3. A Light in My Life
A LIGHT IN MY LIFE
SAUL
My second date in the hub with Tessa starts just like the first. After a good night’s sleep and a freezing shower this morning, I was determined to stick to my rules and not open up too much.
I can’t believe I told her about my mom on the first date. I’ve never talked about that, and afterward, I felt exposed.
But then she came in, talked about anything and everything, and brought down every wall I tried to rebuild.
And I loved every blasted minute of it.
She’s just so bloody excited about everything. Usually, that annoys me. But Tessa’s exuberance is genuine, not a show or misguided coping mechanism. She’s genuinely a joyful person who’s been through some shit in life, and that’s rare.
Since our first date, I have thought about her increasingly—not just during our late-night conversations but also in those quiet moments of the day when my mind shouldn’t be wandering. Her laughter echoes in my thoughts, a melody so sweet it’s almost addictive. Her passion for acting, love for New Orleans and talk about her city as if it were a living, breathing entity feel so bright and real.
Yet, it’s still not enough. I daydream about seeing her in person and hearing her voice without the cold barrier of these hub walls. What would it be like to watch her lips move as she speaks and see her eyes light up when she laughs? I think about it all the time.
In my dreams, she’s even more radiant. We’re walking through the French Quarter, her hand snug in mine, her laugh mingling with the street performers’ music. The air hums with life, and every glance she throws my way feels like a secret meant only for me. I dream of us in her kitchen—her fingers nimble as she chops vegetables, the scent of spices wrapping around us like a warm embrace. I’m stirring a pot of gumbo, stealing glances at her, wondering how the universe managed to get this moment right.
And then there are the kisses. Flippin’ heck, the kisses. Her lips feel soft, warm, and perfect against mine in my dreams. They are the kind of kiss that doesn’t just linger on your lips but settles deep in your chest, filling every hollow space you never knew existed. When I hold her, our bodies fit together in a destined way—like the stars aligned to bring us to this moment.
I can feel the weight of her body against mine, the heat radiating from her skin as her breath mingles with mine. It’s maddening, this ache for something that has only ever existed in my imagination. But if dreams are a glimpse of what’s possible, then maybe—just maybe—I’ve found something worth chasing. Something worth holding on to. Someone worth everything.
Today, we’re at the start of date three, and something she says makes me pause.
“Saul, all the girls in the house talk about how you’re not just some washed-up rugby player who became a chef. You’re the face of the sport internationally, and you have endorsements with every major brand in Europe. They say you’re practically a billionaire. Is that true?”
The accusation in her voice is subtle, but I catch it. I sit up. “I didn’t lie to you, Tessa.”
“I didn’t say you did. But you also didn’t share the whole truth either. I get it. The way those women spoke about you in the house made it sound like you were just a big fish to catch. They act like you're not a real person with feelings, dreams, and aspirations to find love and partnership. But I want you to know I would never be the kind of woman to connect with or choose a man for his money. My daddy may not be here anymore, but he always took good care of me, even after his death. You could have told me, and I would have treated you the same way.”
“Yes, I know that now. It was just a silly rule I put in place to protect myself. I didn’t want anyone to focus on my wealth and not me. We only have so much time in these hubs; I didn’t want to lead with that. I made a lot of money doing something I love. And now I can’t do it anymore, and it bloody sucks. I’d give all the money away if I could get back on that pitch again.”
I can sense her hesitation even through the barrier that separates us. Tessa's usually quick with a laugh, a quip, or a verbal hug at a time like this. But now the silence stretches long enough for doubt to slip in. I lean forward, palms pressing into my thighs as I brace for whatever is holding her back.
“You okay, Tessa?” I ask, keeping my voice low and steady. Gentle enough to let her know she can take her time.
“Yeah,” she says after a moment, but the tight edge in her voice gives her away. “Just... thinking.”
I wait, letting the pause hang between us until she fills it.
“You live such a... big life, Saul,” she finally admits, the words cautious, as if testing their weight. “All the fame, the money... It’s hard to imagine where someone like me fits into that. I thought I’d be a great B-list actress one day, with a nice house back in New Orleans and a small place here in LA. But you… I don’t know.”
The honesty in her voice punches right through me. She’s not playing coy, not angling for reassurance—she’s just laying it bare. I feel reassurance that our bond is not just in my head. If she thinks about how my lifestyle could affect her, she feels this, too.
“Tessa,” I start, keeping my tone as warm and sincere as I feel. “My life isn’t defined by headlines or glitz. All of that—galas, cameras, accolades—is just noise. The truth is, I’m a reclusive bastard at my best. It’s like I told you yesterday: after my mother was killed, I withdrew socially, only doing what my contracts required. Do you want to know what truly matters to me? Sitting at a table with people who make the world feel smaller and safer. Sharing stories over a meal that reminds you who you are. That’s the life I want to create.”
She’s quiet, but I can feel her absorbing my words.
“That sounds... nice,” she says softly, but there’s still an edge of doubt, a thread of fear I need to unravel.
“It’s more than nice,” I press. “It’s real. And trust me, Tessa, I’m no stranger to feeling out of place. Fame might open doors, but it closes windows, too. Sometimes, I miss the simple things—the kind of moments you don’t have to dress up for. That’s why I like living in America again; no one knows me here.”
I pause, exhaling a slow breath. “And you? You’re not ‘someone like you,’ Tessa. You’re you. And from where I’m sitting, that’s more than enough.”
A soft laugh escapes her, tinged with something raw. “It’s just… I’ve seen men like you: grand lives, grand dreams. Women like me are often just another chapter in the story. A nice chapter, but one that comes to an end.”
Her words hit me hard, not because they’re unfair but because I’ve heard them before—from people who never cared to look deeper. “If I’ve learned anything in the kitchen,” I say slowly, “the best recipes aren’t understood at a first pass. They’re lifted in the details. And Tessa, I’m not here to skim through a simple recipe. I’m here because I’m looking for someone who can face the complexities and flavors of life with me.”
Her breath catches, and I can hear the soft exhale that follows, like she’s letting go of something heavy.
“Do you ever get tired of being so known?” she asks, her voice quieter now, more curious than guarded.
“All the time,” I admit without hesitation. “There’s this version of me the world thinks they know, but then there’s the real me—the one who finds peace in the rhythm of a kitchen, who grew up listening to his grandmother tell stories while stirring a pot of jollof rice. That’s who I am, Tessa. Not the name on the restaurant marquee.”
I hear her laugh, soft and genuine this time. “Wait! You own a restaurant. Okay, let’s back up, Mr. Mensah; who are you again?”
Her laugh warms the air between us, and I feel it settle into my chest. It’s not just the sound—it’s what it carries: trust.
“I’m a man who wants a girl to make him laugh every day and make him hard as granite every night. Judging by how I’m about to burst out my zipper every time your breathy little laugh comes through that wall, I think I may have found her.”
“Oh,” is all my little chatterbox says in return, and I take that as a win.