27. Forgiveness, Please
FORGIVENESS, PLEASE
TESSA
The weight of Saul’s words hangs between us, thick and impossible to ignore. My fingers tighten around my pearls—warm against my skin as if they can sense the shift in the air. Now more than ever, I feel like my mother guides me through them. She may not have been strong enough to stay on this side of Jordan with me in the flesh. But she’s never truly left me.
Everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours proves it.
I stare at Saul, my heartbeat wild and uneven. This man—this impossible, infuriating man—has just laid the darkest parts of himself bare before me. And somehow, instead of pulling away and running like every instinct in my body screams for me to do, I stay.
I want to stay.
I should be afraid. I should hear his confession and let it put distance between us. But instead, I look at Saul—the way his jaw flexes, the way his fingers twitch, as if bracing for impact—and all I see is the man who loves me. The man who left me, yes, but also the man who has been protecting me even from the shadows.
His gaze searches mine, fierce and unrelenting, waiting for judgment, for rejection. But he doesn’t know—I don’t have it in me to turn away from him. Not now. Maybe not ever.
I clear my throat, prepared to ask my next question. I'm learning that he never gives more information than needed. I know it's a product of all the trauma he went through as a kid, and he's chosen to live a reclusive and private life as an adult. However, if we're going to make it, there can't be secrets. So, if I must ask more specific questions to ensure I get all the information and truth I need, I will. Because I know he'll never deny me.
"Next, I want to know what you did once you... you know, took care of that thing in Maine."
Saul smirks, but there’s no amusement in it. It’s raw, edged with something darker. “You mean after I murdered my sadistic stepfather? You can say it, Tessa. I murdered him. And if this is going to work at all, you’ve got to be able to live with that.”
I swallow hard, but I don’t look away. He’s testing me, pushing me to my limits. But the thing he doesn’t realize? I crossed those limits for him a long time ago.
"Alright, Saul." My voice is steady, but my insides are trembling. "After you killed him, did you come straight here? Was I the first thing on your mind? Or was your leaving the show maybe about something else—cold feet, doubt?”
His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching there, but something in him shifts . He exhales, slow and deep, before reaching for me.
I should stop him. I should demand more answers before I let him touch me. But the second his hands land on my waist, dragging me onto his lap, my body melts against him like I was made to be there.
Facing him, I wrap my legs around his back, pressing into his warmth. I hate how natural it feels, how easy it is to forget the weight of everything when I’m in his arms. His hands slide up my thighs, grounding me, his touch firm but reverent. His thumb traces circles against my hip, and my breath catches.
“Tessa,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “It almost killed me to leave that studio in LA without my ring on your finger and your hand in mine. You have no idea what that did to me—walking away from the one thing I’ve ever been certain of in my life.”
I inhale sharply, gripping his shoulders.
He keeps going, eyes locked onto mine like I’m the only thing that matters.
“You’re sitting here, trying to determine if I ever had second thoughts. If I doubted us—if I doubted you. Let me make this clear: I didn’t. Not for a second. There was no hesitation, no part of me that wasn’t ready to marry you, to make you mine in every way possible.”
The words hit me like a shockwave. I feel them in my bones, my blood, in the space where my doubts used to live.
He cups my face, his fingers brushing my cheek, soft but commanding.
“I promise you, sweetheart, I came straight here once I knew you were back home,” he continues, his voice softer now, more intimate. “I thought maybe, just maybe, I could fix things after a few months of wooing you in secret and then properly. Put the ring back on your finger where it belongs. But you decided to walk into Crescent Hall last night looking like a wet dream. And I almost killed a bastard. Again”
I blink up at him, my heart stammering against my ribs.
He leans in until our foreheads almost touch, his breath warm against my skin. “You’ve got every right to feel the way you do about how it all went down,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “But don’t let that pain and doubt blind you to the truth. The truth is this: you’re mine, Tessa. You’ve always been mine. And I’m yours. That hasn’t changed, and it never will.”
I bite my lip, feeling my resolve waver. He’s saying all the right things I want to believe. But can I?
My fingers slide up to his chest, and I feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm.
“How do you know his body will never be found?” I whisper. “I love you, Saul, but I can’t imagine leaving my family behind forever.”
His lips brush against my cheek in the softest, most reverent kiss. “I know, but I just need you to trust me. If you come with me now, I promise we will be able to return to the States within a year.”
The uncertainty in my eyes must be visible because he sighs, pulling back just enough to grab his phone. He unlocks it, taps a few times, then turns the screen toward me.
A map.
My stomach knots.
"I can guarantee that Patrick won’t be found because I burned most of his body and buried what little remained here.”
I stare at the red dot on the screen, my pulse roaring in my ears.
“No one will ever find his dust here," he continues. “He’s buried twenty feet below ground, right next to a riverbed. The water will slowly erode any evidence of his remains.”
A shiver runs through me. It’s not fear. It should be. But it’s something else I don’t have a name for.
“But aren’t brothers looking for him?” I ask. “Do the authorities know he attacked your grandmother?”
He shakes his head, a slow, knowing smirk curling his lips. “Good question. No one is looking for Patrick because Patrick planned to be in Ireland with my sister by now. We intercepted his communications when he was released. He told his family members he was kidnapping her. The sick bastard.”
I swallow hard.
“I have an automated service sending messages to his brothers occasionally. They think he’s lying low in Europe for a few months. Soon, though, I’m sure they will get suspicious. But we will be in Africa by then.”
I exhale, my grip on his shirt tightening. “So... what? I pick up and move to Ghana. Indefinitely? A year could be two or five. Selene will have a fit .”
He studies me, his expression unreadable. “Tessa, I’ve carefully considered our options; this is the one that will keep us together and give us the most security in the long run. You’re the only person on this earth who knows all my secrets. You could bury me. But I trust you. I hope you can trust me just as much one day.”
I hesitate, but his words nearly break me.
“You know I’d never turn on you.” My hands hold his face, forcing him to look at me. “Your secrets are mine, and that bastard deserved to die, so I’ll never judge you. Do you believe me?”
A slow, almost relieved smile spreads across his lips. “Of course I do, baby.”
A lump forms in my throat. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I’m sorry you had to kill.”
He inhales sharply, his eyes flashing with something raw. “Tessa...”
“Tell me how it made you feel,” I whisper. “Tell me how it made you feel to spill the blood of the man who killed your mother.”
He does.
When he’s done, I don’t run. I don’t shrink away.
I stare at Saul, the man who has bared every dark, twisted part of his soul to me. His confession, past, and the weight of his actions should scare me. Maybe a part of me is scared, but not of him. Never of him. I’m afraid of how much I still want him, how deeply I love him despite everything.
His eyes search mine, waiting, bracing for the rejection he thinks is coming.
But instead of pulling away, I move .
I push him back onto the mattress, my hands firm on his chest. He lands with a grunt, his muscles tensing beneath my touch, but he doesn’t resist. He lets me take control, lets me have him. His dark eyes flicker with something between surprise and anticipation, his hands gripping my thighs as I straddle him, claiming my place above him.
I slide my hands down his bare torso, tracing the ridges of his abs, feeling the steady, strong heartbeat beneath my palms. His skin is warm, taut, pulsing with restrained power, but he doesn’t rush me. He lets me set the pace.
"You think you can just tell me all of that and not let me remind you who I am to you?" I murmur, my voice husky as I grind against him, teasing, taunting.
His breath hitches, his grip on my thighs tightening. "I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten , sweetheart," he rasps, his accent deepening with want. "But feel free to remind me."
I lean forward, my lips brushing against his, barely there, just enough to tease. His breath mingles with mine, warm and wanting, but I don’t give him what he wants—not yet. Instead, I trail my mouth down his neck, my tongue flicking against his pulse point before I bite down just enough to make him groan.
"Fuck, Tessa," he hisses, his hips jerking upward, seeking more friction.
I smirk against his skin. "Patience, lover ."
His hands slide up my back, his fingertips digging in, but he doesn’t take control—not yet. He’s waiting. Watching. Letting me burn through every ounce of my anger, love, and desperation is the only way I know how.
I reach between us, wrapping my fingers around him, stroking slowly, deliberately, and feeling him shudder beneath me. He’s so hard it’s almost painful, his breath coming in ragged pants as I move my hips, dragging myself along his length, teasing the both of us.
“Tessa,” he grits out, his voice full of warning and need .
I don’t answer him. Instead, I take him, sinking down, letting him fill me inch by inch. My head falls back as pleasure licks up my spine, my body stretching, accommodating, owning the way he fits inside me like he was made for this.
Made for me.
His hands snap to my hips, holding me there, making me feel every inch of him, his jaw clenched so tightly it looks like he’s barely holding on.
“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough.
I do. And what I see nearly undoes me.
He’s wrecked .
His pupils blown wide, his lips parted, his breathing ragged. But more than that—there’s something vulnerable in his eyes, raw and unguarded. This isn’t just sex. This is a reckoning.
This is us .
I start moving slowly and deliberately, rolling my hips, finding that rhythm that unravels us. He lets me take the lead, lets me use him the way I need to—to feel him, to claim him, to make him understand that no matter what happened in the past, no matter what darkness clings to him, he belongs to me just as much as I belong to him.
His hands roam my body, gripping, teasing, guiding. Every touch is fire, every drag of his fingers across my skin igniting something inside me that I can’t contain.
“Tessa,” he groans, his head falling back against the pillows, his throat exposed.
I lean down, kissing along his jaw, his throat, and his chest, whispering against his skin, “I love you, Saul. I love you. You don’t get to run from me again.”
His entire body tenses beneath me, his hands stilling on my hips. He looks up at me, his eyes dark and stormy, something breaking apart inside him.
Then, in one swift motion, he flips us, pinning me beneath him. I gasp, my breath stolen by the sheer force of his presence. He looms over me, his forearms braced on either side of my head, his body still locked with mine, buried deep.
His lips crash against mine, raw and hungry, swallowing my moan as he thrusts into me, hard and desperate.
“Say it again,” he growls against my mouth.
I grip his face, my nails digging into his skin as I stare up at him. "I love you."
His eyes darken, his hips snapping forward, deeper, rougher, his control breaking.
"Again," he demands.
"I love you," I breathe, arching against him, meeting him stroke for stroke.
His lips claim mine in a bruising kiss, and then he’s gone—completely gone , lost in the moment, in the rhythm of us, in the fire that we’ve always been. There is no past, no future—just this .
Just us .
And when we fall over the edge together, our bodies trembling, our breathing ragged, I know the truth.
We are inevitable.
Saul collapses beside me, his chest rising and falling in sync with mine. The heat between us is still thick, our bodies tangled in a heap of limbs, sweat, and whispered promises.
Then he shifts, rolling onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. His fingers trail down my arm, tracing the pearls against my collarbone.
“Tessa,” he murmurs, his voice still rough from everything we just did.
I turn my head to look at him, still trying to catch my breath.
Then I see it.
The small velvet box in his hand.
My heart stops .
He holds it out between us, his fingers gripping it tightly, his expression unreadable.
“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
I sit up slowly, my pulse hammering so loud I can barely hear the words coming out of his mouth.
“I know I don’t deserve you,” he continues. “I know I’ve put you through hell. But there’s one thing I’ve never doubted, not even for a second.”
He flips open the box, revealing a diamond that catches the dim light, sparkling like the night sky.
“You and me? We were always meant to be, sweetheart. So, I’m asking you right here, right now.”
He takes a deep breath, his eyes burning into mine.
“Tessa Baptiste, will you marry me?”
Tears spill down my cheeks as I listen to his second proposal. The first one was behind a wall, but this one is with me in his arms.
He won’t leave this time. I must believe that.
I take a steadying breath, but before I can answer, the sound of sirens cuts through the night.
The police are here.