I give her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Forever.”
Analyse chokes back a laugh, dabbing at the corners of her eyes again. “How about we make that chocolate milk now? We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”
Maya’s already halfway to the kitchen. I stand and grab her mom’s crutches from where they’re leaning near the counter,bringing them over. I steady her as she walks, my hand at her back, and when our eyes meet, she gives me this soft, knowing look that sends something warm rippling through my chest.
We’re really doing this. A family. A real one.
Maya scrambles onto a stool at the kitchen island, her tiara slipping slightly as she props her elbows on the counter. I grab the chocolate milk while Analyse reaches for glasses.
“Whipped cream?” I ask.
Analyse arches a brow. “Seriously?”
“Special occasion,” I say, already pulling it from the fridge.
“Sprinkles?” Maya asks, eyes wide.
I open the cabinet with flair. “Pink and rainbow. Dealer’s choice.”
As I decorate her drink, I glance at Analyse leaning against the counter. Her smile is soft, eyes still misty. This isn’t just about me and Maya. It’s all of us. Every quiet night and early morning. Every inside joke and burnt pancake. Every time Maya curls up in my lap like she’s always belonged there.
This is what I’ve wanted. I didn’t realize before, but this is everything I needed.
I hand Maya her drink with a bow.
She gasps like it’s the most magical thing she’s ever seen. “It’s perfect,” she whispers.
A beat of silence stretches between us.
Then Analyse asks, “What do you think about a movie marathon day?”
“With pancakes for lunch?” Maya says through a mouthful of whipped cream.
“Pancakes, popcorn, and pajamas all long,” I say. “The perfect day of rotting.”
Maya cheers, already sliding off her stool. In no time, we’re dragging every blanket and pillow we own into the living room. Maya builds a fort, Analyse supervising from the couch. Meanwhile, I’m flipping pancakes in the kitchen while Maya heckles me like a pint-sized Gordon Ramsay.
“That one’s burnt!”
“It’s called caramelized!”
“Chef’s banned,” she declares, arms crossed.
“Chef’s underpaid,” I mutter, grinning as I plate the stack.
We eat on the floor inside the fort, maple syrup dripping onto paper towels. When the sugar crash hits, we all end up in a pile—Maya between us, head on my shoulder, blanket tucked up to her chin.
Maya reaches for my hand without looking, just this tiny, instinctive move like she knows that I’ll always be there to hold it. And she’s right. I will. Forever.
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.
