Page 78 of Check & Chase (Breakaway #1)
“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.”
“You provided so much more than that,” she corrects gently. “Safety. Patience. Unwavering belief that I could heal, even when I didn’t believe it myself.”
I’m not ashamed of the tears that escape then, too overwhelmed by what she’s given me.
“There’s one more thing. If you’re up for it.”
“Anything,” I say without hesitation.
She disappears briefly, returning with something in her hands that makes my heart stutter—a pair of hockey skates. My size.
“I know you’re not cleared for hockey yet. But Reynolds said gentle skating is actually beneficial at this stage of recovery. Controlled, non-strenuous movement that strengthens the joint without impact.” She holds out the skates. “Skate with me? Just once around the rink? ”
The request—so simple yet so profound—nearly undoes me completely. This woman, who faced crippling fear of the ice, who rebuilt her relationship with skating through sheer determination, now wants to share that reclaimed joy with me.
On our wedding day.
“Try and stop me,” I manage, already reaching for the skates.
Getting onto the ice is a careful process—Maya and Jackson positioned to help if needed, Emma’s hands steady and sure as she guides me through the gate. The first moment of blade meeting ice sends a jolt of familiar joy through me, even as my weakened knee protests the unfamiliar movement.
“Take it slow,” Emma advises, positioning herself beside me, one arm linked through mine. “Let me do most of the work.”
We begin moving together, a careful glide that bears little resemblance to my usual powerful stride but feels like flying nonetheless. Emma matches her pace perfectly to mine, providing just enough support to keep pressure off my knee without making me feel dependent.
“This is just for us,” she says as we glide slowly around the rink. “Just us having this moment together.”
“This is perfect, Emma,” I look down at her, unable to imagine a better wedding gift. “Absolutely perfect.”
Later, as we prepare to leave, Emma turns to me with a smile that makes my heart race despite my physical exhaustion. “Ready to go enjoy our honeymoon, husband?”
“Lead the way, wife,” I agree, accepting the crutches she offers. “Though fair warning—this knee might limit some of our wedding night activities.”
“I have complete confidence in our ability to adapt,” she assures me with a wicked gleam in her eye. “After all, I am a physical therapist who specializes in… creative positioning for optimal recovery.”
“God, I love you,” I laugh, following her toward the exit, toward the beginning of our married life together .
“I love you too.” She smiles, holding the door open for me. “Today, tomorrow, always.”