Love's Awakening Read Online Free Page B

way interested in interacting with Malcolm and Sherelle Thompson. Nor with Paul or Erin, for that matter. Oliver wasn’t supposed to be here, and he wouldn’t stay long.
    No one important would see him.
    Oliver had lied to Celia. Of course he had. What was he supposed to say? This kid Paul, you don’t know him and never will, although he has a smile like yours, has a baseball game. It’s probably the only game of his I’ll get to see this season. So, yeah, I’m going.
    Silver Spring, on a map, did not seem too far from where Oliver lived in Alexandria, Virginia. Factor in D.C.-area traffic, though, and the trip easily could be on the far side of two hours. And that was one way.
    Oliver couldn’t have done dinner with Celia, even if he wanted to.
    Oliver got up to leave two innings after he arrived. Paul had belted out a single. He was a hustler, that one—took off like a bullet to first base and narrowly beat out the throw.
    “Oliver?” The question came as Oliver strode past the concession stand on the way to his car. Sherelle. Shit.
    Oliver pasted on a smile and turned around. Yep, Sherelle, with Erin, and Erin grinned at her mother. “See, Mom, I told you that was Oliver.” The girl bestowed a shy smile upon Oliver—the Celia smile, one end up more than the other. “Hey, Oliver,” she said.
    Oliver stayed a few arms' lengths from the child. “Hey, Erin. You’re looking good.”
    “Like my hair?” she asked eagerly. “I got tired of the cornrows.” The girl’s hair was nappy, but not a full Afro.
    “I love your hair.” Oliver wished he could reach out and touch it. And touch the kid. Hug the kid.
    Erin’s eyes shone. “Thanks, Oliver.”
    “You should’ve let us know you were coming,” Sherelle said accusingly.
    “Spur of the moment decision. It’s the only game I can make this year, so don’t worry.”
    “What happened to your arm?” Erin asked.
    “Clumsy me tripped down the steps. Forgot to tie a shoelace.”
    “Ouch.”
    Oliver laughed. “Yes, big ouch!”
    “Can I sign your cast?”
    “I don’t have a pen.”
    “Mom has one. Don’t you?”
    Sherelle, a shadow on her features, got a Sharpie from her purse.
    Erin read the messages on Oliver’s cast. Ten messages by now. “You have a lot of friends,” she said.
    “Don’t you?”
    The girl looked up at Oliver and shrugged. “S'pose.” She found a patch of white space. “I don’t know what to write.”
    “Draw a smiley face,” Sherelle suggested, so that was what Erin did. Upon further thought, she added her name: Erin E . And then Paul J .
    “Perfect,” Oliver said. “Thank you.”
    Erin bit her lip. “Don’t go. Have dinner with us after the game. Can he, Mom?”
    “No, hon,” Sherelle said, her smile tight. “Oliver has to let us know first if he’s coming.”
    “Your mother’s right,” Oliver said. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
    “You won’t,” Erin protested. “You weren’t even going to say hi.”
    Change the subject. “You and your brother are getting birthday cards early,” Oliver said. “I mailed them today.”
    Erin beamed. “Really?”
    “Thirteen years old! Of course. What a huge birthday.”
    “Come on, hon,” Sherelle said. “I’ll set something up with Oliver soon.” She gave Oliver a look and linked hands with her daughter. They walked off slowly, their hips sashaying. Sherelle laughed, and then Erin did too, and a painful, sickening heaviness constricted Oliver.

Chapter Four
    Throughout her pregnancy, Celia had wondered about the countless firsts coming her way. First diaper change. First breastfeed. First night at home with her baby. First time getting up in the night to answer the baby’s cries. First tooth. First word. First birthday. Well, the first birthday was technically the day of the birth, right?
    Celia lay in bed, facing away from Janet. Facing the moon, the window. First night at home with Caleb. No crying baby. Other than gulping hungrily at her breasts, Caleb