know about superheroes?” Yadiel asked her through a mouthful of rice.
“I have nephews,” she told him. “I think you’d get along with them. They like superheroes and LEGOs too.”
Yadiel was an easy kid to talk to, but Jasmine couldn’t ignore Ashton hovering like a nervous shadow in the doorway. His eyes were cold and distant, his expressive mouth set in a firm line. Everything about him was aloof and unapproachable . . . just like how he’d been when they first started working together.
It hurt her heart to see him this way. He’d come so far over the past few months, opening up and letting people in. Not just her, but the rest of the cast. Nino looked up to him, Peter sought him out daily to discuss baseball, and Lily had named him her official dominoes nemesis. Watching Ashton retreat behind the mask he’d worn at the beginning made Jasmine sadder than anything else that had happened between them.
If she thought about it further, she was going to weep, so she focused on Yadiel, who’d pulled a LEGO mini-figure from his pocket and was enumerating the toy’s many cool features.
Jasmine looked up as a man wearing a pale blue guayabera shirt strolled into the dining area. He was shorter than Ashton, his skin darker and more lined, but he was unmistakably Ashton’s father. They had the same jawline, the same stride, and the same taste in shirts.
As he approached the table where Jasmine and Yadiel sat, his face creased into a smile and he held out a hand. “Hola, Jasmine. Soy Ignacio, el padre de este cabrón aquí.” He jerked his chin to indicate Ashton.
Yadiel let out a delighted giggle at hearing his grandfather call his dad a dumbass. Over by the door, Ashton muttered something under his breath and his scowl deepened.
Jasmine grinned and took Ignacio’s hand, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Hola, Ignacio. ¿Cómo está usted?”
He winked and took a seat on the other side of Yadiel. “Call me Nacho.”
Ashton let out an audible sigh.
Ignacio picked at the food on Yadiel’s plate as he talked to Jasmine about the show, her family, and where her grandparents had been born in Puerto Rico. He was a sweet, charming man, with as many opinions about food as his grandson. Jasmine had a flash of a younger Ignacio sitting and eating with Ashton when he was Yadiel’s age. But no, Ashton would have still been Ángel Luis then. She imagined Ashton as Ángel Luis at different ages. Lighter in demeanor and more carefree, before the stress of protecting his family amid the chokehold of fame had worn him down, compelling him to erect walls around himself. Part of her wished she could have known him then, but she’d grown to love the man he’d become, the man who expressed the depth of his emotions through other characters. The one who’d finally cracked open the door and given her a glimpse inside. Having seen what was within, she could even love the walls for keeping him safe, even though she thought he was being a royal jackass for locking her out again.
Finally, Ashton checked his watch and stepped forward. “I’m due on set soon. Pa, can you take Yadi back to my dressing room? Hang out there for a little while, and then I’ll finish giving you the tour.”
Yadiel turned big, irresistible eyes on Jasmine, the same shape as Ashton’s but a lighter brown. “Will you come with us?”
Her heart felt torn in two. Yes, she absolutely wanted to take Yadiel on a tour of the studio. If Ashton had kept him away from this world, it was probably the boy’s first time on set. She’d offered to give Jillian’s kids a tour, but her sister had implied they might be exposed to something improper, so Jasmine hadn’t asked again.
But it wasn’t just that. She was also dying to see Ashton interact with his son. She wanted to observe the back and forth, how Yadiel pushed boundaries—because that’s what kids did—and the ways Ashton enforced them or capitulated.
Except the look on Ashton’s face made it clear that he didn’t want her to join. After being his scene partner, and his lover, she was an expert at reading his expressions. If it were a college degree, she’d have graduated with honors.
“Maybe,” she hedged. “I might have to film something else.”
It wasn’t just the forbidding set of Ashton’s mouth that made her decline—it was the sheer panic lurking in his eyes. He