The Hotel Room: His Broken Vows

Chapter Twenty-Six - Kate

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Kate

Kate sat on the couch next to James, their knees just barely touching. Close enough for warmth, but not quite close enough to feel like them . Not yet.

Noah and Lily sat across from them. Noah sprawled out in the armchair, arms crossed. His face was carefully neutral, but the tension in his posture told her how on guard he was. Lily sat on the edge of the loveseat, her legs swinging.

Kate swallowed, pressing her hands together in her lap to steady them.

This was supposed to be a happy conversation.

It was happy.

So why did it feel so complicated?

James was the one to break the silence, his voice soft but sure.

“We wanted to sit down with you both because we have some big news to share.”

Lily immediately looked up, her eyes wide.

“Good news or bad news?”

Kate forced a smile, reaching over to brush a stray lock of hair from her daughter’s face.

“Good news, sweetheart. Really good news.”

She exchanged a glance with James, who nodded slightly, his hand resting on his knee, close but not touching hers.

Kate took a breath, heart pounding harder than it should.

“You’re going to have a little brother or sister.”

The words hung there for a beat.

Lily gasped.

“ What?! ” Her face split into the most brilliant smile, her whole body lighting up as she practically bounced on the loveseat. “A baby ? Really? Like, a real baby? When? How big is it? Can I help pick the name? Oh my gosh—can I hold it when it’s born? I’m going to be the best big sister ever! I can help so much —”

Her excitement was infectious, her energy filling the room. Kate felt her throat tighten with unexpected emotion.

This . This was the reaction she’d hoped for. The joy. The innocence.

But when she glanced at Noah—

His brows were furrowed, lips pressed together, his gaze shifting sharply between her and James.

“So...that’s what all this has been about?” His voice was quieter, more careful.

Kate blinked. “What do you mean?”

Noah’s arms uncrossed, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice measured.

“The fighting. The...whatever is going on between you two. You guys haven’t been right for months, and now you’re telling us you’re having a baby? So...is that what caused all of this?”

Kate felt James stiffen slightly beside her. She opened her mouth, struggling for the words, but James beat her to it.

“That’s private, Noah,” he said gently but firmly. “Adult business. I know things have felt tense lately, but this baby isn’t the reason for that. It’s a blessing. A part of our family. And we’re both really, really happy about it.”

Kate nodded, but Noah’s gaze didn’t waver.

There was still so much uncertainty there.

And then—

Noah tilted his head, lips quirking into a smirk that looked far too much like his father’s.

“Well...I guess you obviously didn’t follow the contraceptive advice you gave me , huh?”

Silence.

A loud, heavy, unbearable silence.

Lily blinked, her head tilting in confusion. “What’s contra—”

“ Noah. ” Kate’s face flamed, heat rushing up her neck as she stared at her son in disbelief.

James groaned, covering his face with one hand. Noah’s smirk died as he considered the implications of his joke.

“Forget I said that. Seriously. Forget it.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, cheeks turning as red as Kate’s felt.

James shook his head, half-laughing despite the tension.

Kate took a steadying breath, her heart still racing, but when she looked back at Lily—

She was still beaming.

Completely oblivious to the awkwardness, just filled with pure, unfiltered excitement.

“Mommy, can I help with the nursery? Please? ”

Kate softened, the tension easing just a little.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. We’ll all work on it together.”

James cleared his throat, his voice quieter but steady.

“I’ll help too. We can paint it together. Make it perfect.”

Kate felt his hand brush hers, tentative, and then his fingers curled gently around hers, warm and familiar. She didn’t pull away.

For just a heartbeat, she let herself believe it.

Let herself sink into the moment—their daughter’s joy, James’s hand holding hers, this picture of a family whole and happy.

Like nothing had ever broken.

Like there were no cracks beneath the surface, no betrayal lingering in the shadows.

What a beautiful moment this would have been—if she could believe it was real.

But even as she clung to his hand, the ache remained, quiet but relentless, whispering: You can’t pretend forever.

══════════════════

Silverware clinked against plates and Lily chattered happily away while she focused on pushing peas around her plate. Noah gave the occasional teenage grunt in response to direct questions from Kate or James.

Beneath the conversation, Kate could feel the tension. Sitting stiffly on the far side of the table, jaw tight, her eyes narrowing every time James spoke, Leah ate mostly in silence.

James, for his part, was keeping his head down, answering Lily’s occasional questions with a calm, steady patience that only Kate could see was strained.

It felt like the tension was pressing against her chest, heavier with every second that passed.

Kate couldn’t blame Leah.

Her sister had always been protective, fiercely loyal. And James—well, he had hurt Kate in the deepest, rawest way imaginable.

But still, watching Leah shoot daggers at him across the table made something unexpected twist inside her.

A surge of—

Defensiveness.

She didn’t want to feel it. She shouldn’t feel it. Leah was being a good sister. She had every right to be angry at James, to hold him accountable for the damage he’d done.

And yet, seeing him sit there, quiet, hurting—

No.

He deserved it.

Didn't he?

The confusion was overwhelming.

Her hormones were already making everything feel like too much lately. The pregnancy symptoms were coming stronger now—aches, fatigue, nausea still lingering at the edges—and now this?

This ache in her chest, a storm she couldn’t sort through?

Her throat tightened painfully, her heart pounding faster.

She couldn’t make sense of it.

She hated him for what he’d done.

But part of her still loved him, still wanted to protect him. And that terrified her.

The pressure built, pressing so hard against her ribs it felt like she might burst.

Kate set her fork down, her hand trembling.

The loud scrape of metal against porcelain made everyone look up.

Lily blinked, her fork pausing midair.

Noah raised an eyebrow.

Leah was watching her closely now, brow furrowing in concern.

James noticed too. He lifted his head, his gaze softening instantly.

“Kate?” His voice was gentle, careful.

And just like that—

The tears came.

Hot. Unstoppable.

Kate pressed her hands over her face, shoulders shaking as the sob escaped, ragged and painful.

“Oh, honey,” Leah said instantly, standing so fast her chair scraped against the floor. She was at Kate’s side in seconds, wrapping her arms around her. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

Kate crumpled into her sister’s embrace, barely registering anything else.

The pain, the confusion, the swirling emotions she couldn’t name—

It was too much.

James’s voice came from somewhere in the background, quiet but steady.

“Noah, Lily—why don’t we head to the living room for a bit, okay? Give Mom and Aunt Leah some space.”

Lily hesitated, her face scrunched in worry. “Is Mommy okay?”

“She’s okay, sweetheart. I promise,” James said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple as he gently guided both children from the room.

Kate barely heard the retreating footsteps.

All she could feel was Leah holding her, whispering quiet reassurances she couldn’t fully process.

Until, suddenly—

The embrace shifted.

The scent of James’s cologne, warm and familiar, surrounded her.

The arms around her changed—stronger, broader.

James.

She stiffened at first, the fresh ache of betrayal rising—

But then he whispered against her hair, voice breaking.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Let it out, Kate. I’ve got you.”

And she shattered all over again.

Sobbing into his chest, her fists curling weakly against his shirt, her whole body trembling as the emotions finally overwhelmed her.

James just held her tighter.

His hand cradled the back of her head, the other splayed wide across her back, as though he could physically shield her from every ache, every hurt.

And in his voice, so raw and unsteady, was nothing but pain .

“I’m so sorry. God, Kate, I am so sorry. I hate that I did this to you. I hate that I’ve hurt you this much.”

The tears wouldn’t stop. She felt weak and messy and raw—

And somehow, he felt steady.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips pressing into her hair. “I love you more than I ever knew how to say. And I’m going to protect you, Kate. Body and soul. For the rest of my life, no matter what it takes.”

Kate didn’t respond.

She couldn’t.

But she felt the sincerity in his words.

Felt the ache in the way he held her.

And for a fleeting moment—

She let herself believe him.

══════════════════

Kate stood in the center of the room, barefoot on the cool floor, her easel set up in front of the massive window.

The late afternoon light streamed through the tall window, bathing the studio in golden warmth. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams, and the faint scent of fresh paint lingered in the air.

Her heart pounded as she stared at the unfinished canvas propped against the wall.

The angry strokes and chaotic swirls of color glared back at her, full of jagged edges and harsh contrasts. It was the canvas she’d started weeks ago, back when her emotions felt like they were too big to contain.

Confusion. Fear. Rage.

All of it poured out onto that piece, layer by messy layer, raw and unfiltered.

But now?

Now, standing here, in this space James had created for her, with the soft hum of the garden outside and the faint murmur of birdsong in the distance—

It didn’t feel right anymore.

She reached out tentatively, running her fingers over the uneven texture of the paint. It was rough beneath her fingertips, the edges still sharp and unforgiving.

She’d carried that sharpness inside her for so long, letting it harden into armor.

But the weight of it was unbearable now.

Kate exhaled, setting the unfinished canvas aside.

Her eyes drifted to the blank canvas waiting on the easel, its untouched surface both daunting and inviting.

She hesitated, her fingers tightening on the palette knife.

What now?

Her mind flashed back to the night before, the warmth of James’s arms around her, the way his voice had broken as he promised to protect her.

She hadn’t said anything in return.

She wasn’t ready to.

But the memory of it lingered—steady and grounding, like a small light breaking through the storm.

Her chest tightened, her throat thick with unspoken emotion.

She didn’t want to paint the chaos anymore.

Not today.

Kate dipped her brush into a soft, warm color—something golden and earthy. She started with slow, deliberate strokes, letting her hand move instinctively, without overthinking.

The colors began to layer—golden hues blending into muted blues, soft greens merging with gentle creams.

The jagged edges she’d painted before were gone now. Replaced with something fluid, something softer.

She wasn’t trying to replicate anything specific. It wasn’t about form or detail.

It was about feeling .

The warmth of his embrace.

The steady rhythm of his breathing.

The way his hand cradled the back of her head, anchoring her when she felt like she might fall apart.

Her movements quickened as the image in her mind took shape—not a literal representation of him, but an expression of what that moment had meant.

Safety.

Comfort.

A fragile kind of hope.

The studio was quiet except for the sound of her brush against the canvas.

She lost track of time, pouring herself into the piece, layer by layer, until the colors glowed with a quiet warmth that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

When she finally stepped back, her chest ached in a way that wasn’t painful but full.

The painting wasn’t perfect.

It didn’t have to be.

But it felt right.

Kate set her brush down, wiping her hands on the apron she’d tied around her waist.

Her gaze lingered on the canvas, her fingers unconsciously pressing against her chest as though trying to hold the feeling there.

For the first time in weeks, the weight inside her didn’t feel so unbearable. It wasn’t gone—she wasn’t sure if it ever would be.

But this? This was a start.

She turned her head slightly as the faint sound of footsteps reached her ears.

James was standing just outside the open door, watching her quietly, his hands shoved into his pockets. He hadn’t said a word, but the look in his eyes was tender, careful, as though he knew this moment wasn’t for him.

And yet, she didn’t feel the need to send him away.

She turned back to the canvas, exhaling softly. This wasn’t about forgiveness. It wasn’t about them, or the betrayal, or the storm they were still weathering.

It was about finding her way back to herself.