BURNING BRIDGES

CHAPTER 9: The Press Conference

Julian faced the cameras with a composure Elena envied. She stood in the wings, watching him address the allegations with calm precision—admitting to his past without apology, explaining his transformation with quiet pride, and deflecting questions about their relationship with a smile that suggested privacy, not shame.

"Mr. Cross, sources say your relationship with Elena Voss is a conflict of interest given her firm's contract with your building."

"Ms. Voss is the most qualified restoration architect in the country," Julian replied. "Her personal connection to me is irrelevant to her professional excellence. Next question."

"Is it serious? The relationship?"

Julian looked toward the wings, finding her eyes. "It's permanent. Any other questions about the building?"

The press moved on, but Elena's heart stayed lodged in her throat. Permanent. He'd said permanent, on live television, with no hesitation.

After, in his car, she turned to him. "You didn't have to say that."

"I meant it." He took her hand, driving one-handed through afternoon traffic. "I know it's fast. I know we have things to figure out. But Elena, I've known since you walked into that bar three weeks ago. You're it for me. You always were."

"Julian—"

"Marry me."

The car swerved slightly. "What?"

"Not today. Not next month. But eventually. When you're ready, when we've proven we can do this." He pulled to the curb, turning to face her. "I want to build a life with you. House, kids, the whole terrifying package. And I want you to know that's where I'm headed, so you can decide if that's what you want too."

She should say it was too soon. Should remind him of their broken history, their uncertain present. Instead, she heard herself say: "I want that too. Eventually."

His smile could have powered the city. "Then we're on the same page."

"On the same page," she agreed, leaning across the console to kiss him. "But Julian? Let's maybe date for more than a month before we start planning the wedding."

"Whatever you need." He pulled back into traffic, humming something that might have been a wedding march.

She laughed, feeling lighter than she had in years. They were reckless, ridiculous, probably doomed. But for the first time, she didn't care. She was choosing him. Choosing them. And whatever came next, they'd face it together.