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“I’m not. It’s just that work’s been hell lately and I could really use a night out without someone passing judgment behind my back. Oliver’s great, but he thinks he’s collaborating with a serious educator, not someone in ripped jeans who dances to C+C Music Factory and downs flaming sambuca shots with Stef.”

“You’re not wearing jeans.” Leesa pointed to the black velvet dress Georgie wore beneath her Leafs jersey, its flouncy skirt hitting a few inches above her knees.

“Yeah, ’cause you two invited him out and I had to rush home to change into something presentable.” Her face pinched. “What if tonight shatters his opinion of me? What if he bolts?”

“I highly doubt he sees you as a nun,” said Leesa.

“But I don’t know, do I? I don’t know him that well.” Georgie swept her hair back. “I have to hope he doesn’t second-guess our work arrangement or pull the plug. I need the museum presentations on my résumé like I need the Cup to come home.”

She also needed the addictive euphoric buzz that whizzed through her every time she laid eyes on him, but her friends didn’t need to know that.

As the crowd started to disperse for the second period, Kaitlin lifted her backpack off the floor and flung it over the shoulder of her old Rick Vaive jersey. “Well, look on the bright side: maybe he won’t show up. He didn’t exactly look thrilled when we invited him.”

“Really?” Georgie glanced between her friends as they started walking. “But you just spent fifteen minutes going on about how much he was into me!”

“He probably is.” Kaitlin’s brow furrowed. “But when we mentioned McNally’s, he looked really uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I put that down to him mixing donut holes and Hickory Sticks with coffee,” said Leesa. “Not everyone is as proficient at combining poor food choices as we are. Takes years of practice.” She laughed.

“Maybe he was reticent because he doesn’t like blurring the line between business and pleasure?” said Kaitlin.

“That’s gotta be it.” Leesa glanced at Georgie. “He’s probably more like you than you think, Gi.”

She followed her friends toward the escalators. “For the sake of the promotion, I sure hope so!”

ELEVEN

OLIVER

Later that night

Leafs record: 2 wins, 2 losses, 1 tie (in overtime)

Oliver had never known his heart could pound so quickly while standing still.

He’d followed Georgie’s instructions to the letter, arriving fifteen minutes before the end of the Leafs game, but instead of strolling straight into McNally’s and escaping the intermittent drizzle, he encountered a line stretching along Carlton, wrapping around the Warner Bros. building on the corner, and then veering northward up Church Street. Thick with disgruntled hockey fans, his queue neighbours grumbled through visible breaths, blaming their delayed admittance on Game 1 of the World Series in Atlanta and an invasion of Jays supporters sitting at their tables.

The unexpected wait—thirty minutes and counting—ramped up Oliver’s pulse and flung him further down the anxiety spiral he’d been battling since midmorning. Would he recognize Will? Fuck. He swallowed hard. I’m not ready for this.

He buried his hands in the pockets of his coat and pivoted toward the Saturday night traffic crawling along Church Street. If he left now, he could escape the crowd and the damp chill seeping into his bones, and be warmly ensconced in his apartment in less than five minutes.

However, an unspoken promise kept his Oxfords planted on the rain-speckled sidewalk.

I can’t bail on Georgie.

In his heart, he knew he couldn’t walk away, not after the conversation they’d shared while answering fan letters that morning. So much made sense now. The “That’s the worst feeling” remark in his office. Her bold determination to make the presentations succeed. Squeezing a brainstorming session into her already hectic Saturday.

Georgie needed his help just as much as he needed hers, and nothing—not the frigid weather nor his unease about seeing Will—would derail his promise. There was also the small matter of the huge crush he carried for her, urging him to stick around, but that would have to take a backseat, too. Considering there was no future in it, why go down that road?

Hours earlier, Rafferty had tried to encourage him otherwise, but Oliver wouldn’t budge. He and Georgie would remain friendly colleagues during his time in Toronto. Nothing more.

And being just friends wasn’t such a horrible consolation prize, not if Georgie’s companionship quashed his loneliness. Maybe it would even slow the merry-go-round of negative thoughts that galloped through his head, trampling the living daylights out of his already tattered self-esteem. Even better, she could become a treasured ally, someone to commiserate with, to have a laugh with. A free spirit who looked for the good in almost every situation. That was one of the things he already adored most about Georgie, her apparent propensity for seeing light in the darkness. Not only was it inspiring and admirable, it was also a trait Oliver sincerely hoped might rub off on him.

He scuffed the pavement with his shoe, his gaze trailing a pack of stumbling drunks swathed in baggy jerseys. He let out a heavy sigh. There’s one downside, though. He’d have to immerse himself in all things hockey to stand a fighting chance of forming a real connection.

* * *

Fifty minutes and one Jays’ loss later, a mass exodus of baseball fans from the bar finally ushered Oliver to the front entrance. The bouncer halted his conversation with a woman in sky-high heels and waved him forward, up the vestibule’s five steps, and beyond the bar’s steamed-up windows where a rush of warm air and the electro-pop of 2 Unlimited’s “Get Ready for This” greeted his arrival.