This story is a special holiday gift to those who read my previous installments of this series. I didn't plan on doing another sequel, but I couldn't get this storyline out of my head. I do not own The Fosters, or any of the characters. Rachel, Gabe, and Lucy are original characters of my own. Enjoy the story!

Chapter 1.

"No offense," said Callie, "but you're kind of taking the fun out of sex, honey."

Brandon lifted his head to face her. "What do you mean?"

Callie shrugged shyly. "Well, it used to be exciting, but lately... I don't know. It seems like we just do it and get it over with. It feels a little like a chore, you know?

Caressing her shoulder, Brandon replied, "Don't you want to have another baby?"

"You know I do," she told him, petting his back. "I really do. But maybe we're trying too hard? I don't want to just have sex. I want to make love. Like we used to."

Groaning, Brandon asked, "Well, what do you want me to do, Cal?"

She traced her fingers down his chest. "Well, for starters, you could touch me more... look into my eyes. Brandon, I love you so much... please?"

Brandon leaned into her and their lips connected. "I love you too, Cal. You know that. I'm sorry for whatever I did wrong, okay?"

"I know," Callie told him. "But it's not what you're doing. It's what you're not doing."

Brandon took Callie in his arms and kissed her once more. He loved her more than life itself. It hurt him to know she felt unloved. He hadn't even realized that she felt that way. But maybe things had changed since they decided to try for a third child? The thought scared him, and he wanted to make up for it. Slowly, softly, he ran his fingers over the mounds of her breasts, replacing his touch with his lips, and vowing to love her the way she deserved.

Callie closed her eyes as Brandon touched her, and silently prayed. Please let me get pregnant this time. Please, she thought. She'd conceived Rachel right away. If her math was correct, it happened only on the first or second time she and Brandon tried. Gabe's conception took much longer. They waited two years to try, and he didn't arrive until almost three years later. And recently, there was another miscarriage. It was early on in the pregnancy, and not nearly as traumatic as the first one, but still, it was heartbreaking. Especially for the kids. Now that Rachel was nine and Gabe was four, no longer babies, Brandon and Callie longed for a third child. But it seemed that it wasn't ever going to happen.

The next morning, Callie awoke feeling poorly. She wondered, for a fleeting moment, if it could be morning sickness. But when she used the bathroom, she saw the blood. She'd gotten her period. She wasn't pregnant. Holding her face in her hands, she began to cry, her shoulders shaking, angry with her body. Maybe there would never be another baby for them? If not, would Brandon stop loving her?

Just then, Rachel pounded on the bathroom door, calling for her. "Mommy! Grandma Stef is on the phone!"

"Hold on, baby. I'll be out in a sec." She splashed some cold water on her face, then went to answer the phone. "Hey, mom," she said in forced cheerfulness.

"Hi sweetheart," Stef replied. "Listen, honey. I need to ask a favor of you."

"Sure," said Callie. "What is it?"

"Could we please borrow your crib? Just for a while?" Stef asked.

"I guess so," Callie told her. "But why?"

"We're getting a new arrival this afternoon," Stef explained. "An infant, and she needs a place to sleep. Her social worker called this morning."

"Yeah. I'll have Brandon get it down from the attic and bring it over," Callie promised. It's not like we'll be needing it anytime soon, she thought sadly.

"Thank you, Cal," said Stef. "We haven't fostered any kids in so long, so this is pretty exciting. Maybe you could bring the kiddos over when she gets here? I bet they'd like to see her."

"I bet they would," Callie replied. "Thanks. Well... I'll go ask Brandon to get it for you."

"Thanks again, angel," Stef chirped. "See you later... love you!"

"I love you too, mom," said Callie. "Bye." She hung up the phone, her heart aching. Another baby, one who wasn't theirs, would be sleeping in their crib. It almost seemed like a cruel joke.

To Be Continued