Tempted by Eden (Eden #1)

39. James

Chapter thirty-nine

James

S tanding outside Cora’s house at six in the morning with a vicious hangover and a massive bunch of flowers, I feel like a complete idiot. As if this ridiculous bouquet could somehow undo the biggest mistake of my life. The sound of Cora’s heart-wrenching wail yesterday still echoes in my mind. It was like an animal being torn apart—piercing, visceral, and unforgettable.

I grip the flowers tighter and exhale a loud breath, pacing back and forth in front of her door. Walking away with Leo, taking her child—I thought I was doing the right thing. But the sound of her breaking—that harrowing sob—keeps replaying in my head. It eats at me, shredding my conscience with every step.

I was wrong.

Very wrong.

I caused the woman I love irreparable pain.

I downed half a bottle of scotch last night, hoping it would dull the guilt, but nothing worked. I tried to find the words that would make this right. But they’re nowhere to be found.

And now, as I stand on her doorstep clutching these stupid flowers, a headache from the pits of hell throbbing in my temples, I’m still none the wiser.

I brush a hand over my T-shirt, attempting to smooth the creases, silently cursing myself for not showering and changing into my suit before showing up.

My knuckles rap the wood of her front door, harder than I intended. I suck in a breath, hold it and wait. After a few moments, I hear shuffling behind the door, but it doesn’t open. I knock again, harder this time, but there’s only silence. I slump down by the door. The flowers flop pathetically across my lap.

What was I thinking?

Of course she’s not answering.

I sit and stare at the rusted fence, my head pounding with every passing second. The humid air does nothing to help the cold sweat dripping down my back.

At last, the door creaks open. Cora steps out, dressed for work. She slings her purse over her shoulder and moves past me without even acknowledging my existence.

“Cora, wait!” I scramble to my feet, abandoning the flowers on the doorstep as I rush after her. “Please, can we talk?”

She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even turn. She just pulls her earphones from her bag and jams them in.

Desperation claws at me, and I lightly grasp her arm. “Cora, just—can you stop for a second?”

She jerks to a halt, yanking her earphones out. Her cold eyes pierce right through me. “What do you want, James?” she asks, her voice dangerously polite. “I’m going to be late for work.”

“I can drive you.” I point at my Range Rover parked at the curb. “We can talk on the way.”

She shakes her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “No, thanks. I’ll take the train.”

I glance around the street.

She walks to the station here? Alone? In this place?

“It’s not safe for you to—”

“Stop, James,” she snaps. “Just… stop. Don’t pretend you care. You don’t get to care.”

I squeeze the back of my neck. “Cora, I didn’t mean for any of this. I swear, I thought I was protecting him.”

“Protecting him from me ?” Her voice is low, cutting. “You don’t get it, do you? You didn’t just hurt me, James. You took everything.” She stands there, arms crossed tightly across her chest, eyes glazed as she stares somewhere beyond me. She’s shutting down, closing herself off. I step closer, tentatively reaching out, my fingers brushing her arm. Her body is warm and familiar, but she stiffens at the contact.

I lean in, my forehead nearly touching hers, whispering, “Please, Cora… I’m sorry.”

Her lips press into a thin, unforgiving line. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t lean toward me either. She’s a statue, unmoving and cold.

I edge closer, hesitating just inches from her lips, silently pleading for a connection. When I finally close the distance, my kiss is soft, but filled with desperation—searching for something to hold on to. But she doesn’t move. Her lips are still, frozen beneath mine, her body stiff as though she’s turned to stone. I pull back slightly, hoping to spark a response, but her fists remain tightly clenched at her sides, her breath controlled, as if she’s holding herself back. Our faces inches apart, I search her eyes. They’re hard, glistening with unshed tears.

“It doesn’t matter, James. It’s over. You ruined us.” Bitterness clings to every syllable.

“No,” I choke out. “Please don’t say that. We can fix this.”

I bury my face in her neck, inhaling her familiar scent of vanilla and oranges, but it only deepens the ache in my chest. “I love you, Cora.”

She steps back, slipping from my grasp like water through my fingers. When she looks at me, her eyes are drained of the light they once held. There’s a finality in that glance.

“Too late.”

She turns and walks away, her back straight, her shoulders stiff, adjusting the strap of her purse like she’s shaking off the last pieces of me. When she puts her earphones back in, my heart shatters. She’s slammed the door shut on everything we ever were or could have been.

I’m rooted to the spot, feet refusing to move. I want to chase her, to shout that I’m not giving up. But my hands hang useless at my sides, my chest hollow, my heart in pieces.