Page 33 of Love Scenes

Our stakeout in plain sight goes on for a long while. Joseph entertains me with a song his dad made up when he was a kid, set to a tune I know but can’t place. His version lists the names of all his siblings.

“Dad came up with it so he wouldn’t forget everyone when they’d ask about us in interviews. I swear it,” Joseph tells me.

Donald, Lizzie, Patty, and Joseph too.

Declan, Caleb, with Rose the last one through.

A family of seven babies, all from one wee lady.

She’s cute and she’s sweet, a rare little treat.

My angel Margaret girl.

There’s a tenderness to his singing voice that reminds me of Kearns. Something truthful about where he sings from, but smokier than Kearns’s voice. More unfiltered.

When Kearns used to sing for me, I remember thinking it was like seeing the inside of his heart somehow. Like the sound of his voice came from someplace deep within him, a private chamber of truth he bravely showed to the world. Now I know what it’s like to be on the other side of that. To be the darkness someone sings about. The target of their growling, angry heartbreak.

I think I’d like it better if Kearns’s voice sounded like a lie.

“Six siblings? I have a hard enough time with three,” I say to Joseph.

“And there’s twenty-three years between Donald and Rose. With me smack-dab in the middle.” He looks at the time on his watch, knowing he should be on his way to prosthetics by now. “She’ll come,” he assures.

“It’s funny. You don’t have middle-child energy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Like Tyler, she’s a middle child. Now there are four of us, but growing up, she was the one between Powell and me. And she’s always had this peace about her. It’s not even like she’s quiet or forgotten or whatever they say about middle kids. It’s this ability to complement all kinds of energies. She can hang with a group of, I don’t know, gamers in the same way she can hang with a group of kindergarteners. And she’s the exact same with both groups, and they both leave loving her. She got away with absolutely everything as a kid, because if she was left out of something, you’d end up missing her too much.”

It hurts to say it. To miss her this much myself while seeing her every day.

Joseph folds his arms across his chest and leans away from me. “Are you saying that a group of gamers wouldn’t accept me into their fold? I haven’t been given a chance to try. It’d be harder without throwing back a few pints, but I think I could find a way in.When I really want something, I’m pretty damn good at figuring out how to get it.” He pauses. “And kids love me, I’ll have you know.”

“Easy. I get it. You are beloved by all who know you. Trust me. I’m clear on that.”

He half laughs. “Hardly. I’d say I’m dead last in my family in terms of favoritism.”

“Really? Why? Don’t you wiggle your eyebrows at them and do your usual ‘I’m a wee jammy bloke who can get away with it all’ thing?”

He turns back to look me in the eye, startled recognition all over his face. “You are the only one besides my family to call me on that. They all make fun of me whenever I’m home. My older brother Donald refuses to watch any interview I do on American television. He says I sound like a leprechaun.”

“If you know you’re doing it, why do you keep it up?”

“When I started leaning into being Irish, I started to book jobs in the states,” he explains.

It’s quite a candid thing to admit. I’ve sat across from countless industry people with visibly different noses or jawlines and listened to them tell me they’ve never had work done on their face. I don’t even judge them for it. Everyone has a right to their secrets.

Hearing the truth is refreshing nonetheless.

“Plus it makes my dad gloriously angry,” he adds. “His brogue has faded from so much time here in America. He doesn’t appreciate me sounding like more of a countryman than him.”

We’re so wrapped up in conversation that we don’t see Guy and Tyler approach us. From the breezy mood radiating off them, they must not know about the nudity issue yet.

“Why are you sitting outside?” Tyler asks. “Not that I mind,” she quickly adds on. “It’s good. Just curious.”

“This is a grounding technique I begged Sloane to try withme. What I need to find my character,” Joseph tells her, so dry it reads as truthful.

“That’s the spirit!” Guy pats Joseph on the back. “Nothing like the smell of fresh air to get you out of your own way! I always start my mornings with my bare feet on grass, no matter the season or the place.” He gives Joseph a kiss on the forehead. “Good work.”