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Oliver perked up. Georgie didn’t want to call it a night! Maybe she was ready to forgive his disappearing act after all. “Sure,” he replied as she tugged on her wooly Leafs hat, its chunky pom-pom bouncing as they turned left. “I really appreciate this. I wouldn’t have known where to start!”

Georgie glanced over. “To be honest, I wondered if you’d even show up…” Her cordial expression withered.

FUCK.

Oliver’s grin buckled and crashed into his gut. His time away and excuses—well, to him they weren’t, but Georgie probably viewed them as such—along with the vagueness of his voicemails had all contributed to that biting comment. Worse still, her anger was completely justified. Bowing his head, he vowed to make amends. “Georgie⁠—”

“Oh, don’t worry. I got the message. Loud and clear.” The sharp edge to her voice made him wince. “It’s amazing how saying so little can say so much.”

Oliver slouched as they crossed the intersection on the green light. “I know. I should’ve⁠—”

“And listen, I get it.” Georgie did a double take. “I was the one who made things weird on the stairs by almost…” Her throat bobbed as she stared downward, hiding behind her hair.

Wait! Oliver’s eyes popped. THAT’S why she thinks I was distant? Because we almost snogged?

“I was attracted to you and completely misread the situation,” Georgie continued, “a fact your avoidance of me these past weeks has hammered home and then some.” Tugging on her scarf, she glanced over. “I’m sorry.”

Not as much as I am. Shame and yearning tangled in Oliver’s chest as she looked away again.

“Things might feel awkward moving forward, but rest assured I won’t disappoint Amalia or jeopardize the presentation. I’m fully committed to its completion and success, but once we’re finished, we’ll just go our separate ways and I won’t bother you again.”

Oliver sucked in a stuttering breath. “You’re not bothering me, Georgie, far from it, I⁠—”

She huffed, her eyes flinty. “Well, it sure as hell felt like it when you dodged me for weeks on end.”

“I wasn’t dodging you. I was away for work. I had colleagues in town.”

Looking ahead, the muscle in her jaw tensed. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about being a no-show for breakfast one weekend then skipping hockey with me the next.” She tightened the grip on her tote bag’s strap.

Shit, I’ve hurt her. Oliver bowed his head. “I’m so sorry. You have every right to be angry. I know it might’ve looked like I was avoiding you, but”—her burgeoning scowl made him double down—“I wasn’t! I wanted to spend time with you. I really did! But the week of the fundraiser was drag-out exhausting. Every hour was dedicated to it and everything else fell by the wayside. And if I’m being completely honest, I didn’t want to inflict tired, grumpy Oliver on you at the game. I know how much you enjoy it, and since hockey isn’t really my thing, I thought⁠—”

“Right.” Frowning, Georgie stared down at the sidewalk. “It’s not your thing, and I guess I’m not either.”

Fuck. It was a date. Oliver gulped. “Georgie, that’s not true. Not even close. I DO like you. A lot, actually.”

Closing her eyes, she shook her head like she didn’t believe him, then said, “Yeah. You like me so much you couldn’t walk across the street from your apartment to say hello or grab a Sunday morning coffee.”

“The weekend of the 24th?” asked Oliver.

“Yeah, you said you’d come in.”

“I think I said I’d try.”

“Well, you didn’t—despite living less than a minute away.” Georgie curled her lip. “You could’ve at least told me, you know. Left a message. I saved a table for you both days! By Sunday lunchtime, my boss had had enough and scolded me in front of my coworkers.”

Oliver gulped. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Georgie nodded. “So am I.”

His shoulders slumped. Rafferty was right. The only way out of this mess, if he wanted to see Georgie again, was to tell her about the weekend of October 24th and risk revealing the truth about Will. He just had to hope she’d understand.

“Georgie, I fully intended to come in that Saturday, but Haruki rang and woke me up at half six. He was in a panic, begging me to meet him at work. One of the board members had left him a message late Friday requesting a draft of the speech by nine a.m. Monday. We only had rough ideas at that point, so I rushed to the museum and wrote a full draft. Haruki hated it, so I wrote another. He hated that, too, so I did another rewrite. And another. And another. By this time, it’s nearly six, and he starts packing his things and mentions meeting friends for a World Series viewing party but says, ‘You’ll keep going, right?’”

Head cocked to the side, Georgie’s expression softened slightly.

Oliver continued. “I would’ve loved to call it a day, too, but I had pages of his nitpicky edits to work through. Hours later, I got stuck in the Jays celebrations on the way home and I fucking hate crowds. Didn’t get in until after two a.m.”

“Couldn’t you have left when he did? Gone back in on Sunday?” asked Georgie.