The way that Jamie hugs me back tells me that he's caught on to what I'm feeling, that he's empathizing with me, and I gently shush him before pulling back enough to press a firm kiss to the top of his head. It means a lot that he'd think about my feelings even in a moment as big for him as this.

Once we let go of each other, I go to the fridge to grab one of the tiny bottles of champagne that I regularly smuggle out of the club, and then two glasses. Returning to the table, I tug my chair closer to his and open the bottle, pouring us each a little big of champagne for a proper toast.

And yeah, maybe because I could use a drink.

"Tell me everything," I say excitedly, twisting to prop my chin up on my hand and look at him. "How are you going to do it?"