Page 76 of Not For Keeps
“You’re staying, right?” Analyse asks softly as we walk back toward her room.
I glance over at her, heart thudding in my chest. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
She smirks. “Good. Or else I’d have to handcuff you to my bed.”
My lips twitch “Oh yeah? You threatening me with a good time, chula?”
“Always.”
I reach for her hand and pull her gently toward me. She comes willingly, smiling up at me like she’s already halfway in a dream. “Come on,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Let’s go to bed.”
We slip into a quiet rhythm of getting ready for the night—side by side at the sink, brushing our teeth like it’s something we’ve always done together. She goes through what has to be the most elaborate skincare routine I’ve ever seen, bottle after bottle, tapping her face with products I’ve never even heard of. I wash my face with a bar of soap and catch her shaking her head at me in the mirror, amused.
It’s easy. Comfortable. Like muscle memory we never actually built—but somehow know. And that’s when it hits me. How normal this feels. How right. Like we’ve been doing this for years instead of days. Like we’ve already built something incredible without even realizing it. And I pause.
Was I led here? To Lake City. To her. To Maya.
Was all the pain I’ve been dragging behind me…for this? Was it all part of some bigger plan? Something I couldn’t see until now? God, Lyse. What are you doing to me? Why is it that every time I look at you, my heart whispershome?
We climb into bed, and she immediately curls into my chest like it’s second nature. The thick comforter covers us, wrapping us in its warmth.
I tilt her chin up gently, just enough so I can see her face. “You’re so beautiful.”
She laughs softly. “Mateo, I’m in flannel pajamas, a silk bonnet, and I’ve got zero makeup on. I’m not exactly in beauty mode right now.”
I shake my head. “You could be wearing a garbage bag and I’d still think you’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.” I brush a knuckle along her jaw. “Lyse, you’re so gorgeous that every time I look at you, I have to check my pulse—just to make sure I’m still alive.”
She lets out a sound between a laugh and a breath then leans in and presses her lips to mine. I kiss her back, slow and tender, hands cradling her face like she’s the most precious thing in the world…she is.
When we finally pull away, her eyes search mine. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
Her voice is careful. “Why do you never talk about your family? Are they still in California?”
And just like that—walls I didn’t even realize I’d rebuilt slam back into place. My chest tightens. Fuck. I knew we’d talk about this eventually. I just didn’t think it’d be tonight. Not here. Not now, with her curled against me. But the look on her face—gentle, patient, loving—tells me she isn’t asking to pry. She’s asking to know me. All of me. And my heart starts racing.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. My fingers twitch, restless beneath the covers. “They’re not in California, no.”
“Oh…did they move?”
“Not exactly.”
She tilts her head, confused but gentle. “What do you mean?”
I take a breath—long, shaky. My chest tightens. My hands clench into fists against the blanket. This is it. The moment I’ve been avoiding. The story I swore I’d never speak aloud again.
“I grew up in California,” I begin, my voice rougher than I expect. “My parents met in the Dominican Republic, got married, and moved to the States for a better life. They picked California for the sunshine. They said no one could ever be sad in a place with that much light.”
I pause, swallowing hard. Analyse doesn’t say anything, just slides her hand over mine. Her thumb traces slow circles. It anchors me.
“I was born first. Then came my little sister, Maribel. She was smart—scary smart. And funny. Always singing, always dancing around the house. My parents were…incredible. Kind. Loving. My dad used to take us to the park every day. No matter how tired he was from a long day at work. He’d pitch baseballs to me then run around chasing Maribel.”
A memory flashes. My father’s laugh. My mother’s voice calling us in for dinner. Maribel’s curls bouncing as she ran.
“My mom…” My voice cracks. “She was love. Just…love in human form. Always helping someone. Always smiling. She made everything feel safe.”
I feel my throat tighten, words sticking. But I force them out. “My plan was always to take care of them. I got a full ride to USC for baseball, and when I told them, they both cried. Even my dad. I’d never seen him cry before. They were proud.”
