Chapter 41 – Analyse
Chapter Forty-One
ANALYSE
Today’s finally the day. I get to marry the love of my life.
The last ten weeks have been a whirlwind.
Between wedding planning and physical therapy, there were days I wasn’t sure we’d make it to the finish line with our sanity intact—but here we are.
Anna and Mari helped with everything. From picking florals to making a custom playlist that included both Daddy Yankee and Adele—because we all know that’s my vibe—we made it happen. I still can’t believe we pulled it off.
And after weeks of stretching, strengthening, and more tears than I’ll admit out loud, I can finally walk without crutches.
I get to walk down the aisle today on my own two feet.
It may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but to me?
It’s everything. I fought for this. Every ache, every step, every “just one more rep” led to this moment.
And I’m going to soak in every second of it.
In the middle of wedding madness, we also finalized Mateo adopting Maya.
To no one’s surprise, Nico didn’t even put up a fight.
I don’t know if that makes me feel sad or relieved.
There’s a part of me that still grieves the version of him I once hoped he’d become.
But when the papers came through and Mateo held them in his hands, I knew—without a doubt—we were exactly where we were meant to be.
Mateo is over the moon. And today…today I get to marry him. Today I get to become Analyse Rodriguez.
The dress fits perfectly. Creamy white, off the shoulder, with little lace details that Mariana insisted on adding “because you deserve to feel like a princesa.” My hair is curled and pinned loosely, a few strands framing my face.
There’s a single white daisy tucked behind my ear—a nod to the dress I wore the first time Mateo ever saw me.
I smooth my hands down the front of my dress, nerves and joy tangled together in a knot somewhere beneath my ribs.
Anna pokes her head into the room. “Are you ready, bride?”
I look and smile, eyes already glassy. “As I’ll ever be.”
She steps inside and holds out a small envelope. “This is from Mateo. He said to read it before you walked down the aisle.”
My heart does a full somersault as I take it. The envelope is simple. No name, just a little heart drawn in the corner with a Sharpie. Very him.
Inside is a note, scrawled in his blocky, slightly tilted handwriting:
You once told me you weren’t sure if forever was meant for you.
Today is the first day of our forever. I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.
I’ll carry your heart in every step, in every breath.
See you at the altar, chula. Te quiero mucho.
—M
I press the paper to my heart and let out a breath that shakes loose every last nerve. This is real. It’s happening.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Let’s do this.”
The hum of music floats through our backyard, soft and golden like the fairy lights strung from the trees. It’s warm tonight. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in warm amber and gold. It feels like magic.
Laughter ripples through the air, mingling with the faint clinking of glasses and the smell of fresh florals and food.
I stand just out of sight, heart thudding in my chest, fingers curled loosely around my bouquet. Through the fluttering white curtain draped over the archway, I catch a glimpse of Mateo—he’s wearing a dark navy suit, pacing in place near the altar with a nervous smile on his face.
People are already seated, Mari is handing Maya her basket of rose petals, and the soft melody of “Moon River” is playing on a speaker nearby.
And then the music changes. The soft strum of a Spanish guitar blends with the first chords of a ballad version of “Tu Amor Me Hace Bien,” and I know—it’s time.
The doors open.
Maya goes first, her little white dress sparkling with every step. She throws petals to the ground, pausing halfway to wave dramatically at the crowd. Everyone laughs.
And then it’s just me.
Mateo is standing under the arch, hands folded, eyes locked on mine like the rest of the world has disappeared.
I feel it instantly—the grounding weight of his gaze, the love that pulses steady and deep between us.
Every step I take feels like a vow in itself.
Like a promise I’ve already been living.
When I finally reach him, he takes my hand, brings it to his lips, and whispers, “Hi.”
“Hi,” I breathe back.
His hands tremble slightly as they hold mine, and I realize he’s just as wrecked as I am. Hilda officiates—somehow managing to sound both gracious and slightly inappropriate, which makes the whole crowd laugh at least twice. But when she talks about love, real lasting love, she goes soft.
“I’ve known Analyse since she was just a girl,” she says, glancing at me, eyes glistening. “And I’ve never seen her like this. I’ve never seen her lit up from the inside out.”
My eyes sting.
She turns to Mateo. “And I’ve known Mateo long enough to know he didn’t believe he deserved this kind of happiness. But here he is. Shining like someone who finally realized he was worthy of everything. And you are, Mateo.”
Mateo swallows hard, and I reach for his hand again. We say our vows. His are unrehearsed, rough edged, and beautiful. Mine are scribbled on a notecard I rewrote six times, but when I say them, they come out clear and unwavering.
We talk about choosing each other. About being safe places. About laughter in the hard times and dancing in the kitchen at midnight. About Maya. Always about Maya.
When Hilda finally says, “You may now kiss your wife,” Mateo doesn’t hesitate.
His hands are on my waist in an instant, and his lips find mine in a kiss that feels like everything—past, present, and future all wrapped into one.
The crowd cheers. Someone whoops loudly (probably Andres), and Maya throws more petals in the air while shouting, “They’re married now!”
We turn to face everyone, hands raised in triumph, and Mateo leans down to whisper, “You’re stuck with me now.”
“Good,” I whisper back, “because I’ve never felt more sure of anything.”
The house is quiet now. The music from the reception has faded, the last of the guests have gone, and Maya is tucked in at Seb and Mari’s for the night.
I stand barefoot in the middle of our bedroom, heart still fluttering from the high of the day, from the way Mateo looked at me like I hung the moon and then some. I run my hand over the soft lace of my dress one last time before I slip the zipper down and let it fall to the floor.
Ten weeks ago, I could barely walk without pain. And now, I’m standing tall, on my own two feet, about to have sex with my husband. God, I can’t believe we got married—my husband, my husband, my husband, I’ll never get tired of saying that.
My entire body hums. Mateo appears in the doorway to the bathroom, one hand braced on the frame, that crooked grin already tugging at his mouth. “I have a surprise for you,” he says, voice low and full of something wicked.
I raise a brow. “Oh yeah? What is it?”
He laughs, dark and warm. “You’ll see.”
I bite my lip, heartbeat kicking up a notch. “Bring it on, Mr. Rodriguez.”
The door creaks shut behind him. When it opens again, I turn, and nearly lose my breath. Mateo steps out shirtless, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs…and a Ghostface mask.
“Are you serious?” I ask, already breathless.
He leans against the doorframe, voice low and full of mischief. “You said it was a fantasy. And I did promise you a wedding night gift.”
I laugh, nervous and turned the hell on. “You’re ridiculous.”
He tilts his head, the mask making the motion both eerie and stupidly hot. “And you married me anyway.”
“Because you’re hot,” I tease, backing toward the bed.
“I think you want me to chase you,” he says, taking slow, deliberate steps forward.
I swallow, my thighs pressing together. “I want you to ruin me.”
That’s all it takes.
He’s on me in seconds, dragging me to the bed, pinning me beneath him with a growl that goes straight to my pussy. The cool plastic of the mask presses against my cheek as his mouth finds the curve of my neck.
“You’ve been teasing me in that dress all night,” he mutters. “Looking like a fucking angel. And now you’re mine, Mrs. Rodriguez.”
“Say it again,” I breathe, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Mrs. Rodriguez. My wife. My filthy, perfect wife.”
He pulls back just enough to rip the mask off and toss it aside. His mouth crashes onto mine, and the heat between us explodes like it’s been waiting all this time. Because it has. Since the fire. Since the pain. Since the fear. But now? Now, there’s only this.
He kisses me until I can’t think, then trails his mouth down my body, over the valley between my breasts, my stomach, the dip of my hips, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and soft bites that make my legs shake.
“Still okay?” he murmurs, glancing up.
“Yes,” I gasp. “God, yes.”
He slides my panties down slowly, groaning when he sees just how ready I am. “You’re so fucking wet already.”
“You in that mask kind of did it for me,” I pant.
He grins, wicked. “Noted.”
He dips his head and licks a long stripe through my folds, and I arch off the bed, a broken sound ripping from my throat.
“Fuck, Mateo—”
His tongue works me over with slow, deliberate strokes. He teases me, torments me, sucks my clit into his mouth until I’m begging. Then he slides two fingers inside, curling them just right.
“I missed this,” he growls. “Missed how you fall apart for me.”
I come hard, sobbing his name as my legs shake. He doesn’t stop—not right away. He kisses my thigh, my stomach, working his way back up until he’s hovering over me again, eyes dark with want.
“Still good?” he whispers, brushing hair from my face.
I nod, pulling him in for a kiss. “I need you inside me. Now.”
He lines himself up, eyes locked with mine. “I’ve thought about this every night. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you.”