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The thought sent a wave of emotion through her so sudden that her eyes immediately filled with tears. She felt joy, fear, wonder, disbelief—all of it mixing together until she felt so overwhelmed she could barely breathe.

“Imogen?” Dr. Thurman’s voice was gentle. “Are you all right? I know this can be a lot to process, especially if you weren’t expecting it.”

“I’m…” Imogen wiped at her eyes, laughing a little at herself. “I’m good. I’m just… surprised. We weren’t trying, but… we’d talked about kids, about wanting them eventually, but I didn’t think…” She pressed her hand more firmly against her stomach. “There’s really a baby in there?”

“There really is,” Dr. Thurman confirmed, her smile understanding. “And from what I can tell, a healthy one. But we’ll know more at your first ultrasound.”

The rest of the appointment passed in a blur. Imogen accepted the pamphlets, nodded at the instructions about diet and exercise and what symptoms to watch for, and scheduled her next appointment for three weeks out. She smiled and nodded, all while her mind spun in dizzy circles.

They were having a baby.

* * *

The cold air hit her face as she stepped out of the clinic, and it helped clear some of the fog from her brain. The snow was coming down steadily now, heavier than it had been when she’d arrived an hour ago. The parking lot was filling up with white, and she had to brush off her windshield before getting into her car.

She sat there for a long moment, her hands on the steering wheel, engine idling as heat slowly started to fill the car. She should go home, she thought. Make herself some tea, sit on the couch, let this news really sink in. Process it properly before⁠—

But she didn’t know how she could keep it to herself, especially with Vanessa at the house, and she wanted Lincoln to be the first to know. She felt like she was on pins and needles, waiting to tell him and see the look on his face. It wouldn’t feel real until he knew.

Imogen put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot, her hands shaking a little bit. The rink was only fifteen minutes away, less if the roads weren’t too bad. She’d just pop in, pull Lincoln aside for a minute, and tell him the news. It would be perfect, seeing his joy, his surprise, the moment when he’d realize that their family was about to grow. She hoped he’d be happy, that he was excited and ready for this.

Her mind raced the entire time as she drove, trying to figure out what she’d say, how she’d tell him. Should she be straightforward or build up to it? Make some kind of joke to lighten the moment before dropping the news?

She pulled into the parking lot of the ice rink and immediately noticed how much more crowded it was than usual. The lot was nearly full, and she had to park in one of the far spots, trudging through the snow toward the entrance. Clearly the Frosty the Snowman event had brought in more people than they’d expected. She was glad—Lincoln had put so much effort into planning it, with games and activities and prizes for the kids, special pizza at the stand, and a big order from her shop for hot cocoa and chocolates. She hoped she could find him in all the chaos.

It would be busy, but surely she could pull him aside for just a minute, she thought.

Imogen pushed through the entrance doors, immediately enveloped by the warmth and the noise. The lobby was packed with families—parents helping kids with their skates, children running around with a manic energy, the smell of hot chocolate and popcorn from the concession stand mixing with the familiar cold-and-plastic scent of the rink itself. She made her way through the crowd, and a moment later, she caught sight of him.

Lincoln was on the ice, and he was wearing… oh no. She’d forgotten about the costume.

He was dressed as Frosty the Snowman. It was a full-body white outfit with a round, padded middle that made him look genuinely snowman-shaped, black buttons down the front, and perched on his head was an enormous black top hat. He even had a carrot nose attached somehow. He was surrounded by children, at least twenty of them, maybe more, all skating around him with various degrees of competence. Lincoln was skating backward with surprising grace given the bulky costume, calling out encouragement, reaching down to help a little girl who’d fallen, laughing at something a boy in a blue jacket was saying.

Imogen stopped at the edge of the rink, one hand on the boards, and just watched for a moment. The sight of him—her husband, dressed as a snowman, surrounded by children and so completely in his element—sent another wave of emotion through her. This man was going to be a father. This wonderful, goofy, generous man who dressed up in ridiculous costumes and spent his Saturday afternoons teaching kids to skate was going to be a dad.

Their baby was so lucky.

Lincoln caught sight of her, and his face—what she could see of it around the carrot nose and the bulk of the costume—lit up with that smile that still made her heart skip even after all their time together.

“Imogen!” he called out, skating toward her with impressive speed. Several kids followed him like a comet’s tail, not wanting to let him get too far away. “Hey! What are you doing here? I thought you had that doctor’s appointment?”

She opened her mouth to tell him that she needed to talk to him for a minute, that it was important, that they needed privacy for what she had to say—but before she could get the words out, one of the kids tugged on his costume.

“Mr. Frosty! Mr. Frosty! You said we could play the snowball game next!”

“Yeah!” another child chimed in. “You promised!”

Lincoln glanced down at them, then back at Imogen, and she could see the apology in his eyes as he smiled. “I did promise, didn’t I? Imogen, I’m so sorry, I’m kind of in the middle of⁠—”

“It’s fine,” she heard herself say. It was, mostly. She couldn’t tell him like this anyway. She couldn’t deliver the news that they were going to be parents while he was dressed as Frosty the Snowman and surrounded by a swarm of children. It was happy news, but it was still serious, and she couldn’t help but feel that something would be lost if it was rushed out between activities at a children’s skating event while Lincoln was wearing a carrot on his face.

“How did the appointment go?” Lincoln asked, concern flickering across his expression. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Imogen said. It was true, even if “fine” was a massive understatement. “I’ll tell you about it later. You’re busy. Go play your snowball game.”

“You sure?” He gave her a concerned look, and she felt a swell of love for him. “I can take a quick break if⁠—”

“Mr. Frosty!” The chorus of children’s voices rose up again insistently.