CH 35

Jake leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Open it," he said, a hint of a challenge in his tone. She did, the flaps folding back to reveal a bottle of whiskey, the label worn with age. It was a brand she had not seen in years, one that brought a rush of memories she had long buried.
Renee took a shaky breath, her eyes misting over as she pulled out the bottle. It was the same one Jake had given her and Leo on their wedding day, a gesture of goodwill that had gone unappreciated by her ex. Leo had never liked whiskey, had barely even touched the bottle, leaving it to gather dust on the highest shelf of their city apartment. Yet here it was, a symbol of a past she thought she had left behind, staring at her from the heart of her new life. "Is this... Pappy Van?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. The words seemed to hang in the air, a question that went unanswered for an eternity.
Jake's eyes never left hers as she carefully pulled out the bottle, the golden liquid sloshing gently. "Yes," he said, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate in the very air around them. "I found it at a whiskey shop back home. It's quite the rare find, but it made me think of you."

Renee's hand trembled as she reached for the glasses, her mind racing. This was not how she had imagined their reunion going, but she couldn't ignore the thrill that shot through her at the sight of the whiskey. She had always loved the warm, smooth taste that reminded her of the few good memories she had of her life with Leo. It was a taste of the past she hadn't allowed herself to indulge in since leaving the city. Mike noticed her hands and got up to help her retrieve the glasses, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Let me help you, babe," he said, his voice low and steady, his eyes never leaving hers. His hand rested on her waist, grounding her in the present as he took one of the glasses from the shelf. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on her, and she felt a swell of affection for him that washed away the shadows of doubt that had been lurking in the back of her mind.
As they sat down at the table, Jake pulled out a chair for Renee, his gaze lingering on her for a moment too long. Mike took this opportunity to interact with him, reaching for the bottle of Pappy Van Winkle. "I've never had this," he said, admiring the bottle. "It's quite the rare find. I'm amazed you managed to get your hands on one, Jake. There can't be more than a handful left."

Renee watched the exchange, her heart beating a little faster as she poured three fingers of the amber liquid into the crystal glasses. The sound of the whiskey glugging into the glasses seemed to echo around the room, filling the silence with a sense of anticipation. She handed one to Mike, her hand lingering for a brief moment before retreating. His eyes met hers, a silent question in them, but she nodded, urging him to continue. Once they had all taken their seats, Jake raised his glass, the light from the pendant above them glinting off the crystal. "To you two," he said, his voice a little too loud in the stillness. "I hope that the future holds all the happiness that Renee deserves." His gaze held hers, the words a double-edged sword that both warmed her heart and sliced through it with the sharpness of his regret.
Mike took a sip of the whiskey, the rich, velvety liquid coating his tongue. He met Jake's gaze, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady. "We plan on it."
The conversation turned to the farm, the animals, and the endless work that came with the land. Renee found herself relaxing into the easy flow of the conversation, her nerves slowly unwinding as she shared stories of her new life with Jake. The whiskey helped, the warmth spreading through her chest as she recounted tales of her first harvest, the antics of the goats, and the pride she felt watching her children thrive in the countryside.

As the night grew late and the bottle grew lighter, the laughter grew louder, echoing off the walls of the cozy farmhouse. Mike regaled them with stories of his own, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he recounted the time a rogue chicken had escaped into the house. Jake's laughter was infectious, filling the room with his warmth that Renee hadn't felt in months.
They decided to do the night checks of the animals. The air outside was cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the house. Mike took Renee's hand, leading her through the night with a familiar confidence that she found reassuring. They made their way through the barn, checking on the horses, the gentle snores of the cows lulling the tension between them.
In the third barn, Renee stopped abruptly. "You guys want to see something?" she asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. She led them to a ladder in the corner, gesturing upwards to the loft. "Follow me," she said, her voice a mix of excitement and nerves. They ascended the ladder, the wood creaking beneath their weight. The loft was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a single bare bulb that swung gently in the breeze that slipped through the cracks in the wooden walls. The space was cluttered with forgotten farm equipment, but in the center stood a small table, meticulously organized with an array of bottles. "This is my little secret," Renee said, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to dance around the dust motes floating in the air.

Mike and Jake followed her over to the table, their eyes widening as she flipped on the lamp, revealing her treasure trove of whiskeys. The bottles gleamed in the soft light, each one telling a story of its own. Renee reached for one in particular, a bottle of Japanese whiskey she had stumbled upon at a local store. It had been hidden away for a special occasion, and she felt that this moment certainly qualified.
"This is my favorite spot on the farm," she said, her voice filled with a sense of pride and peace. "It's where I come to think. I plan on putting it all on a shelf when we finish the loft," she said with a laugh, gesturing to the bottles. The idea of sharing this space with Mike brought a warmth to her chest that she hadn't anticipated. While they sat and talked, Jake asked with a laugh, "So, which one's the best?" Renee pulled out two glasses, one for Mike and one for herself, her hand hovering over the bottle of Japanese whiskey. "This one," she said with a knowing smile. She uncorked the bottle with a flourish, the aroma of smoky oak and vanilla filling the loft. She poured them each a generous measure, the amber liquid shimmering in the light.