The Hotel Room: His Broken Vows

Chapter Twenty-One - James

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

James

James sat at the kitchen table, the journal open in front of him. The pen rested heavily in his hand, though it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. The house was quiet—Kate was upstairs resting, Lily was coloring in the living room, and Noah was buried in his phone somewhere.

But inside James, it was anything but quiet.

He clenched his jaw, the sharp edge of self-loathing cutting deeper with each passing second. He stared at the blank page, his chest burning with a mix of shame and disgust. The image of Kate’s face when she told him she didn’t know if she could ever trust him again played on a cruel, endless loop in his mind. It was etched into his memory—her eyes filled with pain, disbelief, and something worse: disappointment.

His hand tightened around the pen, his knuckles whitening. He wanted to throw it across the room, to break something, to somehow match the wreckage inside him with the space around him. Instead, he forced himself to sit there, his body stiff and tense.

Pathetic. Stupid. Weak. The words thudded in his brain like a cruel mantra.

How had he not understood that he already had everything he wanted? How could he have gotten so mixed up? How had he been so blind, so utterly selfish?

His pulse hammered in his ears as he thought of the woman—the stranger—he’d been with. He didn’t even remember her name. Not her face, not her voice. She was nothing. Nothing . And yet, he’d let that nothing destroy everything.

“Idiot,” he muttered under his breath, the word barely audible but filled with venom. He hated himself, hated the choices he’d made, hated that he’d broken the life he’d built with his own hands. He was a man who had once been proud of the strength he offered his family, and now he couldn’t even look at his reflection without feeling sick.

His trembling hand lowered the pen to the page. It hovered there for a moment before the ink bled slowly onto the paper, jagged and raw:

I ruined everything.

The words stared back at him, unflinching and true. His breath hitched as the weight of the admission settled over him like lead.

He tossed the pen onto the table, the sound too loud in the stillness of the kitchen, and buried his face in his hands. The tension in his chest felt like it would snap him in half, and his teeth clenched so tightly that his jaw ached. He wanted to scream at himself, to curse the version of him that had made the choices he did.

You’re pathetic, he thought bitterly. You’re the one who destroyed it all.

But no matter how angry he was, how deep the self-hatred ran, he couldn’t undo it. All he could do now was sit in the mess he’d made and try to claw his way back to the man he should have been all along.

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James lay on his side in the master bedroom, the room that used to feel like a sanctuary. His body was heavy against the mattress, muscles aching in that way they did when guilt weighed more than exhaustion ever could.

The empty space beside him— her space —was a void he couldn’t stop noticing, no matter how tightly he clenched his eyes shut.

He’d ruined everything.

The truth clawed at his chest, relentless.

He could still see the look on her face—stunned, hollow, like the ground had crumbled beneath her feet. Her eyes, once so full of warmth for him, shattered with a pain so raw it haunted him.

He had been the one to break her.

His fault. All of it.

His fists curled in the sheets, the self-loathing coiling tighter, harder. How could he have done this to her? To them ?

She had given him everything —her body, her trust, her love, for nearly two decades. And he had destroyed that. For nothing.

That stranger had been nothing but physical friction, a rush of sensation. His body had responded, sure—flesh reacting to flesh—but his heart had known, even as he pushed deeper, faster, that this wasn’t Kate . Not the woman he’d built a life with, not the soul he’d intertwined with for more than half his life.

His breath hitched, throat tight as he stared at the dark ceiling, wishing he could scrub the memory from his mind—the betrayal, the pain he’d caused.

But instead, all he could feel was the ache of her absence. The ache of missing her .

Not just the sex, though God knew he missed the way her body fit against his.

It was the other things.

The way she used to tangle her legs with his in the middle of the night. The way she would whisper half-asleep murmurs when he kissed the back of her neck, pressing closer for warmth.

The way she trusted him enough to let him hold her when she was vulnerable.

And now?

She wouldn’t even sleep in the same room.

The pain was unbearable.

The door opened.

James tensed, blinking through the darkness, his heart hammering as the faint sliver of hallway light spilled across the floor.

Kate.

He would have known her silhouette anywhere.

She lingered for a moment, just standing there.

And then—without a word—she shut the door, crossed the room and slid carefully under the covers.

Her back to him.

Facing the edge of the bed.

James barely breathed.

Her breath was shaky, uneven. She shifted like she couldn’t quite get comfortable, her body curling inward slightly, protective.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet. Measured.

“This doesn’t mean anything, James.”

The words cut—sharp, deliberate—but he nodded.

He understood .

Because she wasn’t here for him. She was here for what he used to be for her.

“I know,” he whispered, voice rough.

And he did. Because she was pregnant and he knew—better than anyone—what her body felt like during those months.

The way her back ached deep, low, the tension building until she couldn’t sleep.

She wasn’t asking for closeness. She wasn’t forgiving him. She needed relief.

And James— God , he wanted to be there for her in any way she would let him.

Without another word, he shifted closer, inching behind her with careful, hesitant movements.

When his chest pressed gently to her back, he felt her stiffen—just for a heartbeat.

But then she exhaled, her body softening as he draped his arm low around her waist, just enough to cup her stomach.

The baby.

Their baby.

The ache in his chest deepened, but he stayed quiet, pressing his forehead lightly against the back of her shoulder.

He adjusted slightly, fitting his knee behind hers, angling his body in that way he remembered from her last pregnancy—the position that relieved the pressure in her back, the one that used to make her sigh with relief.

It had felt so natural then. So easy.

And now?

It felt fragile.

Like he was holding a version of her that was just barely trusting him not to break her all over again.

Kate didn’t speak.

Her breathing slowed, eventually, becoming deeper.

But James stayed awake.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever—

She was in his arms.

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The scent of coffee lingered in the kitchen, warm and familiar, but James barely tasted it as he sipped from his mug.

He hadn’t slept much.

Not because he was restless but because he hadn’t dared to move last night.

Kate had stayed.

She had let him hold her, even if it wasn’t forgiveness, even if it wasn’t closeness in the way they once shared. It was something .

A fragile, precious moment he wasn’t ready to shatter.

She had been there.

The sound of small footsteps padded into the kitchen, and Lily appeared in the doorway, her hair still wild from sleep. She blinked at him, rubbing her eyes before her face broke into a soft, hopeful smile.

“Dad?”

James raised an eyebrow. “Morning, Lils. Want breakfast?”

She ignored the question, leaning against the counter instead, eyes wide with a curiosity he didn’t quite understand yet.

“Were you and Mom cuddling last night?”

James froze.

The coffee cup nearly slipped from his fingers as he set it down carefully, clearing his throat.

Oh.

Heat rose to his neck. For a second, he wanted to say yes. Wanted to tell her things were going back to normal. Wanted to cling to the flicker of happiness in her eyes.

But he couldn’t lie to her.

He crouched to her level, voice gentle.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Mom stayed with me last night. But…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “It doesn’t mean everything’s fixed. I still have a lot of apologizing to do.”

Lily tilted her head, frowning.

“But you’re not fighting anymore?”

James swallowed hard, the ache behind his ribs pressing deeper.

“We’re trying not to fight,” he said carefully. “But grown-ups…sometimes when one person makes a really big mistake, it takes a while to make things better again. I hurt Mom, and I’m trying to show her how sorry I am. It’s going to take time.”

Lily nodded slowly, processing.

“But you love each other, right?”

James felt his throat tighten.

“Yes. So much.” His voice cracked, but he didn’t care. “I love your mom with all my heart. And I love you and Noah just as much. That will never change. Okay?”

Lily seemed satisfied with that, but her smile was softer, more cautious.

“Okay.” She paused, then added, “Do you think Mom’s happier again now?”

James exhaled, brushing her hair gently behind her ear.

“I hope so, sweetheart. I really do.”

And as Lily wandered back to the living room, James stayed on the kitchen floor for a long moment, heart aching with the weight of both hope and fear.