Year Seven | The Countdown

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.

Tucker

I arrive at an empty, dust-covered field south of Albuquerque on a hot July day. As I jump out of the Tundra, I’m met by a tall, stocky man with dark hair and sunglasses, leaning against a freshly-washed, black Cadillac Escalade.

“Morning, Shane,” I greet him. “This is the place, huh?”

“Yep, Tucker. And if anybody knows what to do with this hellscape I just bought on the cheap, it’s you.”

I give him a thick, green folder. “Appreciate the vote of confidence. Let me show you what I’ve come up with, given the size of the lot, the surrounding neighborhood demos and projections, and what’s trending.”

As Shane looks over the proposal, he says, “Congrats to your wife.”

I furrow my brow. “What?”

“You know, the promotion she got at the bank.”

“Oh, yeah...for sure. I’m very proud of her.”

Ever since Christine took on a permanent position at Bank of Southern New Mexico three years ago, she’s been killing it. Recently, she was promoted to senior relationship manager.

“By the way, are you coming to Xiomara’s baby shower?” he asks.

“She’s having a shower?”

“Yeah.”

I furrow my brow. “Aren’t baby showers supposed to be for women?”

“Apparently, the trend is co-ed baby showers and gender reveals. We’ll be combining both. Christine said she’s coming. She didn’t say if you were coming with her.”

She didn’t even mention it to me.

Later that evening, after my meeting with Shane and yoga class, I return home.

“Food’s in the microwave,” Christine calls to me from the couch as I enter the condo.

“Oh, thanks. What’s for dinner?” I ask.

“Salisbury steak and zucchini squash.”

I pull the plastic storage tray from the microwave, then grab utensils and join my wife on the sofa.

“How was your meeting with Shane?” she asks.

“It was great. We’ll be working on a new mixed-use lifestyle center together. Great shit. He also told me about his wife’s baby shower.”

She moves her jeans-clad leg underneath her thick thigh. “Oh, yeah. Xiomara’s having a baby shower Saturday. I told you I was going.”

“When did you tell me that?” I ask with a forkful of steak halfway to my mouth.

“The other night, after we slept together, and we were talking in bed.”

This woman seriously expects me to remember shit after my post-nut comedown?

“You didn’t tell me I was invited,” I point out.

Her hand moves her long curls out of her face as she looks at me with that pretty face of hers. “It’s not your kind of thing...lots of people, games, all that shit. So I’d figure I’d save you the trouble.”

“Fair enough. Now, you sure you don’t want me to go?”

“It’s fine.”

I polish off my container of dinner and sit it on the end table. Then, my eyes follow my wife’s nice curves.

“Alright. Dinner was delicious by the way, but I’d love dessert.”

She gives me that cute smile that just does it for me.

As I unbuckle my pants, I call to her, “Come here, doll, have a seat.”

“What do you say, baby?”

“Please?”

She sensually disrobes. “I’ll be happy to.”

***

Christine

On Saturday, I arrive at a clubhouse in a nice subdivision not far from where we live. Leila and Roddy are hosting Xiomara’s shower and gender reveal, so they reserved the space for the event. I bring two wrapped gifts that is labeled from myself and Tucker, including a car seat from the registry and a nice box of luxury spa items.

Inside, my friends and their significant others, as well as other friends and family of Xiomara and Shane, are sitting in a relaxed semicircle. The walls are decorated with streamers and balloons. Refreshments are on a table against the wall, and pop music is playing softly in the background.

“Hey Christine!” Leila calls out. “Good to see you, girlie!”

Everyone greets me as I take an empty seat at one end of the semicircle next to Pete.

He turns and says to me, “I’m glad you made it, Christine.”

“I’m happy to be here. You must be excited about becoming an uncle,” I say.

“Well, I already am one. Shane and I have brothers and sisters back in Mexico City who have kids, so I have a lot of nieces and nephews. But I’m so happy for Shane and Xiomara to be starting their family, and I’ll be able to spend more time with this one.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Do you have any nieces or nephews?”

“I do...I have three nieces and two nephews. They’re in Ohio, so I don’t see them as often as I’d like, but I see them when I visit.”

“That’s very nice.”

Honestly, my nieces and nephews are the only reason I still speak to my sisters. How they’ve managed to raise such delightful kids is beyond me.

At the shower, we play a number of baby-related games, including one where each of the guests submitted photos of themselves as babies, and we get points for successfully figuring out which is which. The winner gets a prize.

As we all chat and enjoy chips, mini tacos, and punch, Sofia walks up to the board with the baby photos, and quickly writes her guesses down on a sheet of paper.

Once I’m finished with my appetizers, I walk up, and Pete goes up at the same time. Honestly, it’s hard to tell most of these babies apart. Babies usually have nondescript features. Personally, I believe most people who think they can pick out which baby features belong to each parent, beyond basic hair, skin, and eye color, are liars. Even using those categories can be suspect.

“How am I supposed to tell these babies apart? I can barely even find my own baby picture...almost everybody looks the same,” I mutter.

“Good question. Just taking a stab at it, outside of mine, Shane’s, and yours.”

“How do you know which is mine?” I ask. See, I started out blonde, but my hair darkened as I got older.

He points to my picture, so I see he’s not bluffing. “That smile...so full of joy. It hasn’t changed.”

My cheeks warm a bit. That’s sweet. “Thanks.”

Once all the guesses are in, Leila, in a cute yellow sundress, stands up and announces the winner.

“Sofia! Here you go!”

Sofia, in a flowing off-white top and purple skirt, jumps up and grabs her prize, which is in a white gift bag. She opens it.

“Oh, hell yeah — it’s a gift card for the bath and body store! I will definitely use this...thanks!” she says.

Xiomara, who is in the middle of the semicircle, is so excited. She’s seven months pregnant and definitely showing on her slight frame, as she opens the shower gifts. When she gets to mine, she smiles when she sees the grey car seat. Then, she opens the other gift.

“Oh, wow! That’s so freaking thoughtful, Christine!”

“Mama needs a little pampering, too,” I say.

“For sure!” She carefully gets up and we hug. “Thanks, girl. And send Tucker my regards.”

“I will.”

As the event goes on, Leila and Roddy bring out a nice cake that’s equal parts celebratory and gender reveal. Within it is a tiny rubber duck that is either pink or blue. Whoever gets the duck shows it to the group, and also receives a prize.

We each receive a slice of the big, round cake.

“This is good,” I say. “Leila, where’d you get this cake from?”

“It’s this bakery nearby, Desert’s Desserts. We’ve been going there for occasion cakes for years,” she tells me.

As I keep eating, I sink my fork into my slice for the next bite and hit something a bit rubbery.

Bingo.

Within the mound of white cake and almond frosting is a bright blue rubber duck. Something about it gives me pause, and right now, I’m not sure exactly why.

“Oh, you have the duck,” Pete notices.

“I do,” I say quietly. Quickly, I collect my emotions and hold up the rubber duck. The excited future parents smile.

“My boy!” Shane yells triumphantly and hugs his beaming wife.

“It’s a boy!” other guests yell out.

I clap for the expectant couple, along with everyone else. Leila gives me a bag, which also has a bath and body gift card. Mercifully, it’s a gift that I can use myself.

“Everything alright, Christine?” Pete asks quietly.

Nodding slowly, I respond, “Yes...yes, I’m fine. I’m just so happy for them.”

On my way home from the shower, I decide to take the very long way. Driving out into the desert and through the Organ Mountains, I find myself ruminating.

In this moment, I understand why Tucker likes these long drives. It’s just you and nature, and it feels vast and open, like the possibilities are endless.

We’ve been married seven years. I’m thirty-two now, and he is thirty-five. When we first got married, our goals were to buy a home in Clairborn to settle down in, and then go on to have children.

At this point, I’ve gotten over my wish to return to Clairborn. When Tucker decided to quit Parris three years ago and go into business for himself, I knew that by staying married to him, that I was giving up Clairborn. But I still want the house, and I really want the children. Neither of those desires require returning to Ohio. But we’re still renting, and I’m still on birth control because we never decided to start trying.

As I coast through the mountains, I think about how much Tucker and I have accomplished. His business is doing excellently, and we don’t have to struggle. I’m rising through the ranks at the bank, and that brings in a nice supplemental income.

As individuals, we’re killing it.

As a couple, it’s as if we’re two ships sailing separate itineraries.

Tucker and I have more than enough to buy a house here in New Mexico, despite cost of living being higher here than Ohio. Tucker loves this place and his business is rooted here, so we can’t be waiting on a temporary situation to become permanent. We’re already there.

But our future is frozen solid.

I wonder how I became the only one who seems to care about the dreams we had for Tucker and Christine Meyer.

Finally, I return home. I walk into an empty house. On the kitchen table, there’s a note:

Doll,

Gone hiking in the Chihuahuan Desert. Be back at 6pm.

Love,

Tucker

Separate itineraries, indeed.

***

Tucker

On the roof of my local fitness center, with a lovely view of the desert and mountains, I’m perfecting my scorpion handstand pose, along with a few others in the advanced yoga course.

Ever since I started yoga several years ago, I find myself so in tune with my body. While I was already strong, the poses make me stronger, more flexible. I’m not a particularly religious man, but the practice has led me to be more spiritually connected, one with nature.

Being free in the body is an extension of the freedom I experience here in New Mexico.

Once I make it home, I see that Christine’s out. I look at the calendar hanging in the kitchen. She has a performance tonight with her choir, so I’m on my own for dinner, which is fine.

I open up the refrigerator, then the freezer. There are way too many fucking options.

Here’s dried pasta and a jar of marinara in the cabinet.

I need a vegetable.

In the freezer, right in front, frozen broccoli.

Easy enough.

I throw the broccoli in a non-stick pan and turn the electric burner up to medium. Then, I boil the pasta and heat up the sauce in a pan. Once the noodles are ready, I strain them, then dump them into the pan with the sauce. The broccoli is now thrown in. Once everything is fully mixed, I dump the contents into a bowl.

Sitting at the dining room table, I eat my dinner. I’m good. The peace and quiet is strange relief to me.

I love Christine, and I miss her being here. Actually, I miss us cooking and eating dinner at the table together, like we did early in our marriage. Things change, though.

Dinner was good. Now for dessert. Back to the freezer.

Vanilla bean ice cream. Huzzah.

As I eat a bowl, serenity rushes over me.

Christine has grown to love it here in Las Cruces. She’s doing well professionally, she’s got a hobby she enjoys, and she’s made a great group of friends. We no longer discuss moving back to Clairborn. She just needed to build a life here, and now that’s happened. Finally, she adjusted and she’s much happier. I’m proud of her.

I still want the house and the kids, and surely she does, too. But I’m sure we’ll get around to that.

Right now, we’re okay. We’re both happy. Our marriage is doing alright.

***

Christine

The nighttime campfire is keeping me nice and toasty. Encircling it, in the middle of the desert, are Leila, Roddy, Sofia, Pete, and me, all sitting in lawn chairs.

Xiomara’s due date is getting close and they want to be ready once it’s time to deliver their baby, so of course, she and Shane are out. They’re missed, but it doesn’t stop us from having fun.

“It’s nice to spend Labor Day weekend out here in the desert,” Roddy says.

“Oh, for sure,” I say, roasting a marshmallow. “It’s neat to get away from everything and just enjoy nature.”

Leila says, “I’m kind of surprised Tucker didn’t come with you. I remember you saying he’s an outdoorsy kind of guy.”

“He is, but he’s got a project he’s working on with Shane. up near Albuquerque, so he couldn’t make it.”

The project is real, but the truth is that if it were just us, he’d consider it. With my friend group? He’d have very little interest. Besides, he was well aware the trip was happening and there was at least one couple going. If he wanted to go, he would ask.

At this point, it’s whatever. I’m having a great time with my friends, and honestly, I wasn’t thinking about him until he got brought up.

“Anyway, where are the chocolate bars and graham crackers?”

Sofia passes them to Pete, who passes them to me. I take my beautifully burnt marshmallow, add a piece of chocolate bar, and squeeze them in between two crackers.

Perfection.

Her angled face scrunches. “How can you like your marshmallows so burnt, Christine?”

My mouth is too full of the gooey goodness to answer.

“Burnt marshmallows are far superior to ‘lightly toasted,’” Pete shoots back playfully.

“What the hell, Pete? It’s all carbon!”

“That gives it flavor! Slightly brown marshmallows taste weird.”

The rest of us chuckle in amusement as the two go back and forth with their banter.

I don’t have a wandering eye, but I admit that Pete’s a pretty attractive guy. Beautiful smile, intense dark eyes, and hickory-colored locks that barely reach his shoulders. And he’s pretty lean...not a big, rugged, and toned guy like Tucker, but his physique works for him. He makes excellent money as an investment banker. And he’s a sweet guy, too. At thirty-three, I’m not sure why he’s still single.

Sofia’s also lean, with long, brown hair and hazel eyes. She’s got the combination of face and body that turns many heads, and she’s funny, too. Also single and the same age as Pete, the two of them would make a great pair.

Just make it happen already.

After playing gin rummy and drinking lager by the campfire, most everyone retires to their respective tents. Since Pete and I are the only night owls, we grab a blanket and follow a trail to get far enough away from the firepit to watch the stars.

Once it’s dark enough to see the stars clearly, we lay out the big blanket and lie down next to each other.

“What are your best memories of watching the stars?” I ask.

Pete says, “Ooh, I have to think about that...probably when I was in Boy Scouts. I was probably, like, twelve, and we went to Camp Wehinapay for a few days. We were tent camping, and the dads who chaperoned, including my own dad, brought us out of our tents to watch the stars, since it was a clear night, a lot like tonight, and most of us couldn’t see them from home.”

“That had to be pretty neat.”

“Oh, it was. So surreal. The coolest thing was that other people on earth were under the same stars, including my mother and brothers at home in Las Cruces, and my abuelo and abuela in Mexico City. Now, what about you?”

I share, “When I was a kid, probably fourteen or so, my dad and I went camping in Southeast Indiana, Versailles State Park. The stars were amazing. The sense of ‘bigness,’ like the world was wide open to me. I never forgot that. It’s probably why I enjoy traveling so much. And, to be honest, I miss that feeling.”

“Like the world is wide open to you?”

“Yeah. I mean, in a lot of respects it still is, so I shouldn’t say it’s not.”

Pete utters, “Hmm...Chrissy, let me ask you this. What would your life be like right now if your world were wide open to you?”

If I were truly honest, I’d have a real home base, not one where I’m beholden to a landlord, and I’d have children of my own. The messed up part is that the longer time goes, the harder it is for me to envision that with the man I love, the man who I call ‘husband’ each day.

“That’s a hard question to answer, Pete. Have you ever felt like wanting has become too dangerous?”

“What do you mean by that?”

I sigh. “Like if you allowed yourself to want what you truly want, it will break you because deep inside, you’re convinced you’ll never get there?”

Pete turns his head to gaze at me. “Yeah, I think I know what you mean. But here’s the way I look at it. Hopes and dreams are a part of being alive. Getting my heart broken, seeing the vision for my life change over time, even seeing dreams die, are a part of being alive. I’d rather feel and know that I’m living, than not feel and be a dead man walking.”

What sucks is, I couldn’t tell you which I even want.

***

Tucker

After getting back from a nice hike, I return home. It’s early Sunday afternoon, and I make myself some grilled chicken and rice.

Once I polish off my meal, I opt for some self-pleasure, then shower and get dressed for the gym. Just as I finish tying my gym shoes, my cell phone rings.

Hmm, it’s my brother Todd.

After answering and exchanging greetings, I ask, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Everything’s fine, everybody’s fine. I can’t call my big brother to shoot the shit?” he asks.

“Of course you can,” I say with a chuckle. “How’s work up there?”

“It’s decent. They’re laying people off at the utility. Budget cuts. I’m spared, but it’s more work.”

“That sucks. Hopefully, things will get better.”

“Yeah. How’s the business?”

“It’s great. I’m working with a number of top-tier developers. Things are good.”

“How’s Christine?”

“She’s fine. She went camping with her friends in the desert.”

“You didn’t go with her?” Todd asks incredulously. “You love that kind of shit.”

“No...” I say slowly. “Sure, I like that kind of shit, but either by myself or only with Christine. But those are her friends.”

“I dunno, man. Girls like it when their guy comes with ‘em. But I guess you do you.”

Then I get off the subject of my wife as fast as possible. “Are you still seeing that girl Fiona you were telling about?”

“Nah. Fiona and I broke up a long time ago. She’s not for me.”

“You say that a lot, Todd,” I mention.

“It’s true. Guess since her, I’ve been fucking around, swipe right kind of shit, but I’m not doing that anymore, either. Stopped that last month. Too much drama.”

Even before Christine, I could never do casual sex. Never done it, never will, especially now that I’m married, obviously. Marriage aside, the idea of whipping out my dick for some girl I don’t know is fucking weird, not to mention all the risk. I’m a little surprised that my brother, who is not exactly a social butterfly, has dipped into randos.

“What made you do that to begin with?” I ask.

“Eh, I guess it was something different. Clearly, I’m not good with relationships. It’s not the girls, its me. Nobody seems like a good fit. So why not try casual? But I can’t do that, either. I dunno what the fuck is wrong with me,” he says.

“Maybe it’s about meeting the right girl,” I say.

“I guess. Anyway, before I let you go, don’t forget to call Mom and Dad. And maybe reach out to Uncle George sometime. I’m sure he’ll want to hear from you, too,” Todd reminds me.

“I know...I know.”

Once I hang up, I relax in my lounge chair in the living room. At one point, I was better at keeping touch with family, but with everyone scattered, I don’t always think about it.

After a few minutes, I get up and swipe my wallet and keys. I’ve got a gym session to make happen today.

***

Christine

When I walk into our home Monday evening, Tucker is finishing up his dinner.

“What did you have, big guy?” I ask.

“Oh, my usual, spaghetti and broccoli,” he says. “By the way, I missed you.”

“You could’ve come. I think you would’ve enjoyed it.”

“Doll, I’m not gonna invite myself to your things.”

“I don’t go places you can’t go. Besides, I shouldn’t have to keep asking you.”

He washes the bowl and fork in the sink and places it in the dish rack. “Sure, but again, it’s your stuff. Not trying to be an interloper.”

“You’re not. I’m telling you that you should come to some of my things, and you should want to because it’s time with me and it’s something I care about. How many times do I need to explain that to you?”

I drop off my bags in the bedroom and come back, pulling a TV dinner from the freezer to nuke while Tucker eats a bowl of ice cream at the dining table.

“Can I ask you something, Tucker?”

With a spoonful in his mouth, he says, “Shoot.”

“Do you ever ask yourself where you see us in the near future?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“When we first got married, we wanted to settle down, buy a house, have kids. On top of that, I pictured us living life together — you, me, any kids we had. We’d travel, visit family, all of that.”

“Sure, I picture that, too.”

“But we’ve been married now for seven years, we’ve lived here just about as long. We haven’t moved forward in our marriage. I go to Ohio still every so often, but it’s been years since we’ve visited your parents in Florida or even your brother in Minnesota. You barely even talk to them on the phone. Half the time, they’re calling me to make sure you’re still alive.”

“We’re fine.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, I know you talk to your dad quite a bit, and your nieces and nephews. But that’s good for you. My family’s fine.”

I take the cooked dinner out of the microwave and sit at the table across from my husband.

“Are they?” I probe.

“Yes,” he says sternly. “And on top of that, yes, I still want us to have our own home, and kids, too. We’ll get there.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“That’s not an answer, Tucker.”

“Well, Christine...that’s what I’ve got. And I’ve got a real problem with you saying we aren’t moving forward in our marriage. We’re both doing well. You’re successful at the bank. You’ve made friends, you have things that keep you busy. Hell, you were gone all weekend. My business is doing well, I have my activities too. I’m happy, you’re happy, or at least I thought you were. As far as I can tell, we’re moving forward fine.”

“And how much of that is together?“

He furrows his brow but says nothing.

I continue. “Everything you mentioned is ‘you do your thing,’ ‘I do my thing,’ and our marriage at this point is show up at night, give an inventory of what each of us did apart, have sex, fall asleep. At this point, we don’t function as a real husband and wife, we’re just roommates who fuck.”

He drops his spoon.

Continuing, I say, “Tucker, I didn’t sign up for that.”

After a pause, he says, “You’re right. We need to do more together. I need to be more intentional. Christine, I love you, and I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. I just want for you to be a part of my happiness, and I want to be a part of yours. And I want our future to be shared.”

He gives me a hug. “Doll, we’ll get it together. I’ll make it happen. I promise.”

I wish I could believe him.

“Look,” he continues, “I haven’t seen my wife for three days, and I miss everything about you...your beautiful face, your sexy body, how you feel in my arms, when I kiss you. Damn, I miss how I fit in that heaven between your legs...”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Tucker...you have a way with words.”

He gets up and grabs my hand. “I have a way with other things, too. Look, I know these things matter to you, and I’ll do better, alright?”

I nod.

“Now, let’s go.”

As he leads me to the bedroom I’m equal parts turned on and tired. I resolve that this is the last time I’m going to say anything else to him about any of it — spending time with each other, going to my events, buying a house, having kids — all of it.

If he cares about our marriage as much as he cares about screwing my brains out tonight, he’ll put forth the same effort to initiate. The truth is, I haven’t given up yet. Deep down, I know he loves me. But I can’t wait forever for him to give a shit about our life as husband and wife. Life’s too short for that.

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: