Chapter 8 – Analyse
Chapter Eight
ANALYSE
I’m exhausted. I hardly slept a wink last night, tossing and turning, stressing about this situation with Nico. I’m so damn mad, and the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get. He can’t just show up unannounced like that. We need to set some ground rules.
I’m gulping my coffee when my phone pings with a text, I reach for it and see that I have several messages from The Council of Chaos.
Anna
Are we still pretending like nothing happened yesterday or can we ask questions now?
Mari
Anna, we’re giving her time. Remember?
Anna
I actually don’t remember that. What was I doing when you told me this?
Mari
Literally sitting in my car. It was last night. On our way home from the festival.
Anna
Ahh, see, that’s where you went wrong. You had Aventura playing in the background, and you know I can’t focus on anything else when my baby Romeo is singing to me.
Mari
Omg, Anna. You weren’t listening to anything that I said?
Anna
I’m sorry, Mari. But we have to get back to the point.
Mari
Which is?
Anna
Mariana Camila Vargas! Now you’re not listening! Nico, obvs! Lyse, where are you girl?
I laugh to myself as I scroll through the messages. These girls are absolutely unhinged, but they’re my unhinged girls. Sisters, not by blood but by choice. I truly can’t imagine life without them driving me insane, drowning in wine nights, and offering advice I never asked for but always need.
Of course, Mari’s playing it cool, giving me space when it comes to the whole Nico mess, while Anna’s basically two seconds away from demanding a full breakdown with timestamps. God, I love them.
Analyse
I’m here. But, reading your messages, maybe I should hide?
Mari
Take whatever time you need!
Anna
Don’t you dare hide! I have questions.
Analyse
Okay, okay. Ask your questions.
Anna
When did Nico show up?
Analyse
Two weeks.
Mari
Same time that you told Seb that you and Mateo were dating. Crazy timing.
Analyse
Right…it was crazy timing, alright.
Anna
Okay, I think this conversation will be better over wine. Girls night?
Mari
You know I’m in.
Analyse
And you know I’ll bring the good wine.
Anna
Tonight?
Mari
You can drop Maya off with Seba! He’d love that.
Analyse
Perfect. See you guys tonight!
I put my phone down on the kitchen table, and Maya runs into the room, happily calling for me, “Mami! Mami!”
“Yes, mi amor?”
She wraps her arms around my legs. “Is it pancake time?!”
I crouch down and kiss the top of her head. “You bet. And you know I need my best little helper!”
She gasps. “Yes! I’ll help, Mami!”
Before I can begin grabbing any of the ingredients, the doorbell rings.
Weird. I wasn’t expecting anyone today. Please don’t let it be Nico.
I walk over to my front door and swing it open, mentally crossing all my fingers that he hasn’t decided to pop up again uninvited.
When I open it, it’s not Nico standing there… it’s Mateo.
“Mateo? What are you doing here?”
“Hello to you, too, Chula,” he says, grinning.
“Right. Right. Hi, Mateo. What are you doing here?”
“Taking my girls to breakfast.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did we have plans?”
“Does your man need formal plans to take you out?”
“First of all, you’re not my man—”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I lift a finger to stop him. “And second of all, yes. You should absolutely let me know in advance about our plans. What would you have done if I wasn’t home?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Where you would be, Analyse? You’re always home or at the school. If you weren’t here, then I would’ve driven to the school.”
I roll my eyes. “Not true. I’m out all the time. Doing tons of fun things. I’m the life of the party, remember?”
He barks out a laugh. “This is coming from the girl that wants to be in bed at eight so she can binge episodes of Law & Order: SVU she’s already seen.”
My mouth drops open in offense. Before I can fire back, Maya comes running in, and launches herself straight into Mateo’s arms. “Mateo! Yay! Mami, Mateo’s here!”
He lifts her up into the air. “Hi, baby girl. What do you think about us going for breakfast?”
At the exact same time I say, “We actually were about to make some pancakes.”
And Maya goes, “Yes! Let’s go to the diner! They have the bestest pancakes.”
Little traitor. Looks like we’re going to breakfast with Mateo.
The bell above the door jingles as we walk into the diner, that familiar scent of bacon, syrup, and fresh coffee wrapping around us like a hug. Maya practically skips ahead, her little sneakers squeaking against the tile floors.
“Booth or table?” Mateo asks, glancing at me.
“Booth,” I say without hesitation. “Less chance of Maya falling off a chair trying to reach the syrup.”
“Rude,” Maya says, climbing into the booth. “I’m a big girl now.”
Mateo grins as he slides in next to her, and I take the opposite side, setting my purse down. He grabs a couple of menus from the edge of the table and hands one to me.
“Let me guess,” he says, leaning back with that annoyingly smug look of his, “you’re going to order the same thing you always get—two eggs, bacon, toast, and exactly one bite of Maya’s pancakes.”
I lift an eyebrow. “That’s bold of you to assume I’m that predictable.”
He shrugs, grinning. “I pay attention.”
Before I can respond, Maya pipes up, “And she drinks her coffee with two sugars and just a little bit of milk, but not too much or she says it tastes like sadness.”
Mateo bursts out laughing, and I bury my face behind the menu, trying not to smile.
“She’s not wrong,” I mumble.
A few minutes later, a waitress walks over, pen tucked behind her ear and a grin already playing on her lips.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite fireman,” Letty says, all sing-songy and syrup-sweet, like the damn pancakes. “Didn’t know you were in this morning.”
Mateo gives a polite smile. “Hey, Letty.”
Then her eyes flick to me, taking in the scene. Me across from him, Maya beside him, the easy vibe between us. Her smile falters for a blink—barely there—but she recovers fast.
“Didn’t realize you had company,” she says, sweet but sharp. “Just catching up with an old friend?”
Mateo doesn’t even blink. He reaches across the table and threads his fingers through mine. “Not exactly,” he says. “This is my girl.”
My stomach flips. Letty has only lived here for about a year, so I don’t know her very well. But from the looks of it, she’s got a thing for Mateo.
Letty’s smile tightens. “Right…well. What can I get you guys?”
Maya rattles off her order first, no hesitation: chocolate chip pancakes with extra whipped cream. Mateo goes next, but I barely hear what he says over the pounding in my chest. When it’s my turn, I answer automatically, eyes locked on Mateo’s thumb brushing slow circles against my skin.
Letty scribbles our order down, gives a final, lingering glance at Mateo, then walks away with her pride just a little bruised.
I raise an eyebrow. “Your girl?”
He smirks. “What? I’m committed to this relationship.”
I glance down at our hands—still joined across the table. “Well,” I say, schooling my expression, “you’re doing a really convincing job.”
He leans back slightly, that maddening smirk still playing on his lips. “You think so?”
I shrug. “Honestly? You’re a little too good at this. Makes me wonder how many women you’ve fake dated before.”
He lets out a low laugh. “You’re my one and only, chula. But I’ve seen enough rom-coms to know the key is confidence. And you know me, baby, I drip confidence.” He raises our joined hands and presses a light kiss against my skin.
I shake my head, trying not to laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
He winks. “Ridiculously committed.”
The moment lingers just long enough to feel like maybe we’re playing the part a little too well.
Maya—completely zoned in on her coloring sheet—suddenly holds up her paper and announces proudly, “This is a dog, but I gave her a crown, because she’s a princess now.”
Mateo releases my hand and leans over to look. “That’s one royal pup.”
I nod, grateful she’s too focused on her crayons to notice the moment that just happened across the table.
“Queen of Pancake Kingdom,” I say, and Maya beams.
The next two hours, we eat our breakfast, Mateo hanging on Maya’s every word, laughing at her stories like she’s the funniest person he’s ever met.
She is. She tells him all about her favorite princesses, how she’s going to be a ninja-clown when she grows up, but also how she wants to be a vet to help the animals, and how her teacher always saves her red jellybeans.
He listens to her so intently, giving her his complete attention.
I sip my coffee, chiming in here and there, but mostly just watching them. The two of them together are loud, chaotic, and weirdly perfect. He really matches Maya’s energy,
By the time the plates are cleared and Maya’s halfway through her third crayon masterpiece, I realize I’ve smiled more this morning than I have in weeks. It’s just pretend, I remind myself as I gather my things, slide out of the booth, and thank the universe that Maya didn’t ask too many questions.
By the time I get back from dropping Maya off with Seb, the house is quiet. Blessedly, perfectly quiet. I take a deep breath, soaking in the silence, before grabbing wine glasses and setting them on the coffee table. Two bottles of red sit beside them, already breathing.
Mariana arrives first, holding a pink pastry box in one hand and a bottle of sparkling water in the other.
“I brought the goods,” she says, waltzing in like a bakery fairy godmother. “Coconut shortbread, guava turnovers, and some new dulce de leche bars I’m testing. I need honest feedback and zero judgment on sugar intake.”
“You had me at guava,” I say, taking the box from her and placing it on the table.
“You okay?” she asks softly, slipping off her shoes.
I nod. “Getting there.”
She doesn’t push. She just smiles and says, “Then we eat,” and starts arranging the pastries on a dish.
Anna bursts in ten minutes later, wearing hoop earrings and holding a Tupperware container above her head. “Arepas con queso, bebés! Fresh. From. My. Mom. We need to enjoy all the arepas we can get from her before she moves back to Colombia,” she declares. “And I have questions. So many questions.”
She hands me the container, kicks off her sneakers, and immediately pours herself a very full glass of Cab.
“You look good,” she says, eyeing me up and down. “Suspiciously good.”
“She does,” Mariana agrees, smiling. “The I’m getting laid glow.”
Anna waggles her eyebrows. “We’ll get to him in a second. But I want to talk about the cursed man first—what the hell? When did he come back? And what does he want?”
I pour my own glass of wine, settling onto the couch with a guava turnover in one hand. “He showed up two weeks ago,” I say.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us when he showed up. I would’ve egged his car!” Anna says, mouth full of arepa.
“He said he wants to be in Maya’s life. That he wants to have his family back.”
“His family? I don’t like it,” Anna says immediately, eyes narrowing. “I never liked him.”
“You and I both,” Mariana adds gently, picking at a piece of shortbread.
“And now he thinks he can just show up with that sorry little smirk and act like the last several years didn’t happen?” Anna goes on, hands flying. “Absolutely not. I’m telling you, just give me his license plate and a ten-minute head start.”
I take a sip of wine, letting the warmth spread through my chest. “It’s been…
complicated. He showed up here, and she didn’t recognize him.
Because she’s never freaking met him. And he looked so shocked, like it hadn’t occurred to him that disappearing before she was even born would actually mean something.
What did he think I was doing? Showing her pictures of her long-lost shithead father? ”
Anna groans. “Ugh, the male audacity.”
“Textbook,” Mariana says with a small nod.
“And then he has the nerve to show up at the festival. It’s bullshit, and I’m sick of it.”
“You need to set boundaries. He absolutely cannot show up whenever he feels like it. This isn’t good for you or Maya,” Mariana says, her voice calm but firm.
“I know,” I sigh. “It just pisses me off. He shows up acting like everything he missed out on—the pregnancy, the diapers, the sleepless nights, the first words, all of it—can just be erased because he suddenly wants to play dad.”
“Too little, way too damn late,” Anna mutters, biting into an arepa. “He doesn’t get to call himself a father just because he remembered he has a kid.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Maya doesn’t even know who he is. I’m not letting him confuse her just to soothe his ego.”
“And what did he expect?” Mariana adds. “That you’d just open the door and roll out the welcome mat? He’s delusional.”
“I would’ve accidentally spilled hot coffee on him,” Anna mutters.
“Tempting,” I say, swirling the wine in my glass. “But I have a kid to protect. And he doesn’t get to drop in and make things harder for her.”
“Good,” Mariana says. “Because he will if you let him.”
“That’s the thing,” I say. “I’m not. He doesn’t get access just because he showed up.”
Anna exhales. “You’re handling it better than I would. I’d be in jail. Smiling in the mugshot.” Then she adds, brushing crumbs off her lap, “At least you’ve clearly upgraded.”
I blink. “What?”
She shoots me a look like I’m being dense. “Mateo.”
Mariana smiles into her wine. “He’s…surprising.”
I snort. “That’s one word for him.”
“No, but really,” Anna says, tipping her glass toward me. “You two just strolled into the festival like it was no big deal. Holding hands. Looking all cozy. The entire town practically short-circuited.”
“It wasn’t that dramatic,” I say.
Mariana tilts her head. “It kind of was.”
I try to act casual, reaching for another guava turnover. “We were just walking around.”
“Walking around holding hands,” Anna corrects. “And he brought you lemonade.”
“He offered. It was hot.”
“So was he,” she shoots back, grinning.
Mariana hides a smile behind her glass. “We just didn’t see it coming. That’s all. You’ve known each other for years, and suddenly…there’s something there.”
“There’s nothing sudden about it,” I say, maybe a little too quickly. “We’re just…figuring things out.”
Anna leans back with a satisfied nod. “Well, I support it. Tentatively. With questions.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” I say.
“I just want you to be happy,” Mariana says, soft as ever. “No pressure. No expectations.”
Anna grins. “But if he’s the real deal, I call maid of honor.”
I laugh, tossing a pillow at her. “Relax. It’s not that deep.”
“Not yet,” she teases.
I shake my head and reach for my wine again, grateful the attention shifts back to food, music, and Maya’s latest obsession with wearing her rain boots indoors.
By the time the pastries are picked over and the wine is nearly gone, I’m full in a way that has nothing to do with food. This was exactly what I needed.