...Mason studied Anton for a few moments before speaking. “If you don’t mind me asking…when was the last time you were with a guy?”

“Besides you?”

“Sí.”

“Four years. Not since I moved to Puebla.”

“Then why…” Mason paused, wondering when he had become such a masochist. “Why take the risk you took with me?”

Lime juice trickled down Anton’s thumb, a single drop that he completely ignored as he lifted the bottle to his mouth. He took a long drink, then another, the beer half gone by the time he set it back down.

“You took a risk, as well,” Anton said. “Anyone could have seen us. I think we both took the risk for the same reason.”

But Mason immediately understood the risks were different. Losing Miguel over a single kiss would be painful, but Mason could survive it. He had lost boyfriends over less, and he hadn’t vowed a lifelong commitment to Miguel.

“Honestly, I’d be willing to take that risk again.” Mason licked his lips. “Not that I’m suggesting we do, or think we should.”

“No, we shouldn’t.” His gaze drifted back to the crowd. “But that doesn’t mean the wish disappears.”

“So we’ll just…pretend that the wish isn’t there until I go back to San Antonio. That’ll be for the best. Right?”

“The best. Yes. I think so.”

A young couple, their hands in each other’s back pockets, were the next to descend on the jukebox. While Anton watched them make their selections, Mason watched Anton. Pedra didn’t even realize how lucky she had it, he decided. Did Anton consider himself bisexual then? Or gay and settling for the life he thought he wanted? So many questions, not nearly enough beer in him yet to ask them.

“Is San Antonio so different?” Anton finally shifted his attention back. “If I was Miguel, and we were there, would you and he be able to be yourselves right now?”

“More or less. There are still places it’s best for openly gay men to avoid, but it’s gotten better over the last decade. And I have friends who tell me it’s even better in Austin.” Mason leaned forward. “Do you ever get to be yourself, Anton?”

“This is myself.” But the evasive duck of his eyelashes said otherwise.

“But you’re going to live the rest of your life pretending you’re cured of something that’s not an affliction.”

“No, I’m going to spend the rest of my life with a woman I adore. Not everyone can be as lucky as you are, Mason.”

Mason’s first impulse was to argue with him, but he understood that even though they were sitting at the table, they were living in two different worlds. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I was out of line.”

Anton’s mouth canted into a sad smile. It panged even more when Mason realized the sadness extended to his dark eyes. “You said what you believe. Nobody should ever be faulted for being honest.”

“Even if the honesty isn’t exactly asked for or prudent?”

“We’ll just blame the beer.” He lifted his bottle in a salute before tipping it to his mouth again. “Though if I drink much more of these, I think I’ll be blaming it for more than a few words.”

“Anton…” Mason rubbed his face. “If you keep saying things like that, I’m going to forget that I’m trying to keep my hands to myself.”

“You won’t,” Anton countered. “You’re a better man than that.”

“What makes you say so?”

Pushing away his empty bottle, Anton shifted to face him more directly than he had since they’d sat down. “I’ve seen you with Miguel.” The intimate tone of his voice sent another shiver through Mason, and he wished irrationally that Anton would go back to looking at everything but him. “I’ve watched you set aside your own needs for his. I’ve listened to the way you two are together. I didn’t give you the answer I should have earlier, when you asked why I took the risk with you. I should have told you that I thought the man you are was worth the risk. And the fact that I didn’t just goes to prove why pretending is still best.”