Chapter 38 – Analyse
Chapter Thirty-Eight
ANALYSE
The second I step through the front door, I feel it…the warmth, that scent, that deep soul sighing feeling of being home.
Everything is familiar, but new. The lights are soft and golden. Candles flicker on the mantle. The pillows on the couch have been fluffed within an inch of their lives. And the smell…vanilla and something sweet. Cookies.
My eyes land on a little note sitting next to a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table, written in uneven, careful handwriting.
Welcome home, Mami.
I can’t stop the tears from welling.
Mateo’s arm tightens around me as he helps me over to the couch. “Easy,” he murmurs, lowering me gently onto the cushion with the best view of the front window, the one I always sit at when I want to see the sunset.
He props a pillow behind my back and adjusts the blanket over my legs with a tenderness that steals my breath. Before I can even finish exhaling, the rest of the crew spills in from the kitchen.
Mari’s the first to rush over, her eyes misty but her smile wide. “There she is,” she says, crouching carefully beside me. “You look…exhausted and amazing. And don’t argue, I’m taking this as a win.”
I snort. “I’m going to tell Seb to take you to get your eyes checked, because clearly your vision is struggling.”
Seb is right behind her, carrying what looks like half a bakery box and something that smells suspiciously like pastelón. “We brought food,” he says. “And yes, Mari insisted we bring the good Tupperware.”
“You only get the good Tupperware for major events,” Mari says seriously, and I love her so much in this moment I could cry all over again.
Anna slides in next to them on the floor, crossing her legs and offering me a coffee cup. “Decaf, but at least it tastes like real coffee…mostly.”
“Man, I missed you guys.”
And I mean it. Even as the pain flares and my body reminds me I’m not anywhere near healed, the ache in my chest has less to do with injury and more to do with how much I’ve missed this, being surrounded by them. The laughter, the teasing, the way we all show up without being asked.
Nathan settles against the wall near the window, arms crossed, quiet like always but with that watchful glint in his eye. Andres hands off a bag of extra blankets and somehow ends up rearranging the entire linen basket with Mari whispering critique over his shoulder.
“Are you sure you’re okay with us crashing here for a while?” Anna asks, her voice dropping low. “We figured it might help Maya feel a little more normal. Keep the energy soft.”
“I’m more than okay with it,” I say, my voice thick. “I’m…grateful. For all of you.”
Mateo sits back down beside me, hand resting gently over mine. “This is what family does.”
I lean my head on his shoulder. “Still feels unreal.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he murmurs. “One day at a time.”
And as the noise swells again—Seb making proclamations about who makes the best empanadas, Anna and Mari bickering over where to put the extra pillows, and Maya quietly curling up on the floor with her sketchbook—I feel it: the slow but steady return of peace.
It’s not perfect. My body still aches, and I’ve got weeks of recovery ahead. But I’m home. I’m surrounded by love. We’re going to be okay.
The house has finally quieted down, in that way it only does when the chaos moves outside. Through the cracked window, I can hear Maya’s laughter echo from the backyard, mingling with the low rumble of male voices and the occasional bark of encouragement from Seb.
They’re playing tag, or something close to it, and judging by the sound of Nathan yelling, “You can’t tackle a kid, Mateo!” it’s going well.
Inside, it’s just us.
Mari hands me a mug of tea, still steeping, and settles on the edge of the couch. Anna sinks into the armchair across from me, tucking her legs under herself and cradling her own cup of something warm and chamomile scented.
For a few beats, no one says anything.
“Okay,” Mari finally says, eyes sweeping over me, “you look better. Still like you got your ass kicked by a haunted staircase, but better.”
I laugh, careful not to jostle my leg. “I’ll take it. And yes, the haunted staircase won. Don’t tell it I said.”
“Too late,” Anna says, sipping her tea. “I texted the ghost while you were napping.”
Mari and I both chuckle, and the sound feels like home. Like normalcy. Like the part of me that wasn’t sure I’d get to have this again can finally take a breath.
The laughter fades, replaced by something softer. Heavier.
Anna’s staring into her mug. Her brows knit, fingers wrapped too tightly around the ceramic.
Mari notices, too. “Alright,” she says, tilting her head, “what’s up with you?”
Anna glances between us and then exhales slowly. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to talk about it tonight, but…” She sets her mug on the side table and rubs her palms over her knees. “After everything that happened…the fire, seeing you in the hospital—”
I reach for her hand automatically, and she takes it, her grip strong but shaky.
“I just kept thinking,” she says quietly, “what if I never get the chance?”
I blink. “The chance to…?”
“To be a mom.”
The words hit like a quiet thud, like a pebble dropped in deep water. It takes a moment to ripple through me.
Mari stills. “Anna…”
She doesn’t flinch. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.
And I kept finding excuses—timing, work, money, dating in this town, which, as you both know, is a flaming dumpster fire.
” She tries to laugh, but it fades too fast. “But after what happened to you, Analyse…I don’t want to keep waiting. I want to do it. IVF. On my own.”
My heart stutters. “Are you sure?”
She nods. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy. Or that I’m not scared. But something about almost losing one of my best friends flipped a switch. Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. But if I start now…maybe someday, a little person will call me mama.”
I feel the tears before I realize they’re there. Mari wipes at hers openly, no shame in the way her mascara runs a little.
“Oh, Anna.” I squeeze her hand. “That’s…beautiful.”
Mari leans forward, eyes shining. “You’re going to be such a badass mom.”
“Really?” Anna asks, voice cracking just a little.
“Hell yes,” Mari says. “You already are. Look at the way you show up for Maya. The way you argue with every school board about their outdated library list. You’ve got the fight in you. And the heart.”
Anna lets out a slow breath and gives us a watery smile. “I was afraid you’d try to talk me out of it.”
“Talk you out of chasing something you want with your whole heart?” I say. “Never.”
She looks down then back up. “I’ve been researching clinics. There’s one an hour away that seems promising. I’m going to schedule a consult.”
Mari reaches over to clink her tear cup against Anna’s. “To doing brave shit.”
Anna clinks back. “To being terrified and doing it anyway.”
We all turn to look out the window. Maya’s sitting on Mateo’s shoulders, arms stretched out like wings as he runs in slow, bouncy circles. Nathan’s trying to coach Seb through a cartwheel while Andres films it with the most serious expression I’ve ever seen.
Warmth rises in my chest, curling around my ribs. These people, this moment…it’s all so fragile and so fierce at once.
“You won’t be alone in this,” I tell Anna. “Whatever you need—appointments, hormone injections, late-night ice cream runs—you’ve got us.”
“And if anyone gives you shit, or even gives you a side-eye,” Mari adds, “I’ll fight them.”
Anna laughs, blinking fast. “Deal.”
I look at the two women in front of me—one ready to leap into motherhood on her own, the other fierce, loyal, and hilarious—and I feel a swelling in my heart I didn’t know was possible after this week. After everything.
We survived the fire. Now, we get to build something new. Something strong. Together.
I glance down at my hands then back up. “Can I tell you both something?”
Mari narrows her eyes. “Please let it be a good something. My heart cannot take anymore. I’m too emotionally fragile right now.”
Anna laughs, leaning forward. “What is it?”
I exhale. “Mateo proposed.”
Their jaws drop in perfect sync.
“Shut. Up,” Mari says, setting her mug down with dramatic care. “When?”
“In the hospital,” I say, cheeks burning. “After I woke up. It wasn’t some big elaborate thing, no ring—just him, holding my hand, telling me he didn’t want to waste another minute.”
Anna lets out a quiet gasp. “Oh my god, Analyse. What did you say?”
“I said yes,” I admit. “I really love him and I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”
They’re both crying. I’m crying. We’re all just a bunch of puddles, surrounded by throw pillows, tea, and candles.
Mari wipes her face. “I’m going to need so many details. Not now. But soon.”
“And we’re absolutely throwing you the most chaotic, over-the-top engagement dinner,” Anna says, already plotting. “With a shit ton of champagne and cake.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I say, laughing through tears. “But actually…how about you skip the engagement dinner and go straight to planning our wedding?”
They both freeze.
“What do you mean?” Anna asks, eyes wide.
“We want to get married,” I say, voice soft. “As soon as I’m able to walk again.”
Mari launches off the couch like she’s been spring loaded. “You didn’t think to lead with that?!”
Anna claps her hands together, already half in tears again. “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. Are you kidding me? That’s a movie.”
“I just…” I trail off, blinking fast. “I don’t want to wait. This whole thing, the fire, everything—it made me realize how fragile life is. I love him. He loves me. That’s enough. I don’t need a yearlong engagement or a Pinterest-perfect ceremony. I just want us. Him and me. Maya by our side.”
Mari places a hand over her heart. “I’m gonna need someone to sedate me before this wedding or I’m going to ugly cry through the whole damn thing.”
Anna leans forward, practically vibrating with energy. “Okay, listen. We can pull this off. I know people. I can get a dress for you easily. And if you want to wear sneakers under it, I fully support that choice.”
“Mateo said we could do it in the backyard,” I say, smiling. “He wants to build an arbor.”
Mari wipes her eyes again. “He’s so in love with you. I love you guys together.”
We all laugh, and it feels good. So full. My chest aches in the best way—stretched by love and gratitude.
Anna raises her mug. “Another toast! To reckless, beautiful love.”
Mari lifts hers, too. “To Mateo and Lyse!”
I smile, lifting my cup with both hands. “To second chances.”
I soak this all in—the people I love, the life we’re rebuilding, the future we’re choosing. And finally, it feels like I’m living.