Page 217 of Check & Chase
“Time for what?” I ask, glancing between them.
“Your wedding present,” Emma explains, a hint of nerves in her voice. “From me to you. If you’re not too tired?”
“For you? Never,” I assure her. “What is it?”
Instead of answering, she turns to Maya, who produces a silky piece of fabric from her clutch. “You’ll need to be blindfolded. And we’ll need to relocate. Can your knee handle a short walk?”
“Should I be nervous?”
“Trust me. This will be worth it.”
Crutches positioned, Emma’s hand steady on my elbow, I allow myself to be led away from the reception area. With the blindfold securely over my eyes, I can only sense the general direction as Emma guides me.
We continue in silence, the distant sounds of the reception fading behind us. I feel her gently position me next to what seems to be a railing.
“Perfect. Stay right here.”
I stand obediently, my hand finding the railing to steady myself. The anticipation builds as I hear movement around me.
“Ready?”
“More than ready.”
Only then does she remove the blindfold, allowing me to blink as my eyes adjust to the scene before me.
I’m staring at a full-size ice rink, complete with boards and professional lighting, constructed on the flat area beside the lake house.
“Emma,” I breathe, taking it all in with disbelief. “How…”
“Happy wedding day. Do you like it?”
“Like it?” I repeat. “Emma, this is incredible. Unbelievable. But how? When?”
“I had help,” she admits, nodding toward where Maya, Jackson, and surprisingly, Tyler stand near the entrance. “A lot of help, actually. Mom provided additional funding, Jackson found the company that could set up a temporary rink here at the lake house. It was a group effort.”
I’m speechless, completely and utterly speechless, by the coordination required, by the love evident in every detail.
“But that’s only half the surprise,” Emma continues, stepping back slightly. “The real gift… well, I need to change first. Sit down and wait. I’ll be five minutes, okay?”
She doesn’t wait for a response, just disappears into the lake house, leaving me to continue processing what’s in front of me.
When she returns, gone is the wedding dress, replaced by a simple skating costume in pale blue. Her hair has been rearranged into a sleek chignon, emphasizing the elegant line of her neck.
She moves to center ice with confidence I’ve never seen in her before—not hesitant, not cautious, not fighting against trauma or fear. Just Emma in her element, reclaiming the identity that had been taken from her.
The music swells, and she begins to skate.
I’m not a figure skating expert by any means, but even I can recognize the beauty and skill in her movement—the perfect edges, the flowing choreography, the emotional connection to the music that transforms technical elements into art. She builds speed, executes a jump that has Maya gasping beside me, transitions into a spin that seems to defy physics.
But it’s not just how perfect she looks out there that has me blinking back tears. It’s the story she’s telling through movement—her journey from fear to courage, from trauma to healing, from isolation to partnership. I see our relationship mapped in her choreography—the cautious beginning, the growing trust, the passion, the commitment.
The music builds toward the end, her skating getting more intense, more emotional, until she stops in a final pose right in front of me.
“Emma, that was… I don’t have words. Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it.”
She skates to the edge where I’m seated, close enough to touch. “I wanted to show you what your support has meant. How far I’ve come because you believed in me.”
“You did this,” I insist, reaching for her hand across the barrier. “You faced your fears. You reclaimed the ice. I just provided the rink.”
