Page 69 of Saving Saul

Her pace quickens, and so does mine, until we’re standing face-to-face, both of us sweaty, breathless, and grinning like fools. I barely have time to take her in before I pull her into my arms, wrapping her up in the kind of hug that says everything I can’t put into words.

“Are you sure?” I ask, my voice low, searching her face for any hint of doubt.

She nods, her hazel eyes bright with excitement and resolve. “I’m sure.”

I exhale a laugh of pure joy, relief flooding every inch of me. Taking her bags, I hand them off to the flight attendant, my hands trembling slightly as I turn back to her. Without a second thought, I take her hands and kiss them, one by one, savoring the warmth of her skin against my lips.

Together, we climb the steps to the plane, the weight of our decision lingering behind us like the trail of her suitcase wheels on the tarmac. When we reach our seats, I squeeze her hands, anchoring her to me, assuring her—and myself—that this is real.

The cabin door shuts with a firmclick, sealing us inside this new chapter, and Tessa lets out a long, deep sigh.

“What’s that for?” I ask, my voice teasing but soft.

She laughs; the sound is light and free, like music. “I love my hometown, but I’ve always wanted to design a life outside New Orleans—outside of my past, and now I’ve done it. The fact I’m doing it with you makes it even sweeter.”

My chest swells at her words, and I can’t resist anymore. I pull her in and kiss her, rough and urgent, pouring every ounce of relief, anticipation, and promise into the moment. Her lipsmove against mine, matching my intensity, and I know she feels it too—the weight of what’s behind us and the thrill of what’s ahead.

As the plane begins to taxi, I finally break the kiss, my forehead resting against hers. The engines roar, and the plane surges forward, pushing us back into our seats.

Tessa turns to the window, her eyes wide with wonder as the city she’s called home for so long shrinks below us. I watch her, my heart full, knowing she’s about to discover a world much bigger than ever imagined.

She’ll love Accra, I think, excitement bubbling beneath my calm exterior. She doesn’t know about my royal cousins or the vibrant, untamed beauty waiting for her across the ocean. Her horizons are about to stretch farther than she ever dreamed.

As we ascend into the clouds, I reach for her hand again, our fingers entwining effortlessly. It feels like the start of something limitless, a future brimming with possibilities.

We both know this journey won’t be easy. The challenges waiting for us are as accurate as the love that brought us here. But right now, as the plane levels out and we soar into the unknown, it feels like we can conquer anything together.

PART I

EPILOGUE

WELCOME TO THE GOLD COAST

TESSA

One Year Later

Accra, Ghana

The sizzle of garlic hitting hot oil fills the air, mingling with the savory aroma of spices and the low hum of the kitchen.

"Gold Coast" has become a second home over the past year, a sanctuary of culinary magic and long, hot nights with the love of my life. Accra has embraced us, and Patrick’s disappearance is a closed case now, swept under the bloody tide of his brothers’ feud with the Parisi Mafia.

Patrick’s brothers kidnapped the consigliere, Alessandro Parisi’s wife, for ransom. He then killed every member of the Shannahan family in response.

So, no one’s looking for Patrick. No one ever will.

Since the news, the tension between Saul and me has been simmering, much like the fusion dish we’re creating—a dance of Creole and West African flavors that’s as much about love as good food.

“Pass the thyme, Tessa?” Saul’s voice cuts through the clatter of pans and the hiss of steam. It’s smooth and steady, but there’s an unspoken undertone there.

“Here you go.” Our fingers brush as I hand him the sprigs, and the jolt of connection is immediate and familiar but no longer enough to soothe the disquiet inside me.

I miss home.

He works with the precision of an athlete, and his movements are effortless as he sprinkles the thyme over the sizzling pan. The kitchen hums with energy, and the staff moves like a symphony in perfect harmony. Yet, the calm façade of our surroundings contrasts sharply with the storm brewing inside me.

“Smells like New Orleans,” I say, trying to ground myself in the nostalgia that flavors the air.

---