Jack shrugged. “Fine. But only because it offends you. I don’t find it offensive in the least.”
“Well, good on you I guess. Still—”
“Don’t change the subject,” Jack grinned. “It’s okay, you can tell me. Is he an ex? One of those amicable break-ups that you’re still pining over or something?” He snagged his version of the tumblers that they were using as wine glasses and took a drink. “Just you, me, and the wine, Mason. And I fucking love gossip. So…?”
Mason snorted. “Well, I hate gossip. And no, he’s not. It was just a friend.”
Jack’s eyebrows rose. “Ah. Unrequited love then.”
“A friend,” Mason repeated. “And straight as a pin I might add.”
Jack winced. “Ouch.”
Mason ignored him and tried to bait the conversation away by pointing at Jack’s half-finished dinner. “You didn’t eat your potato.”
“I don’t eat carbs.”
Mason clucked his tongue in distaste. “Carbohydrates are good for you. They give you energy and—”