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“Yeah, but I don’t want to go back to school in a week and find out you’re with some other swamp babe.”
“Never happen,” he said determinedly. “I think you’re about as perfect as women get and as long as you’re willing to hang out with me, I’ll be here waiting for you.”
“Is that right? I think my ego just soared.”
They laughed together and high-fived. “We do that for each other,” he said.
“How do I dothatfor you? I’ve never said a word about whether I think you’re perfect, which I pretty much do.”
“You’re with me and that’s all the affirmation I need.”
“Wow, I take that as a compliment, too,” she said. “Do you want to walk?”
She pointed straight ahead.
“I’m ready. We’ll have to make some stops—my aunt’s house, the store, the burger joint for lunch.”
“Let’s run, first. I’ll get a bellyache if I run after I eat.”
“Okay, run first it is.”
At the grocery, the family watched the couple curiously, stopping to chat at the customer service counter with his grandmother, and his mother back in the bakery, his father at the butcher counter.
With the stops they made and the conversation, it took them an hour to walk two miles. They finally arrived at the park.
“She’s sleeping so I say let’s try for a mile.”
The Riverwalk stretched for two miles east along the river. They ran along together, not so fast they couldn’t talk, and it was smooth concrete so the baby wouldn’t get jostled at all. At the first mile, she fussed a little, so they stopped at a picnic bench and Adam fed her and changed her diaper. Another mile to the bridge, they turned and ran back for two miles.
“That last mile was a tough one,” Adam said. “I’d better do this every day.”
“Will you do it after I leave?”
Pulling his shirt up to wipe his sweaty mouth off, he kissed her. “I will, but it will suck without the company. When will you be home again?”
She stood in front of him with her eyes closed, a Cheshire cat grin on her face.
“Not till Mardi Gras,” she finally said, opening her eyes. “Our break is over a long weekend in March so not even Fat Tuesday, but at least I’ll be home for pre-lent.”
“Ha! You can tell you’re Bayou Catholic born and raised. No one else would know what you’re talkin’ about.”
Pushing the stroller with one hand, he hoped his free hand wasn’t sweaty, reaching for her.
“You ready to eat?”
“I’m starving.”
The picnic tables at the village end of the park were under a covered pergola, out of the sun, the breezes off the water keeping it cool enough for the baby.
Reaching into the pocket of the stroller, he pulled out a money clip with a wad of bills.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“A double double with cheese, fries, hush puppies, onion rings, and a chocolate malted,” she said nonchalantly. “And a fried apple pie.”
He nodded, averting his eyes, trying not to laugh after having made a comment about the amount she’d eaten the night before.
“I’ll be right back.”
