56: A Promise in Time

The morning after the proposal still felt like a dream.

Renee had barely slept, her body still buzzing from the whirlwind of emotions—grief, love, guilt, hope—all crashing together into one sleepless night. But when she stirred beneath the blankets and felt Jake's hand reach instinctively for hers, all that noise dulled into something quieter. Something steady. They didn’t talk about Mike right away. Instead, they sipped coffee on the porch, the boys still asleep upstairs, the world outside just beginning to stir with birdsong and golden light. Renee rested her head on Jake’s shoulder, and after a long silence, he spoke. “If you see him…” Jake’s voice was calm, but his eyes were clear and serious. “Don’t tell me. Not unless it’s something serious. Not unless you need me to know.” Renee blinked, surprised at his restraint. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said simply. “But let’s be clear about one thing—this wedding only gets called off if you choose to walk away. I’m not running again. Not ever.” That made her laugh softly, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. “You’re really in this, huh?”
Jake kissed her temple. “Every second.”

**Weeks passed** like waves, sometimes crashing, sometimes calm.

There were small fights—about groceries, missed calls, spilled coffee. But there were more kisses. More quiet I love yous whispered between their bodies in the middle of the night. Renee began to believe it was possible—that happiness didn’t need to be earned through pain. That Jake had come back not to fix her, but to walk beside her, even through the shattered pieces.
They started talking about the future like it was something they were owed. Something they deserved. It wasn’t until a lazy Sunday afternoon, curled up in bed with sun pouring through the window and Jake tracing lazy circles on her back, that the question came naturally. “So,” he murmured, “when do we do this? Pick a date. Make it real.” Renee looked up at him, heart skipping. "Let’s make it real,” she whispered, “together.”
The late afternoon sun filtered softly through the barn’s high windows, casting golden patterns on the worn wooden floors. Renee stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, eyes sweeping across the space they were transforming. The familiar scent of hay mixed with fresh paint and the faint tang of metal from the Edison bulbs strung overhead—it was becoming exactly what she had envisioned. Months pass and Finally Renee has finished transforming one of the barns. For their day, Her and Jake.

“Bringing the city to the country,” she murmured to herself. Jake approached quietly from behind, slipping his hand into hers. “You really did capture it,” he said, his voice low but filled with admiration. Renee smiled, squeezing his hand. “It’s us. The city where we met—the chaos, the lights, the rush—mixed with the calm, the stars, the earth beneath our feet. This barn, these fields… it’s our story. Even the restaurant..” She blushed pointing to a booth for them to sit during the party, letting out a laugh.
Jake looked to her, a smile drew across his face. One of memory, of pleasure, when he took her in public. They walked slowly through the barn, imagining guests milling about—laughing, dancing, sharing stories beneath strings of glowing bulbs that mimicked the skyline they both loved. Rustic wooden tables adorned with wildflowers, soft lanterns flickering like distant city lights. A blend of grit and glam, old and new, the perfect balance.

Jake stopped, brushing a loose strand of hair from Renee’s face. “You’re sure about this theme? I want it to be perfect for you babe.”
“As sure as I’m sure about us,” she replied, looking up into his steady eyes.
The invitations had arrived earlier that week. They were exactly as Renee had dreamed—heavy cardstock with a textured finish, charcoal gray and cream with copper foil accents that shimmered like streetlamps at night. The front featured a minimalist sketch of the city skyline blending seamlessly into rolling hills, a visual echo of their lives intertwined.

Renee had spent hours perfecting the wording, wanting it to be heartfelt yet simple:
***“Under city lights and country stars, we invite you to join us as we say ‘I do.’ Please celebrate our love, our story, and the beginning of forever.”***
Each invitation was nestled inside a sleek black envelope lined with copper foil and sealed with a wax stamp—R and J entwined, a symbol of their bond. Jake admired the design, running his fingers over the raised letters. “It feels like home.”
“Exactly,” Renee agreed, a quiet pride glowing in her chest. As they planned the details—the locally sourced food with city flair, the mix of acoustic and electronic music, the craft cocktails named after their favorite city neighborhoods and how to get it all there—their excitement grew. Every piece fit their story, their love, and the life they were building.

But beneath the warmth and the glow of the twinkling lights, a shadow lurked. The guest list. They had agreed from the start to keep things intimate—only family, the kids, a few close friends. It felt right, safe even. But then there was Mike. Renee’s heart clenched at the thought. Months ago, Mike had slipped out of her life like a ghost—gone silent after the pain, the miscarriages, their bathroom moment, the heartbreak. Yet he remained an echo in the background of her mind, a complicated piece of her history that refused to settle quietly. Inviting him to the wedding felt like tearing open old wounds, risking the fragile peace they’d fought so hard to build. Yet leaving him out… felt like erasing a chapter she wasn’t sure she was ready to close.

“Do we invite him?” she finally asked Jake one evening as they sat on the porch, the night sky above them vast and quiet.
Jake’s gaze was steady, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her hand. “I trust you to decide.”
“But it’s not just about me,” Renee said softly. “It’s about us, about the kids, about everything we’ve been through.” Jake nodded slowly. “I won’t pretend it’ll be easy. But whatever you decide, I’m with you.” She took a deep breath, imagining Mike stepping into the barn bathed in the soft glow of the Edison bulbs—the tension, the memories, the questions it would raise.
Would Jake be able to hold himself together? Could she? Or would it all come crashing down?

That night, Renee lay awake, the moonlight spilling across their bed. Her fingers traced Jake’s silhouette, his steady breathing a comfort beside her. Her heart whispered a question she wasn’t ready to answer out loud: *Do we invite Mike? Or do we finally close that door?* The barn lights in the distance flickered like a promise—or a warning. **Weeks passed**, and the wedding preparations unfolded with a bittersweet rhythm. Renee and Jake grew closer with each day—stolen moments in the kitchen, late-night talks beneath starry skies, whispered “I love you’s” that stitched their hearts tighter. The day grew closer, Renee and Jake sealed the final invitation- and one was left unnamed. Mike's. Jake held it up, "what do you want to do babe?" She smiled, he really was not going to decide this, "trash it, it is about us, not him. He passed his chance up last time. It has been almost a year, he doesn't need to be here." With no hesitation Jake tossed the invitation to the trash pile.