NIGHTS LATER THEY WERE OUT, AND SHE MADE HIM CHASE HER through the French Market, at the edge of the Quarter. She squeezed between the stalls and ducked behind stands of hats, of bags, of kitschy paintings. Glimpses of her through the crowd, teeth shining as she smiled. She passed a stall selling Louisiana-themed trinkets to tourists and disappeared into the crowd. He came even with the stall, adorned with embalmed gator heads and chicken feet and straw voodoo dolls. He stood on his toes to search over the heads of the shoppers. As he stepped forward, she leaped out and shouted and scared him. He grabbed her and kissed her. She laughed into his mouth. She pulled away to look at him.
“We will be responsible for each other.”
He tilted his head.
“I need you to remember this.”
He looped his arms around her waist and lifted her. He kissed her again and made the promise in his heart. He held her amid all those others who were not her and were not like her because she was his and they were there together, so near the river.