Outside, the city had quieted. The music from the bar faded behind us, replaced by the low hum of traffic, the clink of silverware from a closing patio, and the rhythm of our footsteps. Her fingers stayed laced with mine. Our arms swung a little now, the tension replaced by something almost buoyant. We didn’t need to talk about what we were doing. We both knew. And somehow, that made it easier to laugh. “I can’t believe w...