Page 44 of Saving Saul

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 whathewants 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 absolutewreck.

Because nothing about this feels like an ending.

It feels like a beginning.

And that terrifies me more than anything.

LET THE WOO COMMENCE

SAUL

It’sSunday afternoon and Tessa still hasn’t called.

So, I decide to text her.

Me:Good afternoon, beautiful.

She doesn’t respond. But I know she read my message.

I recheck my phone for the hundredth time an hour later and still there’s no response. The silence from her feels louder than anything else in my world right now. I shouldn’t be surprised. I hurt her. I walked away. But damn, waiting for her to make the next move is its own special kind of torture.

Patience has never been my strong suit, but for her? I’ll learn.

I refuse to push her too far, to demand too much too soon. If Tessa Baptiste returns to me, it won’t be because I cornered her into it. It’ll be because Iearnedher.

So, I make a plan.

If she won’t call me, I’ll draw her out.

I’ll remind her, every single day, of what it means to be mine.

But today is Sunday, which means I’m heading to the local community center to volunteer with some local young men.

I started working with them a week after I arrived in New Orleans.

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