But the rest? With the show? That was business. He needed this show. For one thing, it paid more than telenovelas, and he had a lot of people relying on him to pay the bills. And the exposure was the next step on his road to that Best Actor nom. He wasn’t getting any younger here. He was certainly too old to have made a stupid mistake like having a fling with his costar and sabotaging his career. Yet here they were.

In the back of his mind, he felt bad thinking about it as a fling, and he felt bad about being angry at her. It took two to tango, and he’d been right there with her, diving headlong into a love neither could afford.

But anxiety and a sense of betrayal sparked his anger and came flowing out of his mouth. “I cannot believe you are sabotaging me this way.”

Her eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”

“You know what a good thing we have going here? ScreenFlix is the number one streaming service in the world. We might never get the chance to work on a Latinx-driven mainstream production like this again.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to glance at the screen. His father was calling.

But Jasmine wasn’t taking his accusation quietly.

“Don’t act like you care about this show,” she scoffed. “It was like pulling teeth to get you to connect with the rest of the cast. And look, you’re not even paying attention now. My cousins were right. You are full of yourself.”

With an angry move, he sent the call to voice mail and tossed his phone across the room, onto the sofa cushions.

“There,” he bit off. “Happy now?”

“Do I look like I’m happy?” she snapped, brow furrowed in exasperation.

He didn’t answer that. Instead, he tried to reason with her. “We’re both contracted for three seasons.”

She shrugged and looked away. “So?”

“Jasmine, this show is a great opportunity—for both of us. Don’t make a—”

“A what?” She fisted her hands on her hips and stared him down.

“A . . .” What was he going to say? Something with “emotional,” but he realized that was a bad idea. “Don’t make a decision from . . . from your feelings . . .”

“Are you calling me emotional?” She narrowed her eyes at him and he knew he was in trouble.

“No. You—” Use “I” statements, idiot. That’s what Vera always reminded them during their rehearsals, although she’d never called him an idiot. “I mean, I feel that this is a rash decision. A mistake.”

Jasmine let out a strangled laugh. “Of course you do. Because this is all about you. You never once considered me, or my feelings, or thought that I would want to know—” She snapped her mouth shut.

“Is this because of Yadiel?”

She shot him an impatient glance. “No, it’s because you didn’t tell me about Yadiel. Please tell me you understand the difference.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I haven’t told anyone about him.”

“Well, I’m not just anyone.” Her voice rose in anger. “Don’t treat me like I’m some random person on the street trying to get a picture with the famous Ashton Suarez.”

The way she said his name, the sarcastic air quotes were clearly implied.

“Jasmine, I gave you more than I’ve given anyone else in . . . in a long time.” Ever. “And with the way the press is always on your ass, can you blame me for not wanting to reveal everything?”

She sucked in a breath, and her eyebrows dipped in pain. It was a low blow, and he felt terrible, especially since he knew she didn’t enjoy all the attention the media heaped on her.

Jasmine let out a shaky breath, and in a severe voice, said, “Ashton. You can’t have it both ways.”

His brow creased. “What do you mean? I’ve been in this business a long time, and I managed to keep Yadiel hidden until now.”

She shut her eyes against his words, and he knew he’d hurt her again. He couldn’t seem to stop. The stress of the last couple weeks had worn him raw.

“You know, I sometimes think, ‘I never asked for it,’” she said in a quiet voice. “But the truth is, the second I signed a contract to be on television, I made a deal with the public. They would get part of me in exchange for knowing my face and connecting with the characters I play. And so did you. You can’t have it both ways, Ashton. You can’t be a public figure and have a completely private life. You think the actors who make it to the Oscars have privacy? Don’t be naive.”

He felt like the walls were closing in on him. “I was doing pretty well at it until I met you.”

She sucked in a shocked breath, and the hurt that crossed her features made him feel like absolute shit. It had been another low blow, and he opened his mouth to apologize, but the hotel phone interrupted him. They both stared at it, startled by the ringing of an actual telephone.

“Don’t say another word,” she ground out, her voice hoarse and brittle. She moved to the desk to answer it.

“Hello?” She listened for a moment, then sent Ashton a worried look. “Sí, él está aquí.”

Ashton’s surprise at hearing her speak Spanish meant he wasn’t thinking about who was on the phone. When he lifted the receiver to his ear, he was shocked to hear his father’s voice on the other end. He listened to Ignacio with growing horror, guilt and fear roiling in his gut. With frantic movements, he grabbed the pen and paper on the side of the desk and scribbled down the information.

“Ya salgo para allá.” Ashton replaced the phone in the cradle and stalked over to the sofa. Digging around in the cushions, he retrieved his cell phone and checked the screen. Five missed calls from his father, and a series of texts, telling him what he now already knew.

“Yadiel fell,” he said harshly.

Behind him, Jasmine gasped. “Oh my god. Is he okay?”

The concern in her voice was genuine, but Ashton was too fired up to be kind. “He broke his collarbone. They’re in the ER and my father has been trying to reach me.”

“Oh no. I hope—”

“Jasmine, don’t you see?” Ashton didn’t want her trying to make him feel better. His child was hurt, and he hadn’t been there. Never mind that Yadiel was always climbing and falling and hurting himself. Ashton had years’ worth of guilt stored up, and for the first time, he had somewhere to direct the pain.

Even if, in the back of his mind, he knew she didn’t deserve it.

When she didn’t respond, he whirled on her, ignoring the hurt look on her pretty face.

“I don’t have time for this.” He waved a hand, vaguely gesturing at them and everything between them. “Any of it. I should have been with my family. If I had—” Guilt stabbed at him. “My family and my career are the most important things in my life, and now you’ve managed to sabotage both.”

He ignored her sharp gasp and headed for the door. When he got there, he paused, and gave her his most painful truth. “I’m sorry, Jasmine. I just don’t have room for you.”

He left without looking back and caught a taxi to the emergency room where his family waited. The whole time, he replayed the horrible things he’d said. The guilt of hurting her mixed with the guilt of not being there for his son, until he felt like he was going to vomit. Or maybe it was the cab driver’s heavy foot on the brake. Either way, by the time he got to the ER, he was sick with worry.