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“I prefer you.” Georgie swung their hands as the traffic light at Queen and John switched from amber to red.

“Bug, I was kidding earlier.” Oliver glanced sidelong. “I’d gladly give up my apartment to move into yours.”

All hand-swinging stopped. “Really?” She bounced on the spot. “Oh, Ollie, that would be great! We can paint and redecorate, make it more us.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Don’t change a thing.”

Georgie squeezed his hand. “My sugar glider, I couldn’t love you more.”

Leaning in, he kissed her on the lips. “You still hungry?”

“Yup.” A cab cleared the intersection as Georgie’s gaze trespassed below his belt. “But not for late lunch.”

Oliver thrust his hand in the air. “Taxi!”

FIFTY

GEORGIE

Four days later, Saturday, June 19, 1993

“Hey, I was wondering where you went…” Plunging her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket, Georgie sat down and joined Michael in the centre ice reds of section 51. “So that’s all she wrote—no more fan mail sessions till fall. Oliver’s helping Kaitlin and Leesa put everything away in the hockey office.”

“Sorry I snuck off. It’s not every day you get to witness this.” Michael gestured downward as the Gardens maintenance crew worked to remove the ice surface. “It’s freakin’ wild! So, the Zamboni dispenses a layer of warm water to help the melting process while”—he pointed at the visitors’ end—“those dudes use drills to break the ice, and then another group push the water into floor drains with those big-ass squeegees.” He scoffed. “Never mind the Leafs, this is true teamwork.”

“And one of hockey’s best-kept secrets,” said Georgie.

Michael bumped her shoulder. “You’ll be privy to lots more when you start your new job! How’s it feel being the envy of all our friends?”

“Surreal but sweet. Who’d have thought, right? ME, working for the Hall of Fame! It still hasn’t sunk in.” While the Hockey Hall of Fame was a museum, the areas Georgie had glimpsed weren’t musty or gloomy, and its exhibits felt celebratory, not sombre, a far cry from the galleries that triggered her unease. She felt safe there, at home. “I haven’t cried yet. I’m sure it’s coming.”

“No one deserves it more, Gi.”

“Thanks.” She peered up at the blue Stanley Cup banners hanging from the rafters. “Feels strange being excited when I’m still a bit sad about leaving the school.”

“Two things can be possible at once, you know.”

“I suppose. My last day’s gonna be tough.”

“One chapter ends, another begins.” Michael glanced away and watched the Zamboni make another pass. “I was worried for a bit. The thought of you moving to London…” He fussed with his ball cap. “You’ve always been in my life.”

“Not always,” corrected Georgie. “Not until⁠—”

“You invited me to sit with you in the greys. And everything changed.” He smiled.

“Games became fun again, thanks to you. Dad would’ve loved you. I always hated you never got to meet him.”

“Me too.” Michael looked downward. “Leafs tickets aside, my life improved exponentially when we became friends.”

Her forehead creased. “Really? You definitely got bullied more because of me. They threw you into lockers. They even stole your skates that time…”

Michael laughed. “Yeah, all right, smartass! But the thing is, I wasn’t lonely anymore. No one stood by me like you did, Gi.” He pressed his lips. “I hope you always will.”

She swatted his arm. “Of course I will.”

“But you never know, right? Life happens. People move on and whatnot.”

“Hey”—Georgie pointed to herself—“not this people.”