Page 80 of The Valentine Agenda

James's breath was steady against her neck, his arm a warm weight across her waist. Their clothes made a trail through the maze of boxes—his discarded henley draped over a box labeled"WINTER SWEATERS," her dress hanging from the corner of her dresser.

The gold apple pendant caught the moonlight as she shifted, clinking gently against its silver companion. James's fingers found them immediately, as if he couldn't help touching this physical evidence of how he saw her now.

“Should we talk about this?” she asked softly, into the quiet dark.

His hand stilled on the necklaces. “You have to know,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll take whatever you're willing to give me.”

Hannah turned in his arms, finding his face in the shadows.

"Be selfish," she whispered. "Tell me what you want."

James's breath caught. His hand slid from the necklaces to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheek with that devastating gentleness she was still learning to accept.

"You want to know what I want?" His voice was rough. "I want everything, Hannah. I want you in my bed every night. Want to wake up to you straightening pictures that don't need straightening. Want to bring you coffee exactly how you like it, just to see your smile."

His other hand tightened on her hip, pulling her closer.

"I want your cardigan collection taking up half my closet. Want your practical shoes lined up next to my dressy ones. Wantto help you grade papers and organize art shows and make this building feel even more like home."

Hannah's breath hitched as James pressed his forehead to hers.

"I want your laugh in my kitchen. Your books on my shelves. Your influence in every part of my life." His voice dropped lower, intimate. "I want everyone to know you chose me. That somehow, impossibly, you're mine."

Tears pricked at Hannah's eyes. Around them, the half-packed room felt like a promise—not of ending, but of beginning.

"I want to deserve you," James continued, his voice catching. "Want to spend every day proving I can be the man you thought I was. Want to—"

Hannah pressed her fingers to his lips, stopping the flood of words. "James."

"Mm?"

"You already are that man." She replaced her fingers with her lips, kissing him soft and sure. "And you already have everything you want."

James made a sound—something between a groan and her name—before rolling her beneath him. The sheets tangled around them, and somewhere in the darkness, a stack of papers toppled from her bedside table.

Neither of them noticed.

They were too busy choosing each other, again and again, in the moonlight between packed boxes and scattered belongings. In this room that was neither past nor future, but perfectly, beautifully now.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Epilogue

Hannah stood in apartment 8B, surrounded by moving boxes and packing paper, watching James meticulously label another container with his precise handwriting. He'd created a color-coded system for the move – red for kitchen items, blue for books, green for teaching supplies. She'd teased him about it at first, but there was something endearing about how he approached even this task with careful attention to detail.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, not because she doubted, but because she still sometimes needed to hear him say it.

James looked up from his labeling. His hair was slightly mussed from where he'd been running his fingers through it, and his shirt was covered in dust from helping her pack her classroom supplies.

The James she'd first known would have been horrified by his current disheveled state. This James just smiled at her with that soft look that made her heart flutter.

"About having your constantly tilting paintings in my perfectly arranged apartment?" He set down his marker. "About finding your teacher supplies mixed in with my financialreports? About waking up every morning to you straightening things that don't need straightening?"

Hannah felt her cheeks warm. "When you put it that way..."

"I've never been more sure of anything." He stood, crossing to where she was ineffectively folding packing paper. "Though I do have one condition."

"Oh?"

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