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Envy wrenched Georgie’s stomach. She smiled and headed toward the point-of-sale computer to finalize their order, but her thoughts were hijacked by Oliver. He was leaving on a business trip to Greece on Tuesday. He’d be back, of course, but another stretch of distance left her restless and conflicted, eager to profess ‘I love you.’

The urge had been building since their first night together when Georgie realized her feelings weren’t an infatuation. They were unconditional and real, and she was tired of pretending otherwise. So many times she’d wanted to tell him, but how—and why—when their mutually agreed expiration date for the relationship grew closer?

Georgie blinked downward at the screen. Eggs benny? She huffed, deleting her error. Double-checking everything, she confirmed the system numbers for French toast and crepes, but then her mind drifted again.

With long distance off the table, the only way she and Oliver could have a future together was if one of them uprooted their life and moved overseas. Georgie knew Oliver wouldn’t leave London permanently. He’d been clear about that at the Queen Mother Café, and her feelings on the matter hadn’t changed either. Toronto was home, a fact Oliver never seemed to question, probably because he already knew the answer.

Georgie’s chin trembled as she glanced back down at the computer screen, its prompts blurring. I can’t do this. She headed straight for the washroom and dashed into a stall, her mind spiralling.

Oliver has never been mine, not really, not how it counts. A strangled sob broke through her lips and Georgie gave in, allowing all the hurt to spill down her cheeks. Sure, Oliver fancied her. Georgie was in no doubt of that, but attraction wasn’t enough. He hadn’t said ‘I love you’ either, and with his London move in six months’ time, there was a strong chance he’d never say it, even if he wanted to.

A toilet flushed in the next stall.

Fuck! Her watery gaze widened and she dragged the back of her hand across her face, wiping away the teary evidence. Suck it up, Law, and get back out there. Georgie blew out her lips and made a triple promise that one, she would keep her feelings for Oliver to herself; two, she’d pretend Valentine’s Day was no big deal; and three, she’d forget about the whole ‘I love you’ nonsense.

After all, what she and Oliver shared was fun, and nothing more—right?

Wrong. Fuck you, carpe diem. Georgie blotted her cheeks with toilet paper and waited for the customer to leave. When the door banged shut, she darted from the stall and washed her hands. She’d finish tallying the seniors’ bill then get the fuck out of there. Hell, if she had to, she’d fake a migraine attack (something she never did because, hello, karma) and beg off seeing Oliver later.

Giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror, the washroom door swung open.

“Ah, there you are!” The hostess wiped her brow. “Georgie, I know your shift is over, but could you do me a HUGE favour and take one last table? The new hire went home sick and Knox is extra pissed.”

Georgie exhaled into a resigned lip press. “Sure.”

“You’re a star! Thanks!” The hostess barrelled back into the dining room, leaving Georgie in her wake.

She gave the seniors their bill, grabbed a pair of menus, and scanned the absent waiter’s section. The customer waiting to order was a red-gift-bag-toting, stuffed-raccoon-hugging Swede still bundled in his coat.

Georgie’s heart skipped then stumbled, her internal tug-of-war raging again as she approached his table. “Hey?”

“Hey, gorgeous! You on the menu today?” As soon as the question left Oliver’s lips, he scrunched his face. “Sorry. In my head that sounded flirty, not…pathetic.”

Georgie laughed and slid the menus onto his table. “I thought you were meeting Will for a late lunch?”

“No, that was a ruse so I could put Operation Cupid’s Bow into full effect.” Oliver pushed back his chair and stood, extricating a small pink envelope from the tissue-filled gift bag.

“Aw, Ollie.” Georgie opened the card and read the handwritten message: I adore you more than raccoons adore pizza. Oliver xo

Yearning squeezed her heart. “I adore you, too.” Damn. So much for the first promise she’d made in the washroom. Her smile wavered. “It’s perfect. Thanks. I’d kiss you, but⁠—”

“You’re working and the boss is hovering.” He mock winced. “Hate when that happens.”

Georgie gestured over her shoulder. “I have something for you in the break room.”

“Hmm, does this mean you’ve had a change of heart?” Oliver cocked the plush raccoon’s head, making it look like it was waiting for her answer, too.

Georgie glanced down at the fuzzy face. She could sit on the fence all she liked, but with Oliver on the scene, Valentine’s Day was pretty darn good—so far. A smile rising, she met his gaze again. “Maybe.”

“Well, maybe this will help.” Oliver placed the cute Ringo-lookalike in her arms.

Burying her nose in his plush, Georgie’s eyes fluttered closed. “I love him!” And you! Her thoughts trundled out of control, snapping the last of her resolve and sparking a wistful throb deep in her chest. Loser. You folded in seconds. Now what?

“Aha!”

Looking up, she caught Oliver rocking back on his heels, swinging the red gift bag. “I thought maybe the lady doth protest too much. And I was right! Georgina Law IS a fan of February 14th.”

“I am—I mean, I was, and then I wasn’t.” She rubbed the raccoon’s triangle ears. “But enough about the past. Time to live in the here and now.”