Page 11 of The Valentine Agenda

She managed to focus for almost ten whole minutes before catching herself wondering what color the wine had been, and if he'd been wearing that blue tie she liked.

------------------

The building had officially gone overboard with Valentine's decorations. The latest romantic invasion was the giant Cupid cutout by the elevators, complete with a light-up arrow.

"Tasteful, isn't it?" Mrs. Chen commented dryly as Hannah helped her sort her mail. "Like being inside a candy box."

Hannah laughed, but her eyes drifted to James's mailbox. She'd started timing her own mail collection around when shethought he might appear, though she'd die before admitting that to anyone. Oddly, he'd seemed to be been checking it more regularly lately.

Like now.

"Excuse me," he said, and Hannah nearly dropped the cards. He was speaking to her. Actually speaking to her. Her heart did that ridiculous flutter it always did when he acknowledged her existence, and she silently prayed Mrs. Chen couldn't hear it hammering against her ribs.

"Do you know if the mail's been delivered yet?" Even his voice was beautiful. It was warm and rich and Hannah could feel herself blushing.

"Yes," she managed, proud of how steady her voice sounded despite the way her pulse was racing. "About an hour ago." Had that been too much information? Should she have just said yes? Was she overthinking every word like a lovesick teenager?

He nodded, already turning to his mailbox. Hannah forced herself to keep arranging cards, even as she watched his reflection in the brass mail slots. He sorted through his mail quickly, efficient as always, but she noticed him pause on what looked like a fancy invitation.

The way his fingers drummed once against the envelope made her want to press her hands to her burning cheeks.

"The Morrison's gala," Mrs. Chen said suddenly, making Hannah jump. She'd forgotten the older woman was still there. "They throw it every year. Very exclusive."

James glanced up, seeming to really notice Mrs. Chen for the first time. "Yes," James said, fingers drumming once against his envelope. "I suppose I'll be attending alone this year."

Was it Hannah's imagination, or did his eyes flick briefly to her?

"Alone is not always lonely," Mrs. Chen said in that cryptic way of hers. "Sometimes it is simply waiting."

James's brow furrowed slightly, but before he could respond, his phone buzzed. Just like that, the moment was gone. He was back to being unreachable James Park, striding toward the exit with his mail tucked under his arm.

"You're blushing," Mrs. Chen observed once he'd left.

"It's warm in here," Hannah protested. "All these decorations probably block the ventilation."

Mrs. Chen's knowing smile said she wasn't fooled. "The heart has its own temperature, dear one."

------------------

James seemed to appear in the lobby more regularly, his previously unpredictable schedule suddenly developing a rhythm that matched hers perfectly. Their interactions were brief—a nod here, a murmured greeting there—but each one made her heart flutter like a trapped bird.

The Valentine's decorations multiplied, glitter everywhere. Tom and Maggie Abbott celebrated their anniversary with a small gathering in the community room, and Hannah caughtJames watching from the doorway as she helped serve cake. She could feel his eyes on her as she cut each slice.

"Young man," Mr. Abbott called out. "Join us! Plenty of cake to go around."

James looked startled, then checked his watch. "I have a meeting," he said, but he hesitated longer than usual before walking away. Hannah noticed how his eyes lingered on her.

That evening, Hannah spent far too long staring at her own reflection in the elevator doors, wondering if she should wear her hair down tomorrow. If she should wear her nicest cardigan—the one she'd noticed him noticing last week when she'd helped Mrs. Chen with groceries. If she was reading far too much into brief encounters and lingering glances, into the way he'd started saying her name like it was something worth taking time to pronounce properly.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Sophie:Remember when you promised to come to kickboxing instead of mooning over unavailable men?

He's not unavailable anymore, Hannah typed back before she could stop herself.And I don't remember promising that.

Her fingers hovered over the phone, wanting to tell Sophie about how different he seemed lately—more present, more aware, more... interested.

No. Whatever you're thinking, no. I can feel you overthinking from here.

But for once, Hannah didn't feel like she was overthinking. Something was different. The way James had started arriving at the mail room at predictable times. The way his eyes would follow her, studying her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. The way he'd almost stayed for anniversary cake.

---