The Hotel Room: His Broken Vows

Chapter Nineteen - James

CHAPTER NINETEEN

James

The exam room was quiet, dimmed for the ultrasound.

The gentle whoosh of the fetal heartbeat filled the space, rhythmic and steady. James’s breath caught when he saw the screen.

Their baby.

Small. Fragile. Real.

And for a heartbeat, the ache in his chest wasn’t about guilt or regret. It was wonder.

This is our child.

But then, almost as quickly, the ache returned.

Because after the scan, when the screen blinked dark and the tech left to give them privacy, James felt the weight settle back into his chest.

Kate was quiet as she adjusted her shirt, wiping the gel from her stomach with careful, methodical motions. She didn’t meet his eyes.

And James didn’t know how to reach her.

What could he even say? That he was sorry? That he hated himself for what he’d done?

Words felt too small for what he’d broken.

So instead, as they walked back to the car, the silence stretched long and thick between them.

It wasn’t until they were halfway home that the realization hit him.

The guest room.

It would need to be a nursery.

They couldn’t keep squeezing Lily and Noah into their shared spaces. This baby would need a room of their own.

But that meant—

Would Kate come back to their bedroom?

His throat tightened at the thought, hands flexing on the steering wheel as he drove.

It wasn’t just the idea of sharing a bed. It wasn’t just the sex—though their sex had been incredible . Passionate. Built on years, a lifetime, of connection.

It was more than that.

It was her .

Having her beside him in the quiet hours of the night.

The way her body fit against his. The warmth of her skin when she’d fall asleep tucked against his chest, her breath soft and steady.

It had been intimacy. Closeness. And he didn’t know if he’d ever have that again. The house—their home—felt like a hollow shell of what it had been.

He thought of the guest room. Of her painting.

She’s starting to find herself again.

And somehow, that thought both broke him and made him ache with love for her all over again.

But where would she have space for it?

A nursery would take the guest room. They could buy a bigger house. But the thought of leaving this one?

This wasn’t just a house.

It was where they’d built their life.

They had bought it young—barely twenty—when they hadn’t known a thing about interest rates or the housing market. They hadn’t even cared.

They’d been in love.

Pregnant.

Excited.

There were marks on the doorframe where they’d measured Noah’s height every birthday. Scratches on the hardwood where Lily had dropped her dollhouse too hard. The kitchen where Kate had painted clouds on the ceiling when they couldn’t afford to repaint the whole room.

This wasn’t just bricks and drywall. This was their home .

And as much as he hated himself for what he’d done—for the way he’d shattered the trust that had made this house feel warm—he couldn’t bear the thought of losing it.

But more than that—

He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her .

Not again.

His hands tightened on the wheel, jaw clenched.

I have to make space for her. For the kids. For all of us.

No more pushing her into the margins of their life.

She deserved better than that.

They all did.

James felt the ache of regret shift into something else—

Determination.

When they pulled into the driveway, James stayed seated for a moment longer.

His gaze shifted toward the garden. The old shed.

There.

That was where it would begin. Not a fix. Not a grand gesture.

But a space. For her.

══════════════════

James drove the hammer into the insulation, again and again, until his arm burned.

Good. Let it burn.

The sting wasn’t enough. He deserved worse.

The work was punishing—his knuckles scraped raw, his muscles trembling from the relentless pace—but it wasn’t close to the ache clawing through his chest.

Penance. That was what this was.

Every slam of the hammer. Every bead of sweat rolling down his back.

It would never be enough.

And yet, he kept going.

The insulation was nearly done. Thick, expensive panels—he’d researched meticulously, making sure they would keep her warm in winter and cool in summer.

Because all he could think about was her comfort. Kate’s comfort.

The woman he’d betrayed.

The woman he had watched cradle her stomach at the ultrasound just days ago, protective, distant, her face so carefully guarded it made his chest feel like it might cave in.

James squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palm to the unfinished wood.

He remembered the look on her face that night .

The night he’d destroyed everything.

The memory burned, sharp and nauseating.

Not of the woman he’d slept with. He couldn’t even picture her face anymore. She was just a nameless, faceless memory. A stranger’s perfume. The mindless, empty pull of skin against skin.

No, the memory that haunted him wasn’t her. It was Kate .

The way she had looked when she’d stepped out of the hotel bathroom that night, wrapped in that stunning black lingerie.

He could see her so clearly.

The soft curve of her body. God , she had been breathtaking.

And he’d ruined it.

She had been there, vulnerable, wanting him, trusting him—

And all he could think now was how he had destroyed that trust for nothing.

Nothing.

Less than nothing. It had been the worst sex of his life. How could he have thought he would have enjoyed something so empty when all he had ever known was making love with his soulmate?

James’s throat tightened as he set the hammer down, the ache cutting deeper than the strain in his body.

This shed—this studio—wasn’t about fixing that night. Nothing could do that. But he could give her something.

The insulation was perfect now. Secure. Thick enough to protect her from the cold.

The window wasn’t finished yet—he’d already ordered double-glazed glass to be installed next week. He’d made the opening larger than he’d originally intended, nearly floor-to-ceiling.

She deserved light— endless light—while she painted, enough to illuminate every brushstroke, every piece of herself she poured onto the canvas.

Because that was what she deserved. A space where she could create. Where she could breathe .

Not a prison. Not the cage he’d turned their marriage into.

He hated himself. He hated the way he’d let restlessness fester into something so ugly, so destructive.

Kate had been his everything since they were kids.

And instead of cherishing that—of cherishing her —he’d thrown it away for sex he could barely remember with a woman whose face he couldn’t recall.

But he remembered Kate’s face, pale and broken.

Now, all he could do was work. Make this space hers.

Even if he never earned her trust back, even if she never forgave him, at least he could give her this.

Because James knew one thing with absolute clarity—Kate deserved a better husband. But she was still the love of his life.

And he would spend the rest of his life proving it.

══════════════════

The bar was quieter tonight. No pulsing music, no crowd pressing in too close. Just the low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses.

James sat across from Nick in a booth, his hands wrapped around a glass of whiskey he hadn’t touched. The amber liquid caught the dim light, reflecting patterns on the polished wood table.

He hadn’t invited Nick here to drink. Not really.

He needed to talk.

“I was wrong.”

Nick nodded in agreement. “Yes.”

James stared into his glass for a long beat, the words sticking in his throat. But this time, he forced them out.

“Wrong about...everything. The cheating. The way I treated Kate. The way I justified it like it was some inevitable...thing.” His jaw tightened. “Like I was entitled to it. Like she should just get over it because it didn’t mean anything.”

Nick stayed quiet, watching him carefully.

James exhaled shakily, gripping the glass tighter. “I—I hate myself for what I did to her. For what I stole from her.”

Nick’s brow furrowed, his voice softer now. “James—”

“No.” James shook his head, voice rough. “I need to say this.” He forced himself to meet Nick’s eyes, no longer looking for a way out of the truth.

“I cheated because I was an idiot. I felt restless and lost and instead of dealing with that, I panicked. I hurt the one person who’s—who’s given me everything good in my life. I deserve this pain.”

Nick’s face shifted, a flicker of discomfort showing beneath his usual easy confidence.

James continued, voice cracking.

“Kate...she’s incredible, Nick. She’s the best person I know. She gave me everything—her love, her loyalty, her trust. She was there when we had nothing, when we were just stupid kids trying to figure out how to raise Noah. She stayed when things were hard. She stayed when I was working late nights and missing dinners. And she never once asked for anything back. Never once complained . She sacrificed parts of herself for us, for our family.”

He swallowed hard, the guilt so thick it burned.

“And I threw that away. Like she was nothing.”

Nick’s face was unreadable now, but he nodded slightly.

“She’s strong,” James whispered. “And kind. And I keep thinking...I’ll never deserve her again. But I want to. I want to be her’s.”

Silence hung between them, heavier than it had ever been.

Nick shifted, staring down at his own untouched drink, then exhaled through his nose.

“She is amazing,” Nick said quietly, surprising James. “You’re not wrong about that.”

For a moment, James thought that was it.

But then, Nick continued, his voice lower, tighter than James had ever heard it.

“You know...I’ve never had that. What you’re describing. The kind of love where someone just... sees you.” He gave a bitter smile. “I’ve spent so long making sure I never let anyone get close enough to hurt me that I don’t even know if I’m capable of it anymore.”

James blinked, thrown by the admission.

Nick huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “I talk a big game, right? All those women. All those casual hookups. But none of them mean anything. And I like it that way. Because if it doesn’t mean anything, it can’t break you.”

James’s chest ached with something unfamiliar—empathy.

Because he saw it now.

The walls Nick kept up. The deflection. The constant rotation of women who never stayed long enough to matter.

James had almost become that.

And it terrified him.

“You don’t have to live like that,” James said quietly.

Nick shook his head, exhaling hard. “You still have a shot at fixing this. And from what you just said...sounds like you’re finally figuring out how to stop making it about yourself.”

James nodded slowly, throat tight.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I am.”

Tonight the guilt felt less like a deadweight and more like a responsibility. A burden he had to carry.

But one he was willing to bear.