This seemed to make him happy because that carefree smile was back. “I’ll show you the rooms we hire out,” he said, now leading me past the stacks to a hall with natural lighting from long narrow windows near the tall ceiling. There were several rooms, each of them big enough for my support group meeting, with chairs and tables.

“And it’s free?”

“It is if I make it free,” he said with a wink. “We’re allowed to make a discretionary call on hiring fees. If it’s a community-based meeting, then yes, definitely. If you were making money or profiting from the meetings, I’d totally charge you.”

I chuckled. “Just as well I do it for the love of it then, isn’t it?”

“We can go downstairs and I’ll check the schedule and availability.”

“Perfect. And thank you. I’m impressed.”

He rolled his eyes but he blushed and held the door open for me, waiting for me to walk through first. “And a gentleman?”

He rolled his eyes again and mumbled something under his breath, and as we walked out, there was an older woman at the top of the stairs with her arms full of books.

“Mrs Alvarez,” Jordan called out, rushing to her side. “How many times have we had the ‘there is an elevator’ conversation?”

“Ah, Jordan,” Mrs Alvarez said, looking up at him and smiling. “What are you in for today? It’s your day off.”

“Oh, I was just showing my friend here the meeting rooms we hire out,” he said. “Here, give me your books. Let me carry them for you.” He took her books under one arm and offered her his elbow, and they slowly descended the stairs. She held the handrail, and how on earth she ever thought she was going to manage those stairs carrying that pile books on her own, I’d never know. But I walked behind them and listened to their idle chitchat, and I was sure of one thing. Jordan was a really, really decent guy.

He walked her over to the service counter and said hi to the woman who was working and handed Mrs Alvarez’s books over, then asked if she minded if he had a quick look at the reservation listings for the rooms upstairs.

Two minutes later, Jordan had a booking screen up on one of the computers and was scrolling through dates and times. “How often do you meet?” He looked up then, and I hadn’t realised we were standing so close together. His eyes really were the prettiest greyish-blue.

“Oh, uh, the last Friday of the month. Six thirty till required. We never go past eight.”

He looked at my lips and blushed again, then turned back to the computer. “Easy. One room free, if you want it. You might need to send everyone a text alert about the venue change.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good idea.”