Page 14 of Saving Saul

I didn’t come onLove, Unmaskedfor this. My plan was simple: get some exposure, make a few connections, and leave the show before the emotional toll swallowed me. Last night, I was ready to run away to avoid the problem of falling in love, sight unseen, through conversations with a man I don’t know.

A man who made me come apart like a tightly wound thread finally snapping—everything unraveling all at once. With just his voice.

Hell, I still haven’t scraped bits and pieces of me from the walls.

But I couldn’t leave. When I laid down, all I saw was Saul. My dreams were full to the brim of a large, beautiful, dark-skinned man who was lost in the bayou until I found him. I don’t even know what Saul looks like, but something tells me he haunts my dreams. Or someone or thing does the haunting on his behalf. Either way, I’m here.

After five days, he’s chipped away at the walls I built to keep men—and heartbreak—out of my life. With every word, he’s stripped me bare, revealing fears I never wanted anyone to see. And now, this is a declaration of love from a man I’ve never met.

"Okay, good." Saul continues, his words pulling me closer as if leaning toward the wall could close the chasm between us, "I can’t believe I find myself here, laying my heart out in front of you, Tessa Baptiste. But you’ve managed to snatch my soul without even touching me. You’ve become the beat my heart relies on through a ruddy wall!"

A pause stretches between us, thick and heavy, like the fog that blankets the bayou back home—mysterious, shrouded in both possibility and fear. The hum of recording equipment buzzes faintly, a cruel reminder that this moment, as personal as it feels, isn’t entirely ours. The cameras are rolling, and only God knows what footage will end up on the cutting room floor.

"Will you marry me?" His question slices through the air, crossing the unseen divide with an earnestness that steals my breath. I press my palm against the wall as if touching it might steady me, as if I could somehow feel his heartbeat through the cold surface.

Marry him?The thought ricochets through my mind, snagging on the sharp edges of possibility and stealing the air from my lungs. My eyes widen, the glow of the studio lights catching in my pupils like a kaleidoscope of emotions I can’t begin to sort through.

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, pooling but refusing to fall, as his proposal wraps around me like the beadwork of a Mardi Gras gown—stunning, intricate, and impossibly life-changing. My hand flies to my mouth, muffling the gasp that escapes before I can swallow it.

My other hand instinctively finds my mother’s pearls, their calm surface again grounding me in an almost spiritual way.They are my anchor to home, to New Orleans, and now they feel impossibly warm as if even they know my world is about to shift forever.They did that on my first night here.

This proposal from a man I’ve never seen but somehow already know feels surreal. Yet, the way he says my name and the vulnerability in his voice is more profound than anything I’ve ever experienced. My chest aches with a mix of fear and longing. I know I should say yes, but I can’t find the courage to answer.

“Tessa, say something. Please, sweetheart. I’m not used to you being the quiet one.”

I hear the unease in his voice and feel guilty for causing it. But my anxiety won’t let me trust what I know can’t be real. So, I ask the only question that makes sense to me now.

“Why me? You’re a rich, reclusive man who could have anyone. What can I possibly offer?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I flinch at a flash of heat that wraps around my neck, where my mother’s pearls lie against my skin. I swear these things have a mind of their own. I don’t dwell on the occurrence too long because Saul quickly answers some questions.

“You,” he says. “Just give me you.”

His words settle over me like a balm. For the first time, I feel seen, not judged, not dismissed—just… loved.

Tears blur my vision as he continues. “I don’t care about your past, your bank account, or what you think you lack. You have the joy, grace, and strength I’ve spent my whole life searching for. Let me prove it to you, Tessa. Let me take care of you.”

I’m trembling but forcing myself to overcome this unnerving fear and speak.

"Yes," the word escapes my lips, tender as a prayer whispered. I gather my emotions and say it louder. "Yes, Saul. Yes, I will marry you." The vow spills out, as natural andunstoppable as the joy within me, punctuated by the salty taste of happy tears slipping down my cheeks.

The air vibrates, alive with the energy of love. My chest swells with a warmth that blooms like a second-line parade trumpeting through my veins. Each heartbeat resonates like the bold brass band of Bourbon Street proclaiming to the world: Tessa Baptiste is getting married!

Outside my hub, the production crew stirs to life, their excitement mirroring my own. Gavin’s steady voice cuts through the shuffle, an anchor amidst the electric chaos. "Cameras up! I want every angle. Focus in—don’t miss this."

I laugh through my tears, swiping at my cheeks, unbothered by how messy or vulnerable I must look. In this moment, the raw beauty of our connection is all that matters.

"Zoom in on her face," Gavin commands, reverence in his tone. "This is the shot—the heart of it all."

The flurry of activity around me forms its own symphony, with every click of a camera and whispered direction contributing to the rhythm of my elation. Standing in this dance of love and spectacle, I realize this isn’t merely a story being captured; it’s magic—our magic etched into time.

“Saul,” I ask, overwhelmed by it all. “What do we do now?”

He laughs—a deep, reassuring sound. “Now, baby, we get married.”

A deep breathfills my lungs as Gavin finally agrees to let me call my emergency contact. My best friend Carissa had to sign a confidentiality agreement to hold the designation, and I’m endlessly grateful she agreed. The cool, sterile air of the hub feels sharp against the heat rising in my chest. My fingers fumble formy phone, trembling like a live wire pulsing beneath my skin. Joy and anxiety swirl through my veins, a heady cocktail, as I scroll to Carissa’s name and tap it.

She answers on the second ring, her voice warm and familiar, like a soft quilt wrapped around my nerves. “Hey, girl.”

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