So this is what it felt like to be nervous.

Heart racing, palms tingling, mild lightheadedness. It was a distantly familiar sensation. Once upon a time, when he was younger and greener, William had gotten nerves before presentations—especially ones made to his father. And his father had insisted on being present for every one when he was just starting out. Over time, William's anxiety had faded…incessant practice in the form of constant trials-by-fire tended to do that. Years later he had the thought to be thankful to his father for stamping any weakness out of him.

Now he was less than thankful. The weakness hadn't been stamped out at all, only buried deep enough that it had taken years to rise back to the surface and overwhelm him at this singularly inopportune moment.

He stood at the dead center of the room before a group of prospective clients. They all watched him raptly, ready to be impressed. This was William Jameson after all, CEO of Jameson Ad Agency, and he was teaming up with his younger brother to deliver a "pitch to end all pitches" for their jewelry company.

At least, that was how Eddie had pre-pitched it to them. "Believe me, every single one of you is going to want to be there for this," he had hyped over drinks a week ago. "And everyone who's in the room the day William pitches is going to be an integral part of the campaign…but I can't say anymore," he had concluded mysteriously, when everyone present had clamored to know exactly that: more.

William had to hand it to Eddie: he knew how to generate almost obsessive interest in a project. Now every hungry eye was trained on him, and he was meant to deliver.

Poppy stood in the back of the room, slender arms folded neatly over her chest. Every time William's eyes alighted on her, she nodded encouragingly; he suspected she didn't realize she was doing it. He had asked her to come along today for support, an unusual request for a pitch, but she had agreed on the spot.

Eddie stood politely off to the side, shuffling through his materials and occasionally conversing with the camera operator. "…and so when creating a viral video, the most important thing to understand is that your video has not generated the views necessary to make it a viral commodity at the outset," William heard himself saying. His assertion was met with agreeing nods from the potential clients. "If you'll take a look at our associate, Hank, over there beside Eddie—" Eddie waved to attract their attention. "—you will see that while he is a credentialed cameraman hired specifically for this project, he’ll be filming with a smartphone. A lower-resolution video taken by expert hands will give the campaign the level of professionalism you have come to expect from Jameson, all while maintaining something other jewelry campaigns never achieve: authenticity. Hank, do you mind switching the camera on now?"

Hank nodded and flipped his phone around. The clientele murmured amongst themselves. "Mr. Jameson, forgive me, but we all know what a viral video is," one of the suits in front said. "Whatever you're leading up to, I must admit it sounds appealing. In fact, it sounds like exactly the sort of thing our company is looking for with its next campaign. But how can you give us your guarantee, as an ad man, that such a strategy would be effective?"

William barely registered the question. His eyes were locked on Poppy. She shifted beneath the weight of his look, blushed and smiled, before trying in vain to nod his attention away from her. Several others had turned to look at her now. "It's important that improvisation play a part in the creation of any viral video," William said. "Poppy, will you join me up here please?"

All heads turned toward the back of the room. Poppy blinked, her green eyes looking even more enormous than usual. She hesitated only a moment, then detached from the wall to join him. "When you said you needed support…" she began, before cutting herself off with a gasp as William dropped to one knee. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Poppy," William began. "Thank you for your help with this demonstration. I know you weren't expecting it. Can you confirm to the people in the room that your surprise is authentic?"

Poppy nodded wordlessly.

"Can you confirm that neither of us rehearsed this?" He had been in control of his voice until that moment; now he could hear his own heart climbing into it, threatening to choke him off. He was more nervous than he could ever remember being in his life. Even his first presentation for the agency paled in comparison to this.

Poppy nodded.

William drew a small box out of his pocket. "And can… will you concede that despite any of the differences we may have come up against in the past, there is no more powerful partnership than the one you and I have already begun to forge together?"

"Conceding isn't something I ever imagined myself doing in this scenario," Poppy said wryly. Laughter filled the room, but everyone seemed to be holding their breath. William took her slender hand in his; he popped open the ring box. A dazzling white diamond winked and flashed in the light of the sun streaming in through the boardroom window. It was a radiant gem, perfectly cut to nestle at the center of the gold flower that acted as the ring's setting. Poppy made a small noise as she beheld it for the first time.

"Poppy Hanniford, will you marry me?"

She couldn't hold it together any longer. With an ecstatic sob, Poppy fell to her knees and hugged William, nearly knocking the engagement ring out of his hand. "Yes!" she cried.

Everyone in the boardroom was on their feet suddenly and unable to contain their excitement. William pulled back from Poppy and swiped a thumb across her cheek, banishing her tears of joys. Their eyes met, and for now, there was nothing more they could express to one another in words. He helped her to her feet and slipped the ring on her finger.

"Rhett Butler, eat your heart out," William muttered as he pulled her in.

"Rhett who?" Poppy agreed. Their lips met, and William dipped her in his arms. The boardroom receded around them, until all he was aware of was how bright her laugh tasted and how perfectly she filled his embrace. Distantly, he heard Eddie's voice say:

"Turn the camera off, Hank. I think we all got what we need here."