Page 24 of Chloe

Eleven

CHLOE

Imake my way through the bustling Christmas market in the Benton Falls city park. Twinkling lights strung between wooden stalls cast a warm glow over everything, transforming the familiar space into a winter wonderland. Spice and pine mingle with the aroma of roasting chestnuts, creating an intoxicating blend that seems to embody the very essence of the holiday season.

I pause at a stall selling hand-knitted scarves, running my fingers over the soft wool. A week ago, I would have scoffed at the idea of wearing anything not bearing a designer label. Now, I seriously consider buying one. What is happening to me?

“Chloe. Over here.”

I turn to see Oliver waving at me from near the ice skating rink. His wide smile is punctuated by his bright hazel eyes as his gaze meets mine. He’s bundled up in a forest green parka, a matching knit hat pulled low over his ears. The sight of him sends a flutter through my stomach that has nothing to do with the cold.

As I make my way over, weaving between families and couples enjoying the festive atmosphere, I can’t help but feel a sense of giddy anticipation. The knowledge of what I’ve done—the anonymous donation to save Oliver’s store—sits warm in my chest, a delicious secret that makes me want to laugh out loud.

“Hey,” I say as I reach him, suddenly feeling shy. “Nice hat.”

Oliver grins, his cheeks rosy from the cold. “Thanks. My mom made it for me. Ready to show off your skating skills?”

I glance at the rink, where people of all ages are gliding—or in some cases, stumbling—across the ice. “I should warn you, I haven’t been skating since I was a kid. I might be a bit rusty.”

“Don’t worry,” Oliver says, his eyes twinkling. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”

The words send a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with my thick coat. As we make our way to the rental booth to get our skates, I find myself hyper-aware of Oliver’s presence beside me—the brush of his arm against mine, the sound of his laughter as he jokes with the attendant.

“Here,” he says, handing me a pair of white skates. “Let’s sit over there to put them on.”

We make our way to a bench near the rink. As I lace up my skates, I can’t help but notice how at ease Oliver seems, greeting everyone who passes by with a warm smile or a friendly word. It’s so different from the corporate world I’m used to, where interactions are often calculated and relationships are measured by their potential value.

“All set?” Oliver asks, standing up and offering me his hand.

I nod, suddenly nervous. What if I fall flat on my face in front of everyone? But as I take Oliver’s hand and he helps me to my feet, I’m struck by how solid and warm his grip is. For a moment, I forget to be worried about falling.

We make our way to the rink’s entrance, the sound of blades scraping against ice and cheerful laughter growing louder. As we step onto the ice, I wobble slightly, my legs feeling unsteady.

“Whoa there,” Oliver says, his arm immediately going around my waist to steady me. “I’ve got you. Just take it slow.”

The feel of his arm around me sends a jolt through my system that has nothing to do with the cold or my unsteady balance. I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and we glide forward slowly.

At first, I’m tense, too focused on not falling to enjoy the experience. But as we make our way around the rink, Oliver’s steady presence beside me, I begin to relax. The rhythm of gliding across the ice comes back to me, muscle memory from childhood winters spent at the local rink in my hometown.

“See? You’re a natural,” Oliver says, his voice warm with encouragement.

I laugh, the sound surprising me with its lightness. “I wouldn’t go that far. But it is fun.”

As we continue to skate, I take in the surrounding scene. Children zoom past, their laughter ringing out in the crisp air. Couples hold hands as they glide along, lost in their own little worlds. The twinkling lights reflect off the ice, creating a magical, shimmering effect.

“Oh, look,” Oliver says, nodding towards a corner of the rink. “They’ve set up a photo booth. Want to get a picture?”

I hesitate for a moment. A photo would be evidence of this night, of my time in Benton Falls. Something tangible to remind me of... what? This town that isn’t mine, this life that isn’t real?

But then I look at Oliver’s hopeful face, and I nod. “Sure, why not?”

We make our way off the ice and over to the booth. It’s decorated to look like a giant snow globe, complete with fake snow and twinkling lights. As we squeeze into the small space together, I’m acutely aware of how close Oliver is, the warmth of his body next to mine.

“Okay, ready?” he says, pressing the button to start the countdown. “Say cheese.”

The flash goes off four times in quick succession. As we step out of the booth, the strip of photos prints out. Oliver takes it, grinning as he looks at the results.

“Oh, these are great,” he says, showing me.

---