Year Four | The Risk

Reader Note: The Contract is not a romance. It is Tucker Meyer’s origin story and a prequel serial to the spicy BWWM age-gap romance Together Exclusive Official by Stevie Alison.

Christine

Father William Schneider is officiating mass on this April morning, as he has at Our Lady Star of the Sea Catholic Church since before I was born.

Every time I visit Clairborn, something changes. A favorite store closes, businesses change names and addresses, friends grow older, and so do their children. But some things stay the same. Clairborn University looming large over the town, Holman’s Supermarket, Dilby’s Coffeehouse, Father Schneider at Star of the Sea.

It has been four years since Tucker and I moved to Las Cruces, and over time, this place feels more and more alien, and less like home.

I sit in the stark wooden pew next to my father, mother, siblings, and their families, as Father Schneider gives his homily about the importance of the marriage sacrament.

When I eloped with Tucker a couple of months before the move, my family was upset, not just because he didn’t seek Dad’s blessing, and not only because I married a non-Catholic, though they cared about that, too. Their main grievance was that we did not get married in the Catholic Church. Therefore, my marriage is considered invalid, and they and the Church believe I’m living in sin.

My parents, sitting together in the pew as Father discusses how Christ is in the middle of all valid marriages, are legally separated and have been for two decades, but refuse to actually divorce because it’s a mortal sin according to the Catholic faith.

Mom and Dad split when I was nine. They never shared why, not that it was any of our business. My sisters chose to live with Mom. As the youngest, the tomboy, and the daddy’s girl, I decided to live with Dad. I don’t think my mother or sisters ever forgave me for that decision.

After church, we all go to Clairborn Chili, a local Cincinnati chili restaurant near Star of the Sea. It’s a ritual we’ve engaged in as a family since we were young. Not much has changed, except my sisters are now joined by their Catholic spouses and children.

“Where’s Tucker?” Dana asks in her trademark snotty voice.

“He had to work,” I say. It’s true. Getting the regional office for Parris up and running has kept him busy, but after nearly three years, it’s thriving. But when I visit Clairborn, he rarely comes with me anyway. Most of his family have left the area, his friends are living their own lives, and my family doesn’t care much for him, and he knows it.

Sometimes, I wonder if he really wants to return. I try not to think too much about that. After all, he says the plan is still the plan: move back to Clairborn, buy a house, start trying for children.

“Of course.” She flips her flat-ironed blonde hair and rolls her eyes.

“It always starts with ‘he has to work,’” my oldest sister Alyse snarks, her lithe figure shifting in her seat. “Lord knows what he’s really doing...or who...”

“Stop that, Alyse,” Dad interjects. He surely hates Tucker more than anyone else at the table, but he really doesn’t like my sisters’ digs at me.

“You know, Christine,” Mom says while holding up a forkful of Greek salad, “you should bring your husband up here sometime, especially since you’ve settled down in New Mexico now.”

I swallow my bite of cheese coney. I’ve missed this so much. “We’re not settled down there, Mom. We plan on coming back.”

“Hun, I get that you want to reassure us, but it’s been four years. You don’t have to let us down easy. We can see what’s happening.”

Sure, I know what it looks like, and I sometimes wonder myself, but I believe in Tucker. If he says we’re coming back, we’re coming back.

***

Tucker

Christine is in Clairborn for the next few days. Our townhouse here in New Mexico feels empty without her, and I really do miss her. But those visits help her stay connected to her family. While I don’t get along with them, the last thing I want to do is keep her away from the people she loves.

The next day, I’m in the regional location, which is a small space in an office park near downtown Las Cruces.

As I’m working on an email, I hear the squeak and click of the main office door. It has to be somebody who works for our company, since we need a key fob to open it.

A moment later, an older, greying gentleman darkens the doorway.

“Tucker!”

I didn’t expect this. “Jim! What a surprise, but it’s good to see you.”

Jim Huber walks into my corner office and takes a seat in a chair in front of my desk.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask.

Am I about to be fired? Is something serious happening? Why isn’t this a simple phone call?

He speaks in a subdued tone. “Listen, Tucker...Ike Parris just passed away. I’m sure you got the company-wide email this morning.”

Didn’t expect that.

Taking a deep breath, I confess, “I haven’t made it to today’s emails yet. Hate to hear that. I’m sorry.”

The two men were the best of friends in addition to being business partners. The pain of the loss is etched on Jim’s face. With Ike gone, he is now the only partner left at Parris.

“Well, with his passing, the top is getting reorganized...lots of moving pieces.”

I recline in my chair. “So, what does that mean for me, Jim?”

He levels with me. “We’re moving you into a vice president position, just below C-suite.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. And that means we’re bringing you back to the Cincinnati office.”

After four years, here we go.

I sip from a bottle of water. “So, when is this all happening?”

“A month from today. We already have Brent Neumann lined up to take over here in the regional office.”

“Brent Neumann, out here in New Mexico?” I don’t love the idea of that lightweight benefiting from the infrastructure I built with my own blood, sweat, and tears.

Jim sighs. “Brent isn’t exactly the brightest and the best, but you’ll be surprised at how much he’s improved since you were brought down here. I think that at this point, he can handle working out here.”

“Okay, so you want me to come back to Cincy, and I’ll be VP.”

“Yes, VP of special developments,” he says.

“I take it I’m not gonna have much time to think about this. My wife’s out of town right now.”

“Well, I need your answer by tomorrow, because a lot is happening very fast. That should hopefully give you enough time to call her.”

Fuck.

“Alright, fair enough, Jim.”

This is a conversation I’m supposed to have with Christine. A high-level position just below C-suite. More money, doing work I enjoy. And we get to move back to Clairborn, just like we’ve been hoping for. She would welcome this.

I should want to have the discussion, but I don’t, and I’m not sure why.

***

Tucker

It’s been three days since Jim Huber offered me the vice president position in Cincinnati, and I’m on my way to El Paso, Texas to pick up my wife from the airport.

I usually love this drive. Anytime I can fly along the open road, it’s killer. It calms my mind, it makes me feel like I can go anywhere and do anything. I don’t need a vice, because the vastness of the desert is my intoxicant.

But today is different. As much as I look forward to seeing Christine, she and I will need to have a conversation, the type of talk I’ve been dreading.

In the Parris satellite office a few days ago, Jim gave me two options. Staying in my current role is not one of them, since they have already promised Brent the position and he’s accepted it.

Motherfucker.

My two actual choices are as follows:

1. Take the VP role in Cincinnati.

2. Resign from Parris Developers.

My driving foot moves as if I’m accelerating in wet cement.

I make it to El Paso International Airport, and not a moment too soon.

Upon seeing her, I plaster on a smile. She spots the Tundra and grins. My eyes skim over her long-sleeved T-shirt from our trip to Cancun, and her tight jeans that hug every curve. I’m thrilled she’s my wife, and I look forward to the fun we’ll hopefully have later.

Her face reads refreshed and happy as I get out, hug her, and load the back seat with her suitcase.

Once I pick her up, we spend the return drive chatting. Most of the time I spend listening to her gabbing about her trip to Clairborn: Rob and Denise McCade’s bullshit ‘marriage’ that is somehow more legitimate than ours, Alyse and Dana being bitchy mean girls, as they normally are, their simps for husbands, and the joy my wife experiences spending time with her nieces and nephews, which makes the trip for her. The rest of the trip is tolerable, as long as she gets to see her sisters’ kids, who, as far as Christine can tell, are turning out alright.

About an hour later, we make it home. Relaxing, we sit on the couch.

I lean forward and gaze at my wife. “Look, Christine...there are some things we need to talk about.”

She cringes. “Are we okay, Tucker?”

“Of course, doll. We’re good,” I reassure her.

“So, what’s going on?”

“Parris offered me a vice president position. I’d be just below C-suite and it would put us in the upper echelon. The thing is, it would require us to move back to the Cincinnati area.”

“So, that sounds perfect,” she says.

“Yes.”

“So, when are we going back?”

I take a very deep breath. “Christine, I declined the position.”

The words hang in the air, the silence lingering like an eternity.

Filling the vacuum, I speak. “As you know, I’ve been wanting to strike out on my own for years, and I figured this would be the perfect time to do that. So, I resigned from Parris, effective at the end of the month, and I’m starting my own consultancy.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Tucker...let me get this straight. Parris was going to promote you to vice president, and you would be back in Cincinnati, which means we could finally return to Clairborn. And instead of talking to me about it, you told them no, quit your job, and decided to work for yourself instead. Is that all correct?”

Quietly, I confirm, “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”

“Because Jim Huber only gave me a day to decide.”

“Your hands aren’t broken, and you don’t have laryngitis. You could have called me, Tucker.”

“I didn’t want to take away time you were spending with your family.”

“You are my husband, so you’re also my family. You could’ve called.”

I’ve got nothing to say to that, because she’s right.

“And the consultancy...you told me before you could do it from anywhere. Does this mean we’re still moving back to Clairborn?” she inquires.

“Well, that’s the other thing. My contacts, my connections, and my leads are current down here in Las Cruces. I could work from anywhere, but the best way to get this off the ground fast is to utilize the resources I have here.”

“But you are the man who built the entire Parris Southwest branch from absolutely nothing. The resources you’re talking about? You built them. Couldn’t you do the exact same thing in Ohio, except you’re working for yourself?”

I shake my head. “I guess so, but...”

“What is it, Tucker? Out with it.”

Shit.

“Christine...ever since we moved out here, I’ve become more and more myself. God, this sucks...but this is where I belong.”

My wife says nothing at first, her eyes shooting daggers at me.

After what feels like forever, she finally opens her mouth, and what comes out is sheer exasperation.

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, not at all.”

Her eyes well up with tears. “We have lived here in Las Cruces for four years. You have been telling me we would be going back to Clairborn. You reassured me, you gave me your word. I trusted you, Tucker. And come to find out, you were full of shit.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Yes, it’s exactly like that. When did you realize you didn’t want to go back? Was it six months after we got here? A year? Year two or year three? Yesterday? Tell me!”

“I don’t know!”

“That’s a lie!”

“I swear, I’m not lying to you...I don’t fucking know.”

“Shit...I should’ve figured. I could tell that you fell in love with this place, and I didn’t want to admit that what you said and how you’ve been living couldn’t be more different.”

I groan, “That’s not how it is.”

“I’ve got eyes, Tucker. And let me guess...since Clairborn’s off the table now, so is buying a house, so is having ki—”

“No, that’s not true, Christine.”

“Well, you’ve been saying we’re gonna go back to Clairborn for years now. And that was bullshit. So, what else is bullshit?”

Damn, I fucked this up so badly. None of what I said was a lie.

“No, it’s not bullshit. I want all that with you...I want the world with you,” I tell her. “I guess...you’re adjusting well here, with your work, singing, and friends. You seem happy here.”

“I’ve been making the best of being here. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to go home. You dragged out six months into four years, and now we’re stuck here.”

Well, shit.

She then boils over. “You always do what you want...screw everybody else. It’s all about Tucker Neil Meyer, almost like you didn’t marry a whole ‘other goddamn person!”

That hurt.

I blow up. “What the hell, Christine?! You fly back to Ohio, and come back with bullshit like that, as if I’m a goddamn stranger. Your dad’s in your ear again, isn’t he?”

“No — I see what you’re doing — don’t blame my dad! I wasn’t born yesterday! But Tucker — maybe he’s right!”

That really hurt.

She grabs a set of keys from the glass tray near the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“I need some fresh air. Don’t wait up.”

***

Christine

It’s been six months since Tucker quit Parris and started his own real estate development consultancy. As I predicted when it was first a small idea three years ago, it’s doing quite well. He’s leveraged his existing network and has added to it. Because he is highly sought after, that means more work. We’re adjusting to him being home a little less often, but he makes time for yoga, the gym, and hiking.

We moved out of company-provided housing once his resignation went into effect, and are now living in a rented condominium in town with a beautiful view of the desert. Tucker says he still wants to buy a home, but what I’m realizing is that buying a house means we’re putting down roots. While he has admitted he wants to stay here, having a deed with our names on it makes it final somehow. I don’t know if either of us is there yet.

Something broke between us when Tucker finally fessed up to not wanting to leave New Mexico. I had this image, this dream of what our marriage would become. Small-town life in the Midwest, a nice home in Clairborn near family, children of our own.

The issue isn’t that his plans changed. Changing plans is a part of life. But we have spent the last few years — most of our marriage — with two separate visions, and not having a clue the whole time. And because of the way I had to find out, I’m not sure what’s true anymore.

Could I leave? Yes. But despite all this, I still love Tucker. I believe he still loves me. And somewhere beneath his newfound attachment to desert life is the adventurous, sure, and loving man I married, who sees a future with me in it.

After Songbirds choir practice, I’m standing around chatting with some friends, including Leila, Xiomara, and Sofia.

“Are you coming to my housewarming party, Christine?” Xiomara asks.

“Of course,” I say. “What would you like me to bring?”

“Anything you want. By the way, is Tucker coming? My husband will be there, and I think a few other friends are bringing their significant others, so he won’t stick out or anything.”

“I’ll ask, but he’s a busy guy, so it’s doubtful,” I say.

She adds, “Aww, well, there will be football in our theater room, so if he’s worried about missing the game, we’ve got that.”

Tucker’s not really one for watching sports, especially on television. That definitely won’t entice him. “I’ll bring it up, and if he’s able to carve out time, I’ll bring him.”

At home later, Tucker and I relax on the balcony of our condo.

“How was yoga?” I ask.

“It was fun. I’m getting a better handle on some of the inverted poses.”

“That’s awesome, love to hear it.”

“How was choir practice?” he asks while sipping on Diet Coke.

Shifting in my cushioned outdoor chair, I say, “It was great. We were practicing for the Thanksgiving show in a couple of weeks. Do you want to come?” I ask.

“I would, doll, but I’ve got a lot going on. Running my own business is a whole different animal from back when I worked for Parris.”

“So, I take it that you won’t be able to come with me to my friend Xiomara’s housewarming on Saturday, either.”

“Eh...parties like that aren’t my bag, you’re well aware. Besides, those are your friends,” he says.

“Alright, Tucker.”

I go inside to set my empty cup in the sink, my husband following close behind.

“What’s wrong, Christine?” he asks, sounding concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Don’t do that,” he says a bit more sternly.

I turn to face him. “Don’t do what?”

“Say that nothing’s wrong when you sound upset.”

“Do you really want to know, Tucker?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Since he’s asking, I tell him.

“I wish that the things that were important to me were also important to you.”

He sighs. “But doll, we’re not gonna be into the same things, and that’s okay.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. When you invite me on your hikes or on your long drives into the desert, I go because it’s something you enjoy.”

“Well, if you really don’t wanna go with me, you don’t have to.”

I’m beginning to regret even opening my mouth. “Listen to me. I’m not saying I don’t want to do those things with you. I’m saying that the things I do with you matter to me because they matter to you. I just wish that you gave me that same consideration, that’s all.”

After a moment of quiet, he steps closer and embraces me. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You matter to me more than anything, and I need to show that more. I’ll tell you what...I’ll go to the party...I mean, it can’t be that bad, right? And I’ll try to go to some of your performances. I can’t promise it’ll be all of them, but I will do my best, because I support you, and I need to do better at showing it.”

We’ll see how that goes.

***

Christine

As I give myself a once-over in front of the long mirror in the bedroom, makeup done and in a knee-length black dress, Tucker comes close, looking me up and down.

“Yes?” I ask with a smile.

“You look gorgeous, doll.” He looks quite nice himself, wearing a grey dress shirt and belted black slacks.

My husband presses against me, moves my hair to the side, and starts kissing my neck. I can tell from the concentrated pressure on my backside that if he gets his way, we won’t even make it out of the bedroom.

“Thanks, big guy...and that is gonna have to wait.”

His hands skim the front of my sleeveless, cowl-neck dress. “Sure about that?”

I chuckle. “I’m sure. Maybe later. But right now, let’s go.”

We make our way to the upscale neighborhood of Soledad Canyon and arrive at a large adobe-covered home. After Tucker parks the truck, he helps me out, and we go up to the door.

As is his habit, he knocks on it very, very loudly.

I look up at my husband, astonished. “What the hell, Tucker?! They’re gonna think the feds are raiding the place!”

Tucker furrows his brow. “I didn’t knock that loud, did I?”

“You totally did.”

The door opens.

“Hey girlie!” Xiomara greets me with a warm hug.

Excited to see her, I say, “Hey girl, hey!”

“Thank God we have cameras. We thought you guys were the ATF.”

“No, that’s just Tucker...sometimes he doesn’t know his own strength,” I say.

My friend’s gaze pans to him.

“You must be Tucker. You’re one elusive man, but I’ve heard a lot about you. And you make a hell of an entrance. Nice to meet you,” she says.

“Likewise,” he says.

I hand her a bottle of Lafite Rothschild, a high-end red.

She beams. “Oh, that’s so lovely. This is the really good stuff. Thank you so much.”

“Of course. What’s a housewarming without a good wine?”

We enter the opulent home. The spacious interior, with marble flooring and intricate detailing along the walls, as well as beautiful artwork, is a sight to behold.

As Xiomara gives us the grand tour, I say, “Your home is amazing.”

“Thanks,” she says. “Shane and I moved in here about a month ago, but we wanted to get everything unpacked before we started entertaining people.”

“Understandable.”

She turns to Tucker. “I understand that you’re a commercial real estate development consultant?”

“Yes,” he says.

She nods. “You need to meet Shane. He owns one of the biggest developers in the state.”

“Shane, as in Shane Salazar?” he asks.

“Yes...you know him?”

“No, but I’ve heard of him and the Salazar Garza Group.” He then looks at me with slight annoyance. “I didn’t know that our wives are friends.”

Tucker would know that Xiomara is married to a big-time New Mexico developer if he showed real interest in my activities and friendships over the past few years. But what do I know?

After the tour, we sit on the expansive patio in the back. We join Xiomara and Shane, Leila and her husband Roddy, Sofia, who came alone, and Shane’s brother Pete, who is also a choirmate of ours. I introduce my husband to everyone in the circle. Tucker and Shane exchange contact information, but fortunately, neither has an interest in talking shop tonight.

“Do you all have holiday plans yet?” Leila asks while snacking on an hors d’oeuvre.

Xiomara says, “Shane and I are going to Monterrey down in Mexico to visit my relatives over Christmas, then we’ll celebrate the New Year in Mexico City with his family.”

“Lovely,” I say, sipping on wine.

Sofia says, “I’m going out to Southern California with some of my old college friends. There’s nothing like lying out on the beach for the holidays.”

“That’s for sure!” Xiomara says. We all laugh.

Leila then shares, “Roddy and I are flying to Myrtle Beach. We’ve been doing that for the past few years, and it’s an amazing holiday destination.”

“What about you, Christine?”

I share a bit flatly, “We’ll be spending it here in town. It’ll be nice, subdued, and peaceful.”

It’s tough to hear how holidays for my local friends will be full of family and friends. Meanwhile, Tucker and I will be here. He’ll be working through much of it, so really, it’ll be me alone.

Tucker holds me a little tighter.

“Is your family local, Chrissy?” Pete asks in a soft, almost soothing voice.

To his question, I put on a brave smile. Something about the way he asked it hit me in a way I didn’t expect.

“No, they live in Ohio, where we’re originally from. And his are scattered a bit, but his parents retired to Florida.”

On our way home from the party, Tucker says, “You didn’t say you wanted to go anywhere for the holidays.”

“No, I didn’t. Remember, you have shit to do.”

“Sure, I’m busy a lot with work, but I’m self-employed, doll. If you want us to do something, I can make that happen.”

After a bit of silence, I ask, “Tucker, how did we get here?”

“What do you mean?”

I begin to tear up. “We used to travel, try new things, all of it. It was one of the things I loved about you — your sense of adventure. But over the past few years, it’s gone by the wayside, like everything else we’ve hoped for...a home of our own, kids...all of it...up in smoke...”

“And I’m still that guy, Christine,” he tries to reassure me. “But starting a business is hard work. Once things get more settled, we’ll buy a house, start working on kids, all of it.”

Shaking my head, I explain, “Of course your business is important, but I don’t think that’s all of it. The past few years, it’s like you love New Mexico and the life you’ve made for yourself here so much that you never want to change it, and you won’t even leave it for a moment. Not even to visit your family.”

“That’s not true. Listen...you’re right, we probably need a little break from this place. I’ll tell you what...think about where you want to go for Christmas and New Year’s. Wherever it is...I’ll make it happen.”

“I’ll only do that if you’re coming with me.”

At a stoplight, Tucker takes his hand and wipes the tears from my face.”

“Alright, I will. I promise. And I haven’t forgotten about tonight, doll. We still have some ‘things’ to attend to,” he says with a soft smile.

My lips curl slightly upward. “Sounds like a date.”

Want to see where Tucker Meyer’s story leads after The Contract? Read the spicy BWWM age-gap romance Together Exclusive Official, on Kindle Unlimited, DRM-free ebook, or print: