“Whatever will get you all to consider this?” I admit, and she snorts back a laugh. “Like Chloe said, it could be a huge opportunity, but only if we make it one. So think about it. What would we want the show to look like? And I mean in every capacity. Do we want an overall theme for the venue—”

“Ugh,” says Ming. “No. I love what Darlene’s doing, but I’d hate to have that kind of a restriction. Theme nights? Sure. And holiday shows—”

I clap. “Yes! This is what I’m talking about. We were completely at the mercy of the last owner. And not to say that Charles would treat us poorly”—I look to Charles, and he holds up his hands, like he’s showing he’s unarmed—“but we can make this work for all of us. Let’s get into the bones of this thing.”

The faces across from me brim with hope too tempered with reason to act on.

“I know it’s a long shot. And maybe it’s stupid to get fired up like this. Maybe—” I snap my mouth shut to trap in what I was about to say. Maybe it is just me.

“Ben?” Jane takes my hand. “What is it?”

I keep my focus on Jane’s elegant fingers. “Jane and Chloe and Gales know, but I gave up a huge opportunity a few years back because of something like this.” I let out a dry laugh. “Exactly like this, actually. Someone stole my ideas. I told Wickham about it, and that’s probably how he got this whole shady, shitty enterprise rolling. But when it happened, I ran away. And I don’t regret it. I can’t.”

I meet Jane’s worried gaze and smile. “The move brought me to you.” I squeeze his fingers. “It introduced me to burlesque and Meryton and so many things and people I can’t imagine living without anymore. I only regret leaving LA for the reasons I did and for hiding from that shame so long, I didn’t realize it didn’t have a hold over me anymore.”

As I say it, I realize it’s true. What happened then wasn’t my fault, but how I reacted was my choice. The same goes for today, and I’m going to choose better. I squeeze Jane’s hand again. He’s smiling at me, eyes shiny. “I’m not letting this happen again. Not to us.”

“Besides,” says Ming, “we have three pitchers of mimosas and a swanky private room.” She raises her nearly empty glass. “What the hell else are we going to do?”

I release Jane’s hand to clap mine together. “Then let’s get to work.”