I do not own The Selection.

reviews:

gabyselectionlover:

omg i love thisss. also have u ever read acotar? if not its really good

livewithbooks:

i'm glad! and no, but i've considered it. idk if it's something i'd really like lmao but i'll keep it in mind! thank you!

Virtue01:

Thanks for the update sorry school is so busy but I am sure you are coping well. Such a sad chapter Maxon is right with is the theory the Southern rebel are using physiology warfare on him to break him and America, so that they become mentally and physically incapable of ruling. Maxon is wrong about if he had married Daphne or Kriss America would be saved. The Southern rebel would have a better chance of taking the crown because neither these women have the backbone like America. Plus because of their love, compassion and the way they work as a team I don't think any other one else could have filled that role. It was great how Marlee comforted Maxon and let him know that he has another whole family that is there for him. Amazing writing for the chapter stay safe.

livewithbooks:

thank you so so so much for your review! i hope you have a wonderful, wonderful day!

Lady Annabeth of Illea:

Ok so I completely forgot to review until now sorry lol... but this chapter! Wow... u really are an amazing writer! But seriously, good job! Have a wonderful day!

livewithbooks:

ah, it's fine! thank you so much! it means so much to me that you came back to review. thank you, seriously!

one quick thing:

please please please, if you are comfortable reviewing, please tell me what you think about this story and where it's going. any criticism, comments, suggestions, and ideas are all very very appreciated. now, i'm sorry if it seems like i'm begging for reviews (i swear i'm not) but i would love to see how everyone is liking or not liking it. and i'm sure i'm not the only writer on here that would love the same thing. if anything, the reviews are so welcomed and really keep me motivated to write!

okay, i'll stop rambling now and let you read! enjoy!

I had my last cooking lesson with Magda today.

America and I's anniversary was in two days, so I was trying to focus on it more than I was focusing on the past few weeks, which had been entirely crappy. But now, here I was, holding my son in my arms and pushing the thought of my aunt's death away.

Though life wasn't the best or the happiest at the moment, I wasn't going to waste any of it. So, today, I was using my free time wisely.

As America changed Avery's diaper for the second time in the past four hours, I tickled Roman's belly, getting a lovely series of giggles and coos from him. Just like his sister, he kicked his feet up and I couldn't help but laugh. Rome and Avery had been the only real things bringing me any joy recently. Even smiling had been difficult.

I looked back up to see America watching with a small smile.

"He really looks just like you."

"But he has your eyes."

"I would have loved to have gotten two brown eyed babes, but I'm pretty happy with what we got."

I nodded. "So am I."

She sat back down, holding Avery. Avery was wide-eyed and seemed to be looking around, but I reminded myself that it was probably too early for her to be doing that. Though, it sure did look like she was.

Wilma bombarded me with kisses on my cheek, almost knocking me over. I had to gently push her away. With a doggy sigh, she instead bent down to play with Roman. They were already best friends. I could tell it would be that way for a very, very long time. Adopting her suddenly seemed like a much more reasonable decision.

"Can you believe it?" America asked. "We've been married for almost four years."

"And we've created two babies, adopted two dogs, and changed so many laws that it's easy to confuse them."

"You messed up."

"What?"

"We created the two most perfect babies on the planet."

I grinned. It was true; Avery and Roman really were perfect, even if there were people who believed nothing or no one could be perfect. Personally, I didn't agree with that statement. Some things were perfect, even if no one else thought so.

Roman's face contorted into a yawn, and his tiny eyes shut. His little fists unclenched, and his feet moved so they were closer to his belly.

My heart skipped a beat as he gripped my finger slightly, just before letting it go almost completely. From his entirely relaxed muscles, I knew he was sound asleep, taking his third nap of the day. Sleeping babies were definitely one of my weaknesses. His tiny, peaceful expression lighting up my entire world.

"I know the past few weeks have been hard, Max, but I just want you to remember that we've still got each other and the twins," she said, putting a hand on my thigh. "And everyone else."

"These two are going to have the largest family ever." I said, smiling.

"Aren't they? They have like a dozen aunts and uncles!"

"And lots of cousins."

"Did Kenna tell you?" She asked cautiously, and I frowned. "About.. another possible Orders baby?"

"Oh! That! No, actually, James told me."

"Well, then, I'll let him break the news to you then."

The news? What news—oh! Kenna must've been expecting. That was amazing, and I really wanted to run down and congratulate him, but I'd let him break it to me on his own. I trusted him to tell me when the time was right. All things considered, this year had been more than hectic.

Between the birth of the twins, the murder of my aunt, and everything else, I was already overwhelmed. If things didn't stop happening so often, I may as well stop paying attention.

"She's pregnant, isn't she?"

"Only two weeks, but you didn't hear that from me." She said, finger to her lips.

I shook my head. "No, I did not."

Exactly two days later, I woke up to the twins crying.

America's immediate instinct was to go take care of it, but I ordered her to go back to sleep and went to deal with it myself. All they ended up needing was a diaper change and quick feeding, which was very good for me.

It was six o'clock, giving me about two or three hours to get my first plan done.

I jogged down to the kitchen—careful on the stairs, of course—and the staff let me have my own space. They quickly cleared out, leaving me alone with the supplies I'd need.

After organizing my supplies, I started by putting the strawberries into their designated shells that had been pre-prepared.

I took sugar, cornstarch, and salt from the group, and blended them together in a medium sized bowl. Careful not to mess up, I flipped the stove on and turned the controls to medium. I placed the concoction into a more pan like bowl, for which I didn't know the name, and placed it onto the stove.

For a few minutes, I stood there, slowly stirring the glaze so that it didn't become lumpy or runny. When it was smooth and thick, I turned the stove back off and set the bowl onto the counter. Once I'd let it cool for ten minutes, I moved onto the next step.

I grabbed the pan of strawberry tarts and moved it closer to me. I'd messed up, so now, I had to take the strawberries back out of the shells.

But it was alright. I was no professional chef. In fact, I'd never cooked on my own before now.

This time, I very carefully spread the glaze over the bottom of the shells. I only spread a small amount so that it didn't ruin the entire meal. Now it was time for the strawberries!

Once they were all nice and pretty in their shells, I spread very little over the tops of them.

And now, I was done.

I pushed the pan of tarts into the fridge, where they'd chill for an hour or so before I came back to get the rest of our breakfast ready.

An hour and thirty minutes later, I'd hand crafted pancakes. I was truly proud of myself for accomplishing something like this, even if it was a small and simple task. I didn't do much for myself. People always beat me to it.

Now, as I set the food onto a tray, I organized it so that it looked like it had been cooked by an actual professional.

And once I'd gotten both trays upstairs, all I had to do was wait.

"Max," America said, her hand on my side. "I think Mary brought us food."

I groaned. "Not possible. I gave your maids, my butlers, and the guards stationed outside our room the day off. No interruptions, remember?"

"Then how'd it get here?"

I blinked my eyes open, and saw her sitting in front of the tray of food that I'd so delicately cooked. My mouth turned up in a smile, and her jaw dropped.

"You didn't."

"I did," I said. "I got up earlier and cooked my queen breakfast."

"You can't cook."

"Your mother taught me,"

She threw herself into my arms, knocking me back over onto my pillows. When she pulled back, she kept a hand on my face to cup my jaw. Her blue eyes looked into mine. I swear my heart was beating out of my chest as she kissed me. I took a handful of her shirt into my fist, just before realizing that she was wearing my clothing again; cotton boxers and a t-shirt.

We broke apart, breathing so heavily I thought I would pass out for a second.

Her lips still brushed against mine, and her hands were caressing the back of my neck. All I could think about was how she was hovering over me. Each breath she took tickled my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"No interruptions," she laughed, pushing our foreheads together. "That's a first. Are you sure—"

"I've given the entire palace very strict orders not to disrupt us today. Everyone's going to be sharing the twins today, and they will be seeing us not even once. I made that very clear."

"Not even once?"

"Nope. You aren't leaving my sight one today. I intend to spend every moment of this day with you in my arms."

"But I need to shower sometime."

"Then we'll shower together."

"And what about when I need to pee?"

I sighed. "Fine. That's the one exception."

She laughed, before groaning. I frowned. America rolled over so that she was laying beside me on the bed, and we stared at the ceiling for a short moment.

"They're going to know why we're up here alone."

I laughed. "That's what's bothering you?"

"Yes."

"Well, if they want another little Schreave, then they should just accept it. Besides, I just want you to myself for twenty-four hours. Why not steal you away on our anniversary?"

She sighed and turned to face me. "We've been married for four years."

"The best four years of my entire life."

"How about, to celebrate, we eat breakfast first?"

We cleared our plates in less than an hour, leaving only the dirty plates, dishes, and trays. I sat them over by the door to let Mary take tomorrow, when they'd be coming by to get any dirty clothes or trash in general. No need to make her work all day just to help us once.

After breakfast, we took that shower we'd talked about.

America got in first to adjust the water, and I soon joined her after I'd stripped my clothes off. She stood in front of me and began to wet her hair. I took her lead and did the same to my hair, getting it nice and damp. And then, she handed me a bottle of her shampoo.

"Could you wash it for me?"

"Absolutely."

I took the time to lather it in my hands once she'd turned around. Gently, I worked it into her hair, making sure to never let it get on her face. After a minute or so of massaging her scalp, I spread it around the bottom of her hair and helped her wash it all out.

Then, she took my bottle of shampoo from the rack in the shower and had me turn around. Her hands carefully worked it into my hair as I stood, head tilted slightly upwards.

She took her precious time, massaging the smooth, thick substance into my now very messy hair. When she was done, she washed it out for me too. I turned back around to face her and we put our noses together, grinning like idiots. I had never had such a wonderful shower.

"Now, could you do the conditioner too?" She asked, handing me a new bottle.

I nodded.

She told me to let this one sit in her hair for a minute or so, so I did. We passed the time by washing ourselves off with soap and a wash cloth—which we did not share.

Time passed quickly and before I knew it, we were back on the rug laying in front of the tub.

We took fluffy towels from the counter and dried each other off, often bumping into the other's arms, which proceeded to send us into a hysterical fit of laughter.

Once we'd dried some, we got dressed. Well, I'm not sure you could consider it getting dressed, really. I wore a simple pair of black boxers underneath cotton pajama pants, and America wore the same outfit she'd had on when we'd woken up. I thought she looked rather splendid in my underwear, if I did say so myself.

"Can you help me brush my hair?" She asked once she'd finished drying it. "It knots so easily."

"Of course I can, Ames." I said, picking up the brush.

She kissed me gently. "Careful, please."

As I dragged the brush through her red locks, I took extra care not to be rough with the knots I encountered. It was actually a very relaxing activity.

Outside, we sat on the balcony, holding each other closely on the swing we'd had installed a year or so ago. It faced the gardens, and had a great view of them, though it couldn't be seen from the ground. I loved how private it was. This entire day was like an actual dream.

We swung back and forth, America laying her head over my heart. I leaned my head back against the swing and closed my eyes.

It was such a nice day, and not to mention that it was an entirely new level of peaceful.

The sun wasn't too hot, and the wind wasn't too cold. Instead, it was in the upper seventies, and the sky was only a little cloudy. I'm not joking when I say it was the most perfect weather for the occasion. Birds flew by, gawking at each other. I listened carefully as Wilma and Ozzy could be heard barking from below. They must've seen the birds too.

America shifted, and her warm hands moved up into my slightly damp hair, twirling a strand or two around. I sighed and enjoyed the feeling.

"I love you."

Looking into her eyes, I could tell she meant every word. Her pupils were a bit dilated, the blue around them slowly disappearing bit by bit. She ran a finger over my lips. I let them part as I looked into her eyes, entranced by her stunning beauty.

I'd been nothing less than blessed in this life.

Finally, I smiled and took her hand, brushing my finger over her wedding and engagement rings. "I love you too, America."

Leaning our heads together, she tilted hers ever so slightly that our lips touched.

Her hands moved into my hair, and she let mine go to her waist. The shirt she wore had slid up a bit so that my hands were on bare skin. My heart was jumping out of my chest at this point. I allowed her to straddle me, legs on either side of mine. When we broke apart for air, she laughed at the sound of her sister yelling for Gerad to kick the ball already.

"I can't believe it," she sighed. "May's getting married, Gerad's in middle school, Kenna's having another baby, I'm married to a king with whom I had twins, Astra's almost five.."

"It's amazing, isn't it?"

"I just want to thank you, Max."

"For what?"

"For everything." She clarified. "You know, you're the brother they've never had."

"I'm guessing you're talking about Kota?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. He used to be so awesome. When I was little, he'd take time out of his day to play with me. I would put on concerts for him and we'd pretend I was a celebrity for the day."

"That sounds wonderful. And it's not your fault, my love. Some people lose themselves along the way." I said, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

She nodded and slid off of my lap, landing on the bench beside me. As she swung her legs over mine, I watched the scene in the garden below us. Magda was now making an appearance. Kenna and James were there with Astra, who was giggling about something. Gerad was now being tackled by May. There was something about it that made my heart warm.

Watching them was like watching a real family. It reminded me of what I'd never had.

"Someday, that'll be us," America predicted. "Us and our kids."

"Is five still a reasonable number, my love?"

"I think so, my darling. Maybe six if you're good."

"I'll be the best of the best," I promised. "I won't even make one mistake, love."

She laughed at the pet name and shoved me playfully. "You know, I've never been one for pet names, but I think I really am starting to love them."

"Not more than me, I hope."

"Well, I only love two people more than I love you."

I frowned. Was I in a competition with someone else for her love? Because, if I was, I had every intention of winning, even if it was the last thing I ever did. America's love was my prized possession. Hell, if I was giving it up, I would have to be past crazy and moving steadily towards the label of insane.

"The twins, of course." America wheezed. "Don't look so jealous, Max."

"Oh. Well, in that case, I'm happy to be your third favorite person."

Her mouth turned up at it's corner. "I only love them more because we made them together. Very literally a product of our love."

"That sounds more poetic than it should."

"What can I say? I'm a poetic mastermind." She claimed, dramatically pushing her hair from her shoulder, but only ended up hitting me in the face. "Oh! I'm sorry!"

I tried to respond, but I was laughing much too hard to even form a coherent speech. She joined in, though her laugh much more quickly turned into some sort of cackle, which caused us both to laugh ten times harder.

Standing from the bench, I doubled over from the intensity of the laughter, forcing me to sit back down so that I didn't collapse. Tears formed in my eyes and I heard the sound of America howling with her own laughter. Physically, I could barely breathe, and mentally, I could only replay America slapping me in the face on accident.

"Max-on," she snorted, sending us farther into another fit of laughter.

When I was finally recovering, she hooted like an owl and I tried to suppress my laughter, sputtering like an old faucet. She slapped her knee and I saw tears running down her face. It wasn't even funny, yet I couldn't stop my own laughter anymore.

Our constant laughter echoed off the walls of the balcony and I was sure that our family down below could hear it.

Minutes later, we'd both finally regained the ability to speak and were wiping our eyes. I swallowed, only just now realizing that I'd apparently laughed so hard that I had somewhat of a scratchy throat.

"Oh, wow," she said, her voice raspy. "That was uncalled for."

"Only you can make me laugh so hard, my love."

"Well, it's been an honor, Your Royal Husbandness."

Apparently, sleeping during the night was much too overrated.

America and I laid on the floor of our bedroom, drinking wine and eating junk food. It was nearing three in the morning and we'd almost been awake for exactly twenty-four hours. Yes, this was stupid, but I was seriously enjoying it. We rarely got to spend so much time together.

In the background, we let an old show named Friends play on the TV as we talked.

"That candle smells like food," she sighed, closing her eyes to take another sniff. "Definitely my favorite present you've ever gotten me."

"Ever?" I asked, raising the glass to my lips to take another sip of the expensive wine.

She nodded. I watched as she stuffed another chip into her mouth. While she ate chips, I had a bag of popcorn that I was letting myself eat as a treat for working so diligently for the past months. Truly, it was just an excuse to justify my behavior, but it worked for me. Made me feel less guilty.

Staying up late had always been a guilty pleasure of mine.

It made me feel… invincible, so to speak. Like time was just another thing in the world. Like I truly was the most powerful man in the world. And sharing that time of the day with America only enhanced my love for it.

There was a sort of excitement about it too. Being awake when the whole world was most likely asleep. The perfect time of day for a more introverted person, may I add.

"I haven't stayed up this long in months." America stated. "Oh! Look, isn't Ross so tall? I don't understand. He's like a giant compared to Monica."

"Ames, that's how genetics work. Siblings aren't all the same height."

"I hate science," she muttered, taking another drink.

I held back a laugh. "Why is that?"

"It's horrible, Maxon! All of those stupid formulas. Even water has one! Water! It's literally just a liquid."

Her little rant was adorable. The only times when we really let all of our thoughts run free were these. Not to mention that we were just a little tipsy. Well, more like a little bit more than a little tipsy. Hell, that didn't even make sense. OKay, yeah, we were a bit drunk. There.

"Chandler's cute," she grinned.

I frowned. "What about me?"

"You're hot. There's a difference."

She said it as if it was obvious to everyone and everything. Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the TV and shook her head. I slid my arm around her waist and continued emptying my wine glass.

A yawn escaped her and I decided that we'd been up long enough for one night.

"Maxon, I'm not tired—"

I laughed. "You're tired. No need to deny it, my love. I'll handle cleaning. Go get some rest."

"Fine, fine. I love you."

"I love you more."

I helped her up out of the floor and into bed before taking care of the mess we'd made. First, I turned off the TV and the lamp, and then I closed the bottle of red wine and set it on a higher shelf to prevent the dogs from getting in it.

Once I'd put all of the blankets back onto the bed, I climbed under the covers with her.

"Goodnight, my love."

i apologize for both the shorter scenes and chapter but writer's block is a jerk and i wanted to get something out! i hope everyone enjoyed. i love you guys! have a wonderful and amazing day/week!