You Had Me at Hola(51)

They had always been this way. Even when Jasmine was younger, she’d more often than not been left to fend for herself. Her parents both worked full time, Lisa as a nurse and Julio as a professor. Jillian, always an overachiever, had been involved in a ton of extracurricular activities that consumed more time and attention from their parents. Jeremy, the youngest and the only boy in a Latinx family, was the proud recipient of perpetual babying. And Jasmine, a middle child and people pleaser to the core, had faded into the background at home, using performance as a way to earn positive attention. Her parents had praised her early musical theater exploits, which was why it had been so confusing when they didn’t support her choice to pursue acting as a career.

“And my cousin Lupita’s youngest daughter is pregnant,” Lisa added, reminding Jasmine what was truly important in this family. “Remember her? She lives in Seattle now.”

The waitress handed Jasmine another drink and Jasmine held up two fingers. With a faint smile, the other woman mouthed, “I got you,” and headed for the bar.

“Jer, show Jas that video of Mason doing a somersault,” her father said, and Jeremy passed Jasmine his phone as reluctantly as if she’d asked for one of his kidneys. Mason was almost three, and absolutely darling. But today, Jasmine couldn’t take one more reminder of what she was missing in her life.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, grabbing her own phone and shoving her chair back. “My agent just called.”

Riley had not called, but they didn’t know that. Jasmine just needed a break.

The waitress intercepted her on the way, holding a champagne flute in each hand.

“They’re light on the orange juice,” she said, handing the drinks to Jasmine. “Figured you could use it.”

Jasmine took them gratefully and made a mental note to leave an extra good tip. “You are a lifesaver.”

The waitress bit her lip, stalling like she wanted to say something, and that was when Jasmine knew she’d been recognized. People always got that nervous look before they asked—

“Were you on that show? Sunrise Vista, I mean. Was that you?”

Jasmine nodded and smiled. No matter how she was feeling, she was always kind to fans. It took courage to approach someone considered to be a celebrity, and everyone remembered when those celebs let them down. “Yes, that was me.”

The woman gave a little squeal and pulled out her phone. “I thought so! Oh my god, I loved that show. I used to watch it before my late-night bartending shifts, and was so sad when it ended. Can I take a picture with you?”

“Sure, just crop out the drinks,” Jasmine said with a wink, then leaned in to take a selfie with her. “What’s your name?”

“Bethany.”

“Thanks for the drinks, Bethany.”

“You’re welcome. Also . . .” Bethany pointed to an empty stool at the bar. “There’s a spot there if you need to have a moment alone.”

Shit, how much had she overheard? With a grateful nod, Jasmine carried her drinks over to the bar and took a seat. Sipping slowly, she texted the Primas of Power for support.



Jasmine: Help.





Ava: Are they being awful?





Jasmine: No more than usual.





Michelle: Bad enough.





Jasmine: I have mimosas. So it’s not all bad.



She added some champagne glass emojis.

What she really wanted to do was tell them about Ashton and what she’d done with him last night. How he’d slept beside her and been so sweet this morning, holding her before he left.

And damn could he kiss. She didn’t understand why he’d made a point of saying they shouldn’t have intercourse, but it didn’t bother her. He’d still made her feel cherished and wanted, and the orgasm had been amazing. Maybe he had an STI, and hadn’t felt comfortable telling her in the moment? Or maybe he just wanted to take it slow, since this was technically their first real kiss? Either way, they could discuss it later.

She started to type a message to her cousins, but held back. The part of her brain that knew she was making stupid choices where a man was concerned had been flashing all sorts of warning signs. She just had years of practice ignoring them. If she told Ava and Michelle, she’d have to listen to that part of her mind, and then she’d have to listen as her cousins pointed out—rightly so—that she was not adhering to any of her goals. They’d remind her of the Leading Lady Plan and ask where she was on the Jasmine Scale. She’d blown so far past Crush that she didn’t even want to think about when Infatuation had taken root.

Being with Ashton had been worth whatever second-guessing her common sense wanted to do. He’d made her feel special. And she hadn’t only enjoyed their time in bed together—they’d had real fun during karaoke, and now that they were communicating, he was wonderful to act beside.

They’d have to “communicate” about this—about the way he’d touched her, stroked her, kissed her. Part of her really wanted to talk about it. But the other part knew they were better off sticking to the original plan of practicing their lines together, and no more.

She knew it. She just didn’t care.

After finishing both drinks, she stood up, a little wobbly but with a nice enough buzz that she felt ready to face her family again. Determined to get through the rest of the meal without making any more passive-aggressive jabs—she’d be the better person, this time—she returned to the table . . . just in time for them to rehash all their old jokes about her vegan “phase,” which had actually been an elimination diet to uncover food sensitivities.