Page 124 of The Hotel Room

She pressed her free hand to her stomach, feeling the faint curve of her growing bump. The baby deserved a family. But what kind of example would she set if she took back a man who had betrayed her so deeply?

Her hand faltered. She dipped the brush into white this time, dragging it across the chaos in long, deliberate strokes. The movement steadied her breathing.

She thought of James kneeling in front of her, his voice trembling as he told her he understood why she might never forgive him. She thought of the way he held Lily’s hand, the way he hugged Noah. And she thought of him in the nursery last week, painting the walls for their unborn child.

Her movements slowed. The white blended into the darker colors, softening the edges, brightening the storm. She reached for the gold next, spreading it with her fingers, the metallic shimmer catching the light as it curved into soft, hopeful shapes.

He was doing everything he could to prove he was different now. Therapy, the studio, the job, the house—every decision he made was rooted in showing her, not just telling her, that he was trying.

Kate stepped back, wiping her paint-streaked hands on a rag. The canvas was still chaotic, but there was something else now—something that felt like light breaking through.

She hated that forgiving him felt like weakness. But maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was strength. The strength to choose hope. The strength to move forward, even when the path was uncertain.

Kate closed her eyes, pressing the rag against her lips to muffle a shaky breath. James had hurt her in a way that would never fully fade, but he was also the man who had loved her fiercely, who had built this life with her, and who was now willing to let her decide its future.

Her eyes opened, lingering on the gold streaks on the canvas.

Maybe forgiveness wasn’t about erasing the pain. Maybe it was about giving herself permission to let the love they’d shared coexist with the scars he’d left behind.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

James

The savory scent of chicken and garlic hit James the moment he stepped through the door, warm and inviting. His stomach growled, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

He shrugged off his jacket, hung it on the hook, and toed off his shoes, listening to the sounds of life from the kitchen—the clinking of plates, the murmur of conversation, Lily’s unmistakable giggle. It was the sound of home, but it didn’t feel like it used to.

The letter he’d left for Kate weighed heavy on his mind. He’d poured everything into it—his accountability, his remorse, his love—and then left it in her hands, terrified of what she might think, of what she might feel. He ran a hand over his face, steeling himself as he walked toward the dining room.

Noah was already seated, scrolling on his phone, pretending not to be paying attention but undoubtedly taking in every word. Lily was bouncing slightly in her chair, trying to decide between mashed potatoes and peas. Kate was setting the final dish on the table, her movements efficient but calm, her face unreadable.

She glanced up as he entered, and their eyes met. For a brief moment, his heart leapt, hoping for some clue, some flicker ofhow she felt about the letter. But her expression was soft, steady—impossible to read.

“You’re just in time,” she said simply, gesturing to the chair at the head of the table.

James swallowed, nodding as he slid into his seat. He noticed the subtle details immediately—the plates already set, the food still steaming. She’d timed dinner for his arrival.

His chest ached. It was such a small gesture, but it felt monumental. Was this just the polite routine of a co-parent, ensuring the children didn’t notice the tension between them? Or was it something else?

He didn’t know.

It felt like he lived in two timelines at once.

In one, he was here with her—basking in her warmth, in the glow of her presence, sharing the life they had built. But he wasn’t really hers. He was a guest in her world, allowed to co-parent their children, to sit at the same table, to watch her from a distance. But not to touch. Not to love.

In the other, he was her husband again, for real. Her partner in every sense. In that timeline, he could reach for her hand across the table, lean over to kiss her cheek, make her laugh the way he used to.

Both timelines played out in his mind as he picked up his fork and dug into his food, the weight of her gaze lingering on him like a whisper he couldn’t quite hear.

“Dad, can I have the last drumstick?” Lily’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

James smiled faintly and nodded. “Of course, Lils. It’s all yours.”

She beamed, reaching for it with sticky fingers and immediately launching into a story about her day at school. Noah mumbled something about homework being unfair, and Kate responded with a soft chuckle, the sound so familiar it made James’s throat tighten.

He glanced at her, sitting just to his right, her hair tucked behind her ear as she listened to Lily ramble. She looked beautiful, as always—serene in a way that belied the turmoil he knew she still carried.

Does this mean she’s letting me in again?

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