Page 37 of The Valentine Agenda

"You have cream in your coffee." The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

"Yes?" She looked confused. "Every morning. I know you've seen me—" She stopped, realizing what she'd admitted. That she'd noticed him noticing her. That there was a history here neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

James took a sip of his coffee to cover the moment. The cream softened the bitter edges, making it something altogether different. Something better.

Just like Hannah did to him.

A laugh from the counter drew her attention. He watched Hannah watch Pete attempt to juggle coffee beans, her smile uninhibited and real. Nothing like the careful social laughs he was used to, the ones calibrated for maximum effect at minimum emotional cost.

"He's been practicing for weeks," she said, misinterpreting James's look. "Says it'll help him win the barista competition next month."

James found himself caring about whether Pete won. It was a strange feeling.

"There are barista competitions?"

Hannah's face lit up, and James learned that her hands moved when she talked about things she loved, her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled without thinking about it.

His phone buzzed. Probably another email about the Sinclair merger. James ignored it.

"This has been…really nice." Hannah glanced at his phone. "But I'm sure you have somewhere else to be."

The question was casual, but James heard the echo of Nero's in it. Of all the times he'd had somewhere else to be.

"No," he said firmly. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

The honest surprise in her eyes hurt more than any accusation could have.

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As they walked back toward their building, James realized he hadn't checked his email in hours. Hadn't thought about the Sinclair merger or the Mitchell acquisition or any of the thousand things that usually occupied his mind.

Instead, he'd learned how Hannah took her coffee, what made her laugh for real. He'd discovered that she hummed under her breath when she was comfortable, that she liked to eat ice cream in winter, that she moved through the world like it was a friendlier place than he'd ever imagined.

And somehow, impossibly, she was letting him move through it with her.

His phone buzzed. James Park, important businessman, turned it off completely.

Some things, he was learning, were more important than Instagram posts and business deals.

He just wished he'd realized it sooner.

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Two days later, he found himself looking for her again. They had fallen into an easy rhythm—passing each other in the lobby, brief conversations stretching just a little longer each time.

Today he found her in the community room, helping Mrs. Peterson with what looked like a knitting project. She glanced up when he entered, her expression carefully neutral.

"Hannah." His voice came out less smooth than usual. "Do you like food trucks?"

Mrs. Peterson's eyebrows shot up, but Hannah's face remained composed. "That's an unexpected question."

"There's supposed to be a good one. In the park." James ran a hand through his hair. “I’d like to take you tomorrow evening. If you're interested."

He could feel Mrs. Peterson watching this exchange with undisguised fascination, but all he cared about was the tiny flicker in Hannah's eyes.

"I do like food trucks."

"Is that a yes?"

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