From the corner of my eye, I watched Liam attempt to knot his tie. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it, just that he couldn’t do it well.

I swiped a hand down the front of my own. The knot at my neck was perfectly formed, and the red fabric lay flush against the buttons of my shirt.

“Here, let me do that,” I said, turning to him and unwrapping the silk so that I could start over.

Flipping one end over the other, I asked, “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to tie a tie?”

“It looked fine.”

“Then why were you fussing with it?”

“I wasn’t fussing.”

I raised my eyes to meet his, and my lips hitched up in a smirk. “Liar.”

One beat, and then two, before he smirked back. “Okay, fine. I was fussing.”

I took a step back to admire my handiwork. Before my mom had passed, she’d made sure I could do three things properly. First, cook one good meal. Second, pick out a proper engagement ring. And third, tie a tie properly. By the time she’d been diagnosed with stage IV cancer, I’d been open about my sexuality for many years, but she’d gone to her grave with hope in her heart.

At least now I could put two out of her three lessons to good use.

Liam tugged on the knot, and twisted his head back and forth, like the fabric was strangling him.

“It looks fine,” I said.

“I can’t breathe,” he answered, his voice panicked as he loosened the knot at his throat.

Shit, he sounded terrible.

I took a moment to study his face. Really study it. And that’s when I understood this wasn’t about the goddamned tie.

Fuck.

He was anxious about going to Angus’s party with me—arriving in the same car, walking through the door at the same time—and he was freaking the fuck out. Even with our identities hidden behind masks and cloaks, he was terrified of being seen with me.

I knew if I called him on it, he’d deny it, but his body betrayed him. His brow was dotted with perspiration, and he looked back at me with wild eyes. like a cornered animal who knew his days were numbered.

My heart sank. He’d assured me everything was fine. All week I’d checked in with him to make sure he was okay with this, and each time he’d assured me he was grand.

Except, he wasn’t. Not really.

I took another step back and shoved my hands into my pockets. “This isn’t about the tie, is it?”

Pulling the offending silk over his head and tossing it on my unmade bed—the one he’d fucked me in a an hour before—he glanced away and said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

The fact that he refused to meet my eyes as he shuffled about the room was a dead giveaway. He knew exactly what I was talking about.

“Liam,” I said, irritation mixing with worry. “Look at me.”

He stopped what he was doing and turned to face me.

“This is about the party, isn’t it?”

His head dropped forward for half a second, his chin resting against his chest. And then he raised his eyes to mine. “Hamish knows about us. He saw us kissing.”

Quickly, I ran through all the times we’d been out in public together, and I couldn’t remember a single time I’d touched him in a way that would invite speculation, much less kissed him.

Trust me; I would have remembered that.

And while I couldn’t remember a single incriminating incident, I did remember all the times I’d wanted to hold his hand but hadn’t because of how he would have reacted.

I’d known what I was getting into when I started dating Liam, and I’d tried my absolute best—had pushed my wants and desires back into that ugly, hateful closet—so as not to out him before he was ready to do it himself.

So, the fact that his teammate had seen us together made zero sense.

“Yeah,” he said, running his hand through his hair and gripping the back of his neck. “I had the same reaction. Apparently, you can see into your living room from the parking lot behind the building.”

My head whipped around, toward the room in question, and I was assailed with memories of the first night I’d brought him up here. The moment we’d stepped through the door, I’d shoved my hands in his hair, he’d tugged my shirt out of my slacks, and we’d gone at each other like two people who were drowning, our only hope of survival the air in the other person’s lungs.

It had been the first time in my life I’d kissed someone like that; like they were my whole reason for breathing.

I’d reveled in the feel of Liam’s tongue in my mouth, his hands roaming my body, and the sounds he’d made low in his throat.

He’d sucked me off downstairs, and it had been amazing considering it had been his first time, but I hadn’t needed anything more from him. Those kisses in my apartment could have sustained me, except Liam had had other plans.

Liam always had other plans, and I’d always gone along with them, even when I knew I was setting myself up for disaster.

I shivered now, as I fast forwarded in my memory bank and recalled the first time he’d fucked me. He hadn’t been gentle, and it hadn’t lasted long, but it had been the single most erotic experience of my life. I’d never had someone just let go with me the way Liam had. He’d fucked me fast and furious, grunting and panting my name, and apologizing for not taking it slow.

But the thing was, I hadn’t wanted it slow. I’d wanted him to do with my body whatever it was he needed to do. I’d let him use me, and abuse me, and I’d loved every fucking minute of it.

And I’d known the whole time that someday we might be standing exactly where we were now. The thought had terrified me, but I’d been willing to risk it all—my heart included—for even a short time with him. Which was something I’d never been able to say about anyone else in my life.

Now, I wished to a god I didn’t believe in that I’d never put myself out there like that because I could see it in his eyes: Liam was ashamed that someone knew about us.

“What did I tell you in the beginning?” I asked, my voice coming out gruff and angry.

His eyes flicked to mine. “You said a lot of things.”

“Specifically, that evening in my office, when I kicked you out of my restaurant?”

Liam’s shoulders rounded in on themselves as his own hands found his pockets. “You said you didn’t want to be my plaything.”

“That wasn’t all I said though, was it?”

“No,” he answered, shaking his head slowly.

“I told you I didn’t fuck around with straight guys because you always regretted it later.”

Liam raised his head, and his chin jutted out in defiance. “I’m not straight.”

I laughed. “You’re not gay though, are you?”

“Neither are you,” he said, his voice turning belligerent.

I let out a long breath. Technically, I guess I was bisexual. But I hadn’t fucked a woman in years, and I had no plans to do so anytime in the immediate future.

Except this wasn’t about my sexual preferences. Even as I could see the end of us on the horizon, I still automatically tried to protect Liam, to lessen the impact this would have on him.

“Look,” I said, my tone gentling as I took a step forward, “the fact of the matter is, I’m out, and you’re not. And now that someone knows you’ve been fucking around with another guy, you’re terrified.”

With each step I took, Liam took one backward.

“I just …” He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he let out a long, primal groan that sounded like the personification of pain.

I stopped moving and tore my gaze away, my eyes coming to rest on a spot on the wall over his shoulder. I didn’t want to see his dread, the look on his face that said he wished we’d never happened.

“You just what, Liam?” I asked with a resigned sigh.

I knew where this conversation was going, but I still needed to hear him say it. If this was the end of us, he was going to have to be the one to say so.

Several heartbeats passed while I waited for his answer. Eventually, he turned his back to me and said, “I don’t know.”

My stomach lurched, and my heart kicked in my chest. I thought I could handle anything, but when he’d turned his back on me, that had hurt worse than I’d imagined. It was as if he couldn’t even look at me.

“I think you should leave.”

His head whipped around. “What?”

“You heard me,” I said, straightening my spine and squaring my shoulders.

I wanted to be supportive of Liam’s journey toward self-discovery, but we’d been together for months now and I needed to be realistic. The longer I stayed with him, the more attached I became, and in the end, nothing was going to change. Liam was always going to be the guy who liked dick but pretended not to. And as much as I cared about him, I cared about me too … and I needed to put me first. It was selfish, but it was the only choice I had.

Where before he retreated, now he stalked toward him, his hand outstretched. “Lachlan, don’t.”

I found his eyes and said, “I’m sorry, Liam. I want to be there for you, but I can’t.” I shook my head with resignation. “I wanted you so bad I went back on a promise I’d made myself, but now I remember why I made that vow in the first place. I can’t go back in the closet for you.”

His hand dropped, and his fingers beat a rhythm against his thigh. “So that’s it then?”

“I guess it is,” I said with a sad smile.

“Fuck.” Liam shoved his hands through his hair and linked his fingers behind his head. “So, what now?”

“Now, I guess I go to Angus’s party, and you … well, I don’t know what you do.”

His face screwed up in a grimace, and he blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m not ready for us to be over,” he said, his eyes cast to the ceiling like he was searching for something.

I was looking for something, too—a man who’d proudly stand by my side. Someone who didn’t break out in a cold sweat at the mere thought of someone knowing about me. And until Liam became comfortable with who he was, he would never be that person.

“You’re not ready for us to continue, either,” I pointed out.

Guiltily, he looked away. “I didn’t want us to end like this.”

Something about the way he said that raised my hackles. “How, exactly, did you see this ending?”

He turned back to face me, and his eyes went soft for a moment, like he saw something in his mind that had made him momentarily happy. “Honestly? I didn’t see this ending at all.”

I snorted with disbelief. “Yeah, right.”

Liam took a few determined steps forward, and this time I was the one retreating. When my knees hit the back of my bed, I sat with an oomph.

Liam stared down at me, his eyes hazy with an emotion I couldn’t name. He reached out and cupped my chin between strong, sure fingers. “The thing is, Lach,” he whispered, his voice shaking, “I think I might be in love with you.”

My eyes flicked between his, seeking the truth. A person could say anything, but you could always tell if they were lying by the look in their eyes. At least I could. And the thing was, I didn’t think Lachlan was lying. Unfortunately, I didn’t think he realized what he was saying either.

“Don’t,” I said, twisting my face out of his grip. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

Liam pulled his hand back and shoved them into his pockets again. “Look at me, please.”

Reluctantly, I did.

“You know me, Lachlan. Do you think I’m the type of guy who tells someone something like that if I didn’t mean it?”

I paused for a few beats, trying to compose my thoughts. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but I didn’t know what the right thing to say was either.

I took a deep breath and let it out in a long gust. “I think you’re a guy who has experienced something he wanted his entire life, and it’s making you feel things you wouldn’t otherwise be feeling.”

“Fuck you,” he bit out, taking a step back. “This has nothing to do with sex.”

“Liam, this has everything to do with sex,” I told him. “You’re fucking me, but you don’t want anyone to know. You’ll shove your dick down my throat so long as everyone thinks you’re straight.”

“That’s not true,” he argued, but his voice was less sure than before. “Declan and Aidan know about you.”

“Great. Friends who live in another fucking country know about me.”

“They’re my best friends,” he said, widening his stance and crossing his arms defensively.

I tried not to stare at the slopes and valleys created by his chest and abdomen, or his biceps as the fabric of his shirt stretched tight across his muscles. His body, even fully clothed, had the power to distract me.

“They’re the people who mean the most to me,” he explained, a touch of exasperation coloring his words.

I took some small measure of satisfaction that his old teammates knew about us, but it wasn’t enough. Here was a man I could imagine myself with long term, and the best I could get out of him were a few people knowing I existed.

“The thing is, you’re one of the people who means the most to me, and you want to keep me a fucking secret.”

“I don’t,” he argued, his jaw ticking with repressed frustration.

I stared at him, my eyebrows raised, wondering how long it’d be before he heard himself. He might say he didn’t want to keep me a secret, but actions spoke louder than words … and all signs pointed to him wanting to keep things on the down low.

A few seconds ticked by, and then Liam groaned and turned away. Walking across the room to stand in front of the mirror, he began righting his tie.

“What are you doing?”

Liam glanced over his shoulder and said, “I’m finishing getting ready for Angus’s party.”

When he was satisfied with his appearance, he grabbed his mask and tossed it into the bag with mine.

I shot to my feet, marched across the room, and yanked the bag from his hands. “Liam, stop.”

He reached between us and wrenched the bag back, ripping the paper down its side. When both of our masks fluttered to the floor, he crouched down to gather them up.

“Leave them,” I said, ready to be done with this whole charade.

I didn’t even want to go to Angus’s damn party anymore. Liam and I needed to resolve this once and for all. And once that was taken care of, I’d remove my tux, throw on some sweats, and drown my sorrows in a dram—or ten—of whisky.

“Get up,” I commanded, extending my hand to pull him up.

Liam glanced up, and I sucked in a startled breath. Down on one knee, his hand outstretched, my mind played evil tricks on me.

Get a grip, I commanded, yanking my hand back and scowling down at the man kneeling at my feet. You don’t want to marry him.

We were on the verge of breaking up, and there I was imagining what it would be like if he loved me enough to want to spend the rest of our lives together.

And where, exactly, had that fucking idea come from? I didn’t know much, but I was pretty sure you didn’t fantasize about marrying a boyfriend who wouldn’t publicly acknowledge you.

Liam stood and handed me the mask. “Can we talk about this when we get back from the party?”

“What’s the point, Liam?”

“The point is, I want to go to a Christmas party with my boyfriend.”

I sighed, and then let loose a low growl. Why did it feel like we were talking in circles?

Probably because we were.

“I hate sounding like a needy fucker, but I’m tired of pretending. Let’s just call it while we’re still ahead and we don’t hate each other,” I said, puffing my cheeks and blowing out a heavy breath.

Liam set the mask on the dresser and took hold of one of my hands, lacing our fingers together. “Why are you trying to push me away?”

“I’m not; I’m just calling a spade a spade. You practically had a panic attack when you told me Hamish knows about us.”

Liam shook his head. “It’s not ideal, I admit, but—”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” I interrupted, tugging my hand free and stalking away. “I don’t want someone knowing about us not to be ideal.” I used my fingers to make air quotes. “I don’t want it to be anything.” I turned on him. “No, that’s not true. I want you to say to your friends, ‘Hey, do you want to meet my boyfriend?’”

“Hamish isn’t my friend.”

I threw my arms wide. “Now you’re just arguing semantics.”

We stood facing one another, both our chests heaving as we squared off.

Finally, he whispered, “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know you are,” I breathed out, dropping my head forward and running my hands through my hair. Bringing my eyes back up, I added, “The problem is, I’m not sure it’s good enough. Not for what I need from a relationship.”

“So that’s it then?” he asked, his eyes flashing with futility.

We stood at an impasse. I needed him to acknowledge me and our relationship, and he needed me to be patient and give him more time. No matter how you sliced it, our needs were incompatible.

I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I think it is.”

Liam blinked, and then scanned my bedroom. “Alright then,” he said, collecting his wallet and keys. At the door, he leaned against the jamb, his arms crossed. “I just want you to know that I meant what I said earlier.”

I nodded in acknowledgment, my lips forming a grim line. Liam might think he was in love with me, but he’d never admit it to anyone else. I almost wished he hadn’t said it. It might make this moment easier.

“Can I ask you something before I go?”

I jutted my chin forward, inviting him to speak.

“Do you …” He pulled a long breath into his lungs, and let it out on a gust, his words coming fast. “Is there any chance you might love me too?”

I laughed, the sound coming out wounded. “I’ve probably loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

The problem was, love simply wasn’t enough.