“It won’t be crap. It’s perfect.”
“Wait.” She spun me around. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”
“Thorne family privilege.” I grinned. “We’re producers.”
“But I’m the star! I should get to see it first.”
“Guess I know things you don’t.” I was enjoying this too much because: Shoshanna.
“Wouldn’t you like to know what I know…” she said teasingly, patting down the bandage on her shoulder where she’d gotten her Elementia tattoo.
“What do you know?” I asked fast.
She didn’t have time to answer because the people in line pushed forward. I took a worn copy of the Elementia trilogy from the next person, without breaking eye contact with Shoshanna. I hoped whatever she was scheming had something to do with Eamon. I missed him in a way that made me feel starved.
I flipped to the title page to sign. This whole autographing thing had gotten old hat rather fast, but I was trying not to be too jaded about it. Pun intended.
“I like your new aesthetic. Sort of cute punk.”
I looked up. “Huh?”
He smirked, and I didn’t recognize him right away. “Remember me?”
“I do now,” I said. My ex-in-flight romance. Mr. Nerd Torso Tattoo.
“I came here to see you.” He leaned on the table making it creak. “So we can set up that date we talked about all those months ago.”
“I have a boyfriend,” I said. “And he’s definitely not you.” He leaned back, and I tried not to smile too wide as I inscribed a message.
I signed my name, matching up my middle initials with my grandmother’s printed ones, and felt a little closer to her than I had a minute before—like we were sharing an inside joke.
• • •
“Five minutes!” a stagehand called out.
I peeked around the curtain at the auditorium of people in full cosplay, Star Trek shirts, and Harry Potter house ties. They’d been waiting in line for hours, and the staff had finally let them in a few minutes ago. The ones closest to the front were decked out in Elementia gear and elf ears, and the excitement on their faces was infectious—and nerve-wracking.
I tried to relax, enjoying the atmosphere and a rare day off from the internship Cate had secured for me at Vantage Pictures. I worked mostly in dark editing booths with eccentric coffee-enhanced film editors, but I wasn’t complaining. Movies were magic, after all, and making them felt like reaching elbow deep into fantasy of my own choosing.
Cate, Julian, and Shoshanna were getting microphones attached to their shirts. Eamon’s absence was a black hole, but he was in the UK, filming a Downton Abbey–styled miniseries. I hadn’t seen him since he’d come to record voice-overs two months ago.
“Hey!” Shoshanna yelled, drawing my attention. “Quit it.”
Julian was pulling her arms over her head in some sort of relaxation stretch. “This will help your nerves, Shosh.” She threw him in a headlock, and he cried out about his hair.
The Comic-Con crew rolled plush chairs onstage and the moderator walked out next, the audience cheering. You could barely hear him as he called out Julian’s, Cate’s, and Shoshanna’s names. They filed out and sat down. I moved to the corner to see them better. Julian’s expression was all fan love. Cate was trying to hold down a smirk. Shoshanna had on her game face.
Ryder watched from the other side of the stage, peeking out like me. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I gave him one back. He was doing great, attending junior chef academy afterschool, which was as cute as it sounds, with the little white coats and toques. My dad went with him once a week, and between the two of them, the food in my house had gotten edible.
As far as I was concerned, my dad was still my dad. After our talk in Dingle, we hadn’t bonded or developed a newfound respect for one another. Instead, we learned to give each other breathing room. Ryder’s therapist—who was now also my therapist—said we were developing healthy boundaries. My dad even surprised me with a solo trip to Ireland for my birthday, where I got to see Eamon and meet John Warren—a man who’d wasted no time in telling me every detail about my grandmother while plying me with potent black tea and albums full of photographs.
I glanced out on stage. The audience was taking a long time to quiet down, and I noticed something strange. “One too many chairs?” Henrik asked, appearing near my shoulder.
“Are they waiting on someone else?”
Oh God, Eamon. Eamon was here, and he was going to surprise the audience—and me!
The moderator pointed to the empty chair. “Looks like we have one more spot. Iris Thorne, will you join us?”
Wait—what?
Henrik gave me a small shove onstage. The cheers made my face burn, and I sat down on the extra chair, looking anywhere but at the crowd. A crew member snuck out to attach a microphone to my shirt.
Cate spoke first, beaming. “We couldn’t talk about the movie without you, Iris.”
“It was Shoshanna’s idea,” Julian volunteered.
“That I believe.” Everyone laughed, which—Jesus—felt pretty good.
“Do I win the pool?” Shoshanna asked, but Cate shushed her.
The moderator sat on a stool, shuffling cards. “We’re going to run a small interview before the preview, and afterward, we’ll take questions from the audience. Let’s jump in.”
I started to fuzz out. My heart wouldn’t stop storming as Cate talked about what the story meant to her. Shoshanna discussed having to harness her anger to play Sevyn. Julian said cutesy things that made the audience coo. Seriously, only Julian Young could make five hundred people turn pigeon.
Finally, the moderator turned to me. I assumed he’d ask what my grandmother would have thought of the adaptation, but he didn’t. “Iris, can you tell us about your song? The one you wrote and performed with Eamon O’Brien during the filming.”
The audience awwwed and called out sweet things.
“Well…I’m not going to play it for you, if that’s what you’re asking. That’d be way too cheesy, but—” I glanced at Cate, and
