You Were Never Just My Boss

Chapter 29

Bea’s POV

There were no violins. No rose petals. No staged photographer waiting in the shadows. Just the soft creak of the floor beneath his knee, and the sound of my own heart trying to climb its way out of my chest. Julian stayed still, like even the slightest breath might shift the gravity in the room. His eyes didn’t leave mine—not for a second. And when he finally spoke, his voice wasn’t confident or cocky. It was rough around the edges, trembling like it had waited a lifetime to be brave enough for this. “Beatriz Martinez… will you marry me?”

The question landed in the quiet like a match to dry kindling. Everything inside me lit up and melted at once. My eyes stung and my breath stuttered, and before I could stop it, a laugh broke out—sharp, wet, unfiltered. I covered my face with both hands and laughed through the tears that wouldn’t wait their turn. “You didn’t even bring a ring, you fool,” I choked out, half sob, half giggle. Julian blinked, startled, then smiled like I’d given him the answer without saying a word. He tugged at the cord of his hoodie and, with careful fingers, pulled it free.

He tied the hoodie string with a kind of reverence I wasn’t ready for, his fingers moving with shaky precision like it meant everything—which, somehow, it did. The moment the knot touched my skin, something inside me broke in the best way. I didn’t wait. I didn’t think so. I just leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn’t perfect, not like in movies. It was messy—our noses bumped, and my tears were still wet against his cheek—but it was real. Real like breath after drowning. Real like color after gray. His hands cradled my face as if I might disappear, and I held him like maybe I never would.

When we finally pulled apart, I pressed my forehead against his, breathless and buzzing, like I’d run a marathon straight through every version of myself just to land here. His hands settled at my waist, steady but light, like he still wasn’t sure if I’d vanish. I brushed a thumb across his jaw, feeling the prickle of his stubble and the tenderness in his eyes, and for a moment, we just stared. No words. Just the sound of us remembering how far we’d come to reach a place this quiet. “So that’s a yes?” he whispered. “It’s a hell yes,” I whispered back.