Chapter 96

Her lips quirk.Raya “was in my class at Pratt. Her least popular pieces are my favorite. But art speaks differently to everyone. That’s why they say it’s subjective. Like beauty.”

Thinking beauty might be subjective with certain things, but not her—she is most definitely, factually, beautiful—I say, “You’re an artist too, then.”

She shrugs. “Subjective. Some would say all I do is draw lines. Others see rainstorms.”

“Some see beautiful trees,” I add. “And a beautiful woman.”

Cheeks flushed again, she parts her lips. But before she can speak, someone calls from across the room.

“Em!”

We both turn to the man coming our way, his strides long and determined. When he reaches us, he’s staring at me, not her, his gaze hard and judgmental.

Beside me, the girl flashes every shade of red, her eyes going from me to the man I recognize instantly as Harry Kane .

“Dad, this is…” She narrows her eyes as if she’s trying to remember. “Actually, we didn’t introduce ourselves.”

Dad? Did she just call him