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The evening had settled in soft.

 

That kind of sunset that made everything look slower.

 

Warmer.

 

Orange and gold stretched across the sky while the last bit of daylight kissed the tops of the trees behind the yard.

 

Duane sat outside on the patio, leaning back in his chair with jazz

playing low from the Bluetooth speaker.

 

Something smooth.

 

Old school.

 

The fire pit cracked and danced in front of him, throwing warmth against

the cool evening air.

 

A cigar rested between his fingers.

 

A short glass of Gentleman Jack sat on the small table beside him.

 

His favorite.

 

He took a slow pull from the cigar and exhaled into the sky.

 

Peace.

 

Real peace.

 

It still felt new.

 

Like wearing fresh shoes, you ain’t fully broken in yet.

 

But he liked it.

 

No...

 

He needed it.

 

Stacey was out with her girls tonight.

 

Something about dinner, drinks, and “grown woman foolishness,” as she

called it.

Duane smiled to himself.

 

He loved when she laughed like that.

 

Loved knowing she had her own life.

 

Her own people.

 

Her own joy.

 

And somehow... she still chose him.

 

That thought humbled him.

 

He stared into the fire.

 

Thinking.

 

Reflecting.

 

I finally feel like I got a voice.

 

Not the one people pulled from him.

 

Not the one responsibility shaped.

 

His.

 

Clear.

 

Strong.

 

Honest.

 

For the first time in my life, I know where I’m headed.

 

He took another sip.

 

Let it sit.

 

Burn slow.

 

And I know who I want beside me when I get there.

 

Stacey.

 

That woman had changed everything.

 

Not by forcing him.

 

Not by fixing him.

 

But by showing him what it looked like to stop bleeding himself dry for

everybody else.

 

He shook his head.

 

Hell…

 

he didn’t even know there was such a thing as inner joy before her.

 

He just thought surviving was enough.

 

Working.

 

Providing.

 

Showing up.

 

Repeat.

 

But joy?

 

Peace?

 

Wholeness?

 

That was new territory.

 

And he was learning it.

 

Enjoying it.

 

Even church felt different now.

 

Not like obligation.

 

Not like performance.

 

Like healing.

 

Like God had been waiting on him to stop running long enough to listen.

 

Last Sunday’s sermon sat heavy on him still.

 

Proverbs 4:23.

Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life.

 

At first it sounded simple.

 

But then it settled deeper.

 

Because all these years...

 

he had protected everybody else.

 

Everybody else’s feelings.

 

Everybody else’s needs.

 

Everybody else’s crises.

 

And neglected his own heart.

 

Neglected the very thing driving his life.

 

He laughed softly to himself.

 

Stacey used to sing that gospel song around the house.

 

Half-cleaning.

 

Half-praising.

 

Flowing from my heart… are the issues of my heart… it is

gratefulness…

 

Back then he just thought it was one of her songs.

 

Now?

 

Now he got it.

 

And tonight...sitting here under this sky, with fire in front of him and peace wrapped around him...

 

gratefulness was exactly what he felt.

 

He didn’t know what he did to deserve this second chance.

 

At life.

 

At love.

 

At God.

 

But he knew one thing—

 

he wasn’t wasting it.

 

 

The patio door slid open.

 

Duane turned.

 

There she was.

 

Stacey.

 

Her heels in one hand, purse hanging from her shoulder, hair slightly

wild from the night.

 

Still beautiful.

 

Always beautiful.

 

“Hi babe,” she smiled. “Whatchu doing out here?”

 

Duane smiled back.

 

“Hi beautiful.”

 

He looked back at the sunset.

 

“Just enjoying this… meditating on some things.”

 

She stepped closer.

 

“Good things?”

 

Duane looked up at her.

 

“The best things.”

 

She raised an eyebrow.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Thinking about how blessed I am.”

 

Her lips curled.

 

“For what?”

 

He stood up slowly, walked toward her.

 

“For having the most amazing fiancée in the universe.”

 

Stacey smiled big.

 

That soft smile.

 

The one that always hit him in the chest.

 

“Aww... thank you, baby.”

 

She wrapped her arms around him.

 

“And you pretty amazing yourself.”

 

Duane kissed her.

 

Slow.

 

Deep.

 

The kind of kiss that spoke without words.

 

The kind built on knowing.

 

When they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

 

“How about you pour yourself a glass of wine and come sit with me?”

 

Stacey looked at the fire pit.

 

The cigar.

 

The jazz.

 

The sunset.

 

“Now that sounds like exactly what I need.”

She kissed him again.

 

“Lemme change first. These jeans been disrespecting me all night.”

 

Duane laughed.

 

“I’ll be right here.”

 

A few minutes later she came back out in her favorite oversized sweats,

 

fuzzy socks, and a glass of red wine.

 

Her hair pulled up now.

 

Relaxed.

 

Home.

 

She curled up beside him in the patio loveseat, tucking herself into his

 

side.

 

The fire crackled.

 

Jazz hummed.

 

The night settled.

 

Duane kissed the top of her head.

 

“I been thinking.”

 

Stacey smirked.

 

“That usually means somebody about to get a speech.”

 

He laughed.

 

“Probably.”

 

She sipped her wine.

 

“I’m listening.”

 

Duane stared at the fire.

 

“I been thinking about changing the trajectory of my life.”

 

Stacey looked up at him.

 

He continued.

 

“The dependency I allowed people to place on me.”

His voice stayed steady.

 

“Before you… all I had was them.”

 

He paused.

 

“And I thought that was enough.”

 

He swallowed.

 

“Because it kept me busy.”

 

Kept him distracted.

 

Kept him needed.

 

Kept him from facing himself.

 

“But now,” he said quietly, “I see things different.”

 

He turned to her.

 

“Now my life is you.”