Imogen stared down at her plate, toying with a French fry. “I did feel different with him,” she admitted. “More like myself, somehow. Like I could stop trying so hard and just… be. I felt special.Seen. The extra time we’ve spent together the last couple of weeks has meant a lot to me.”
“Exactly,” Vanessa said. “That’s real. It’s not because of anything we did.”
“But what if I’m wrong?” Imogen looked at Vanessa worriedly. “What if I’m seeing what I want to see instead of what’s actually there?”
Vanessa reached over and squeezed Imogen’s hand. “Then at least you’ll know for sure. But I feel very sure that you’re not imagining anything. And there’s only one way to find out.”
Imogen took a deep breath, nodding, and Vanessa felt a wave of relief.
“Okay,” Imogen said finally. “Okay. I’ll go talk to him.”
The rink was all closed down for the evening, and Lincoln was getting ready to run the Zamboni as he finished up his last tasks. But he didn’t feel entirely ready to leave for the evening. His head felt muddled with thoughts about the way he’d left things with Imogen, and Vanessa’s promise to fix things, which he didn’t feel at all confident about. He wanted to reach out to Imogen again, but he knew that would be a mistake. So he was just left worrying and anxious, which wasn’t a state he was usually in.
He didn’t like it, and he needed to clear his head. He didn’t have anywhere that he needed to be at the moment, and no reason to rush home, so he decided to skate by himself for a bit. That always helped him think through things, if he needed it. And the ice was one of his favorite places to be.
Lincoln laced up his skates and glided out onto the ice, closing his eyes briefly. He felt even more confused after his conversation with Vanessa. She’d seemed so sure that there was a connection between him and Imogen, but that didn’t fitwith what he’d gotten from her the morning of the photoshoot. He thought she was having doubts about what had happened between them, and he didn’t see any way to make himself feel better about it.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Imogen had looked at him during their sleigh ride as they’d reminisced about their past, the way she’d felt curled against him under his coat, the moment when he’d almost kissed her. It had all felt real, natural, like it had been meant to be all along and they’d just needed time to catch up.
But maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe he’d been so eager for it to be real that he’d projected feelings onto what had happened that hadn’t really been there. Maybe her distance was her way of gently letting him down.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize until he saw a flash of movement at the railing out of the corner of his eye that he wasn’t alone.
His heart nearly stopped as he saw Imogen standing there, wearing jeans and a soft dark green sweater. Her cheeks were pink from the cold outside air, and her hair had escaped some of her ponytail, giving her a slightly windswept appearance that made her look younger and more like the girl he’d fallen for in high school.
“Hi,” she called out, her voice carrying clearly across the empty rink.
“Hi,” Lincoln managed, coming to a stop in the center of the rink as he looked at her. The air felt charged with everything they hadn’t said to each other, and he could hear his heart beating in his ears.
“Do you remember,” Imogen said finally, stepping closer to the entrance, “how we used to skate here when we were teenagers? Back when it was the old community center with that terrible ice surface that was always bumpy?”
Lincoln felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I remember catching you every time you fell.”
“Which was a lot.” Imogen smiled. “I spent more time falling down than actually skating. Did you ever think, back then, that you’d end up owning this place someday?”
“Never,” Lincoln admitted, skating slowly closer to where she stood. “I thought maybe I’d become a professional hockey player, or at least play college hockey somewhere. Owning a rink seemed like something adults did, not something I’d ever be old enough or responsible enough to handle.”
“And now look at you,” Imogen said, gesturing at the space around them. “You’ve created something amazing here. A place where kids can learn to love skating the way you do, where people make memories together. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Lincoln paused, touched by the genuine admiration in her voice. “That means a lot, especially coming from someone who’s built something equally amazing with her own business.”
Imogen stepped onto the ice, and he realized with a start that she had her own skates on. He watched, stunned, as she glided across the ice to where he was stopped. She started to skate forward, and he went with her, tugged along as if he couldn’t help but follow.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath as they began a slow glide around the perimeter of the rink. “I owe you an explanation for why I’ve been so strange the past couple of days.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” Lincoln looked at her. “I’m sorry if I was too much.”
“I do though, and you weren’t,” Imogen insisted. “Because I’ve been handling this situation badly, and you deserve to know why.”
They skated in silence for half a lap while Imogen seemed to gather her thoughts. “Mabel told me about the matchmaking,”she said finally. “And Vanessa came to talk to me. She wanted me to see that things between us weren’t just because they were pushing us together.”
Lincoln nodded, his stomach swooping. “And you’ve been wondering whether my feelings were genuine or whether I was just going along with their scheme.”
“Exactly,” Imogen said, relief evident in her voice. “I didn’t know if you were aware of what they were doing, if you were playing a role they’d assigned you or if your reactions were real.”
Lincoln stopped skating abruptly, turning to face her directly. “Imogen, I had no idea about any of it. The Secret Santa pairing, the sleigh ride—I was just as surprised and confused by everything as you were.”
“Really?” she asked, searching his face intently.
