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Javier steps closer and slides an arm around my waist. Noah studies us. "Good."

Mom takes my phone. "I'll get all three of you."

Noah beams. Javier's hand rests warm against my side. The picture takes two seconds. His arm stays there longer.

Noah has already moved on to telling Mom everything he knows about Goliath.

Javier looks down at me. "Bossy kid."

"He likes you."

"I like him too." Simple. No hesitation. Something warm spreads through my chest.

Someone calls Javier from across the yard. He gives my waist a light squeeze before letting go. "I'll find you later."

I watch him go. Mom steps beside me. I don't look at her. "Whatever you're thinking, keep it to yourself."

She laughs. "I was going to say it's a nice picture."

"Sure you were."

"It is." She hands me my phone.

I look at the screen. Noah in front of us. Javier beside me. His arm around my waist. All three of us smiling. It is a nice picture. I save it before putting my phone away.

By lunchtime, I've somehow become responsible for the food layout. I didn't volunteer. At least that's the version I'm sticking with.

I'm moving serving tables around on paper when my phone rings. Julian. I stare at his name for a second before stepping away from the tent. I've answered his texts this week. Just enough to keep telling myself I'm not avoiding him. I answer.

"Hey."

"Well, look who's alive."

I wince. "I deserve that."

"Yes, you do." There's no real anger in his voice. That somehow makes it worse. I walk toward the quieter side of the greenhouse. "I'm sorry."

"I've been trying to get more than three consecutive minutes from you for a week."

"I know."

"Is everything okay?"

I look across the farm. Javier is helping Noah lift Goliath into a wagon. Or pretending to. At one hundred and forty-three pounds, I'm fairly certain Noah is contributing mostly moral support. "Everything's good."

Julian goes quiet for a second. "Good?"

"Really good."

"Okay." I can hear the question he doesn't ask. "What did you need to talk about?"

His voice shifts. Business. "We got the quarterly numbers."

"And?"

"Better than projected."

My attention snaps fully back to him. "How much better?"