Page 62 of The Hotel Room

“And I threw that away. Like she was nothing.”

Nick’s face was unreadable now, but he nodded slightly.

“She’s strong,” James whispered. “And kind. And I keep thinking...I’ll never deserve her again. But Iwantto. I want to be her’s.”

Silence hung between them, heavier than it had ever been.

Nick shifted, staring down at his own untouched drink, then exhaled through his nose.

“Sheisamazing,” Nick said quietly, surprising James. “You’re not wrong about that.”

For a moment, James thought that was it.

But then, Nick continued, his voice lower, tighter than James had ever heard it.

“You know...I’ve never had that. What you’re describing. The kind of love where someone just...seesyou.” He gave a bitter smile. “I’ve spent so long making sure I never let anyone get close enough to hurt me that I don’t even know if I’m capable of it anymore.”

James blinked, thrown by the admission.

Nick huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “I talk a big game, right? All those women. All those casual hookups. But none of them mean anything. And Ilikeit that way. Because if it doesn’t mean anything, it can’t break you.”

James’s chest ached with something unfamiliar—empathy.

Because he saw it now.

The walls Nick kept up. The deflection. The constant rotation of women who never stayed long enough to matter.

James had almostbecomethat.

And it terrified him.

“You don’t have to live like that,” James said quietly.

Nick shook his head, exhaling hard. “You still have a shot at fixing this. And from what you just said...sounds like you’re finally figuring out how to stop making it about yourself.”

James nodded slowly, throat tight.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I am.”

Tonight the guilt felt less like a deadweight and more like a responsibility. A burden he had to carry.

But one he was willing to bear.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Kate

Kate lay awake in the guest room, the pale glow of the alarm clock casting faint numbers against the wall—2:14 a.m.

She shifted, grimacing as a dull ache radiated low in her back. The familiar discomfort had been creeping in more often lately—the same body aches she remembered from her other pregnancies. But tonight, it was worse.

Her hips felt tight, restless. Her breasts tender against the sheets.

And worst of all, the low hum of heat simmering just beneath the discomfort, making her skin feel too sensitive, too aware of the empty space beside her.

She pressed her hands over her face, exhaling sharply.

Damn hormones.

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