The Hotel Room: His Broken Vows

Chapter Two - James

CHAPTER TWO

James

The bar was dimly lit, all polished wood and golden lamplight, the quiet hum of conversation blending with the low clink of glasses. It wasn’t the kind of place James would choose—on the rare occasions he went out these days, it was to family restaurants. But this was Nick’s kind of place.

James sat across from his oldest friend, swirling his untouched bourbon as Nick leaned back in his chair, already halfway through his second glass. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, shirt open just enough to look casual, exuding the kind of ease James never quite figured out.

Nick was mid-story, something half-laughing and half-boasting.

“…and then, after drinks, she’s practically dragging me back to her place. Didn’t even ask for my number the next day. Clean. No strings. Perfect. ”

James gave a tight smile, forcing a chuckle he didn’t feel. His eyes drifted over the crowd without meaning to. Women of all body types, different hair colors, lengths, and textures—short women, tall women, curvy, slender. Strangers.

Sex for him had always meant one woman. Kate. Always and forever. He loved her—loved their life together, loved their sex life. He knew her body as well as he knew his own, every curve, every freckle, the way she responded to his touch like they were perfectly in sync.

Kate’s body had once meant freedom to him. Now sometimes it felt like a prison, a reminder of all the things he hadn’t experienced, the roads never taken.

A body he hadn’t memorized. A stranger’s skin under his hands, unfamiliar and new.

What would it feel like to grasp a woman’s thigh he’d never touched before? To trace the curve of someone else’s spine, to hear sounds from a mouth he hadn’t already kissed a thousand times?

The thoughts burned—wrong and enticing all at once.

Nick tilted his glass. “You sure you don’t want this life, man? I’m telling you, the freedom’s underrated.”

James shook his head. “No, it’s… I’m good, Nick. Seriously.”

Except he wasn’t. Not entirely. And the fear that Nick could read that on his face made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Nick grinned, leaning in like he was about to deliver some kind of wisdom James didn’t want. “Come on. All these years with the same woman? Kate’s great and all, but—don’t tell me you’ve never wondered.”

James clenched his jaw, voice tighter now. “Wondered what ?”

Nick gave a knowing shrug. “What it’s like. The chase. The thrill of not knowing what’s coming next. Waking up next to someone you didn’t know existed twenty-four hours ago.”

James stared down at his drink, the bourbon catching the low light.

He’d never been that guy.

Not once.

Kate had been his first everything—his first kiss, his first love, his first and only sexual partner.

They’d met in high school. She was the girl who wore paint on her hands and teased him for how serious he was. They’d shared milkshakes and study dates and whispered dreams about forever. And then she’d been pregnant and they’d gotten married, built a life together, raised two amazing kids.

It was good. It was.

But lately—

Lately, it felt like he’d blinked and landed here. In this life. Like someone else had made the choices, and he was just living in them.

He shook his head, voice clipped. “I don’t need all that. I’ve got a family. A wife. It’s…different.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. Not judging—just reading him. Pushing.

“Different. Yeah. You love her. I get it. But do you ever feel like you skipped something? Like you never even…” He gestured vaguely. “Tried the buffet before you picked the entrée?”

James forced a laugh, but it landed hollow. “That’s a pretty messed up metaphor, man.”

Nick grinned. “Maybe. But you’re thinking about it. I can see it. Don’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it would be like. Hell, you didn’t even get a wild phase. Straight from school to husband to dad. That’s…a lot.”

James exhaled sharply, bristling. “I chose this life. I wanted it.”

And he had. Hadn’t he?

Nick shrugged. “Sure. But don’t you get curious? What it’s like to walk into a bar and have someone new look at you like you’re the only guy in the room?”

James's chest tightened.

Kate still looked at him like that. She still touched him like she did when they were younger.

None of this was Kate’s fault. It was him .

He was the one who felt like he’d become a checklist. Husband. Father. Provider. Problem-solver. Where was James in all that? Who was James?

“I’m not you, Nick,” James said finally, voice quieter now. “I’m not chasing that kind of thing. I have a good life. A solid one. Kate—she’s…she’s everything. I wouldn’t trade that.”

Nick’s gaze softened, but the teasing edge lingered. “Hey, I’m not saying you don’t love her. I’m saying…seventeen years, man. You got married before you even figured out who you were . No shame in admitting you’re restless.”

Restless.

The word sank deep, because it wasn’t wrong.

James stared down at his glass, the ice melting slowly, the bourbon diluted now.

Was that what this was? Restlessness?

Or was it something worse—like he’d been so busy building the life they dreamed of, he forgot how to actually live in it?

Nick clinked his glass against James’s, breaking the tension. “Look, I’m just saying—if you ever need a break, Cabo next month. Girls like sand and tequila. Think about it.”

James forced a chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Sure. That’s exactly what I need.”

Nick smirked but didn’t push further. The conversation shifted—work complaints, old college memories, easier topics that didn’t press too hard on the ache James was trying to ignore.

They stayed like that for a while, nursing drinks and trading stories, but James felt it lingering beneath the surface. That gnawing sense of missing something .

When James finally stood to leave, tossing cash onto the bar with a mumbled goodbye, Nick stayed behind, already leaning back against his stool, scoping the room with that familiar, casual ease.

James could picture it so clearly.

Nick would stay a little longer, order another round, and then—at some point—he’d make his move. Some woman would catch his eye. Maybe the blonde laughing too loud at the far end of the bar, or the brunette leaning against the high-top table, twisting her hair around her finger. Nick would chat her up, flash that easy grin of his, and then, if it went well...

James gripped the steering wheel tighter as he drove home, headlights blurring against the wet streets.

Except somewhere between the images, the fantasy shifted.

It wasn’t Nick he was picturing anymore.

It was himself.

His hands tracing a stranger’s waist. The press of unfamiliar lips. The heat of someone new, someone who didn’t know his history, who didn’t expect anything from him but pleasure.

The thought made his chest tighten—guilt twisting with something darker.

Because it wasn’t just curiosity anymore.

It was want .

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The bedroom was quiet except for the soft rhythm of Kate’s breathing and the distant hum of the dishwasher downstairs. The house felt settled for the night, the kids asleep, the world outside muted.

Kate was curled beside him, her body soft and warm against his, the scent of lavender lingering in her hair. His hand rested on her hip, fingers grazing bare skin where her tank top had ridden up slightly.

He should have felt content .

But instead, that hollow ache gnawed at him,.

His mind kept circling back to his conversation with Nick—the careless ease in his voice, the way he’d described the thrill of someone new . The chase. The rush of not being known.

James stared up at the ceiling, the ache twisting tighter.

It wasn’t like he didn’t love Kate. Of course he did. She was everything—his best friend, the mother of his children, the one constant since he was seventeen years old.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

She was everything .

The only thing.

He’d never felt what it was like to be with someone else. Not once. Not a kiss. Not a drunken mistake. Not even temptation.

The thoughts festered.

Not because he wanted to leave her. God, he didn’t. But there was this gnawing, restless itch he couldn’t silence—the question. The one Nick had so easily voiced.

What are you missing?

James shifted on the pillow, tightening his hold on Kate’s waist like that could somehow anchor him in the present. She sighed softly in her sleep, instinctively leaning closer, trusting even in unconsciousness.

He felt sick.

This wasn’t her fault. She’d done nothing wrong. She still wanted him.

But maybe—maybe that was the problem. She still looked at him like he was the same James who had once swept her off her feet. The same boy she married at eighteen.

But he wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

There was a work trip next week.

New York. Corporate, sleek. The kind of place where no one knew him. Where he could be… anyone .

It hit him then. Cold and certain.

He owed it to her to get this out of his head.

It was selfish, yes. Maybe even cruel. But wasn’t it worse to keep this resentment bottled up? Wasn’t it more dangerous to let these thoughts fester and rot under the surface?

If he just… did it .

One time. A clean break. Some nameless woman who meant nothing .

It wouldn’t be emotional. Not like with Kate. Just…physical. Scratching an itch so he could finally, finally stop feeling this pull.

He could get it out of his system. Just once.

Then it would be over.

Kate shifted again, her hand slipping over his wrist, so trusting, so familiar.

James swallowed the shame rising in his chest.

If she knew the thoughts in his head right now, it would break her.

But she didn’t need to know.

Because he loved her.

And this? This wasn’t about love.

It was about closing a door he should have never left cracked open.

One night.

Then he could finally come home whole.