Page 88
“Yeah,” she grinned, recalling how their impromptu make-out session born out of relief and desperation escalated quickly to hair-clutching, underwear-drenching lust. A rising blush heated her cheeks. “I asked him to the San Jose game.”
“January 8th? That’s Francesca’s birthday,” said Michael. “I’ll be in Montréal.”
“That’s why I picked it. I knew I’d have an empty seat.”
“Damn it! I’d love to see if buddy cheers.” Michael met her eyes. “He better not suggest you leave early.”
“Michael! Don’t be like that.”
“Like what? An actual fan?” He picked a blob of cheese free from the nacho platter.
“We’re also going out this Friday.” Which reminds me… Georgie scratched her arm. I need to visit Fashion Crimes, buy a new dress. “It’s—well, it’s dinner combined with the World’s Biggest Bookstore. Kaitlin needs images of mourning robes, and they have a book on hold for me. I planned to borrow it from the library, but it hasn’t been returned. Oliver kindly photocopied some images from a similar book, but they’re not great, so World’s Biggest it is.”
“Friday’s perfect,” said Michael. “You can give me the date-night scoop at Saturday’s game.”
Georgie nodded. “God, I hope we smash Boston. It’ll be tough to beat them in their rink.”
“Anderson will score. At least one.”
“Nah, I’m going with Clark,” said Georgie.
“Wanna bet?” Michael held out his hand. “Loser buys the winner a drink.”
“Deal!” Georgie shook on it and promptly devoured a nacho.
Michael picked up his fork. “How’s the school hockey pool going?”
“I have sixty points.”
“Georgie Law, killing it a-gain!”
She grinned. “Houdini won’t divulge his tally, so Eden and I figure he’s way below that.”
“He’s such a dick.” Michael scoffed. “I can’t wait to see his smarmy face when you win the promotion. The entire faculty will be like”—he fist-pumped the air—“FUCK, YEAH!” He stabbed his fork into the dwindling mountain of nachos and wrenched free a cluster of chips, cheese, and black olives.
Gratitude swelled in Georgie’s chest. Through thick and thin, Michael always had her back.
He stuffed the substantial chunk of food between his lips, bulging his cheeks like a greedy chipmunk. Georgie laughed. “So why’d you order celebration nachos, anyway? You on the fast track to win Realtor of the Year after all?”
Chewing slowly for several beats, he shook his head then spoke through the side of his mouth. “I debated, wondering if you were”—he chomped several more times—“sharing good or bad news.” His mumbling gave way to a bout of furious chewing, followed by an eye-crinkling swallow. “I was praying for good and thought maybe you were ready to tell me what I already knew.”
“So, me plus Oliver equals good?”
“Georgie, we always knew there’d come a time when we weren’t each other’s top priority anymore, and…when I look at you, you’re fucking lit from within you’re so happy. I haven’t seen you like this in ages, and that’s all I want, really. My Gigi, happy.” He smiled warmly. “It’s about time, babe.”
Georgie scooted out of her side of the booth and flung herself onto Michael’s, wrapping him in an inescapable bear hug. “That means the world, coming from you!” She grinned, squeezing him tighter. “Thanks, Mikey.”
TWENTY-TWO
OLIVER
Two days later, Friday, November 13, 1992
Leafs record: 8 wins, 5 losses, 2 ties (in overtime)
“They didn’t even spare the raccoon!” Brows furrowed, Oliver tightened his scarf against the cold as he and Georgie turned the corner onto Yonge Street, leaving Dundas subway station behind. “Poor Michael. Pays all that money only to have people draw penises on his face.”
Georgie snort-laughed. “He hates it. As soon as they replace the vandalized ads, more scribbled dicks appear.”
