Noah Miller clenched the velvet box with a sweaty hand, leery of leaving it in his front pocket, unguarded, where it might wander off like a lost sock from a coin-operated dryer. The 18-karat gold ring with the chic sapphire stone he had just purchased, using the entire line of credit on his Visa, was too important for complacency, or its once-removed cousin, negligence. He smiled on the way to his car anticipating her reaction. He was going to surprise her tonight at dinner. Then it occurred to him. He stopped and checked how much cash he had left in his wallet.

He found parking up the street from the restaurant. It was after seven so he did not have to pay the meter. Good thing because he never carried change and was pretty sure he had overextended the limit on his only credit card. He knew he was late but assumed Jessie would forgive him once he presented the ring and the question that went along with it. The rain started just as he reached the canopy outside Butera’s.

The pretty hostess in the black chiffon dress led him to Jessica’s table. He leaned in to give his girlfriend a kiss, quickly swiping at his damp upper lip before contact, unsure if it was due to nerves, the rain, or from following a hostess in her tight clinging dress too closely.

“Not drinking?” he asked a bit surprised, mindful she normally enjoyed a glass or two of red with dinner, except that time when she was pregnant.

“Waiting for you,” she told him.

“Yeah, Jess,” he said apologetically. “Sorry about that. Friday night traffic.”

“I was a little late myself,” she confessed, chuckling at her ambiguous admission.

Ronaldo, their waiter, waited for them to get settled before handing them each a menu and requesting their drink order.

Jessica sidestepped the question. “I’m in the mood for baked clams,” she said. “Will you share them with me?”

Noah fidgeted in his seat. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“Half-a-dozen on the half-shell,” she told Ronaldo. “And more bread, please. Starving.”

The waiter turned to Noah.

“A Scotch, thanks,” he said. “A double.”

When Ronaldo left, Noah emptied the entire contents of his water glass.

“You okay?” Jess asked him.

“Great. I’m great,” said Noah, dabbing at his temples with his napkin. “Really, I’m fine.”

He waited until after dinner before surprising her, allowing Ronaldo to assist in hiding the ring in her mound of orange sherbet. She managed to excavate it on her second scoop, shifting her gaze from the crystal blue sapphire—posing on the basin-end of her dessert spoon—to Noah’s beaming expression.

“How ‘bout it, Jess?” he asked, circumventing the formal proposal he was hoping she would not insist on. He preferred not to make a scene.

“How about what?” she asked, choosing absolute clarity when it came to a question of this magnitude.

“You know, me and you? You and me?”

 “Well,” she said, still holding the spoon in place between them. “Which is it? Me and you? Or you and me?”

Noah courteously confiscated the spoon from Jessie’s hand and dropped the scoop of sherbet into what was left in his water glass. He snared the ring out with a spoon, buffing the gemstone with his cloth napkin. Then he rose and came around the table to her side, dropping to one knee. She was going to make him work for it.

The diners at the tables around them hushed as they watched the side act unfold. Soon the entire restaurant was silenced. And staring.

Noah was aware of the sudden stillness in the room but did not let that hold him up. “Jessica Sagamore,” he announced, holding the ring before her, a determined gaze never leaving her sight. “I love you with all my heart.” He had practiced the lines all day anticipating her response. “Will you be my wife?”

Jessica scrutinized the ring. “It’s beautiful, Noah.”

“It better be …” he cautioned under his breath, switching gears as he placed it on her proper finger. “Promise me you’ll never take it off.”

At that, she peered profoundly at him. Noah could feel the imprint it left on his soul.

“I promise I’ll never take it off … with one condition.”

He cocked his head to the side, his mouth slightly ajar, too dumbfounded for words. Not the response he was expecting.

“I’ll only remove it,” she said, her forehead crinkled like a pleated skirt, “to save you.”

A bewildered look surfaced on his face. “Save me? … From what?”

Her eyes smiled. Her lips followed. She had given him her answer.

Noah waited a moment until he realized that was all he was getting. He considered her intriguing proposition and determined he could live with it. “I accept your terms, madam.”

“And I accept yours, Noah Miller. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He leaned in and kissed her gently. With that, the patrons of the restaurant cheered and applauded. The waiter swooped in and popped the cork from the champagne bottle.

Noah accepted his glass, noting the brand. “Dom Pérignon?” he questioned, forcing a smile. “Did I order that?”

 “It’s the only one we serve,” said Ronaldo.

“Great,” said Noah lifting his glass, concealing a renewed sense of trepidation. “Only the best for my bride-to-be.”