Page 59 of The Hotel Room

It had been intimacy. Closeness. And he didn’t know if he’d ever have that again. The house—their home—felt like a hollow shell of what it had been.

He thought of the guest room. Of her painting.

She’s starting to find herself again.

And somehow, that thought both broke him and made him ache with love for her all over again.

But where would she have space for it?

A nursery would take the guest room. They could buy a bigger house. But the thought of leavingthisone?

This wasn’t just a house.

It was where they’d built their life.

They had bought it young—barely twenty—when they hadn’t known a thing about interest rates or the housing market. They hadn’t even cared.

They’d been in love.

Pregnant.

Excited.

There were marks on the doorframe where they’d measured Noah’s height every birthday. Scratches on the hardwood where Lily had dropped her dollhouse too hard. The kitchen where Kate had painted clouds on the ceiling when they couldn’t afford to repaint the whole room.

This wasn’t just bricks and drywall. This wastheir home.

And as much as he hated himself for what he’d done—for the way he’d shattered the trust that had made this house feel warm—he couldn’t bear the thought of losing it.

But more than that—

He couldn’t bear the thought of losingher.

Not again.

His hands tightened on the wheel, jaw clenched.

I have to make space for her. For the kids. For all of us.

No more pushing her into the margins of their life.

She deserved better than that.

They all did.

James felt the ache of regret shift into something else—

Determination.

When they pulled into the driveway, James stayed seated for a moment longer.

His gaze shifted toward the garden. The old shed.

There.

That was where it would begin. Not a fix. Not a grand gesture.

But a space. For her.

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