“It’s not that.” She straightened a stack of pamphlets for the animal shelter. “I just . . . didn’t think you liked kids.”

“I do.” He got the sense she wasn’t talking about the kids at the children’s hospital they’d visited earlier in the episode. He could pretend not to know what she meant, or he could cut to the chase. They’d done enough pretending while they were married. “You’re wondering why we didn’t have kids.”

She crossed her arms, hugging herself, and turned away from him so he couldn’t see her face. “We never even talked about it.”

“I . . .” It was time for honesty. “I didn’t think you wanted them.”

She spun back to him then, and there was a wealth of emotion in her dark eyes. “Why would you think that?”

He shrugged as old hurts rose from where he’d buried them long ago. “You made it clear that your career came first. Serrano PR was your family legacy.”

“But you didn’t ask.”

He sighed. “No. I didn’t. But neither did you.” He said it gently, without censure. They’d both made mistakes.

“This feels years too late, but . . . did you want children, Victor?”

He looked over at the animals penned in their play areas. “Sí, Carmencita. I wanted children with you. Eventually. But we didn’t get there.”

When she didn’t yell at him for using the diminutive of her name, he took it as a sign of progress.

“We didn’t get to a lot of places,” she said softly, then checked her watch. “They’re about to open the doors. Are you ready?”

Victor steeled himself, ignoring the barks and meows coming from behind him. “As I’ll ever be.”

The doors opened and a crowd rushed into the gymnasium, shoes squeaking on the waxed floors and murmurs echoing around the space.

From his spot in front of the photo backdrop emblazoned with the animal shelter’s logo, Victor smiled and signed autographs and posed for pictures as Carmen handed him one puppy or kitten after another.

His fingers were nipped by needle-pointed puppy teeth, his jacket was scratched by razor-sharp kitten claws, and he was nearly peed on—twice. But he suffered through it, charming the people who were there to help him improve his public image.

Even as his allergies started to kick in.

He tried not to sniffle too loudly as Carmen gave him three kittens to hold up near his face, but he was fighting a losing battle, despite the meds he’d downed that morning.

And then they brought out Luther.

Luther was a five-foot-long female ball python whose name was actually Lucy.

The script didn’t say that Victor was afraid of snakes. And if you asked him, he wouldn’t have said he was.

But he wasn’t overly fond of them either. And he had never in his life wanted to hold one.

“Here comes Luther,” Carmen called in a singsong voice. The children assembled around Victor cheered. The parents oohed and ahhed.

And Victor was very nearly about to break character.

Cálmate, cabrón, he told himself. You’re an international superstar. You’ve played sold-out shows all over the world, in the biggest venues. This is just one harmless snake!

The snake, still in its handler’s arms, eyed him impassively.

Victor’s armpits began to sweat.

The snake came closer.

Swallowing hard, Victor raised his arms, tensed all his muscles, and let them hand him the python.

The kids crowded around him. He smiled for the camera.

The snake shifted its weight. Victor’s arms trembled from the stress. And then . . .

His nose started to tickle.

“Three . . .” the photographer counted down. “Two . . .”

On “one,” Victor sneezed, nearly dropping Luther. Reflexively, his arms clenched, gathering the snake close to his chest. Luther—Lucy—whatever—slithered its head over his shoulder and around the back of his neck.

Victor froze. Fuck. This.

“Somebody take this snake!” he shouted.

“Cut!”

Chapter 21

Ashton’s eyes itched, his nose ran, and if he never heard “Somebody take this snake!” again in his life, it would be too soon. Worse, the director had loved it and decided to keep it for the final cut.

Between the children and the animals, Ashton’s sneezing, and everyone breaking character left and right, the animal charity event required the most takes of any scene they’d filmed yet. By the end, people were already talking about the blooper reel, and Ashton’s allergies were in full swing, but he had to admit, he was having fun. So when Jasmine told him the cast was going out for karaoke that night, he surprised them all by saying yes.

“I’m not sure how good my singing will be,” he warned, sniffling. “You might have noticed I’m having an allergy attack.”

Jasmine handed him a pack of tissues. “Was it the cats or the dogs?”

“The kittens,” he admitted. “Cute little things, but I’m severely allergic to them. Ya—you know what I mean?”

She simply nodded, not catching his slip, but his insides turned to ice. He’d almost said Yadiel’s name—his son was always begging for a pet. Ashton’s cat allergies and Abuelita Bibi’s aversion to dogs made that impossible, but didn’t stop Yadiel from making pointed comments about the cuteness of every dog and cat he encountered.

Ashton was the last to arrive at the karaoke place in Midtown where Jasmine had booked a private room. Three bottles of wine and two pitchers of beer sat on the low table in the center of the room, and Miriam was in the middle of belting out a Selena song.

Jasmine sidled up and nudged him with her shoulder. “I didn’t think you were going to show.”

“I said I would.” It sounded curt, but he hadn’t meant it to. It was just that his mouth had gone bone-dry at the sight of her. She wore some lacy scrap of a shirt that left her shoulders and midriff bare and revealed an enticing curve of cleavage. He’d seen her in sexy outfits—Carmen went through a lot of wardrobe changes—but knowing Jasmine had picked this out herself made a difference. It was whimsical and sexy all at once. Just like her.

“Besides,” he added, trying to lighten his tone. “How could I miss this?”

At the moment, Miriam was bidi-bidi-bom-bomming her way across the room to whoops and wepas from the other Carmen in Charge actors.

Ashton clapped as the song came to an end, and in the silence before the next one began, he let loose a tremendous sneeze.

“¡Salud!” the group chorused.

Ashton’s face heated, but he raised his voice and said, “Gracias.” A second later, a Thalía song came on, and everyone turned back to the screen.

Jasmine patted his arm. “I have extra tissues for you in my purse.”

Despite this being Ashton’s first time socializing with the cast outside of work, everyone seemed happy to see him. He accepted a glass of wine from Lily and got into a deep discussion with Peter and Nino about the Yankees.

While he waited for his song to start, Ashton reflected on the diverse makeup of the cast. He was puertorriqueño, born on the island. Jasmine was second generation Puerto Rican and Filipina. Nino was first gen Dominican and Haitian. Lily was Mexican American. Peter was Dominican, but had lived in New York most of his life. And Miriam was Cuban American from Miami.