was scared of her being around his son. She could see that, she just didn’t know why.
“Okay.” Yadiel sounded disappointed, but then, without warning, he launched himself at Jasmine, catching her around the neck in a tight hug and landing a smacking kiss on her cheek. “Bye! Maybe I can meet your nephews someday.”
“Maybe.” She couldn’t help smiling at him as he clambered down and skipped over to take his dad’s hand.
Ignacio rose and picked up the remains of their lunch.
“Un placer,” he told her. A hint of humor twinkled in his eye.
“Igualmente.” She waved as they left the dining room, but at the last second, Ashton looked over his shoulder at her.
Pure anguish burned in his gaze, so intense it stole her breath.
For whatever reason, Ashton was utterly conflicted about how well Jasmine had gotten along with his father and son.
Well, he wasn’t the only one. Ignacio and Yadiel were delightful. But she couldn’t keep doing this—pretending to be into him on camera, and pretending not to be into him behind the scenes, where her stupid self had gone and fallen in love with him. For the sake of her heart, she needed to draw a clear line in the sand. And this time, she would not cross it.
IT WAS INCREDIBLY weird to see his family on set. He’d texted Marquita to help him smooth the way with the producers, and she’d come through. Security was so high on a film lot, it was rare to bring guests, but after attaining permission, Ashton had dutifully taken his son and father and grandparents around the interior areas of the lot and introduced them to a few people. And despite Ashton’s own anxiety about driving through the swarm of paparazzi, Yadiel had thought it was “awesome.” On the upside, Yadiel had loved his first studio tour. Ignacio and Peter had hit it off, and Nino had been totally enamored with Yadiel.
And of course, Ignacio and Yadiel had loved Jasmine. Yadiel asked about the “pretty lady” every day, and Ignacio had become insufferable, winking and nudging Ashton at every opportunity.
Standing by the door like a creep while they hit it off gave him plenty of time to wallow in regret. She’d been perfect with them. Listening to Yadiel chatter on about LEGOs and comics, talking to Ignacio about her family. It was all Ashton could do not to throw himself at her feet and beg her to forgive him. Her kindness to his family was more than he deserved. And he was so fucking pissed at himself for not telling her about them sooner.
After sitting through hair and makeup, Ashton was on his way back to his dressing room when a PA intercepted him to hand over the script for episode eight.
Ashton accepted with some trepidation. This was it—the season finale. And depending on whether they were renewed for a second season or not, it could end up being the series finale.
The way viewers—and potential casting directors—felt at the end of a season was the emotion they would always associate with the show. It would be the last image he left them with. The rest of his career depended on nailing this episode.
He tore through the pages, skimming scenes of Victor filming a TV special, being approached about writing a memoir, and performing an outdoor pop-up concert, and then . . .
Ashton groaned out loud.
More kissing. They were ending the season on an optimistic note for Victor and Carmen, and of course, that involved a heavy make-out session. He should probably be glad it wasn’t a full-on sex scene. Ashton had done plenty of those in his career, but to go from kissing on set, to kissing and fucking behind the scenes, to only screwing on-screen, would have broken him. He needed to clear the air with Jasmine, but he had no idea how, and really, he hadn’t had time. When he wasn’t on set, he was spending every waking minute with his family and navigating calls from his agent, Tanya, and interviewers wanting to know why he was such a terrible father. Words like “negligent” and “abandoned” got thrown around a lot, tapping into all of the guilt Ashton already carried from living apart from his son.
He hadn’t heard from Yadiel’s mother again, which was a small blessing, and so far no one had uncovered her identity. Yadiel had been born in Orlando, and his birth certificate listed his parents’ birth names, not their stage names. Ashton was on there as