Chapter 52

Lila’s POV

“Sweetheart, you need more red,” the shop owner crooned, leaning over my shoulder like she owned my paintbrush—though technically she did, because we were at her art studio. She was an older woman with an apron full of splatters, all of which I was totally capable of adding to, thankyouverymuch. She’d greeted Rowan and me with an earnest smile the second we’d wobbled in, paint palettes in hand and full of anxious energy. Rowan had booked us earlier that afternoon after a phone chat, so all the pesky logistics were mercifully off my plate.

Merciful, because my brain felt like it was juggling a dozen overdue essays and organic chemistry reactions. Letting someone else handle things? Pure bliss.

“I know, but every time I add red, it ends up looking like I’m trying to paint a tomato on fire,” I said, tipping my head toward my canvas. Our assignment was a tree in autumn, leaves swirling around in a gale. Simple, right? Well, my version was a glowing pu