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Georgie fussed with her camera. She couldn’t get anything past Michael.

“What’s it been? Three weeks?” Stepping closer, he allowed a father with a child to squeeze through.

“Four weeks, three days…a few hours,” said Georgie.

“You’ve kept count? Man, you’ve got it baaad.”

“I try not to think about him, but”—her heart panging, she hugged herself—“I saw him yesterday. He walked by during my break. I’m not sure he saw me, though.”

“You didn’t go outside, say hi?”

“I can’t. Not when I’m in uniform.” While true, it was also a convenient excuse.

“Screw the uniform!” Michael shook his head. “Georgie, what are you doing? Keep this up and you’ll lose him, for sure!”

If she hadn’t already.

“Oliver needs to know you still love him, ’cause I bet he’s thinking you don’t.”

Georgie pouted. “Saying I love you won’t fix what’s wrong.”

“Then give long distance a try,” said Michael. “I know it sucks, but at least it’ll keep you sorta together.”

She tugged at her jersey, the heat and her indecisiveness bringing on a dull headache. “Or I could…move.”

Michael’s eyes flashed with surprise. “Wha—you’d⁠—”

“Maybe.” She winced. “I really want to be with him, Mikey.”

“Well…you don’t have a job keeping you here anymore.”

“Only everything else. I’d miss you and hockey—Mum.” Georgie glanced over her shoulder as the ‘Coach’s Corner’ theme on Hockey Night in Canada blared through the concourse TV. “She adores Oliver. I haven’t said anything because she’d have my bags packed within an hour. She always puts my happiness ahead of hers.”

“We all want you happy, Gi,” said Michael. “As much as I’d miss you, I’d hate it more if you stayed here wondering what if. For one thing, you’d be pissy and no fun at all, and celebration nachos would be permanently off the menu.”

Georgie let out a brief laugh and shook her head. “God, who am I? I can’t believe I’m even considering this.” She squinted up at the old sign for section 85. “If I leave, no more hockey, no more Leafs. What would my dad say?”

Michael pressed his lips. “He’d say, ‘Enough with the unrequited love, kid. Time to love someone who loves you back.’”

“After all these years”—Georgie met Michael’s gaze—“what’s that like?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “But I hear it’s great.”

FORTY-THREE

OLIVER

Leaning against the end of the bar in McNally’s, Oliver sipped a ginger ale as fellow patrons refuelled on beer and mixed drinks during the first intermission. He hadn’t planned to be stood amidst the playoff excitement, but the jubilant sounds of game night on Carlton Street kept drifting through his apartment window, delivering an unavoidable reminder of how Georgie was moving on without him. The gnawing ache, the loneliness—Oliver couldn’t bear it, so there he was, propping up Will’s bar while harbouring hope that the love of his life would show up for wings and dancing when the game was over. While he waited, he rehearsed what he’d say just in case and kept tabs on the score. What a difference a few months had made. As recent as January, he was still blaming hockey for stealing his father away, but now the thwack of pucks and the announcer’s play-by-play felt strangely comforting.

Even more strange, Toronto had started to feel like home.

“Cherry’s right,” grumbled Will as the ‘Coach’s Corner’ segment of Hockey Night in Canada’s first intermission segued into a commercial break. “The Leafs need to wake up or their summer will be starting early.”

“Golf Leafs Golf!” Laughing, a customer in a Detroit cap left an empty beer pitcher on the bar and walked toward the washrooms.

“Yeah, yeah.” Will shook his head and accepted payment for several draft beers from an equally perturbed Leafs supporter in a Clark jersey.

“You’re not cheering for Detroit?” asked Oliver. “You played there.”