Page 75 of Tempted By Eden

“I’m sorry. I’m—fucking sorry, Cora.” The words tumble out of him, desperate. I hardly hear them at first, too lost in my head.

“I… didn’t—” He sucks in a ragged breath. “Cora, I swear… this isn’t what I—I didn’t want to hurt you like this.” He swallows hard, like he’s struggling to find the right words. “I thought I was… protecting him. I thought this was what was best for Leo, but—” His voice cracks. “I didn’t mean… all this.”

He keeps talking—about Leo, about Jonathon, about doing what was best. And for a moment, I almost believe him. Almost. But then the anger flares again, intense and burning. Sorry isn’t enough. Sorry doesn’t fix the mess he’s made.

I don’t know how long we stay like that—me sobbing into his chest, him holding me, apologizing over and over. His words wash over me, but they don’t take away the hurt. They can’t. Nothing can.

When I finally manage to catch my breath, the sobs fading into hiccups, I pull away. I don’t look at James. I can’t. I look for Leo. He’s standing by the couch holding the social worker’s hand, a confused, scared expression on his face. With a sob I lift him into my arms, bury my face in his shoulder and close my eyes, breathing him in. I need to feel his little body against mine.

I sense James hovering but I don’t even acknowledge him. All I can do is hold on to Leo, my arms wrapped around him like a shield, rocking him gently as if that motion alone could somehow keep us both safe.

“I’m sorry, Cora,” James whispers again, his voice rough. But I don’t open my eyes.

“Ms. Rossi, Mr. Hayes has decided not to go ahead with the court order today, so Leo will stay in your care,” the social worker says. I nod, still unable to lift my head.

I hear her heels clack across the floor and the soft shuffle of James’s sneakers as he follows her down the hall. There’s a hesitation in his step, and for a moment I think he might stay. But then the door clicks shut. He’s gone.

And I’m still here, cradling Leo. He’s the only thing keeping me together. My beautiful baby boy.

James held me like his arms could somehow piece together what he’d shattered. But no hug could fix this. No “sorry” could undo the damage, could erase the words he threw at me like knives—unfit, unsafe, prostitute. They still echo in my head, louder than his apology, louder than the sound of my own breaking heart.

He broke me.

And no amount of regret or whispered apologies could ever make it right again.

Chapter thirty-nine

James

Standing outside Cora’s houseat 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.

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