“When you do that—go all inner demon—I can feel it. Whatever you’re saying in your mind is not right. You’re abusing yourself.”
He was earnest. Like there was some other way to be.
“But I don’t…” A tear trickled out of one eye, and I squashed it with my palm. “I don’t mean to. The voices in my head are vicious.”
“The voices in your head are you. Tell them what to do.”
I almost laughed; it could not be that simple. “Tell myself I’m wrong?”
“Yes,” he said. “And say something nice while you’re at it.”
“Out loud?”
“If you want. Or just think something that doesn’t make your whole body collapse with despair. Something hopeful.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. “But isn’t hope ‘the exhausted remains of dreams’?”
His arms pulled me tight, his body still as warm as our bed. “As much as I appreciate you quoting Elementia, I think your grandmother was wrong about that one. Hope isn’t desperate.”
Could he be right?
“I’m serious, Iris Mae Ellen. Say something nice and hopeful.”
I put my head on his shoulder. “Maybe…we can still make a difference. Maybe it’s not over,” I whispered into his neck. I closed my eyes and dared the rest in a rush. “Maybe the Thornians liked my song, and they’re rallying, and we get to finish this movie. How’s that?”
He kissed my hair. “Do that more often.”
“No way. I’ve completely jinxed it. It won’t happen now because I said it. And now I’m going to have to leave. Today.” I started to shake, my thoughts as blinding as if lightning were taking over my brain. “I have to say goodbye to you and I can’t even…”
I pressed my hands to his chest and felt the spot where his heart pounded. I flooded with a range of hopes all at once, some so surprising they felt brand-new. I hope we stay together. I hope he moves to LA and becomes an actor. I hope I can tell my dad how I really feel. I hope my songs are part of something bigger. I hope I become a music supervisor for films, like Cate said.
“Iris.” Eamon touched my face, making my eyes open. I hadn’t realized I’d shut them. “I have something good to show you. Wait here.” He ran across the circle to his trailer, coming back a few seconds later with Grandma Mae’s biography.
“I don’t think I can read that yet, Eamon.”
He opened to the picture of her standing on the very edge of Dun Aengus. “Remember how I said I wanted to know who she was looking at like she was in love?” He pointed at the caption. PHOTO BY JOHN WARREN. “The answer was right here all along.”
“That could be a publicist photographer,” I said. He shook his head and flipped through all the other photos of her in Ireland. All by John Warren. “So, this guy was her…late-in-life boyfriend?”
“Husband,” Eamon corrected. “I finally finished reading a few days ago. I had no idea she’d moved here for a fella. Seems like the Thorne ladies have a thing for the Irish.” Eamon smirked as he flipped to the last picture in the book. He held it out and leaned back.
The picture was sad; there was no way around it. Grandma Mae’s long, dark hair was gone, replaced by a scarf to cover her chemo-inspired baldness. She was sickly thin and so tired looking, and yet she seemed content, snuggled up next to a kind-faced man. He reminded me of an old Eamon.
“Iris,” Eamon said. “He was her Nolan.”
“Wonder if he’s still alive,” I said, a bit dazed.
Eamon took a napkin with a phone number out of the book. “He lives in Kerry. I spoke to him the other day.” My mouth fell open, and Eamon rushed his words. “I wasn’t trying to be sneaky. I didn’t know if he was the right guy, and well, he was, but then I wanted to make sure he wasn’t awful. He’s not awful, Iris. He still loves your grandmother a lot, and he wants to talk to you and your brother.”
I buried my face in my hands, flushing hot all over.
Eamon clearly thought I’d take the news better. “Sorry, sorry. I’m an arse.”
“No, no. It’s just…I hoped we could bring the movie back and instead you give me a grandfather? That’s an odd trade. And now all I can think about is that my dad hid this from me.”
“Maybe he had reasons,” Eamon said, kissing my elbow, my shoulder, my neck. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“No, thank you. There’s someone alive who knew her and remembers her and won’t mind talking to me. That’s got to be a good sign.”
“There’s my hopeful girl.” He pulled me close for the kind of kiss that makes the sun rise. I pulled him tight around the waist and even slipped my hands under his shirt. His back was smooth and warm. A tiny groan slipped out of his mouth and that made me kiss him even deeper.
Cate’s trailer sprung open, interrupting our kiss, and out stomped Cate and Henrik. “Skip them for today. We have bigger fish to fry,” Cate said in a loud, commanding voice. “I want everyone in motion by nine. Skip the Castletown extras. We’ll add them in digitally if need be. And about the—”
Cate stopped short at the sight of us tangled in each other’s arms. Henrik placed a hand over his grin. Cate’s eye’s narrowed. “Where is the rest of your little coup?”
I pointed to my trailer, and she stormed inside. What was happening? Were we in trouble? Eamon and I filed in behind Henrik.
“Wake up, Ryder. Shoshanna.” Cate stood with her hands on her tiny hips, Henrik beside her. Shoshanna and Ryder woke up, glancing around.
“What’s going on?” Ryder asked.
“There’s been some collusion.” Cate’s Irish accent went to work on that word, turning it downright poetic. She trained a hard eye on all of us, her energy back. Brilliantly so. “Was no one going to tell me about your royal
