Page 105 of The Hotel Room

Kate sighed, drying her hands with a dish towel. “Come on,” she said softly, nodding toward the back door.

Leah raised an eyebrow but followed her outside.

They crossed the garden, the late afternoon sun casting warm golden light over the shed at the far end. As they approached, Kate hesitated, her hands twisting nervously.

James had done so much work to make the space hers. She felt protective of it, of what it represented, and of the vulnerable pieces of herself she had poured onto the canvases inside.

Still, she pushed the door open, stepping aside to let Leah in first.

Leah walked in and stopped, her eyes widening as she took in the space.

“Wow,” she said softly, turning in a slow circle. The sunlight streamed through the large window, spilling across the tidy shelves of paints and brushes, the blank canvases stacked neatly in the corner, and the easel standing proudly in the center of the room.

“James did all this?” Leah asked, glancing at her sister with raised eyebrows.

Kate nodded, her cheeks warm. “Yeah. He...he wanted me to have a space to paint. A space just for me.”

Leah turned to her, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small smile, she said, “That’s...really sweet.”

Kate didn’t respond, her throat tightening.

Leah’s gaze drifted to the canvases propped against the wall, the edges of some faintly smeared with color. “Are those yours?”

Kate hesitated. “They’re not finished.”

Leah looked at her, her voice gentle. “Can I see?”

With a shaky breath, Kate nodded, crossing the room to pick up one of the canvases. It was one of the first she had started after James finished the studio—a chaotic swirl of reds and blacks, streaked with jagged lines of white and gray.

“I was working through some things,” Kate said quietly, holding it out.

Leah studied the painting, her brows furrowing. “Kate,” she murmured, her voice soft but heavy with emotion. “This is...it’s powerful. Angry. Sad. But beautiful.”

Kate swallowed hard, her hands trembling slightly as she set the canvas aside and picked up another. This one was newer, softer—a blend of blues and greens, a streak of yellow light cutting through the center.

“This one,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “is what I was feeling after...after James held me the other night. Like...like there was hope again.”

Leah stared at the painting, her lips parting slightly, her eyes glistening.

“You’ve always had a gift, Katie,” she said, her voice thick. “Even back in high school, your paintings were incredible. But this? This is something else. This is...it’s you.”

Kate’s chest tightened, and she blinked back tears as she carefully leaned the canvas back against the wall.

Leah stepped forward, resting her hands on Kate’s shoulders, her voice firm but full of warmth. “I’m so proud of you,” she said. “For finding this again. For letting yourself have something that’s just yours.”

Kate let out a shaky laugh, the tears slipping down her cheeks now. “I’m scared, Leah,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can forgive him. And even if I do, what does that say about me? What kind of person goes back to a man who cheats on her?”

Leah’s expression softened, and she pulled Kate into a hug. “Katie, cheated—past tense—right?” she asked gently.

Kate let out a small, tearful laugh. “Definitely.”

Leah stepped back slightly, brushing a tear from Kate’s cheek. “Then that’s all that matters. You’ll figure it out. And whatever you decide, I’ve got your back.”

Kate hesitated, then gave a weak smile. “It’s so obvious now,” she said, a hint of bitterness creeping into her tone. “I could tell something weird was going on with him. He’s such a terrible liar.”

Leah raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Honestly, that’s one of his best qualities.”

Kate laughed through her tears, the sound rough but genuine.

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