20. What Did She Say?
WHAT DID SHE SAY?
TESSA
Saul and I walk two blocks away from Crescent Hall in tense silence, the city’s buzz fading into the background as we step into the shadows of a secluded alleyway. My heart pounds with the weight of everything unsaid, and when we stop, I whirl around to face him.
Saul’s face is a battlefield of emotions—love, determination, and desperation. His eyes burn with an intensity that could pin me to the ground. He’s all passion and power as he takes my hands in his, squeezing them tightly as if he can tether me to him with sheer force of will.
I speak first, my voice sharp and trembling. “What the hell just happened?
He sighs, his grip steady and unwavering. “That was Celine Varennes. She’s a spiritualist—a well-known name in this neighborhood.” His voice carries a weight that matches the tension hanging between us.
A spiritualist, just like my Grandmère and my people before her. I should have recognized her aura.
I shake my head. “But, Saul… she looked just like my mother. My mother on her wedding day. I have the picture—I can prove it to you.” My words tumble out, shaky but insistent, as if saying them aloud might make sense of the impossible.
Saul’s expression softens, his dark eyes brimming with compassion. He tilts his head slightly, his voice gentle but firm. “I believe you, love.”
His hands slip up to cradle my face, and he leans in to kiss the top of my head. The warmth of it sends a ripple through me, softening the edges of my anger and confusion, even if only for a moment.
“But to me,” he continues, his voice low, intimate, “she’s just Celine Varennes. I’ve seen her at the Hall plenty of times—at least once a week, offering to tell fortunes. She’s never spoken to me before tonight.” He pauses, his thumb brushing lightly against my temple, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch.
“But tonight…” His voice softens even more, carrying the kind of weight that settles deep in your chest. “Tonight, I had you.”
I had you. Those words linger between us, pulling at something fragile and guarded inside me. My heart flutters against my will, even as my mind protests, reminding me not to fall too easily into the warmth of his words.
I’m here for answers. Nothing else.
I pull my hands back, crossing my arms tightly over my inadequately clothed breasts. Anger flares up, hot and sharp. “You don’t have me, Saul.”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his thick hair, frustration rippling through his posture. “Tessa, I know this is hard to believe, but I’m the same man you fell in love with inside the hub.”
His words hit me like a slap. My breath catches the familiarity of his voice slamming against the walls I’ve been building since that day. But it can’t be true. My mind races with questions that refuse to align— how is he here? Why is he here? What about Patrick? Is he still free?
And the biggest question is: How can I believe a man with so many secrets?
“You’re lying,” I whisper, the words trembling on my lips like they might shatter if spoken too loudly. “I don’t know who you are anymore. Maybe I never did.”
He shakes his head, his voice calm but insistent. “I’m not lying, Tessa. Deep down, you know I’m not.”
He steps closer, his voice dropping to a soft, intimate whisper. “You know me. You know me. I love you.”
The words slice through me, cutting deeper than any blade could. Anger surges in my chest, hot and overwhelming. How dare he invoke love? How dare he use the one thing I’ve craved—the one thing he abandoned me with.
“No!” I scream, my voice breaking as I slam my fists against his chest. “You’re lying! Lying, lying, lying!”
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t step back. His hands shoot up to catch mine, holding them firmly but gently, his eyes searching mine with sorrow and resolve.
“Tessa,” he says, his voice steady, though his breathing is ragged. “I’m not lying. You know me. You know my heart.”
His words don’t soothe me; they ignite something wild and chaotic. My hands tremble in his grip, my body shaking with anger, confusion, and a deep ache I can’t seem to push away.
“You left me,” I hiss, my voice thick with the pain I’ve buried for so long. “You left me alone, Saul. And now you think you can show up, say you love me, and everything will be fine?”
His eyes shimmer, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t want to leave you. I had to. But I came back for you, Tessa. I’ll always come back for you.”
I shake my head, tears burning behind my eyes. “No. You don’t get to say that. Not after what you did. Not after you broke me.”
The air between us is heavy, charged with unspoken truths and fractured trust. And yet, despite everything, a small, infuriating part of me wants to believe him. That wants to fall back into the arms of the man I thought I knew.
But trust doesn’t come that easily. Not anymore.
Saul rubs the back of his neck, like he’s trying to steady himself before speaking. His voice is low and rough, with something that sounds a lot like regret. "I left because I had to, Tessa. When I found out Patrick was free, I couldn’t sit still. I had to make sure my grandmother and sister were okay. When I got there…" He pauses, his jaw tightening, his gaze flickering away before he forces himself to meet my eyes again. " She was hurt. Patrick got to her before I did. She spent some time in the hospital, but she’s fine now. And he’s been put away—permanently this time.”
I reach out and rub his arm. I’m upset, but I can’t bear to see him in so much emotional pain.
His hands curl into fists at his sides before he unclenches them with visible effort. "I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. I didn’t want to burden you with my family’s chaos or derail everything you built. You were doing so well—your business, your life—it was everything you dreamed of. I didn’t want to be the storm that wrecked it." His voice dips even lower, rougher now, thick with something raw.
"But I couldn’t stay away. God knows I tried, but I had to be close to you. To watch over you. To love you, even from afar. I should have come to you sooner, should have told you everything. But you were thriving, and I convinced myself you were better off without all my baggage weighing you down." He steps closer, his eyes pleading, searching mine for something I’m not sure I can give yet. "Please, Tessa… forgive me.
He pauses, his hands sliding down to cradle my face as if afraid I’ll disappear. “That’s why I’m here in New Orleans and not back in Ghana with my family. I wanted to wait a little longer before I came to you, begged your pardon, and groveled at your feet. I wanted everything lined up, all my ducks in a row. But now…” His voice cracks, raw and vulnerable. “None of that matters anymore. I love you, Tessa. More than anything, this life could ever offer me.”
Before I can respond, he grabs my chin, tilting my face to meet his. His lips crash into mine with a hunger that steals my breath and ignites something deep in my core. This isn’t the Saul I knew in the hub—the gentleman who lulled me to sleep with bedtime stories and imagined touches. This Saul is a roaring, fierce, and unrelenting lion, claiming every part of me as his own.
I close my eyes, letting the world dissolve into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. His rough hands explore my body with a reverence that makes my heart ache while his lips move over mine, soft yet demanding. Between kisses, I hear the deep rhythm of his breathing and the faint hum of his voice, like he’s murmuring a prayer meant only for me.
The man I loved is here, pulling me under, devouring me whole, and I’m lost in every moment of it.
He’s still everything I’ve ever wanted, and as his arms tighten around me, pressing me closer to the solid strength of his body, I realize something I can’t deny: Even if I don’t trust him, I trust what we have together. Our instant and unshakable connection has endured distance, time, and pain.
When Saul finally lets me come up for air, I want to rip this damn yellow bikini off and press every inch of myself against him. Every rational thought disappears under the weight of his kiss, under the way his hands grip my hips, holding me like he never wants to let go.
I’ve spent six months tangled in heartbreak, tormented by the what-ifs, and now he’s here. Right in front of me. Real . Solid. Mine to touch. I can’t let this moment go—not after all the nights I’ve spent lying awake, craving him, cursing him, needing him like oxygen.
My fingers wander, tracing the hard lines of his chest, desperate to memorize him all over again. I reach for him, my body humming with the kind of anticipation that only he has ever been able to ignite.
But then he grips my wrists, stilling me.
“Tessa,” he murmurs, his breath still warm against my lips, “let’s take a moment before we get too carried away.”
It’s like an ice bath straight to my soul.
I blink at him, my heart still pounding, frustration burning through me as I realize he’s slowing us down . Again.
For a second, I wonder if I imagined the heat between us, the desperate way his hands roamed my body, the way he kissed me like he was drowning and I was the only thing that could save him. But no—his eyes are still wild with want, his grip on my wrists just shy of shaking.
So, why the hell is he stopping?
He helps me sit down against the brick wall, and then joins me, his chest still rising and falling as if trying to steady himself.
I look at him, fuming. And maybe—just maybe—a little humiliated.
Because I should’ve been the one to stop this, I should’ve been the one to pull away first. To demand answers before letting him kiss me senseless.
But no, here I am, breathless and dazed, while he is being the responsible one.
I fold my arms over my chest, glaring at him. “Are you serious right now?”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. Instead, he reaches for my hand, his thumb brushing my knuckles in slow, lazy circles. “I just don’t want to rush this,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “Not this time.”
I scoff, yanking my hand away. “Not this time?” I repeat, anger lacing my words. “You left me, Saul. You disappeared . You don’t get to decide the pace now.”
His jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he will argue. But then he exhales, running a hand over his head like he’s trying to find the right words.
“I know,” he says finally, his voice thick. “And I swear, I’ll tell you everything. But not here. Not like this.”
I narrow my eyes. “Then when?”
“Tonight,” he says, watching me carefully. “Let me take you to dinner. Let’s talk.”
A part of me wants to say yes. To spend the evening unraveling every lie, every secret, every goddamn reason he thought he had to leave me. To demand the truth, no matter how ugly it might be.
Then I want him to fuck me. Because I’m horny and after all he’s put me through, the least eh can do his fuck me properly.
But another part of me—one that still remembers the sting of abandonment, the cold reality of waking up alone—won’t let me.
I shake my head. “No.”
His brows furrow. “No?”
“I’m not going to dinner with you,” I say, crossing my arms again, trying to ignore how my body still aches for him despite my irritation. “I’ll take your number, though.”
His lips press into a thin line, and I can see the war in his eyes—the battle between what he wants and what he thinks is best. Eventually, he nods.
“Alright,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. “Give me yours.”
I hesitate, but then I rattle off my number, watching as he types it in. A second later, my phone buzzes in my bag.
His number is now sitting in my call log like a brand-new mistake waiting to be made.
I grab my bag and push to my feet, my pulse still unsteady, my emotions tangled between longing and resentment. “I’m going to find Selene and head home.”
Saul stands too, towering over me, his expression unreadable.
I expect him to say something—maybe to protest or make one last plea. But instead, he reaches for my hand again, and before I can stop him, he lifts it to his lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to my knuckles.
The heat of his mouth lingers, sending a shiver down my spine.
“See you soon, sweetheart,” he murmurs against my skin.
And just like that, he lets go.
I walk away, my head held high, my heart an absolute wreck .
Because nothing about this feels like an ending.
It feels like a beginning.
And that terrifies me more than anything.