A Baby for Christmas (Love at The Crossroads) Read Free Page A

Solae’s cheek in order to leave no doubt in the minds of any guests that she was his. Her lids fluttered. Hershel liked to see his effect on her. “Hi, baby. You look gorgeous.”
    “Thank you.” Her voice was soft and unsteady—almost unsure of how to respond to him. Odd.
    The wedding director turned into a task master as she ordered the attendants to follow her outside for pictures and then back inside the sanctuary. With every pose, Hershel kept a possessive hand on Solae’s waist and shoulders. Usually, she gave him an encouraging smile, but she barely acknowledged his touch. Something was definitely wrong.
    Hershel endured the never-ending receiving line for his brother’s sake, then on to the reception. He pulled out Solae’s chair at the head table. “I’ll fix our plates. What do you want?”
    “Oh, thanks, but take care of the boys. I can get my own,” she said, avoiding eye contact.
    That was one thing he loved about Solae. She always put his sons’ needs first. For their first date, she suggested Dave and Buster’s to make it a family event. Now, almost a year later, she was still doing it. “All right.” Hershel frowned and slowly walked away. But something was off and he couldn’t put his finger on it.
    Throughout the night, every time Hershel attempted to initiate a private conversation with Solae, someone interrupted him.
    “I heard you’re a lieutenant at the fire house,” Mrs. Pearlman said, shuffling her way down the head table. The longtime family friend would babysit the Kavanaugh brothers when his parents were away. Her hair was just as gray and her square glasses thicker.
    “A captain,” Hershel corrected. “I have been for three years.” He was about to introduce Solae, but she beat him to it.
    “Hi, honey. You’re sure a pretty thing. Are you Hershey’s wife?”
    Hershel groaned as Solae giggled at the eighty-something woman’s nickname for him. His brothers’ names were also massacred: Trenty, and Roycie.
    “No, we’re not married,” Solae answered with an edge to her voice.
    Mrs. Pearlman gave him a curious look. “You always were the slow one.” She patted his hand and was about to say more, but another old neighbor snagged her attention.
    “Can you believe she said that?” He faced Solae who still seemed to be amused. “You think that’s funny, huh?” He tried to sound threatening, but he couldn’t keep a straight face. It felt good for them to relax together.
    When Royce and Candace had their first dance, Solae swayed in her seat to the words of gospel artist, Antwaun Stanley’s, “By Your Side.” Closing her eyes, she seemed to shut everything out, including him.
    I don’t think so. “Babe.” He gathered her hand in his. “I’m on duty the next three days, so how about I take you out to dinner on Thursday—just the two of us—no boys.”
    Opening her eyes, Solae stared into his. “Can I let you know?”
    Hershel calculated his breaths to rein in his frustration. Her nonchalant answer rattled him. Solae made it known that he and the boys were her priority. Whatever she had on her plate, she —without hesitation—would reshuffle it to be there for him on his irregular off days.
    Lowering her flashes, she seemed to struggle with what to say. “Do you love me?”
    Where did that come from? “Of course, I love you.” He angled his head to really study her profile. “Why? Did something happen that I need to know about?”
    “Sometimes a woman just needs to hear it, see it, feel it…”
    “Every time I look at you, I say it; every time I touch you, I say it; and every time I see, text, or speak to you over the phone, I say it. So how can you doubt something so tangible?”
    The microphone shrieked as the wedding director fumbled with it, giving Solae a reprieve not to answer, causing everyone to look that way, except him. His focus was on Solae and trying to read between the lines.
    “It’s now time for the bride and groom to cut the cake,”