“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,