Stacey didn’t believe in forcing moments.

She believed in creating space for them.

That’s why she reached for her phone instead of her worries.

She scrolled until she found Nia’s name and hit call before she could overthink it. Nia answered on the second ring, voice warm and curious like she’d been expecting something.

“Well, hello stranger. This a gossip call or a favor call?”

Stacey smiled, tucking her legs beneath her. “Favor.”

“Mmm,” Nia hummed knowingly. “What you plotting?”

“That cabin in Lake Arrowhead… is it free this weekend?”

There was a pause. Papers rustled on Nia’s end. A keyboard click. Then—

“For you? Always. Thursday through Monday is open. Why?”

Stacey’s gaze drifted toward the window, her mind already stepping into pine-scented air.

She remembered the first time she went.

It had been a girls’ trip—laughter echoing through the wooden halls, music playing low, wine glasses clinking while stories spilled out like confession and therapy all at once. But even back then, standing on that wide balcony wrapped in a blanket with the mountains stretched endless in front of her, she’d thought the same thing she was thinking now:

I want to come back here with a man I love.

The cabin sat tucked into the hillside like it belonged to the earth instead of resting on it. Tall pine trees guarded it on every side, branches swaying slow like they were whispering secrets to the wind. The exterior was rich cedar wood, warm and rustic, with a stone chimney rising strong through the center. Inside, the floors were polished oak, the ceilings high with exposed beams, and the fireplace wide enough to hold a real conversation in its glow.

Mornings there felt sacred.

Fog would roll low over the mountains like heaven hadn’t fully lifted its veil yet. Sunlight would slip through the trees in thin golden ribbons, touching the balcony rails, warming your skin just enough to remind you you were alive.

It was quiet there.

Not empty quiet.

Peaceful quiet.

The kind that made thoughts honest.

“That weekend’s yours if you want it,” Nia said. “You doing a romantic getaway or a soul-searching retreat?”

Stacey’s smile softened. “Both… hopefully.”

“Ohhh,” Nia teased. “You trying to get that man alone-alone.”

“I’m trying to get him peaceful,” Stacey corrected gently. “No wedding talk. No church talk. No work. No money. No laptops. No friends calling.

Just us.”

Nia didn’t joke this time. She heard it.

“He good?” she asked softly.

Stacey leaned back against the couch cushion.

“He’s… processing.”

That was the best word she had for it.

Not struggling. Not resisting. Not pulling away.

Processing.

“I just want him to breathe,” she continued. “Like really breathe. I want him somewhere his shoulders don’t feel like they gotta hold the world up.”

Nia’s voice warmed. “You love that man.”

Stacey didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

“Well then go love on him in the mountains, baby. I’ll text the keeper and tell him you’re coming.”

“Thank you.”

After they hung up, Stacey sat still for a moment, letting excitement bloom slow instead of loud.

She moved carefully after that.

Not rushed.

Intentional.

She arranged everything like she was setting the stage for honesty to feel safe enough to show up.

Groceries ordered ahead and delivered to the cabin.

Wine selected and shipped.

A new bedding set mailed directly to the keeper with instructions to replace the standard linens—soft cream sheets, plush comforter, pillows that felt like resting on forgiveness. Candles packaged separately with a note:

Please set throughout the living room and bedroom. Soft lighting preferred.

The keeper confirmed by text:

Everything will be ready before you arrive. Groceries put away. Wine chilled. Bedding changed. Candles placed. Atmosphere cozy and romantic as requested.

Stacey read the message twice, her heart beating just a little faster.

Thursday evening to Monday morning.

Four days.

Four quiet days where life wouldn’t be louder than love.

She already planned to pack for both of them. Comfortable clothes.

Lounge wear. A few pieces she knew he liked seeing her in. Nothing flashy. Nothing complicated. Just softness. Ease. Presence.

Because this wasn’t about impressing him.

This was about meeting him.

She clasped her hands together gently, bowing her head.

Her prayer wasn’t long. It didn’t need to be.

God… whatever he’s holding inside… give him room to release it. Not because I need answers. But because he deserves peace.

She exhaled slowly.

She didn’t want to push Duane.

Didn’t want to interrogate him.

Didn’t want to corner him into saying something before he was ready.

But she did want clarity.

Not control.

Clarity.

Insight into the quiet spaces of his mind. Understanding of the thoughts he carried when he went silent. She wanted to know what lived behind his pauses, what breathed inside his restraint.

Because loving him meant loving all of him.

Even the parts that didn’t speak yet.

Her chest softened as she imagined him there—standing on that balcony, mountain air against his skin, no expectations pressing against his back. Just stillness. Just space. Just her.

All she could think was how much she loved that man.

How deeply his happiness mattered to her.

Not more than hers.

Not less than hers.

The same. Equal. Shared.

And somewhere deep in her spirit, she felt it—

That this trip wasn’t just a getaway.

It was a doorway. She just didn’t know yet what truth was waiting on the other side of it.

But something told her—

When Duane finally opened it…

everything between them was going to change.