Page 39 of The Valentine Agenda

Hannah's step faltered slightly. He'd actually remembered that conversation from the community room. "Yes. He's using sunshine to communicate happiness."

"Smart kid."

"They all are, in their own ways." Hannah found herself talking about her students—how Sarah used glitter to show joy, how Michael painted anxiety as fog. She waited for James's attention to drift, for him to check his phone or steer the conversation toward business.

Instead, he asked questions. Real ones, about her teaching philosophy and art therapy techniques. His genuine interest was more dangerous than any calculated charm.

"What about you?" she asked, desperate to shift focus. "How's the Sinclair merger?"

Something flickered across his face. "It's... fine. Moving forward."

"You don't sound very excited about it."

"Don't I?" He seemed genuinely surprised. "It's a good deal. Important for the company's growth. The board is pleased with the projections..."

Hannah noticed he was reciting achievements, not sharing passion. Nothing like how she talked about her students. The observation felt too intimate somehow.

"Ice cream?" James nodded toward Angelo's, the tiny parlor she loved. "Unless you'd prefer somewhere more..."

"More expensive?" The words came out sharper than intended.

But James just smiled—that new smile that made him look younger somehow. "More anything."

Angelo's felt it like belonged in a different era. The handwritten menu board advertised flavors like "Better Than Math Homework Chocolate" and "Rainy Day Vanilla." The owner, Mr. Angelo himself, brightened when Hannah walked in.

"Hannah! And you brought a friend!" Mr. Angelo's accent was pure Brooklyn, his joy genuine. "Try the new flavor—inspired by that story you told about your students' weather paintings."

James leaned forward, interested. "You inspire ice cream flavors?"

"Just the one," Hannah mumbled, but her cheeks warmed as Mr. Angelo launched into the story of how her students' community art projects had inspired "Storm Cloud Silver Lining"—vanilla ice cream with swirls of dark chocolate and hidden caramel pockets.

She watched, something fluttering in her chest, as James leaned on the counter, asking about the recipe development with genuine curiosity. Hannah found herself studying his profile, the way his guard had completely dropped as he debated the merits of different chocolate percentages with the enthusiastic shop owner. This wasn't the James Park who'd left her at Nero's. This was someone new. Someone real.

"Try mine?" James offered his spoon—dark chocolate with sea salt. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, and Hannah's pulse jumped. She offered her own cone in return—Storm Cloud Silver Lining, of course. Something shifted in James's expression as he tasted it.

"The caramel," he said softly. "Hidden but worth finding."

Hannah looked away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

The walk home felt different. They moved closer together, their steps falling into natural rhythm. The city's usual chaos felt distant, muted by the evening's gentle possibility.

"I like this," James said quietly.

"Ice cream?"

"Simple things." He gestured vaguely at the neighborhood around them. "Real things."

Hannah's heart did that traitorous flutter again. Because this James—slightly rumpled, genuine, talking about real things—was so much more dangerous than the polished businessman who'd left her at Nero's.

That James, she'd learned to guard against. This one...

"Thank you," he said as they reached the lobby. "For showing me your world."

Hannah searched his face for any trace of condescension, any hint that this was another calculated scene. She found only sincerity.

"Good night, James." She turned quickly, but his voice stopped her.

"Hannah."

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