Page 76 of Tempted By Eden

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 fromme?” 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.

Chapter forty

James

It’s Friday morning, andlike every day for the past month, I’m back outside Cora’s house. Same time, same place, same rejection. But today, I’ve come prepared. Today, I’m armed with takeaway coffee and raisin toast. I know she won’t talk to me, but maybe I can get her to eat something.

Her back is rigid as she walks out the door, her purse slung over her shoulder, and I can see the exhaustion in the way she moves. She’s thinner than she was when I first saw her at Eden, and I hate it. Her cheeks aren’t as full, and there’s a darkness under her eyes she didn’t used to have.

But what hurts the most is the spark that’s missing. The Cora I fell in love with was all fire—her wit sharp, her eyes bright. Now, the fire’s gone, snuffed out by me, by my mistake. I’d give anything to see that spark again, even if it’s directed at me in anger.

I take a controlled breath and step forward. “Morning,” I say, holding out the coffee and toast. “I got you breakfast. Raisin toast.”

She stops, her eyes narrowing as she glares at me. “Go away, James.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder. “I don’t like raisin toast.”

I hold back a sigh. “Got it. So, raisin toast isn’t yourgo-tobreakfast every morning?” I ask, a smile pulling at my lips despite her arctic stare. “Coffee and raisin toast, buttered with a sprinkle of cinnamon.” I raise the brown paper bag in between my fingers and swing it back and forth.

Her eyes widen briefly before narrowing back into that sharp glare. “Great. So now you’re spying on me too,” she shoots back.

“You’re a creature of habit.” I shrug. “Come on, it’s warm and buttered, just the way you like it.” I hold out the bag and coffee, hoping she’ll take it. I know she hasn’t been eating much this past month, and I don’t want her going to work on an empty stomach anymore.

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