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I purse my lips together, trying not to snicker.

His mother's chin lifts. "I am your mother."

"I'm a grown ass man, Ma. I see a future with Yue. That future is ours to build, not yours to plan." Ekon doesn't blink. "If you want to be part of that future, then you respect her and wait until we make decisions. We’ll include you when they happen as we see fit.”

Her mouth opens this time, but she doesn’t make a sound.

“That's the deal," Ekon adds.

The table goes silent. The candle in its amber glass flickers. My heart beats so loud I can hear it in my ears. Ekon's thumb still moves along my knuckle, a rhythm that keeps me tethered.

“Deal,” says his dad before he clears his throat. "The gumbo here is supposed to be excellent."

My mouth twitches, and Ekon catches it, producing a smile on his face.

His mother straightens her napkin. "Fine."

The tension doesn't disappear, though. It settles, pushed beneath the surface like sediment in slow water. We order, and I get the gumbo like Ekon’s father. Ekon gets the redfish, and his mother orders a salad she doesn't eat. Ekon’s dad eats with the focused determination of a man who wants nothing more than to be somewhere else.

“Are you planning on quitting and getting another job now that you’ve found your mate, Ekon?” his father asks after a long period of silence.

“Only if Yue wants me to,” Ekon replies.

“I don’t,” I add. “That place is my home, and I love having you there.”

He leans forward and kisses my lips lightly. I smile and return to my food. Under the table, Ekon's hand never leaves mine, staying locked from the appetizers to the entrees. The waiter brings the check. Ekon pays it, and the shit ain’t cheap. His father stands first, offering his mother his arm. She takes it, and as she walks by, she pauses. Ekon stiffens.

"Damn it, Ekon. I’m not going to bite the girl," hisses his mother.

“I can’t tell,” he replies.

She sighs. “Yue, you're welcome at Sunday dinner if my son ever decides to visit us… That is, if you want to come."

I blink, and my mouth opens before my brain catches up. "Thank you, ma'am."

I have no fucking clue where Ekon is from. I know he said he talked to Steff. She lives in Columbus, Ohio, but where the hell is this man from? Out of the corner of my eye, his mom nods, then she's gone along with his father. Ekon and I sit there for a while. His hand is still in mine, stroking it gently. The candles around us have burned down.

"You didn't have to do all of that," I say.

"Yeah. I did," he replies. “When you’re with me, I don’t want you to worry about anything. I know you can take care of yourself, but I want to do it for you instead,” he explains. “Put your trust in me.”

I don’t say anything, but I nod.

Ekon beams. “Now, how about a walk around the quarter since we’re off for the night? It’ll probably be our last night off for a while. If we fuck with Nyx’s money again, I think she’ll skin us alive.”

I snort, and Ekon rises. He helps me up, and we leave the restaurant. The walk from the restaurant to Midnight Embers takes us through the French Quarter. The air is heavy around us. Amber streetlamps glow along the sidewalk, casting long shadows between the buildings. A streetcar rattles past on St. Charles.

Ekon's hand hasn’t left mine. Out in the open, our fingers are laced together. We walk, and people watch for a little in silence.

“Where are you from?” I ask.

“Minnesota,” he replies. “If you ever want to go, let me know. Ma invited you, and she meant it.”

I nod. “Maybe later.”

“No need to decide now.”

We continue our walk, listening to the jazz along the street and watching the people act a fucking fool. Mardi Gras isn’t the only crazy part of the year, so this is nothing new. The words we speak are nonsensical. They don’t even matter. What matters is the weight of his hand in mine. He swings our joined hands between us as we cross a side street.