You Had Me at Hola(17)

“We’re next,” Victor said, his voice cold.

Yep. She’d hurt his feelings. But he’d hurt her too. There were lots of reasons why they’d gotten divorced, and one of them was that they just couldn’t stop hurting each other.

Or at least, that was the back story she’d come up with on her own while reading the script.

Carmen took a deep breath, fixed a smile on her face, and stepped out onto the carpet, clinging to Victor’s arm.

Lights flashed. Extras milled around silently. The hum of the crowd would be added in later. Carmen smiled, awash in nerves and the need to appear professional. She wasn’t here as his date, but his publicist. Her only goal was to help repair Victor’s image so she could save the family business. She was not here to have fun, or to enjoy being close to him.

Even though she did enjoy it.

As they moved to their mark, Victor spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

“It’s terrible,” Carmen said through a tight smile. But she didn’t mean the lights or the people. She meant the closeness, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a comforting cloud, his hard body warm at her side.

It was all so terribly . . . wonderful. She wanted to shift closer, to lean into him, to wrap herself in his warmth and the feel of his skin against hers.

Focus, Jasmine.

“Cut!”

Oh, thank god.





Chapter 8


Despite his bone-deep exhaustion, Ashton caught a late flight to San Juan after the second episode wrapped. The final scenes had called not just for physicality, thanks to Victor’s drunken outburst and shoving match with a rival singer, but emotion, as the complications of Victor and Carmen’s relationship reached a new low.

The fight had required multiple takes to film, to the point where Ashton regretted insisting that sure, he could absolutely do his own stunts. Not that the actual stunt guy he acted opposite had hurt him, but stage combat could be grueling work. Another concern had been Jasmine’s presence in the scene, since Carmen’s character was called upon to break up the fight. The last thing he’d wanted to do was accidentally hurt her, so Ashton had been aware of her every second, from the moments she was glued to his side on the red carpet, to the way she banded her arms around his torso to pull him out of the fight, to the way she tenderly cupped his cheek to check for bruises.

Acting was reacting, and they’d taken their cues from each other, even as Ashton had dug deeper and deeper into himself to pull out Victor’s pain. Jasmine matched him beat for emotional beat as Victor had raged himself into exhaustion. The quiet moments between them after the fight were probably some of the best acting he’d ever done.

But by the end of the week, he was ready to drop, and homesickness was like a lead weight in his gut. On Friday night, he went straight from the studio to the airport, and from the airport to the apartment he kept in San Juan, where he caught a few hours of sleep. In the morning, he drove to Humacao, to the condo where his son, father, and grandparents lived full time in a secure gated community.

Keeping an eye out for any suspicious figures, Ashton parked in the driveway, then let himself into the blocky peach and terra-cotta house. Even though his family had moved after the Incident, his sense of safety had never fully recovered. Inside, Ignacio approached him with una taza de café con leche while Ashton reset the security system. Ashton greeted his father and gratefully took a sip of the coffee.

“?Yadiel está durmiendo?” Ashton asked, following Ignacio into the kitchen.

“Sí.” Ignacio sat at the table and put his reading glasses on to resume his perusal of the newspaper. “He’ll be happy to see you when he wakes up.”

Ashton took a seat, but he felt jumpy. “Everything’s okay? Nothing weird?”

Ignacio put down the paper and sent Ashton a bland look over the top of his glasses.

“If there were something weird, don’t you think I’d tell you?”

“Of course.” Ashton didn’t fully believe that, but no point upsetting his father this early in the morning.

“When did you arrive?”

“Late last night.”

“Ah. You stayed in the apartment?”

“Yeah.”

Ignacio just raised his eyebrows and kept reading about the latest political protests. He didn’t have to say anything, because they’d already had this conversation multiple times. He thought it was silly for Ashton to pay for two homes in Puerto Rico and an apartment in Miami, but he knew why Ashton didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in the house.

“And how long are we supposed to have Yadi’s teachers and friends sign NDAs?” Ignacio asked pointedly.

Ashton just sighed. “Stop exaggerating.”

“You’ve kept him secret this long,” his father went on, his tone mild. “But you can’t do it forever.”

Ashton knew that, but he’d convinced himself it was possible. He was saved from having to come up with an answer by the sound of feet on the stairs. Setting his cup down, he stood as Yadi entered the room in his Spider-Man pajamas.

“Papi!” the boy screeched, then launched himself into Ashton’s arms.

Ashton picked him up and held him close. Yadi was small for his age, and Ashton wouldn’t be able to do this for much longer. He wished, not for the first time, that he could be here every day when his son woke up.