A/N: Thanks for continuing to read. Like I said, it helps me keep writing! Kiera Cass, you have created some awesome characters...

candy1928: I really couldn't picture young Calix any other way. :)

SelectionLoverForever: So nice to see your review when I have to be up so early this morning!

piepie1289: I am so flattered by that statement. I'm glad!

prnamber3909: :)

Athenachild101: Between Calix and this current pregnancy, America and Maxon experienced a miscarriage. A few months later, they went to Italy for diplomatic reasons, but managed to find time for each other. America came back from Italy pregnant. :)

Issi Herondale: Thanks for the encouragement. Calix is Maxon's middle name, and it means "chalice" in Latin. So, Calix Shalom literally translates to Chalice of Peace. :)

zyvl787: Glad you like it!

zeldafanatic0555: I hope it will live up to your expectations!

: Me, too. How could they not name him after daddy and grandpa? :)

So, we're skipping forward about 2.5 years...Let me know what you think!

"If that's what you want." He turns.

"You know it's not what I want," I hiss, tossing the closest thing to me. A good thing Abrielle is fast asleep, and can't witness her sheep fly through the air and peg her father in the back. "Don't you dare walk away from me right now."

"What do you want from me, America? What do you want me to say right now?"

I mimic his flat tone, "Well, not 'if that's what you want.' That's for damn sure!" He continues his path to the door of our common room. No. Not again. He's not escaping this discussion for the solace of his study. One way or another, this ends tonight. I surprise myself with the strength and ugliness and truth behind my own words, "Maxon Schreave, if you leave this room right now, it'll be a cold day in Hell before I speak to you again." I twist our ring on my finger, feeling the stones representing us, and rubbing my thumb across the new additions: stones for Calix and Abrielle. Two tiny teardrop diamonds for the ones gone before they could be born.

He turns, eyes flashing, crossing the room in three strides and grabbing my shoulders. "Do you want to see me mad, America? Is that it? Do you want to see me lose it? Do you want to see me on my knees in front of you?"

I gasp, surprised at his display of anger, but manage to spit, "Anything would be better than NO emotion, Maxon. Isn't there a little love left for me at all? I want to see you FIGHT for me. For Calix and Abrielle. In case you've forgotten, I once fought 34 other women for you!" I wrench myself from his grasp and collapse into the arm of the sofa, facing away from him. I hate that the tears are running down my face faster than I can wipe them away. We play our parts so well, how had we lost ourselves so completely along the way? My heart aches and I put a hand to my chest, because the pain is so strong it is physical.

"Do you hate me, Ames?" I just stare at that question. In my head I scream, I hate how this feels. I hate the relief we share when we have a good excuse not to take our meals at the same time or when the children fill the silence with laughter, disguising our indifference to each other. I hate how my heart breaks every day this pseudo-politeness continues. I hate how we are betraying our promises to each other. But I keep silent, and he continues, "Do you really want to go spend the summer with Nicoletta? Would you...would you rather be with someone else?"

He sits down beside me on the sofa, careful not to touch me. Not knowing how much I crave his hands on my body. Wishing we could leave the little safe rooms of our own creation. Where's the trigger to unlock them?

I turn to him, "Maxon, can you remember the last time you kissed me good night?"

"America, I want to know if you'd rather be with someone else."

"No, Maxon, you're wondering if there is any truth to the rumor that the education advisor is having an affair with your wife."

The look on his face brought me back 12 years, to the night he saw me with Aspen. And it inflames my rage. My eyes turn flint-like as I say everything I'd held back. "And my answer to you is that if you had spent any time with me in the last six months, you wouldn't be asking me that question. I have been fighting off his advances since November. And he is getting bolder the farther from me you remove yourself. Did you know that Marlee runs constant interference to make sure he's never allowed access to me alone and Carter actively works to keep him off this floor? Even Nicoletta dominated my time at our holiday party so I could feign ignorance at his wholly inappropriate and persistent attention. Not that Mary's creations catch your attention anymore. And you! You have implied consent by doing nothing. The one person who is supposed to protect me against all others, abandons me!"

I stop to catch my breath. The heat drains out of my voice as I continue, "And I'm confused. And I'm tired, Maxon. I'm tired of not letting someone love me when the one I want pushes me aside. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of waking up with your side of the bed cold and untouched. I'm tired of not talking about anything more important than the damn weather. Nicoletta's offer is for me to recharge. Take a break. Bring our babies somewhere peaceful. Somewhere I can pretend we're not falling apart. Dispel any nasty gossip. Over New Year's she sensed how-distant we are. Do you think I'm the only one who notices you sleep in your office? The whole palace knows, Maxon, they just care for us enough not to rub it in our faces."

He stiffens even more when I persist, enunciating each word, "So, when is the last time you kissed me good night?" My eyes plead with his. I lean toward him, stopping short of pressing my lips to his. Not able to bear one more instance of rejection. Putting myself on the line and willing him to close the distance.

"Ames," he breathes, "I have been such a-" he stops and presses his lips to mine, tentativeness giving way to insistence. Insistence to undeniable hunger. Our need for each other palpable.

I sigh audibly as he moans, gathers me into his lap and kisses my face, pulls my robe aside to reach my neck. I lace my fingers in his hair and press myself even closer to him, trembling, and whisper against his lips, "I've missed you, Maxon. I'm so lonely for us."

That was all it took. In one sudden motion he stands, picking me up against his chest, and purposefully strides through our bedroom door.