that was before McIntyre had destroyed her self-image and then left her to fend for herself against the wolves in entertainment media. Sure, he’d said lovely, sweet things when they were alone, making her feel like the only woman in the world. But when they were in public . . . Looking back, she could see he’d treated her like shit. Around his entourage, he would sit with his arm draped over her shoulders as if to say, This is mine, but he’d barely even looked at her. He certainly hadn’t listened to her or cared about what she had to say.
At the time, it had felt like enough. She told herself it was enough. All she wanted was a little attention. To feel loved. Was that so much to ask?
The truth was, Ashton wasn’t anything like McIntyre. She didn’t even have to do the whole “compare the new guy to the awful old guy” thing, where the new guy looked better by comparison. Ashton made her feel valued. She could be herself around him without fear of judgment. And maybe part of it was that she was back in New York. The city felt like home in a way nowhere else did. She didn’t have to put on an act to fit in, like she had in Los Angeles. But even so, she suspected she still would have felt okay being vulnerable with Ashton.
She knew it was a bad idea, but she retrieved the offending copy of Buzz Weekly from the garbage can and opened it to the article. Might as well know what was being said about her.
Despite the sensational headline, Kitty Sanchez had actually included information about Latinx in the Arts, along with quotes from Nino’s and Lily’s interviews and a group photo of all of them with a reminder to watch Carmen in Charge when it hit ScreenFlix. Unfortunately, the positive press was sandwiched between wild speculation about Jasmine’s relationship with Ashton and how McIntyre played into it.
The photos themselves were mostly pretty benign. The article included another one of her with McIntyre, plus a different posed photo with Ashton. There was also a candid photo of them from the Latinx in the Arts Summit, but since Jasmine hadn’t spent a second alone with Ashton while they were there, the picture must have involved some creative cropping to remove the others.
The grocery store photo, though . . . that was damning.
And fucking annoying, since it had been taken before they’d started sleeping together.
Jasmine left the magazine on the sofa and got up to make a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would jump-start her brain so she could wrap her head around what was happening here.
Because as much as she loved being with Ashton, she had to admit she was way off track with her plan. And this article? It was going to throw him into a tailspin.
Not that she blamed him. Ashton already struggled to let her in when it was just the two of them. Now, everyone’s eyes would be on them. She wouldn’t be surprised if the crowd of paparazzi outside the studio had doubled since Buzz Weekly hit newsstands that morning. Shit, they’d probably be around the hotel too. The Hutton Court staff and the local NYPD precinct were well-versed in keeping photographers and celebrity spotters away from the hotel entrance, but once the paps found out the photo was taken at the local grocery store, they’d be sniffing around the whole neighborhood.
Jasmine pressed her face into her hands, indulging in a moment of despair. She had a strong feeling she knew how Ashton was going to react to all of this—he was going to pull away from her again, like he’d done at the beginning. And it was going to hurt. A lot. More than before, because now she’d know what she was missing.
She’d miss his jokes and the questions he asked her about herself, as if the answer to each one was the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe. She’d miss the way he held her close as she fell asleep. The way he kissed her and touched her, as if she were a treasure to be adored.
She’d miss the way he said her name, like she was someone who mattered.
The single-cup coffee maker sputtered and filled her travel mug with Café Bustelo, thanks to the pods Ashton had gifted her. Jasmine checked her face in the mirror and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t