You Had Me at Hola(40)

“You have more in common with her than you realize,” Ashton said in a quiet voice, wishing she could see herself the way he saw her. Strong, sexy, with a good heart.

Before he did something really stupid, like tell her how highly he thought of her, he picked up his seltzer and drank deep, hoping it would cool him down.

“It’s so interesting how the telenovela industry is growing while soaps are shrinking,” Jasmine mused. “We work so hard, but soaps still have a bad rep.”

“So do telenovelas,” Ashton pointed out. “Everyone thinks they’re low budget and ridiculous, but it’s a huge industry. So much of the culture comes out through the stories and characters. There’s romance and angst, imagination and emotion. They’ve come a long way, but when people think of telenovelas, they only think of the wild storylines of María la del barrio and Marimar, even though those shows achieved global popularity and Thalía’s now a Latin Pop icon.”

“Oh, yes, I remember those shows,” Jasmine said with a grin. “My aunt watched them when I was very little.”

He covered his eyes. “No me digas, you’re making me feel old. But that’s what I mean—telenovelas have something for everyone, and people watch as a family. I grew up watching with my mother and grandmother.”

“They must have been so proud when you started acting,” Jasmine said, her smile genuine.

“They were. My parents . . . they did everything they could to help me pursue this goal.” He cut himself off, because thinking about it made him think of his mother, which made him miss her.

His mother had always believed in him. She was his first and biggest fan, even when he was just doing children’s theater in elementary school. When he didn’t get the part he wanted or messed up his lines, she still praised him for trying, and always told him she was proud of him. At the time, he’d found her constant support almost suffocating. She said he was great when he knew he wasn’t, looked on the bright side when he wanted to wallow over rejection.

Now, he would have given anything to have one more second with her, so he could introduce her to Yadiel. His biggest triumph. It was cliché, but Yadi was his pride and his joy, and he mourned every day that his mother had never seen his son, and that Yadiel would never know her love. In those moments of darkest grief, he wished Yadiel had a mother who loved him as much as Ashton’s had. But he couldn’t change how things had turned out, and he wouldn’t anyway. Everything that had happened led to him being Yadiel’s father, and he wouldn’t give that up for anything.

Guilt pricked him, sharp and swift. Wasn’t he giving that up in pursuit of his career? Shoving off the responsibility onto his father and his aging grandparents?

Jasmine, oblivious to the direction of his thoughts, carried on, and he latched onto her words to pull him out of the dark.

“My abuela is a huge telenovela fan, but my other grandmother watches American soaps,” she said, adding more olives and meat to her plate. “I started watching The Young and the Restless and The Bold and the Beautiful while visiting my mom’s parents’ on summer vacation. But my absolute favorite, which I will deny if you ever tell anyone, was Passions.”

“Passions?” His eyebrows shot up. “The one with the—”

“Yes,” she said with a laugh. “The one with the everything. It was so over the top, I couldn’t get enough. But keep in mind, I was probably eight when it started, so not exactly the most discriminating viewer.”

“Eight?” He groaned. “You’re making me feel old again. I think I was in high school then.”

“All right, viejo, what was your favorite? I told you mine.”

He didn’t love that she’d called him an old man, but that she’d said it in Spanish, and as a term of endearment, pleased him. “Café, con aroma de mujer because . . . well, because it was about coffee.”

Jasmine snickered. “How very on brand for you.”

Ashton piled more food on his plate, surprised he’d already finished the first serving. He was enjoying talking to her. This was way better than fitting in a second workout or channel surfing alone in his suite. “How did you get into soaps?”

“I was doing commercials and my agent booked me an under-five role on General Hospital. I was living the dream! That led to a stint on Days, and then a slightly bigger role on Y&R, and then I did Sunrise Vista. It didn’t last long, but it got me on The Glamour Squad—”

“And then you got a Daytime Emmy nomination.” He clapped. “You should be proud.”

She shrugged. “I am, but I’m not doing it for the accolades; I just want to be a working actor with consistent gigs. I don’t want to struggle. And both of my grandmothers are over the moon about it, even if the rest of my family acts like I don’t have a quote-unquote real job.”

“I feel the opposite about telenovelas,” he admitted. “I’m proud of the work I’ve done and the awards I’ve received, but they mean nothing if I can’t break out.”

“Nothing?” She raised an eyebrow. “Now you sound like Victor.”

He laughed. “God forbid. And don’t get me wrong. This work is important. We’re normalizing people who look and sound like us being happy and successful.”