Page 57 of The Valentine Agenda

"I'll just..." She gestured vaguely with the grocery bags.

"I can help—" James started.

"No!" It came out too sharp. She softened her voice. "I mean, you should change. You're soaked."

"So are you," he said quietly.

Their eyes met. Hannah felt her pulse skip at the warmth in his gaze.

"Children," Mr. Thompson said with obvious amusement, "I may be old, but I'm not blind. Now, help me put away these groceries before you both catch cold making eyes at each other in my hallway."

Hannah felt her face flame. James let out a startled laugh—a real one, nothing like his polished corporate chuckle.

"Yes, sir," he said, following Mr. Thompson into his apartment.

Hannah stood frozen for a moment, then hurried after them. She had groceries to unpack. Tomatoes to arrange. Anything to focus on besides how James looked with rain in his hair and warmth in his eyes.

She was absolutely not thinking about kissing him.

She wasn't thinking about that at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

James

The rain storm transformed the city's clean lines into something wild and dangerous. James watched the downpour from his window.

His phone lit up with a weather alert: Severe storm warning. Dangerous conditions.

Before, he would have simply adjusted his schedule, canceled meetings, worked from home. But now his first thought was of Mrs. Peterson's arthritis, how the rain always made her joints swell. Of Mr. Thompson's heart condition and the medication he needed delivered tomorrow. Of Mrs. Chen, who always forgot to turn her heat up high enough.

And of Hannah.

James was moving before he finished the thought, not bothering with a tie or perfect hair or any of the thousand little details that used to matter so much. The building's backup generator was old—Hannah had mentioned it once, a quiet worry about power outages during bad weather.

The lobby was already growing cold when he reached it, the usual warmth seeping away as the storm pressed againstwindows and doors. Ray the superintendent looked up in surprise as James strode in, phone already to his ear.

"Mr. Park?" Ray blinked at him. "I didn't expect—"

"I know." James was already moving toward the service entrance, mentally cataloging what needed to be done. "The generator needs checking, and we should get extra supplies before the roads get worse. Does Mrs. Peterson still take honey in her tea?"

He didn't wait for an answer, already dialing the 24-hour pharmacy about emergency deliveries. The storm howled outside, but inside, James felt strangely calm.

He helped Mr. Thompson secure his windows against the wind. Carried groceries up for Mrs. Chen. Made sure every resident had his personal number in case they needed anything during the night.

"You don't have to do all this," Mrs. Peterson said as he adjusted her thermostat, but her eyes were knowing. "We've managed storms before."

"I know." James checked her radiator, frowning at its uneven heat. "But you shouldn't have to just manage."

His father's words echoed in his mind:Love is about showing up. Every day. In all the small ways that matter.

So he showed up.

Just like Hannah had been doing all along.

"James?" Mrs. Chen's voice made him turn. She stood in her doorway, watching him distribute emergency supplies with Ray. Her expression was soft with understanding. "You're learning."

The storm raged outside, but inside, James felt steady for the first time in weeks. Because this—this quiet attention to detail, this simple act of showing up—this was what Hannah had been trying to teach him all along.

---