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“It’s hard, though. I’ve always thought meeting a guy like Oliver wasn’t on the cards for me.” She ran her hand through her hair. “But now that things seem to be shifting in that department, I think I want to explore whatever this is. And maybe once I do, who knows? I might be back where I started—alone. But…I dunno, Eden. It just feels different, like Oliver is a whole other level.”

“For one thing, he’s not another ad agency asshole like Kyle.” Eden shook several barbecue chips onto her plate. “He called you babelicious, for fuck’s sake!”

“God, I hated that! Told him, too, but he didn’t care.” Georgie nudged aside her still-wrapped Jos Louis, a brown-bagging-it lunch staple since childhood. “It’s hardly surprising nobody liked him. I guess that’s why I’m hesitant to tell anyone about Oliver.”

“Uh, hello?” Eden raised her hand. “I’m not just anyone!”

Georgie proceeded to tell her about Oliver helping at the fan mail answering session, his post-game appearance at McNally’s, and how he praised her talents and knowledge so passionately in front of Amalia.

Eden beamed. “Aw, Gi. I’m so happy for you! He’s a breath of fresh air.”

“He is. I just hope our stair stumble doesn’t make things weird workwise. If I’ve ruined it, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You’re worrying over nothing,” said Eden. “If anything, it’ll probably make your work collaboration stronger ’cause you’re both invested personally and professionally.” She laughed naughtily. “And I bet the sex will benefit, too!”

“If we ever get there.”

“You will,” said Eden. “I have every faith.”

Georgie pressed her lips together. “Thanks for being so understanding. I’m sorry I⁠—”

“Don’t even!” An empathetic grin lifted the corners of Eden’s mouth. “I was only pissed because I felt left out.”

“But I told you before anyone else.”

“As you should since I’m the matchmaker.” Eden sat up smugly.

“Uhh, you matched nothing!”

“So you’re saying I didn’t push you along even a little bit?”

Georgie gave in to a grin. “Not even a centimetre.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still over the moon. Hell, forget the Jays—you should be the one throwing a parade today.” Eden’s grinned loosened. “But next time you have something to share, just spill. I wanna be here for you, especially if you’re conflicted and need a second opinion.”

Georgie’s heart panged. “Well…there is something.” She snapped the videotape box open again. “I haven’t seen him since.”

Eden swallowed. “Really?” Her gaze bore into Georgie.

“Yeah. We’ve been playing phone tag, leaving messages, but that’s it. He said he’d come in for pancakes this weekend but didn’t show.”

“Maybe something came up at work,” said Eden.

“He doesn’t work weekends, and he lives right across the street. He could’ve at least popped in, said hi.” Georgie chewed her finger. “Do you think I’ve misread the situation completely?”

“How? You said he held you, wasn’t in a rush to let you go.”

“He wasn’t, but”—Georgie shifted—“since that day, his voicemails have been brief. It’s like he can’t get off the phone quick enough.”

“Oh, I bet he hates talking to machines.”

“Or regrets our near-miss kiss.”

“I sincerely doubt it. He’s probably like you, thinking about it morning, noon, and night.” Eden crunched a potato chip.

“Then why hasn’t he called me back?” A tightness squeezed Georgie’s ribs. “If you like someone, you make the effort.”

“So why haven’t you?” asked Eden, around her mouthful.