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Chapter Twenty-Six

Scarlett

Rolling over I crack open my eyes to find Cohen sitting in a grey velvet chair next to my bed with his fingers steepled under his chin. Wearing only boxer briefs and a frown, he appears to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask, my voice still groggy with sleep.

His blue gaze lifts to mine.

“So, James Black?” I attack the elephant in the room.

“James Black.” He confirms, scrubbing his hands down his face.

“You want to talk about it?” I whisper, throwing the covers off and climbing from the bed.

“No.” He sighs as I pad towards him. “But I owe you an explanation.”

“Would you like some breakfast first? Coffee maybe?” I reach out, very slowly, like you would to a wounded animal and run my fingers through his silky black hair.

“Sure, that would be great.” His arm snakes around my waist and I feel his whiskers tickle my stomach through my thin grey night tee. Not the sexiest pajamas, but last night was not about seduction. It was about healing and forgiveness.

“I’ve got some scones I picked up earlier this week at the bakery.” I offer and feel him shaking his head against me.

“Sure. Thanks.” He squeezes me tighter before dropping his arm, free form his hold I step and make my way to the kitchen.

Calling out over my shoulder, “help yourself to the shower.”

Once in the kitchen, I put the water on to boil, deciding this conversation may call for a proper cup of tea, maybe with a little spirits. Placing my palms flat on the worktop, a couple deep breaths come and go, as I attempt to my mind skims through everything that went done last night. I should feel a million things. Fear, being the main one. Yet I don’t. I feel relief that Cohen is here. That he came to me, instead of running away. He came to explain, apologize.

“It’s me who should be waiting on you after last night.” I jump as Cohen’s voice breaks through my thoughts and he steps up behind me, pulling me into his arms, droplets from

his wet hair landing on my exposed skin.

“I’m fine.” I whisper, relaxing into his embrace.

The whistle of the kettle rings out and I shift to grab the kettle.

“Grab the preserves?” I ask, setting up tea on a tray to carry into the living room.

I reach in the cupboard and pull out my special cup, the one from Wendy, and another mug for Cohen. I have a feeling I’m going to need a piece of her with me for this.

“All set?” He places the preserves on the tray and grabs the plate of scones, following me into to set up by the sofa.

“Let me start by saying, I’m sorry.” He offers and the heat from the tea washes down my throat as I think of what to say.

“Cohen, you don’t have to keep apologizing. I just want to know why?” My eyes search his for answers, but all I see is pain.

“I don’t know why.” He takes a sip and sits his own tea back down. “It’s started as revenge and then there was you.”

I nod for him to continue.

“I never knew my father. Never knew what being James Black meant. That he was a powerful, ruthless business man. Never know he was a shipping heir to one of the largest fleets in London, dating back to his grandfather. I just knew him as the man who broke my mother’s heart. A man from a nightmare, that played on repeat over the years. Like I told you before, my mom used to make up stories about him being some dark pirate prince, then other times she called him the bad man. I lived in fear he would come and take me away from her. She may not have been perfect, far from it in-fact. But she was still my mum.” His voice is gravely as he struggles to continue.

“You were only a boy, you couldn’t have known.” I try to keep open mind as I figure out how in fit not all this.

“She also spoke of the one with red hair, Wendy. Which I now know is Willow’s aunt. I also know she passed away.” He grabs my hands with both of his.

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss. I know she was like a mother to you. All of you.” How could he? Dread fills my stomach at what he’s going to say next.