Page 128

“Gi, you’ll have fun once you’re there. Go to Harrods for me—please?” Leesa begged. “I’d love a souvenir tote bag.”

“Ooh, and some tea from the Palace gift shop!” added Stefanie.

Arms folded, Michael shook his head. “Guys, Gi can’t go. End of story. Leave her alone!”

“Take me, then,” said Stefanie. “I’ll go!”

Leesa nodded. “Same!”

Pulse rocketing, Georgie’d had enough. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” she snapped. “I said I CAN’T!”

Her outburst was met with widening eyes and awkward silence, and if the warmth creeping across her cheeks was a clue, Georgie was redder than a Canadiens away jersey.

Oliver rubbed her back. “Hey, it’s all right. There’s no rush.” He kissed her on top of the head and draped his arm around her shoulders. “London’s not going anywhere.”

Slipping into an apologetic wince, Will looked at Oliver then Georgie and slowly tapped the stack of pint glasses in his hands. “I should get back…” He gestured toward the kitchen and took the dirty glassware with him.

Georgie dipped her chin, mortified.

“Washroom for me,” said Kaitlin. “Leesa? Stef?” She gave the usherette sat beside her a death stare. “You’re coming, right?”

Stefanie did a double take. “Oh! Yeah.” She nudged Michael. “Let us out, please?”

“Yup.” Michael stood as the three women scooted along the curve of the booth. He met Georgie’s embarrassed cringe with a sympathetic lip press and pointed toward the back hall. “Gotta call Davis.” He trailed after Leesa and disappeared from view.

Georgie had never seen a booth empty so quickly. Discarding the Polaroid camera on the table, she covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Tugging her closer, Oliver bent his neck, his gaze seeking hers. “And please don’t think I put Will up to that. We haven’t even spoken about visiting London.”

Thank god. Dropping her hands, Georgie turned toward him. “Parents, eh?”

A ghost of a smile played on his lips.

“You know I’d go if I could, right?” she asked.

“Maybe you still can. Each time I’ve flown back from London, my flight arrives midafternoon. I think we could get back in time for puck drop on the Saturday night.”

That was encouraging, but the game wasn’t the only thing holding Georgie back. “But I still can’t afford it.”

“Then let me take care of it,” said Oliver.

She winced. “I can’t let⁠—”

“Georgie, I have a credit with the airline that expires soon. Either I use it or lose it. And there won’t be any hotel costs because we’ll stay at mine.”

She picked at her cuticles, feeling her excuses shift like sand under her feet. “I-I dunno. I could use that time for lesson planning.”

“You still could,” said Oliver. “What would enrich a European history lesson more than a trip to London? Think of all the great things you could take photos of and share with your students.”

There was that. Twisting her lips, Georgie tilted her head side to side. “Hmm, maybe.” She toyed with the Polaroids. “Walking in the footsteps of history.”

“Can’t hurt, right?” said Oliver. “You’d be snapping photos anyway. Why not use some for teaching? Get a step up on Brian.”

Try as she might, Georgie couldn’t deny the positives. Uninterrupted time with Oliver topped the list, and yet the dread of that moving-to-London discussion still bristled. “But isn’t it too late? Aren’t flights all sold out?”

“To Florida maybe, not London.” Oliver wrapped his hand around hers. “Bug, you’ve been killing yourself at two jobs. You work harder than anyone and deserve a proper break.” He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “Let me show you London—please?”

Georgie blinked, taking in the Salming jersey draped over his broad shoulders. She’d never thought she’d see him dressed in a hockey sweater, especially one he’d bought, but that was the thing about Oliver—he always went the extra mile where she was concerned, and this Valentine’s wasn’t any different. The cuddly raccoon toy, wings and hockey, the retro jersey—it all meant the world to Georgie, as did his suggestion to use London in her quest for promotion.