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Oliver grinned.

“They made learning fun. I’ll never forget them.”

“Some students would say the same about you. To them, you’re their Mrs. Seguin or Miss Montgomery.”

The angst in Georgie’s heart eased somewhat. “I’d love that.” Meeting the sidewalk, they turned right and proceeded toward busy Yonge Street. She admired her hydrangeas, their pink pom-poms earning a smile. “How was your day?”

“Great! Amalia gave the go-ahead to our latest presentation idea.”

“Oh, good! I can’t wait to start!”

“And I was invited to speak at our annual fundraiser again.”

Georgie beamed. “That’s because you did so well the first time, Ollie. They know a good thing when they see it. So do I!”

“Phew, that’s a relief.” Stopping alongside a parking lot, Oliver set down Georgie’s belongings on top of a Toronto Star newspaper box then gathered her close. “’Cause you’re stuck with me now!”

“Best news I’ve heard all day.” Georgie cupped his face for a leisurely kiss. The softness of his lips and discreet response, saving anything deeper for later when they wouldn’t be caught by passing students or faculty, made her smile against his mouth. Respectful and mindful, that was Ollie. She looked up at him and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “No regrets, then?”

“Hmm, only leaving Waffles.”

Her stomach sank. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Have you ever considered getting a dog?” asked Oliver.

“I’d love one, but I couldn’t leave him alone all day.”

He nodded. “There is that.”

“I hog Eden’s dog when I visit her,” said Georgie. “She has a Shetland Sheepdog. You’ll meet him tomorrow.”

Oliver smiled. “Ahh, my first Canada Day.”

“And MY first potato sack race.” She blinked expectantly. “Perhaps you’ll come out of retirement, Dr. Jönsson, Midsummer champion circa 1965?”

He laughed. “Also ’64 and ’66—and yes, I could be persuaded…” He bounced his brows.

“Well, that’s tonight taken care of then!” She looped her arms around his neck. “Eden said she has everything, but I’m bringing a strawberry cake anyway. It’s red and white like the Canadian flag, but it can also be our little nod to your summer celebrations back in Sweden.” More than anything, Georgie wanted Oliver to feel content and at home.

“Aw, thanks, Bug.” Oliver kissed her on the forehead and she let him go. “Are you baking or buying?” He picked up her banker’s box and they continued strolling.

“Ollipop, you have to ask?” She grinned and reached into her bag, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “This is for you. One of our geography teachers made me a list of mudlarking locations around the province.”

Oliver’s brows rose. “Oh, that was nice of him.”

Unfolding the paper, she read the top line to herself and grimaced. “Ew, skip the first one. The Don River’s gross and polluted.”

“Just like the Thames—I’ll feel right at home!” He shared a playful glance with Georgie then leaned in, eyeing the list. “Kingston sounds nice. Is it close?”

“About two and a half hours east. If you’d like, we could rent a car and a B&B, make a weekend of it? There’s plenty of history, great places to eat, too.”

“Sounds great!”

“I’ll call when I get home.” Georgie folded up the list, returning it to her bag.

His grin widened. “August can’t come soon enough.”

She squinted away from the sun. “You’re really looking forward to those CNE BeaverTails, aren’t ya?”