Tempted by Eden (Eden #1)

31. James

Chapter thirty-one

James

“ K nock, knock,” I call out as I step through the front door of my sister’s place. It’s Saturday morning and I’m on uncle duty. I peer into the living room and see Emma and Ollie glued to the TV, their little faces lit by the glow of cartoons.

“Hey, kids,” I call, louder this time.

“Uncle James! Are we going to the zoo today?” they shout back, their mouths full of cereal.

“Sure are, kiddos.”

“Yesss!” Ollie pumps his fist in the air, his excitement contagious.

Chuckling, I head to the kitchen, where I hear the familiar clatter of mugs and dishes. “Hey, Lars—” I stop mid-sentence as I take in her appearance. Dark circles weigh down her eyes, her hair resembles a bird’s nest, and she’s still in pajamas. “Wow. You look like shit,” I say with a grin.

“Gee, thanks,” she replies dryly. “And you look”—she pauses with her coffee cup halfway to her mouth, eyes narrowing—“good, actually. More like… like you used to. Like him,” she adds softly. The comparison lands harder than it should, but I shrug it off.

She’s right, though. I’m not one to smile without reason, and today I can’t seem to help it.

Last night at the gala, Cora and I played our parts seamlessly, orbiting each other, tethered by that invisible pull we can’t seem to break. And afterward, when I texted asking her to stay with me tonight, she accepted without hesitation. Knowing I’ll see her again in a few short hours… yeah, it’s hard not to smile.

“Come on, spill,” Lars demands, pulling a mug from the cabinet. “What’s her name?”

I lean against the counter, smirking. “Cora.”

“And…?” she prods, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

I don’t want to get into the details. Telling my sister I met Cora at a brothel? Not happening. “What time do I need to have the kids back?” I ask, casually checking my watch.

“Nice dodge,” she says, handing me a coffee. “Not before five. Adam and I need a day to ourselves.”

“Message received.” I give her a mock salute. “Emma, Ollie! Shoes on, we’re leaving in five!”

***

The sun beats down as we make our way to the zoo’s reptile exhibit. Ollie is mesmerized, his breath fogging up the glass as he studies every snake and lizard. His fascination with the scaly creatures makes me chuckle. Emma, though patient, is clearly getting restless, but she doesn’t complain.

“Time for a break, kids,” I announce, patting my stomach. “Uncle James is starving.”

Ollie groans. “Oh, what? Already?”

“Yep, kiddo. Let’s grab some snacks and check out the rest of the zoo. If there’s time, we’ll swing back through the reptile house before we head home.”

“Okaaay,” Ollie whines, but follows along.

The kids race ahead, their energy boundless, as we follow the path to the café. They immediately press their faces and hands to the display case, ogling the cakes inside. There’s no chance they’re getting any of that sweet shit. I draw the line at being the fun uncle when it comes to food. Dealing with the fallout from a sugar high is above my paygrade.

I’m scanning the café for a free table when I spot a familiar figure.

Cora.

She’s sitting with a little boy who’s trying to stuff an entire donut into his mouth with both hands. She hasn’t noticed me yet, too focused on him. Casual in jeans and a low-cut T-shirt, she looks worlds away from the glamorous woman who owned the gala last night. And yet, just as stunning. I weave through the tables toward her, but as soon her eyes find mine, something shifts.

Her entire body goes rigid, like she’s been caught out. She stands so fast her chair topples over with a loud crash. The sound echoes through the café, making heads turn, but I hardly notice. My focus is on her pale face, her wide eyes.

“James,” she breathes, soft and shaky.

I stop in my tracks, her reaction completely throwing me. “Cora?”

Her hands fidget at her sides, her fingers twisting in the hem of her shirt.

Something is wrong.

Before I can ask what’s going on, a small voice pipes up from beside her.

“Momma, what’s wrong?”

I blink, my attention shifting to the boy. He’s a cute kid—dark hair, big brown eyes. There’s something… familiar about him, but I can’t place it. Then the word hits me like a hammer to my brain. And suddenly, everything tilts.

Momma .

A son. She has a son.

And she never told me.

My fists clench, knuckles whitening, as my pulse pounds in my ears. I try to speak, to demand answers, but the words won’t come. Instead, I take a step back, my mind racing, and all I can think is, why? Why didn’t she tell me?

My eyes snap back to Cora, trying to make sense of it. She’s still standing there, frozen, her eyes wide.

“James, wait—” Her voice is desperate, but it feels distant, muted by the rush of blood in my ears. My feet are already moving, heading toward Emma and Ollie, who are still glued to the dessert display.

“Come on, kids. We’re leaving,” I say.

They look at me, confused, but I crouch down to their level, forcing myself to remain calm. “Sorry, kids. Something came up. I’ve got a work emergency, but I’ll make it up to you, okay? You can have as many treats as you want back at my place.”

“Yay!” They high five each other, already forgetting about the zoo.

I lead them out of the café, every step I take like moving through quicksand. Like the earth beneath me is pulling me down, slowing everything except the pounding of my heart.

I don’t look back.

I can’t.

***

Safe at home, I set the kids up with an ungodly amount of candy and turn on the TV, hoping it’ll keep them distracted long enough for me to deal with the anarchy in my head.

My mind is a chaotic mess, full of questions and suspicions, none of which I have answers to. But one thing is clear—I need to figure this out. Now.

Once they’re settled, I head straight to my office, taking the stairs two at a time. I pull out the old family photo album from the bottom drawer of my desk. It’s dusty and worn, the edges frayed from years of neglect. I haven’t touched it since Jonathon died. I haven’t wanted to.

But now… now I need to.

Flipping through the pages slowly, the smell of old paper hits me, stirring up memories I’ve buried deep. There we are—Jonathon and me, identical in every way. Two peas in a pod. Always together. Always the same. But the image of that boy at the café keeps flashing in my mind.

When I find the photo I’m looking for—the two of us at our fourth birthday party—air stalls in my lungs. The resemblance is undeniable. That boy, her son, looks just like we did at that age.

Same dark hair. Same big brown eyes.

This isn’t a coincidence. Cora’s son doesn’t just look a little like me and my brother. He’s got our DNA.

I close the album and drop my head into my hands as the brutal truth digs its claws into me. And it hurts like hell.

She thinks I’m Jonathon.

I should have picked up on it sooner. She called me Jonathon when I confronted her at work that first day. I shrugged it off back then, assuming it was part of her plan somehow. Another attempt to get into my head. Now it all makes sense. And she must have thought I didn’t recognize her, or worse, that I was pretending not to know her.

Of course she did. Jonathon and I were identical. Same face, same voice, same everything. We even shared the same women when we got older. Hell, no one could tell us apart unless they knew us well, and even then it was hard. And Cora… well, it’s obvious now. She didn’t know me at all.

I close my eyes, groaning as the pieces fall into place. I let her in, piece by piece. I fell for her.

Was it even real? Or was it all just a game? A way to get something from me? Money? She’s up to her ears in debt, so it’s not a stretch. I should have trusted my gut instinct about Cora; it’s never wrong. Now everything feels like a lie. She didn’t trust me enough to tell me about her son. My nephew . And now I’m left wondering if anything we had was real.

My heart is being split open, an ache so deep it’s as if it’s being torn out.

Jonathon wasn’t just my twin—he was half of me, the part that made everything make sense. And when he died, that half of me died too, leaving a hollow space I’ve never been able to fill. I wasn’t there when he needed me. I wasn’t there to stop the car, to save him. And now, losing Cora, realizing she never trusted me—it feels like I’m losing him all over again. The pain, the betrayal, the emptiness—it’s all the same.

My thoughts drift back to that little boy.

Jonathon, what have you done?

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and see Cora’s name flashing on the screen. For a moment I consider answering, demanding answers, explanations. But then the anger surges, hot and biting. She lied. She hid the most important part of her life from me. If I didn’t see her today, would she have ever told me?

I stab the Decline button, watching her name disappear from the screen, but the questions remain. I shut my phone off, trying to bury the anger, the hurt—the pain in my heart that no amount of rage can smother. She lied, and I let her in. I don’t want her excuses. I just want it all to stop.

Now.

Forever.