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Finally she smiles, wide and genuine. More cameras flash, and by now the live tweets have probably gone out. Reginald probably already knows I’m here. I wonder what he’s thinking as he watches this progress?

“Can I take the mic?” I ask. “I promise not to steal the stage.”

“I think you’ve already done that,” she mutters, but with a hint of excitement and humor in her voice. “Don’t worry, I’ll be stealing it right back.”

“I’m counting on it,” I tell her, and she hands me the mic.

It’s do or die, then. Moment of truth. My heart is pounding in my ears, and I know that I’m sweating. Janie waits expectantly, her eyebrows starting a slow climb. She’s not the only one.

One long breath in, and out. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I say into the mic, “this woman is one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known. You probably all know that she started Red Hall on her own, with no major investors and a whole lot of elbow grease.

“What you probably don’t know,” I say as I turn to address them directly, “is that’s she’s done it under some of the most difficult circumstances, facing some of the worst detractors and naysayers in this town. There are people out there who have tried to tear this woman down and they have failed. Because her integrity isn’t a carefully constructed image created to further her business. It was her integrity that made this place what it is.”

I turn back to Janie then, and see her eyes starting to water. She’s holding it together, but part of me hopes that the next part of my speech makes her crack. Not because I want her to cry on stage — but because I know that if she does, it’ll be because I’ve made her happy.

“What you also may not know is that I am head over heels, madly in love with Janie Hall,” I say.

For a moment, I can’t speak. The lounge erupts with cheers, and Janie’s tears start to stream. She wipes her eyes, laughing, and waving frantically at the cameras when they begin to snap pictures.

She takes the mic from me to chide them. “You guys are the worst! Not one of those pictures gets online, you hear me?”

“Janie,” someone shouts, “do you love Jake Ferry?”

She bites her lip, looks at me, and then looks back at the crowd. “I haven’t decided.”

They laugh, and she smiles at me, one eyebrow raised. I take the mic when she offers it.

“All right,” I say, soothing the crowd, “calm down. I got this.” More chuckling, but th

ey quiet down.

“You drive a hard bargain, lady,” I say. “But I bet I can do just a little better.”

The moment I bend my knee, the crowd loses it, and so does she, and I know that I’m grinning like a fool so hard it makes my face begin to ache. She laughs, and again tries to calm the crowd, but her words are drowned out.

“All right, all right,” I say into the mic, even then only barely loud enough to be heard. “Everyone give us just a moment of quiet. I have a question and it’s really important she hears me, okay?”

They quieten down gradually, and Janie has to turn away from me momentarily to breathe before she can face me again. She’s laughing, at least, which is a good sign.

I clear my throat and switch the mic off. This part is just for her. Just for Janie.

“Janie Hall,” I begin, and unfurl my fingers to reveal the box that I’m genuinely surprised isn’t crushed to bits. “I love you, and I am so, so proud of you. You are by far a better person than I am, and I don’t have any business asking you a question like this. But I don’t have a choice. For me, it’s a matter of survival. Without you, I won’t be able to eat, or drink, or sleep. Without you, I won’t be whole. I won’t even be alive.

“I don’t deserve you, and I know that. And I’m not sure that I ever will. But…” I open the box, and there are gasps from the front of the crowd when they see the ring. Janie’s eyes light up as well, not because it’s a perfect blue diamond, but because the man I paid a hundred grand to design and produce it for me is a master of his craft and this ring is, objectively, staggeringly beautiful. “…if you’ll marry me, Janie Hall, I will spend the rest of my life trying to be good enough. Janie, will you let me try? Will you marry me, baby?”

At first, she doesn’t answer. She isn’t even breathing, and I think no one else in the room is, either. We’re both suspended in the silence, until someone from the back of the room shouts, “Say yes!”

Janie bursts out laughing, and the crowd takes up the chant. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

I wave them to silence, but give them all the thumbs up for the assist, and when their laughter dies down, Janie’s hands are over her mouth. She doesn’t make a sound at first when her mouth opens, and she has to suck in a breath and swallow hard, nodding her head. “Yes. Okay. Yes!”

Everyone cheers, a roar of approval and excitement. The cameras flash, and probably all of it is on video on fifty phones and cameras throughout the room, but neither of us care. After I slip the ring on her finger, we’re together, and Janie kisses me and all the noise, the lights, the cameras... everyone in the room vanishes for me.

It’s just me, and her, and our baby.

“She’s pregnant!” someone screams. A high-pitched voice. Janie and I both snap out of it and look for the source, and see Gloria standing on a chair. “Janie Hall is pregnant with Jake Ferry’s baby!”

There’s a beat, and Janie calmly uses it to pick up the microphone again. “Yes,” she says, “I am.”