sorry?"
"From TikTok! The wine and cheese tour. Clara's been posting about you two all day." She pulled up her phone screen, which showed a clip of Marnie and Gabriel from yesterday's promo video.
The part where Marnie had called him annoying.
The part where he'd grinned and said, "I get that a lot."
The part where they'd looked at each other for just a beat too long.
The caption read: “enemies to lovers speed run or are we just delulu?”
"We're not..." Marnie started.
"You're so cute together!" the woman gushed. "Are you actually dating, or is it just for the tour?"
Gabriel leaned against the table, completely unbothered. "What do you think?"
"Gabriel," Marnie said under her breath.
"I think you're totally dating," the woman said. "The way you look at each other? Come on."
"We just met two days ago," Marnie said firmly.
"Love at first sight!" The woman took a selfie with them before Marnie could protest. "Good luck, you two. I'm rooting for you!"
She walked away, already posting.
Marnie turned to Gabriel. "Why didn't you correct her?"
"Because it's good for the campaign."
"That's not, we can't just let people think we're..."
"Dating?" He tilted his head. "Why not? We're on a wine and cheese tour. People want a love story."
"But it's not true."
"So?" He picked up a cheese knife, checking the edge absently. "It's marketing. You know, the thing you're supposed to be good at."
Marnie felt her face heat. "That's not the same thing."
"Isn't it?"
Before she could answer, Clara appeared with her phone held high.
"Okay, lovebirds, I need content. Can you do a pairing demo? Something cute."
"We're not..."
"Perfect. Gabriel, stand closer. Marnie, smile like you're having fun."
"I am having fun," Marnie said through gritted teeth.
"Great! Now feed each other."
"Absolutely not."
Gabriel laughed, actually laughed, warm and genuine, and something in Marnie's chest did a stupid little flip.
"Come on," he said. "It's just cheese."
"I'm not feeding you cheese on camera."
"Why not? Scared you'll like it?"
She glared at him. He grinned back.
Clara was already filming.
Fine. If he wanted to play this game, she'd play.
Marnie picked up a small wedge of Brie, placed it delicately on a cracker, and held it out toward Gabriel with her most professional smile.
"This," she said, projecting slightly for the camera, "is a triple-cream Brie paired with our estate Chardonnay. The buttery notes in both create a harmonious..."
Gabriel leaned forward and took the cracker directly from her fingers with his teeth.
Marnie forgot how to breathe for a second.
"Délicieux," he said, eyes never leaving hers.
Clara made a noise that sounded like a muffled squeal.
"Oh my God, that was perfect. Posting now."
Marnie pulled her hand back like she'd been burned. "You're impossible."
"You started it."
"I was being professional!"
"You were being boring."
"I..."
A crash from the booth behind them made them both turn. Someone had knocked over an entire display of wine bottles.
Red wine.
Spreading across the pavement in a dark, accusatory pool.
Marnie's wine.
"No,no, no, no..." She rushed over, trying to salvage what she could, but it was too late. Six bottles, shattered. The labels soaked through. The vendor next to them was already complaining about the smell.
Kayla appeared, phone pressed to her ear. "Okay, so that's not great. But we've got backups, right?"
"Those were the backups," Marnie said, staring at the mess.
"Oh."
Marnie closed her eyes. Took a breath. Did not scream.
This was fine. She'd planned for setbacks. She had a contingency list. She just needed to,
"Hey."
Gabriel's voice was quiet, closer than she'd expected.
She opened her eyes. He was standing beside her, hands in his pockets, expression serious for once.
"It's just wine," he said.
"This was supposed to be the one thing that went right today." She gestured helplessly at the broken bottles. "It's six cases I can't replace. It's the inventory I promised to venues that are expecting us. It's..."
"It's six bottles," he repeated gently. "We'll figure it out."
"How?"
He considered for a moment. "We've still got cheese. And you've got, what, six other wines on the bus?"
"Eight."
"See? Plenty." He bent down, carefully picking up the larger glass pieces. "You want to keep spiraling, or you want to help me clean this up?"
Marnie stared at him. At his ridiculous T-shirt and his stupid forearms, and his completely unearned calm.
"I don't spiral," she said.
"Sure you don't."
She grabbed a roll of paper towels from their booth and knelt beside him.
They cleaned in silence for a few minutes, the market noise swirling around them. Marnie felt her heartbeat start to slow. Her hands stopped shaking.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Gabriel glanced at her. "For what?"
"For not saying 'I told you so.'"
"About what?"
"I should have packed the bottles better. You were right, I was trying to control too much and I..."
"Marnie." He sat back on his heels, looking at her directly. "I didn't say any of that."
"But you were thinking it."
"I was thinking the vendor behind us is an idiot for stacking things that badly." He tossed a piece of glass into the trash bag. "You can't control everything. Doesn't mean you did something wrong."
She wanted to argue. Wanted to explain that yes, actually, she could control most things if she planned well enough.
But he was looking at her with something almost like understanding, and the words got stuck in her throat.
"Come on," he said, standing and offering her a hand. "Let's go stress-bake some grilled cheese for the next round."
"Stress-bake?"
"It's a thing. Trust me."
Marnie took his hand, warm, solid, steadying, and let him pull her up.
* * *
That night, they boondocked at a small vineyard outside Ottawa. The owner had graciously offered them space in his driveway and access to his outdoor kitchen, which turned out to be a fire pit and a cast-iron pan.
Kayla and Clara had gone into town for dinner. Darnell was editing footage on the bus. Which left Marnie and Gabriel alone under an almost-full moon, making grilled cheese sandwiches over an open flame.
"This is ridiculous," Marnie said, watching Gabriel flip a sandwich with the confidence of someone who'd done this a thousand times.
"This is perfect," he corrected. "Cheese, fire, stars. What else do you need?"
"A kitchen?"
"Overrated."
He handed her a sandwich on a paper plate. She bit into it and, okay, fine, it was possibly the best grilled cheese she'd ever had. Crispy bread, perfectly melted cheese, just a hint of smoke.
"Oh my God," she said.
"See?"
"Don't gloat."
"I'm not gloating. I'm just correct."
She tried to glare at him, but it was hard to maintain righteous indignation while eating transcendent grilled cheese.
They sat on a blanket someone had left by the fire pit, eating in comfortable silence. Above them, stars scattered across the sky like spilled sugar.
"Can I ask you something?" Gabriel said after a while.
"Sure."
"Why do you care so much? About the wine, the planning, all of it."
Marnie was quiet for a moment, considering her answer.
"Because if I don't," she said finally, "someone else will do it wrong."
"That's a lot of pressure."
"Maybe." She picked at the crust of her sandwich. "But I'm good at it. The pressure, I mean. I like knowing what's coming. I like having a plan."
"What happens when the plan falls apart?"
"I make a new plan."
Gabriel smiled. "What if you can't?"
She looked at him, firelight catching in his dark eyes. “Then I panic quietly, go for a walk, or alphabetize something until it feels like control again.”
He laughed, soft and genuine. "I noticed."
"I know you did."
They held each other's gaze for a beat too long. Marnie felt something shift in her chest, a flutter, a pull, something dangerously close to wanting.
She looked away first, heart beating faster than it should.
This was a bad idea. Getting distracted by a charming cheesemaker with good forearms and an annoying habit of being right. She had a job to do. A campaign to run.
She did not have time for,
"Marnie! Gabriel!"
Kayla's voice shattered the moment as she appeared from the darkness, camera in hand.
"Oh, perfect, you're still up! Can I get a quick shot of you two by the fire? For the behind-the-scenes content?"
Gabriel stood, offering Marnie a hand again. "Sure."
Marnie took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers.
Just for the campaign, she told herself.
Just for the photo.
But as they posed by the fire, shoulders brushing, firelight flickering, his quiet warmth settling beside hers, Marnie realized this wasn’t just for the campaign anymore.
And she might be in trouble.