Page 73 of Saving Saul

Her words hit me like a wave, powerful and unrelenting. For a moment, I’m speechless, the enormity of what she’s offering sinking in. “Compromise,” I murmur, the word no longer foreign and not unwelcome.”

“Yes,” she says, her voice gaining strength. “Compromise. Take turns and share our worlds. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. I know you said no before, but I promise to helpyou fulfill your family duties here if you come with me to New Orleans as much as needed to see to my family and business. I don’t want to give it up.”

A smile pulls at my lips, unbidden but impossible to suppress. God, this woman. She’s everything I didn’t know I needed, yet she offers me a future I didn’t dare dream of.

I close the distance between us, the waves brushing against our feet as I take her hands in mine. “Tessa,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, “I never wanted to make you feel like you had to give up a piece of yourself to be with me. Your dreams and connection to New Orleans make you who you are. And I love every part of that. I’ve been selfish, and I’m sorry. Of course, we can be bi-coastal. Find a house in New Orleans, something big enough for your Grandmère . I’ll get you anything you want.”

Her eyes shine, catching the last rays of sunlight as they fade into twilight. “Well, actually, I’ve come up with a tri-coastal plan. My big bruiser misses Mayfair, the pitch, and a proper tailor. I’ve figured out how we can influence the culture on all three coasts.

Her words spark something in me, a flame that burns away the doubts and fears I’ve carried for so long. I can’t hold back anymore.

I squeeze her hands tight. “ I want to hear every brilliant detail. But may I ask you something first?”

“Tessa,” I begin, my voice steady now, laced with the certainty of what I’m about to say. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time and tried to seal the deal twice. Now, I don’t want to wait another second. I need you to be my forever.”

I release one of her hands and reach into my pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Her breath hitches, her hands flying to her mouth as her eyes widen.

“I love you too,” I say, dropping to one knee in the cool sand. The world narrows to just us—the waves, the stars, the endless horizon. “I’ve loved you since I heard your voice in the hub sinceyou laughed at one of my terrible jokes, and I realized I’d do anything to hear that sound for the rest of my life.”

Tessa’s eyes brim with tears, her hands trembling as she lowers them from her face.

“I don’t want to build a life without you,” I continue, my voice steady, every word coming from the depths of my soul. “Not in New Orleans, not in Accra, not anywhere. I want to build it with you—everywhere. Tessa Baptiste, will you marry me?”

The world holds its breath for a heartbeat. Then she nods, her smile breaking through the tears as she throws her arms around my neck. “Yes,” she whispers, her voice fierce and joyful. Yes, Saul. Always, yes.”

I slip the ring onto her finger, my hands shaking like hers. It’s a perfect fit, as if it had always been meant to be there. I pull her close, my lips finding hers in a kiss full of promise, love, and forever.

The waves lap at our feet, the stars above bear witness, and the horizon stretches endlessly before us. Together, we’ll bridge the gap between our worlds, one step, one breath, one moment at a time.

THE WEDDING

SIX MONTHS LATER

The airin Jackson Square buzzes with the kind of magic only New Orleans can conjure—a hum of history, jazz, and whispered dreams that feels like it’s been stitched into the fabric of time itself. I stand at the entrance, wrapped in silk, tulle, and a sense of destiny that makes my heart pound like a Second Line drumline.

The humid air clings to me, warm and alive, carrying the faint strains of a saxophone wailing in the distance. The scent of magnolias weaves through it, sweet and heady, mixing with the salt of the Mississippi that lingers just out of view. I inhale deeply, grounding myself in this moment that feels both impossibly big and deeply intimate.

My hands glide over the intricate lace of my gown—a masterpiece Grandmère had said was spun by angels themselves. Around my neck rests the Baptiste family pearls, cool and reassuring against my skin. They’re more than jewelry—they’re a connection to the women who came before me, the ones who walked these same streets, who dreamed, loved, and endured. Today, I step into their legacy.

"Alright, Tessa," I whisper, steadying myself. "This is it."

I take a tentative step forward, and then another, my body remembering the grace I perfected on stage. Each step carries me closer to Saul and the life we're about to begin together. The familiar cobblestones beneath my feet tell tales of revelers and lovers, and the gas lamps flicker like they’re cheering me on.

I scan the crowd, my people gathered like a patchwork quilt—bright, warm, and beautifully chaotic. Aunties nod approvingly from under wide-brimmed hats, cousins beam with unrestrained joy, and friends clutch tissues to their cheeks. Their presence is a testament to the life I’ve built and the love that has brought us here.

With each step, New Orleans itself seems to rise to meet me. The wrought-iron balconies lean in, the oak trees sway, and the city hums with a rhythm that’s all its own. It’s as if the streets are whispering,This is your moment, Tessa.

My gaze shifts, and there he is—Saul.

He stands tall at the altar, a striking figure of quiet strength and undeniable charm. His bespoke suit is classic yet bold, with a vibrant kente pocket square peeking out—a nod to the traditions we’re weaving together today. His eyes lock onto mine as if the world has narrowed to just the two of us. And for a heartbeat, it has.

I move toward him, every step a declaration. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, but the glimmer in his eyes tells a different story. They shine with emotion he’s holding at bay, a storm of love and longing that reflects my own.

"Almost there," I murmur under my breath, my voice lost in the symphony of celebration around us.

Finally, I reach him, and when our hands meet, the world seems to stop. The buzz of the crowd fades, the music dims, and all that exists is the warmth of his touch. Our fingers entwine, and it feels like we’re making an unspoken vow—before thewords, before the ceremony, before the promises we’re about to make.

“Hi,” I say softly, the simplicity of the greeting a stark contrast to the tidal wave of emotions crashing through me.

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