The fluorescent lights hum overhead, filling the silence where Mr. DeLuca’s advice would go if he had any.
By early afternoon, my to-do list has been completed.
My phone buzzes. I expect an appointment reminder or an email inquiry about a memorial service. Or maybe a message from Irene checking in to ensure I haven’t burned the place down. But it’s none of that.
A photo. Levi, sun-drenched and indecently cheerful, freckles scattered across his nose like constellations. Behind him, flowers in every shade imaginable. The caption readsHard at work, clearly.
I stare at it longer than necessary. I should ignore it. There’s work I could do, paperwork to pretend to file. Instead, I’ve got my keys in hand before I’ve even fully decided to leave.
I’ve learned Stonevale’s farmers market doesn’t believe in things like “weekends.” It runs whenever the town feels like gathering. And for a weekday, the town square is packed anyway. Most of Stonevale’s businesses close early to mingle in a patchwork of tents and stalls, each bursting with local produce, handmade goods, and the kind of community cheer I tend to avoid.
But not today.
Maybe it’s the weather, the hum of a street performer. Or maybe it’s just Levi, smiling at strangers, existing the way he does. Unapologetically turned up, like he’s never once thought to dim himself.
I spot him before he sees me.
His booth is a riot of color. Blooms spilling over the edges, their petals catching the daylight vibrantly. He’s talking animatedly to a customer, his hands moving wildly as he explains plant care with that infectious smile. The one that feels like it’s meant for everyone yet still manages to hit me square in the chest.
When his gaze finally lands on me, his whole face lights up.
I brace for impact.
“Hayden!”
He rounds the booth before I can mentally prepare, pulling me into a hug without hesitation. I stand there, stiff, because truly, what the hell do I do with my hands? I force myself to relax, before he pulls away, grinning like I’ve just made his day by existing in his proximity.
“You’re…here!”
“I was in the area.” Even my lies sound like confessions around him.
Levi’s eyes flick toward city hall across the square, that maddening perceptive glint in them. “Aka your favorite place in Stonevale?” I shrug, pretending not to hear the question, and thankfully, he continues, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I thought you didn’t like crowds.”
“I don’t.” I glance around pointedly. “This confirms it.”
He laughs, nudging me playfully. “Well, you’ve either had a personality transplant, or you missed me.”
“Third option: I needed fresh air.”
“Mm-hm, sure,” he says, not buying it.
Before I can come up with a better deflection, a young woman pops up from behind the booth, her clipboard in hand like she’s conducting a high-stakes mission.
“Hayden, right?” She’s all smiles, clearly thrilled to rope me into whatever plan she’s masterminding. “You should sponsor a flower bed. A donation gets your name on a plaque and my eternal gratitude.” She’s armed with facts, stats, and a pitch that could charm a brick wall. “We’re raising funds for irrigation upgrades,” she adds proudly, like this isn’t her first time strong-arming donors for Levi’s cause.
Levi rolls his eyes fondly. “And this is myincrediblypassionate intern, Naomi.”
I glance at Naomi, then back to Levi, who’s turned to help another inquiring customer. Without overthinking it, which seems to be a theme for me lately, I pull out my wallet.
Two, I mouth, reaching for my credit card.
Her eyes light up as she extends the card reader she had at the ready.
By the time Levi turns back, I’m pretending to inspect a pot of succulents.
“You sponsored one?” he asks, surprised.
I shrug. “Seemed like a good cause.”
