by Alexis Daria
“Yup.”
“And making up all those ridiculous stories and headlines?”
“I think my favorite was something like ROCK STAR RAKE REJECTS GIRLFRIEND IN RIVAL REBOUND. Totally false, since I’d never even heard of the other woman, but points for alliteration.”
He cuddled her tighter. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. Are still going through that. It’s not fair. And you don’t deserve it.”
“Can I tell you something?” Her voice was soft and sleepy.
“Go ahead.”
“I just . . . wanted to be in love. I wanted to love someone, and I wanted them to love me. And I thought he might. Instead, I got dragged by the press for daring to believe a man more famous than I am might possibly love me.”
She let out a huge yawn, then snuggled closer to his chest.
Ashton tightened his hold on her, but inside, he’d gone cold.
It wasn’t her confession that scared him. She was a beautiful person inside and out, and she deserved to love and be loved. He hated that this McIntyre pendejo had treated her so poorly, and that the tabloid machine had made it worse. Except her words made him realize something he should have thought of on his own.
All this time, he’d worried what would happen to him if someone started rumors about the two of them. He was such a fool. The whole time, he should have been more worried about what would happen to her.
Because yes, while his feelings for her were real, and growing stronger every day, there could be no future for them. Nothing long-term, anyway. He was a single father. Relationships were hard enough in this business without the constant threat of the media or a fan taking things too far. Being a father meant Yadiel was and always would be his first priority. His family depended on him for everything, and Jasmine . . .
There was no way he could give her what she wanted. What she deserved.
She let out a soft sigh, something he’d noticed she did as she was falling asleep. It was utterly adorable.
And he should leave right now, before their emotions became even more deeply entwined.
Una noche más, he told himself, settling his head on the pillow. He’d take this one last night to cherish the comfort she’d freely given, and try to give back some of his own.
Then he’d figure out how to put some space between them before anyone found out, and before either of them got hurt.
Chapter 26
Jasmine awoke the next morning alone. She reached out a hand, patting the mattress to see if Ashton had shifted over during the night, and instead found a note he’d scrawled on the hotel memo pad. She squinted at it in the dim light edging around the room’s thick curtains.
Jas—
Early flight to PR. Didn’t want to wake you. Thank you for . . . everything.
XO Ash
The “thank you” made her smile. And while she missed morning cuddles, she did appreciate being able to sleep in. Last night had been a whole lot, emotionally speaking, and she wanted some time to process.
After what Ashton had shared with her, it was no wonder he hated being followed by the paparazzi and doing press events. No wonder he kept others at arm’s length. These aspects of his behavior made complete sense now; he wasn’t a diva—he was guarded, and with good reason. But she couldn’t help but wonder, had he always felt anxiety around crowds, or had it started after his home security had been breached?
She knew how it felt to have one’s privacy violated, but having personal information made public was different than being made a target and then having your home attacked. That kind of experience changed a person.
The whole McIntyre fiasco had taken a toll on her, although it was still so recent, she didn’t yet know what the long-term effects would be. Would she ever feel comfortable living in Los Angeles again? Would she be able to regain trust in her old friends and coworkers from the soaps?
She didn’t have the answers yet. Thank goodness working on Carmen allowed her time to lick her wounds at home, in New York City, surrounded by those who loved her most. Her family was far from perfect, but at least they wouldn’t betray her secrets to reporters.
That said, she was due in the Bronx that afternoon for a barbecue, so as much as she wanted to spend the day lazing around and thinking about Ashton, she couldn’t.
The 6 train on a Saturday morning was her idea of a personal hell, so Jasmine took a taxi from the hotel to her grandparents’ row house in Castle Hill, an extravagance she never would have made the last time she lived in New York.
Seven of the twelve Rodriguez cousins were there when Jasmine arrived, along with her parents, all of her father’s siblings, and their spouses. The adults were scattered throughout the living room, kitchen, and backyard, while Jasmine’s nephews and her cousins’ kids played downstairs in the basement.
As was expected, Jasmine made the rounds, saying hello and dropping a kiss onto the cheek of every single relative. It took forty-five minutes. First she got roped into a ridiculous argument with her brother and sister about who had done the most chores when they were children, and then she actually enjoyed a quick chat with her tío Luisito’s husband, Archer, about his book club. Her parents seemed happy to see her, but Jasmine ran away when she saw her mother set aside the tray of lumpia to reach for her phone.
When she was finally done greeting everyone, Jasmine grabbed Michelle from the basement video game tournament and Ava from the kitchen and locked them in one of the upstairs bedrooms with her.
“I had sex with Ashton,” she blurted out the second the door was closed.
Ava’s eyes went wide, but Michelle just smirked. “Knew it,” she said.
“Don’t be smug,” Ava chided. Then she winced, and said, “But I knew it too.”
Jasmine sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “Am I that predictable?”
“You kinda are,” Michelle said with a shrug. She leaned her butt against the old, ornately carved wooden dresser that displayed a statue of the Virgin Mary and a dish of rosary beads on top. “But can we blame you? No.”
“There’s also serious chemistry between you two,” Ava added, taking a seat next to Jasmine. “Which is good, right? It’ll come through on the show?”
Jasmine groaned. “Except it was supposed to only be on the show. Why am I like this?”
“Because you’re an Aries,” Michelle said matter-of-factly. “You love love.”
Ava sighed and looked to the ceiling for help.
“Okay fine, you want a real answer? Look around.” Michelle waved her hands, encompassing their surroundings. “The men in this family get away with acting like a bunch of babies. They sit around eating and talking while the women do everything. The Latinx gender roles run deep. Is it any wonder our generation has made such sucky romantic choices? I don’t date.” She pointed at Ava. “She’s divorced. And you’re a serial monogamist. We’re like a freaking relationship bingo board.”
Jasmine and Ava just stared at her.
“What?” Michelle threw up her hands. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Jasmine flopped back on the bed. “No, you’re right. I just don’t know how to navigate this. I’ve had so many relationships but this, somehow, feels way more real than any of the others.”
“Why don’t you talk us through it?” Ava suggested.
Jasmine thought back. “The first time he came over, yeah, we’d both been drinking, and it was hot and spontaneous. But we just fooled around. And he stayed the night, which—well, I didn’t expect it, and I don’t think he did either, but it was really nice, you know? And then the second time—”
“Whoa, hold on. Wait.” Michelle stopped her. “There was more than one incident? When were you gonna tell us so we can live vicariously through your affair with the telenovela star? Which, by the way, would be a great title for a memoir.”
Jasmine sent her a dark glare. “I’m telling you now.”
“All right, sorry. Continue.”
“Anyway, he came over the next nig
ht, and I think we were both kidding ourselves. He brought his script and we started off like we always do, rehearsing our lines, but then suddenly we were both naked and I was having the best sex of my life.”
Ava sighed. “Jealous. Keep going.”
“That night, he didn’t stay, but since then, we’ve been . . . together. A lot.”
How did she even explain what was happening between them when she didn’t fully understand it herself? On the surface level, it was simple. They were two consenting adults having sex.
Okay, there was nothing simple about sex with Ashton, but she couldn’t explain why. Aside from the fact that he was very, very good at it.
Jasmine stared up at the ceiling, trying to put her mixed-up emotions into words, when Ava interrupted with a question.
“Do you want a relationship with him?”
The answer was yes, and they all knew it. Jasmine wanted a loving relationship more than anything in the world. But for once, she didn’t want to rush it or imagine things that weren’t there. She’d never had this sort of open connection with anyone else before. But they hadn’t discussed commitment or plans for the future, and her biggest fear was that Ashton would drop her like all the others had.
“I really like him,” she admitted. “It’s . . . I don’t know. I think he’s different?”
“Do you want to keep having sex with him?” Michelle asked in her typical blunt fashion.
“Well, yes, but . . . I don’t know if I should.” Jasmine sat up and sent them a pleading look. “I’m fucking up my Leading Lady Plan.”
“Is that what this is about?” Ava asked gently. “Jas, you’re not being graded on it.”
“But I am. This is work. I don’t want to screw this up.”
“Then don’t,” Michelle said, as if it were that simple.
“Aaaaa-vaaaa,” someone yelled from downstairs. “¿Dónde estás?”
Ava rolled her eyes. “Titi Nita wants my help with the lasagna. I asked why we’re having lasagna at a summer barbecue, but they told me not to question the adults.”
“We should go downstairs anyway.” Jasmine got to her feet. “If we’re gone too long, they’ll start talking about us.”
Michelle snorted. “They’ll do that whether we’re there or not.”
While Ava got roped into helping with lasagna, Jasmine and Michelle escaped to the backyard and sat on plastic patio chairs, munching on chips. Someone moved into the sun, casting a shadow over them, and Jasmine looked up to see Sammy. She didn’t like the joking grin on his face, but she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“What’s up, Sammy?” she asked. “How’s Erica’s new job going?”
Maybe if Sammy started talking about something else, he’d forget whatever bullshit he came over here to say. Erica was his seventeen-year-old daughter, and she wasn’t at the barbecue because she’d just started working at the Gap on weekends to save money for college.
He shrugged. “She’s happy to have the clothing discount.”
“That’s good.”
Then Sammy waggled his eyebrows at her. “So, when’s McIntyre gonna put a ring on it? Or did he just mack and tire?”
“Oh my god.” Jasmine pressed her fingers to her eyes.
“Get it? Like he got tired of y—”
“Shut up, Sammy.” Michelle shot back. “You’re just jealous ’cuz you love that douchebag’s music.”
“Michelle! Language!” Esperanza shouted from inside the kitchen.
“The kids are all downstairs, Abuela!”
“This.” Jasmine bolted up from her chair and jabbed a finger in Sammy’s direction. “This is why I live three thousand miles away.”
“Aww, Jas, I’m just messing with you,” Sammy called after her as she stormed back into the house.
Jasmine didn’t know where she was going—maybe upstairs, maybe the living room, maybe out the front door and back to the hotel where she could brood about Ashton in peace. Hell, maybe even all the way back to California. But Esperanza intercepted her on her way through the kitchen.
She placed her hands on Jasmine’s cheeks and peered into her face.
“Muchacha, are you using that snail eye cream I told you about?” Esperanza sounded deeply concerned. “You look tired.”
“Sí, Abuela,” Jasmine replied through gritted teeth. “I use eye cream every day.”
“And night?” Esperanza raised her eyebrows, waiting on Jasmine’s answer.
Oh, for the love of—“Yes, every night.”
“Bueno.” Esperanza patted her cheeks and went back to stirring the rice on the stove.
Her grandmother was obsessed with skincare, and now that she’d discovered text messages and online shopping, she was forever sending Jasmine links to anti-aging products. Excessive nagging was how Esperanza showed she cared, but Jasmine couldn’t deny she was feeling worn-out today, and it probably showed.
“Give la nena a break.” Willie Rodriguez, Jasmine’s beloved grandfather, eased up behind his wife and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Jasmine’s eyes are beautiful.”
“Thanks, Abuelo.” Jasmine gave him a grateful smile. He was barely taller than Jasmine, with brown skin, a mustache that had gone white in recent years, and the kindest face she’d ever known.
The door behind Jasmine opened. Michelle entered the kitchen and signaled for Ava to get away from the oven.
Esperanza held up her hands like she was backing off, when in truth she never backed off from anything. “Yo lo sé, pero it’s never too early to start fighting wrinkles.”
Willie sent Jasmine a wink, and she took that as her cue to beat a hasty retreat. Jasmine ducked out of the kitchen with the Primas of Power on her heels.
“Basement?” Michelle suggested. “I stashed two bottles of wine down there.”
“Basement,” Jasmine agreed. She’d take her chances with the children, who at least acknowledged that being on TV was a real job.
“Let’s get day drunk.” Ava grabbed plastic cups and they trooped downstairs to hide until the food was ready.
WHEN ASHTON DECIDED to put distance between himself and Jasmine, he hadn’t meant miles. But talking about the Incident had triggered a deep need to see for himself that his family was okay. So after waking up early in her bed, he’d left her a note, gone back to his room to shower and change, then caught an early flight to San Juan.
Once again, his family had been surprised and happy to see him, although his father had pointedly remarked that it would be nice to know about these visits in advance. Abuelita Bibi fussed over him, as she always had, and Abuelito Gus had a lot of opinions to share about the latest Mission Impossible movie.
Being home was a relief. Seeing them safe and whole was a relief. But the restlessness that propelled him here refused to abate.
After they left for the restaurant, Ashton tried to lose himself in playing with Yadiel, like he’d done on his last visit, but all day long, one thought followed him.
He’d told her.
He still couldn’t believe it. Aside from Yadiel, the Incident was his most closely guarded secret. He didn’t even like referencing it with people who already knew. And while he wanted to blame his confession on gin or stress, those were lies.
The simple truth was that he trusted Jasmine.
And that scared him. If he’d trusted her with one of his secrets, it made it too easy to think about trusting her with the other.
That secret was currently clomping down the stairs. Ashton looked up from where he sat on the sofa, idly watching a baseball game while he waited for his son to “do something” in his bedroom. Yadiel approached him with an armload of books and dumped them unceremoniously and without proper warning onto Ashton’s lap.
Ashton jolted as the books—most of them hardcovers with sharp corners—landed on his thighs and groin.
“Papi.” Yadiel’s voice held a distinct tone of decree that immediately made Ashton suspicious. It was the same way the kid had announced
that he wanted an Xbox.
“¿Sí?”
“I want to go to New York.” Yadiel said it in English, like he was proving he was ready for the trip, placing emphasis on every other word.
Yadi had a bad habit of saying what he wanted with force instead of just asking in the form of a question and adding “por favor,” so Ashton raised his eyebrows. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
“¿Puedo ir a Nueva York, pleeeeeeease?” The words spilled out in a rush as Yadiel clasped his hands together. “Look, I’ve been reading all these books about it.”
Sure enough, the books scattered on Ashton’s lap were a collection of stories like Taxi Dog and A Walk in New York mixed with photo-heavy travel guides for kids.
Ashton held up Taxi Dog. “I hate to break it to you, mijo, but I’ve never seen a dog in a taxi.”
Yadiel rolled his eyes. “It’s just a story, Dad.”
Dad, huh? The kid must really want to go if he was breaking out “Dad.”
On the one hand, Ashton loved the idea of showing his son around the city he was coming to enjoy. There were so many things Yadi would get a kick out of, from the museums, to the Broadway shows, to the architecture.
But the idea of his son wandering around the huge, crowded city made him sweat. He wouldn’t be alone, of course, but what if something happened? There were so many things that could go wrong.
There were practical considerations, too, like where they would stay, and making sure Abuelita Bibi could get around, and whether Ignacio would want to close the restaurant, and—
And his son was looking at him with undisguised longing on his face. Yadi wanted this. And it was within Ashton’s power to give his son something that would make him happy.
How could he say no?
Especially since the only real reason why he’d say no was fear. He couldn’t let that get in the way of letting his son live his life.
So even though it terrified him, he said, “Okay, Yadi. You can come to New York.”
Yadiel whooped and cheered, leaping all over Ashton and the sofa and knocking the books to the floor in his excitement. Ashton laughed and tackled the kid to the cushions, sparking a father/son wrestling match.
