Still clad only in a strapless bra and shapewear, she dragged out her suitcases and began to pack.

Goodbye, New York City. Jasmine Lin was going back to Los Angeles.

So what if she’d never truly been happy there? Who cared if she felt betrayed after people gave quotes to the press about her breakup with McIntyre?

She didn’t care anymore. It was what she deserved. How stupid to think she could have more.

Her Leading Lady Plan had been hopeless from the get-go. She would never be all the things she aspired to be. And she had once again ruined a good thing.

If ScreenFlix offered her a second season, she would see what she could do to get out of her contract. She just couldn’t be around Ashton anymore.

When the first suitcase was full, she stopped packing long enough to call Riley. The call went to voice mail. She kept the message short and to the point.

“Hi, it’s Jasmine. I’m done here. I’ll be catching the red-eye back to LA tomorrow night. Get me back on The Glamour Squad, please. I don’t want to have anything else to do with Carmen.”

Her voice broke on the last word and she quickly ended the call. Then she ignored the calls and texts that came through in response as she booked her flight. As much as she wanted to leave right that minute, her cousins would kill her if she missed the party tomorrow.

Besides, she’d worked too damn hard on it, and she wanted to see her grandmother’s reaction.

Too bad she couldn’t manage the one thing that would have truly made Esperanza’s day. Just another thing she’d failed at. Jillian would always rank higher. And Jasmine . . . would always be alone.

Tears streamed down her face as she tossed the phone aside and resumed packing. Might as well be alone in LA, where the summers were dry and the winters were warm.

When she was done, she put her suitcases next to the door, laid out her outfit for the next day, and popped an over-the-counter sleep aid to knock herself out.

One more day. She just had to get through one more day, and then she could put all of this behind her.

ASHTON WAS HALFWAY through packing the next morning when someone knocked on his hotel room door.

For a brief, wild moment, he both hoped and feared it would be Jasmine. But after the way she disappeared from the party last night, he was sure it wouldn’t be her.

Still, he hoped.

When he opened the door, his father stood on the other side. Ignacio took one look at the open suitcases in the room beyond, and gave Ashton a bland smile.

“Going somewhere?”

Ashton rubbed the back of his head and ducked his gaze. That look and tone always got him, never mind that he was rapidly approaching forty. “Ah . . . just packing. There’s no reason to stay in New York.”

“Back to Miami?” Ignacio strolled through the chaos in the living room, eyeing the piles of unfolded clothing, multiple pairs of running sneakers, and scattered bottles of cologne. Ashton grabbed some stuff off a chair so Ignacio could sit.

“No. I’ll go to Puerto Rico with you. I don’t have any jobs lined up, so . . .” Ashton trailed off, and his father pinned him with a hard look.

“You’re running away,” he said.

“No, I’m taking the next steps for my life and my career.”

Ignacio actually laughed at that. “Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like running away.”

Ashton paused with a bundle of folded gym shorts in his hands. Coño, his father was right. Ever since the Incident, Ashton had let fear control his actions. He’d been reactive instead of proactive.

Until he’d met Jasmine. She’d coaxed him out of his shell. With her, he’d made his own choices from a place of wanting something and going after it, instead of being afraid of something and avoiding it.

Someone else knocked on the door.

“Ah.” Ignacio braced his hands on his knees and stood. “They’re here.”

Ashton’s brow furrowed as his father made his way to the door. “Who’s here?”

In response, Ignacio opened the door and stepped back to admit Abuelito Gus, Abuelita Bibi, and Yadiel.

Ashton bit back a sigh and resisted the urge to scrub his hands over his face. Or hide in the bathroom. He knew an intervention when he saw one.

He met his father’s grin with a grimace. “This is an ambush,” he said in English.

Ignacio shrugged and shut the door. “You had it coming. Now, siéntate.”

Ashton hurried to clear space so his family could sit comfortably. Yadiel immediately tried to climb over the back of the couch, but stopped at his great-grandmother’s stern glance.

“¿Quieres volver al hospital?” she asked, eyeing the sling he still wore on his left arm.

“No, Abuelita Bibi.” Yadiel pouted, but he sat his butt on the sofa.

Once Ashton sat too, his father got right to the point. “I’m going back to Puerto Rico.”

Ashton nodded. “Okay. We’ll all go back together.”

But Ignacio was shaking his head. “No. You’re staying here. And so is Yadiel.”

Ashton’s brow creased, but he opened his arms when Yadiel bolted to him and climbed in his lap. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re not done here,” Ignacio said. “And I want to put more time into the restaurant, get it back to what it used to be before Maria.”

“I am done. There won’t be a season two of Carmen.”

Ignacio shrugged. “So what? There will be something else. You’ll either be here or in Los Angeles. You’re not going back to Miami or telenovelas.”

Ashton resisted the urge to roll his eyes, tamping down the petulance his father still sometimes managed to bring out in him. “You can’t know that.”

Abuelita Bibi spoke up then, without looking up from her knitting. “I know that.”

Abuelito Gus nodded, a firm believer in his wife’s “feelings.” Ashton, who’d been down this road before, didn’t bother to argue.

“So why is Yadiel staying here?” Ashton asked, and a grimy little hand pressed to the side of his face.

“Because I want to,” Yadiel replied, like Duh, most obvious answer in the world.

“Yadi, you have school—” Ashton started, but his son interrupted him with a shrug that was so much like Ignacio’s, Ashton fought a grimace.

“School is overrated,” the boy said. “I want to be homeschooled. You know, you can do it all online now, and in fewer hours of the day. It sounds like a way better deal.”

Clearly this argument had been rehearsed. “Won’t you miss your friends?”

“Well, yeah, but I can still go visit them, right? And make new ones.”

Ashton swallowed hard. How had he ended up with such a well-adjusted kid? He looked to his father, who likely deserved all the credit.

“This isn’t a normal life for a child,” Ashton warned. “Are you sure?”

“Daaaaad,” Yadiel said, which was how Ashton knew he was being outmaneuvered. Yadi had picked up the drawn out “Dad” habit from some Nickelodeon show, and he used it whenever he wanted to imply Ashton was being an idiot. “I’m not a baby anymore.”

“Everyone already knows about him,” Ignacio pointed out. “Your career is about to take off, and you won’t have time to fly to Puerto Rico every weekend. You can get tutors and a nanny. And if I can spend more time at the restaurant, we won’t need help.”