7. It’s All Gouda Until Someone Gets Hurt
it's all gouda until someone gets hurt
Marnie
Marnie had eaten the pancake.
She'd also eaten half of Gabriel's French toast when he'd offered it, laughed at one of Darnell's rare jokes, and generally felt lighter than she had in months.
Which was, of course, when the universe decided to remind her why she didn't do spontaneous.
They'd arrived in Charlevoix mid-afternoon, a picturesque town perched on the Saint Lawrence River, all steep streets and art galleries and the kind of charm that made tourists reach for their cameras.
The tasting event was being held at a restored heritage building overlooking the water, and for once, everything was going according to plan.
Marnie should have known better.
She was setting up the wine display when she heard a voice she'd hoped never to hear again.
"Marnie Cole. Didn’t expect to see you here."
She turned, and there he was.
Derek Mitchell, food critic for Saveur du Québec, wearing a blazer that probably cost more than her monthly rent and the same condescending smile he'd worn when he'd broken up with her two years ago.
"Derek." Her voice came out flat. Professional. "What are you doing here?"
"Covering the tour." He gestured to the press badge around his neck. "When I saw Evergreen Estates was involved, I had to check it out. See how you were doing."
"I'm doing fine."
"I can see that. Marketing manager now. That's great." He said it the way you'd compliment a child's finger painting. "Very impressive."
Marnie felt her jaw tighten. "If you'll excuse me, I need to finish setting up."
"Of course, of course. I'll catch up with you later." He wandered toward the cheese table, where Gabriel was arranging wheels with his usual careful precision.
Marnie forced herself to breathe. It was fine. Derek was here professionally. She could be professional. She'd spent two years getting over him, two years proving she didn't need his approval or his validation.
"Hey."
She jumped. Gabriel was beside her, close enough that she could smell woodsmoke and cheese.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
"Fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"
"Because you look like you're about to break that wine bottle with your bare hands."
Marnie looked down. She was, in fact, gripping a bottle of Pinot Noir hard enough that her knuckles had gone white.
She set it down carefully. "I'm fine."
"Who was that guy?"
"No one. Just a food critic."
Gabriel studied her face. "Want to try that again?"
"It's not, he's nobody. It doesn't matter."
"Marnie..."
"Gabriel, please. Can we just focus on the event?"
He looked like he wanted to push, but after a moment, he nodded. "Okay. But if you need backup, I'm right here."
"I don't need backup. I'm a professional."
"I know you are." He squeezed her shoulder once, gently, and went back to his cheese.
Marnie took a breath and tried to remember why she'd ever thought spontaneity was a good idea.
* * *
The event started well. The venue was beautiful, the crowd was engaged, and Marnie delivered her opening remarks with the kind of polish that came from years of practice.
Then Derek raised his hand during the Q&A.
"Marnie, quick question." His tone was friendly, casual. Dangerous. "The wines you're featuring tonight, they're all from Evergreen's mid-tier collection, correct?"
Marnie's smile didn't waver. "We're featuring wines that pair well with artisanal cheese and showcase Ontario's terroir."
"But not your premium reserve line."
"The reserve line isn't the focus of this tour."
"Interesting choice." He made a note on his tablet. "Some might say you're playing it safe. Sticking with what's comfortable rather than taking risks."
Marnie felt heat creep up her neck. "I'd say we're being strategic. Good pairing is about balance, not just showcasing the most expensive option."
"Of course. I'm sure you have your reasons." He smiled. "You always do."
There it was. The subtle dig wrapped in civility. The reminder that he'd always thought she was too cautious, too controlled, too afraid to take chances.
Before she could respond, Gabriel stepped forward.
"Actually," he said, his tone easy but firm, "Marnie made an excellent choice.
The mid-tier wines have the versatility to work with a range of cheeses.
A big, bold reserve would overpower half my table.
" He picked up the Pinot Noir Marnie had almost strangled earlier.
"This, for example, is perfect with our aged Cheddar.
It's got enough structure to stand up to the sharpness, but it's not so heavy that it drowns the nutty notes.
That's not playing it safe. That's knowing what you're doing. "
The crowd murmured in agreement.
Derek's smile tightened slightly. "Of course. I'm sure you're the expert on... cheese."
"I am, actually." Gabriel's expression didn't change, but something in his stance shifted. Protective. Solid. "And Marnie's the expert on wine. Which is why this pairing works so well. We trust each other's expertise."
He looked at Marnie when he said it, and she felt something warm and grateful bloom in her chest.
"Well," Derek said, "I look forward to trying the pairings myself. Should be... educational."
The Q&A continued, but Marnie barely heard it. She was too aware of Gabriel beside her, too aware of the way he'd stepped in without making a scene, too aware of the fact that Derek had never once defended her like that in three years of dating.
* * *
After the event, Marnie escaped to the small courtyard behind the venue. She needed air. Space. Five minutes to remember how to be a person who didn't want to throw wine at her ex-boyfriend.
She was examining the Saint Lawrence in the distance when she heard footsteps behind her.
"You didn't have to do that," she said without turning around.
Gabriel came to stand beside her, leaning against the stone wall. "Do what?"
"Defend me. In there."
"I wasn't defending you. I was correcting someone who was wrong."
"He wasn't wrong. He was just..." She exhaled sharply. "He has a point. I do play it safe. I always have."
"There's a difference between being strategic and being afraid."
"Is there?"
Gabriel was quiet for a moment. "Who is he, Marnie?"
"I told you. A food critic."
"And?"
She didn't want to say it. Didn't want to give Derek that much importance.
But Gabriel was looking at her with those steady, patient eyes, and the words came out anyway.
"And my ex-boyfriend. We dated for three years. He broke up with me because he said I was too boring. Too predictable. He wanted someone spontaneous. Someone exciting." She laughed, but it came out bitter. "Someone who wasn't me."
"He's an idiot."
"He's not wrong."
"Marnie..."
"I am predictable, Gabriel. I do play it safe. I plan everything to death and panic when things go off-script and..." Her voice cracked slightly. "And maybe that's why I'm thirty and single and eating pancakes for the first time is considered living dangerously."
Gabriel turned to face her fully. "You know what I see when I look at you?"
"Someone wound too tight?"
"Someone brave." He said it with such conviction that she almost believed him.
"You take a job that's all about creativity and risk, and you do it brilliantly, even though it terrifies you.
You got on a bus with strangers and trusted that it would work out.
You held my hedgehog even though you were nervous.
You're trying, Marnie. That's not boring. That's courage."
"That's just desperation disguised as growth."
"It's the same thing." He smiled slightly. "Growth is always a little desperate."
Marnie wanted to argue. Wanted to point out all the ways she was exactly what Derek had said, too careful, too controlled, too afraid to really live.
But Gabriel was looking at her like she was something precious, and the words wouldn't come.
"Thank you," she said instead. "For the backup in there. Even though I said I didn't need it."
"You didn't need it. But I wanted to give it anyway."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the evening air cool against Marnie's flushed cheeks.
"Can I ask you something?" Gabriel said.
"Sure."
"Do you still have feelings for him?"
"Derek? God, no." The answer came immediately, honest. "I'm over him. Have been for a while. It's just, seeing him reminds me of who I was when we were together. Who he thought I was. And I hate that part of me agrees with him."
"That part of you is wrong."
"You barely know me."
"I know enough." He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
His hand lingered, warm against her cheek.
"I know you're not boring. I know you're not predictable.
And I know that anyone who made you feel like you had to be someone else to be worth loving is an idiot who doesn't deserve you. "
Marnie's breath caught. "Gabriel..."
"I mean it. You're..." He paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. "You're everything, Marnie. Just as you are. And if he couldn't see that, that's his loss."
She was going to cry. She was absolutely going to cry in a courtyard in Charlevoix while Gabriel Bouchard looked at her like she hung the moon.
"I don't know what to do with you," she said, her voice wobbly.
"What do you want to do with me?"
Kiss you, she thought. Trust you. Let myself fall and believe you'll catch me.
"I don't know," she said instead.
Gabriel smiled, sad and understanding. "That's okay. You'll figure it out."
"What if I don't?"
"Then I'll wait until you do."
"That's not fair to you."
"Let me worry about what's fair to me." He stepped back, giving her space. "Come on. We should get back before Kayla sends a search party."
They started walking back toward the venue entrance. Marnie felt wrung out, exhausted, and somehow lighter than she had all day.
"Gabriel?"
"Yeah?"
"That thing you said. About me being everything." She glanced at him. "Did you mean it?"
He stopped walking. Looked at her directly, no humor, no deflection.
"Every word."
Marnie's heart did something complicated in her chest.
"Okay," she said quietly.
"Okay?"
She didn't know what she was agreeing to. Didn't know what came next. But for once, she decided not to plan it.
"Just... okay."
* * *
They found Derek near the wine table, typing notes on his tablet.
He looked up as they approached. "Ah, Marnie. And the cheesemaker. Wonderful event. Very... quaint."
"Glad you enjoyed it," Marnie said, her voice professionally neutral.
"I wanted to get a quote from you both. For the article." He pulled up his recording app. "How would you describe your working relationship? There's been some speculation that you're, well, that there's more than just business happening here."
"We're colleagues," Marnie said automatically.
At the same time, Gabriel said, "We're friends."
Derek's eyebrow raised. "Friends. I see. And would you say this tour has been successful in its goals?"
"Extremely," Gabriel said. "We’ve seen more reach and engagement than we expected, and more connection with people who care about these products."
"And personally?" Derek looked at Marnie. "Has it been successful for you personally?"
It was a loaded question. Derek knew it. She knew it.
She could play it safe. Keep it professional. Stick to the script.
Or she could take a risk.
Marnie felt Gabriel's presence beside her, solid, steady, ready to back her up if she needed it but giving her space to handle it herself.
She took a breath.
"Yes," she said. "It's been successful. I've learned a lot. About wine, about cheese, about..." She paused. "About what happens when you let yourself be surprised."
Derek made a note. "Interesting. And the speculation about your relationship?"
"Is speculation," Gabriel said firmly. "Which you're welcome to include in your article as exactly that. Anything else?"
Derek looked between them, clearly hoping for more.
"No," he said finally. "I think I have what I need. Thank you both."
He dropped his napkin on the floor and left without another word.
Marnie let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"That was awful," she said.
"That was brave," Gabriel corrected.
"I don't feel brave."
"You never do. That's what makes it count."
From inside the venue, Kayla's voice called out: "Bus leaves in ten! Everyone load up!"
Gabriel offered Marnie his hand. "Ready?"
She looked at his hand. At his face. At the man who'd defended her, waited for her, believed in her even when she couldn't believe in herself.
"Yeah," she said, taking his hand. "I'm ready."
And for the first time in a long time, she meant it.