Chapter Twenty-Seven - James
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
James
The room was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. James listened to the gentle rhythm of Kate’s breathing as she lay on her side, her back to him on their bed.
Their bed. Their bed.
The thought filled James with a kind of bittersweet reverence. How close he had come to losing this—to losing her .
He didn’t know what would happen when the baby came. When Kate no longer needed the physical support of sharing a bed for her comfort—what then?
Would she ask him to move out of their bedroom? Would he have to leave their house entirely?
He’d do it without complaint. Whatever she asked of him, he would do.
But God, the thought of it—of being physically away from her again—made his chest ache in ways he couldn’t describe.
Kate shifted slightly, adjusting the pillow beneath her head, and he caught the faintest wince in her expression.
“You okay?” he murmured softly, his voice low so as not to disturb the stillness.
She nodded, but her shoulders remained tense. “It’s just my back,” she admitted quietly. “It’s been sore all day.”
James moved without hesitation, sliding closer until he was kneeling beside her.
“Let me,” he said gently, his hands already reaching for her.
She didn’t resist, just exhaled a long breath as he rested his palms lightly on her lower back.
Her body felt warm beneath his touch, the curve of her spine familiar, the subtle shift of her muscles as she adjusted to him instinctive.
James began to knead carefully, his fingers pressing and rolling along the knots he could feel beneath her skin. He started slow, mindful of her comfort, gradually increasing the pressure as her breathing deepened.
This wasn’t new.
He’d done this for her during both of her previous pregnancies. He knew exactly where the tension gathered, the spots that needed the most attention, the places that would make her sigh softly when he got them just right.
As he worked, his thoughts drifted—not to the present, but to the man he’d been not so long ago. The man who had stood in that soulless hotel room, tangled in sheets with a stranger, chasing something he couldn’t even define.
He remembered the fleeting thrill of it, the adrenaline rush that had masked the shame he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. He remembered the stranger’s body, the mechanical motions, the way he’d thrust himself toward a release that felt hollow before it was even over.
It had been physical, yes. But emotional?
Empty.
Carnal pleasure forged in emotional hell.
And now, here he was, kneeling on their bed, his hands moving over Kate’s back with a reverence he couldn’t put into words.
This.
This simple act of easing her discomfort, of helping her relax enough to sleep—this was more intimate, more profound, more pleasurable than anything he had experienced in that hollow, meaningless encounter.
Kate sighed softly beneath his hands, her shoulders loosening under his touch.
James swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion.
This was what he wanted to dedicate his life to.
Not desperate, selfish grasping at some fleeting illusion of freedom.
This.
Her .
Being with her. Supporting her. Protecting her. Uplifting her. Loving her, in every way he could, for as long as she would let him.
He would be here, no matter what. Whether she let him stay in her bed, in her life, in her heart—whatever she allowed, he would honor it.
His fingers moved up to her shoulders now, working gently at the tension there, careful not to press too hard. Her breathing slowed, evening out into a soft, steady rhythm, and he knew she was falling asleep.
The room felt impossibly quiet, but his thoughts were loud, overwhelming.
He had hurt her so deeply, fractured the trust she had given him so completely and freely for so many years.
But she was still here.
Still letting him in.
Still letting him touch her.
His chest ached with gratitude and guilt, the weight of it pressing heavy against his ribs.
“I love you,” he whispered, so softly he wasn’t even sure if she could hear it.
Her breathing didn’t change.
But his hands didn’t stop.
He would keep doing this—keep showing her with every action, every touch, every word, just how much she meant to him.
Because this, here, with her?
This was home.
This was love.
This was everything .
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The kettle hissed softly on the stovetop, the rising steam fogging the kitchen window as James leaned against the counter. He cradled a mug in one hand, the other drumming idly against the counter as he waited for the water to boil.
Kate was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands resting on her belly in that absent-minded way she’d been doing more often lately. The gold band of her wedding ring caught the soft morning light. She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze focused somewhere on the table, distant and unreadable.
He hated the distance.
Hated knowing he’d put it there.
The moments they spent together now were like this—quiet, tentative, like walking on eggshells, every glance and word heavy with unspoken things.
The kettle whistled, and James moved quickly, pouring the boiling water into the mug and carefully dunking the tea bag in and out. He knew how she liked it—just a little milk, no sugar—and he focused on getting it right, the simple act grounding him in a way nothing else could.
When he set the steaming mug in front of her, he didn’t expect her to speak.
“I used to think it was special,” she said softly, her voice catching him off guard.
James froze for a moment, his hand lingering on the edge of the table. “What was?”
Kate didn’t look at him, her fingers tracing slow circles along the edge of the mug.
“That we’d only ever been with each other,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “It felt...sacred. Like it was this thing that set us apart. Like it made what we had stronger.”
James felt his stomach twist, the familiar wave of self-loathing rising hard and fast.
“I thought so too,” he said hoarsely, his throat tight. “I swear I did, Kate.”
Her gaze lifted to his then, sharp and full of pain.
“Did you?” she asked, her voice trembling now. “Because if it felt that way to you, then how could you...how could you throw it away so easily?”
He swallowed hard, his chest aching as he pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.
“I let myself believe...stupid things,” he admitted, his voice rough. “That I was missing out. That I’d never figured out who I really was outside of us. It was never about us. It was about me. My own selfishness. My own insecurity.”
She blinked, her lips trembling as she tried to hold herself steady.
“You said you felt trapped,” she said softly. “I thought what we had was beautiful, James. That it was something we built together. And you...you thought of it as something that held you back?”
“No.” His voice cracked, and he reached across the table, his hand stopping short of hers. “Kate, no. That’s not how I feel. I didn’t understand it then. But I do now.”
She didn’t respond, her gaze dropping back to the mug, her hands gripping it tightly.
James exhaled shakily, the words spilling out before he could stop them.
“I’ve been working on this in therapy,” he said quietly. “Trying to figure out why I got so turned around in my head. I let myself believe that being a husband, being a dad—that those things were just surface roles. That they weren’t... me . But I was wrong, Kate. God, I was so wrong.”
Her eyes lifted to his, shimmering with unshed tears, but she didn’t speak.
James swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he forced himself to continue.
“That is who I am. Your husband. That’s me. That’s my core. And I hate—God, I hate —that it took me this long to see it. I hate that I hurt you to figure it out. I hate that I destroyed something so beautiful, so sacred, just because I was too stupid to see what was right in front of me. I love you, Kate.”
Her tears spilled over then, her lips quivering as she whispered, “Say it again.”
He leaned forward, his hand finally brushing hers, his voice raw.
“I love you,” he said, the words heavy with emotion. “I love you so much, Kate. More than I can put into words. You’re my heart. My home. I’ll never stop hating myself for what I did. There’s this...this stain inside me now, something I can’t undo. Something I’ll carry forever.”
She let out a soft, broken sound, her fingers tightening around the mug as her tears fell freely.
James felt his own eyes burn, his throat tightening as he continued.
“But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right. Whether you forgive me or not, whether we’re together or not—I’ll never stop trying to make this right. I’ll protect you, Kate. I’ll protect you and this family for as long as I live.”
Her shoulders shook, her breath hitching as the weight of his words hung in the air.
For a long moment, she didn’t respond.
Then she let out a trembling breath, her voice barely audible.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” she whispered. “Not yet.”
“I know,” he said softly, his own voice breaking. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever.”