We run through the familiar backdoor. My cheeks hurt from how much I've been smiling and laughing.
"You made it! Don't know how you always manage to be right on the dot. Hey, grab those sweet rolls behind you, will ya?" Rye calls from the counter while his hands press into a fresh ball of dough.
Peeta grabs a towel and slips back into kitchen mode. "Some of us care about punctuality."
The brothers go back and forth about how many years Rye has or hasn't been late. I put the apron I've been using back on, thoroughly amused by the banter.
"You look like you had a lovely time! We're prepping more pecan tarts." Delly gestures to the task laid out before her. I join her side, getting back to business after the quick break.
The Harvest Festival really had been lovely. Our time limit had forced us to cherish every single one of those 49 minutes. We'd stopped for warm apple ciders with cinnamon sticks and a dollop of cream. I found Prim in the crowd and stole her away from her admirers for one dance. She filled me in on how she'd been splitting her company between Rory and the grocer boy who seems to be quite fond of her.
Peeta and I spent the rest of the time dancing to my favorite folk songs. When the music slowed, we shared a soft kiss without any of the unnecessary drama last year's had brought. He has a well-honed internal clock because he knew exactly when we needed to return to the bakery, if we wanted our full hour next year.
"Maybe you had a better than lovely time." Delly is smirking at me. I realize I never responded to her earlier remark.
"No, we danced and I didn't run away so that always helps. It was nice, great actually." She seems to be satisfied with my answer, that she hasn't missed some new development.
The bakery is the busiest it has ever been. Everyone has a few coins to spare for this year's festival, and the Mellark Bakery is top priority for where to spend them. All hands are on deck trying to keep up. Delly and I have been helping anywhere we can, mostly with prep work. Rye and Peeta are running the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Mellark are out front, and even the oldest brother, Graham, is here for the day.
Graham would have been signed the bakery by now, if Mr. Mellark had not snatched up the butcher shop as soon as the Grouses abandoned it for Victor Village. He got a bargain from the Justice department since the officials wanted a legal meat source on the books as quickly as possible. When you have three sons, I guess you better be ready should an opportunity arise. Graham was never in love with the bakery and happily accepted the butcher shop instead. His wife is expecting their first child any week now.
Mrs. Mellark pushes an empty tray through the front doors. "Ah, back on time for once. Didn't know if you'd manage to remember to return, how often you've been absent lately." She's practically sneering at Peeta. All the previous joy that had filled the kitchen has been sucked up into her negative mouth.
My interactions with the family matron have been quite limited so far. I have plenty of memories of her shooing away the 'seam trash' from her establishment. Then there's her involvement in the bread, the punishment Peeta took from her hand to give it to me. But since I've been spending more and more time with Peeta, she has mostly remained silent, the occasional curt nod directed my way.
When her sons reached the height to look her in the eye, they each defended themselves from her abuse. Graham had only needed to grab her arms once for her to move on to the easier targets. It was the main reason Rye and Peeta joined the wrestling team. To learn how to take down an opponent without injury. It didn't take long for her to conclude that her power was gone when it came to physically intimidating her fully grown sons, she mostly ignored them now. As long as the bakery ran well enough that she could join the upper merchant ladies' clubs, she was content to leave everyone alone.
"I see the Seam is still represented back here. Make sure your little girlfriend doesn't eat into the day's profits, please." I inhale too quickly. I should have been ready for it to come eventually, mentally prepared for one of her class insults. She's paid so little attention to me for so long, I'm caught off guard by the timing of it. Every bite of bakery bread sits heavy in my stomach.
Peeta and Rye both stop what they're doing. Together they straighten up into an identical defensive stance. "I would suggest you apologize to my fiancée if you expect any of us to stay in this kitchen." Her eyes flash to me when Peeta says 'fiancée'. Only sheer force of will seem to prevent them from rolling back into her head. I do my best to meet her gaze.
Her lips slowly curl upwards, "You know I can still sign this bakery solely to Rye." A burst of unnatural laughter comes from Rye and her head whips in his direction.
"Good luck with that, like I'd attempt to run this place without the best baker in Panem. You seem to forget we could both do just fine elsewhere." He points his thumb to Delly then to me. "Question is, would you do just fine coming back to run this place without us?"
This is a bit of a bluff on Rye's part. Maybe Peeta and I could scrape by if he ran the Hob stand while I put in more hunting hours in the woods. I'm having a hard time seeing how he and Delly would make it with the shoe shop, at least once her brother comes of age. It's interesting to me that the two brothers whose future in or out of the mines was so uncertain, are so adamant that they are partners when it comes to the family bakery. A fact that disarms their mother from turning the business into a weapon.
She forces out the words, "I apologize." Then dashes back out to the front of the shop.
"Congrats on the engagement Peeta, but it's usually customary to ask the girl first." Rye tentatively breaks the silence, while all three concerned sets of eyes study me. I'm frozen. I'm not sure if there is a hint of color left in my face.
"I wanted her to know you're not going anywhere. If she thinks we're serious and could be toasting, she'll back off. I'm sorry Katniss, I'll go as slow as you want. I promise. She basically spit the word 'girlfriend'. You mean so much to me. Please, understand. I know how her mind works." The words are falling out of his mouth as quickly as he can form them.
"Peeta, can we just…. talk about this later." I manage to interrupt his overwhelming stream of speech. Rye and Delly have both found very interesting spots on the ceiling to hold their attention.
We finish the evening with only the words required by the work.
The walk home is tense. I haven't spoken yet and Peeta's spent most of it ringing his hands and rubbing his neck. We're only another block away from my door.
His words 'fiancée' and 'toasting' keep replaying through my thoughts. That's where this is going, isn't it? I guess I'd been so focused on the day by day that I hadn't allowed myself to think about the what's next. Is that really true though or I have been deliberately blocking the idea? Trying not to let my wariness about the future ruin how much I've been enjoying the present.
How wary should I be now? Will my nervous system ever adjust to the new, safer District 12?
"I'd like to be your fiancée, Peeta." He stops mid step.
"What?" His mouth stays open.
"I'm ready. For that next piece anyway. If you are, I …." It dawns on me that even though Peeta used the word first, he might not be ready yet.
He looks like he could cry at any moment. Maybe I am the one who jumped too far ahead this time. I'm trying to think of how to take it back when he asks, "Will you meet me in the meadow tomorrow, before sunset?"
I can see his golden head sitting among the matching gold stalks as they ripple in the autumn breeze. He stands as I approach. The pressed blue shirt he's wearing makes me feel more confident in the dress Prim chose.
"You're here, real or not real?" I smile at the game he's playing, like he might just be hallucinating that I'm standing in front of him.
"Real."
"And you know what I'm going to ask? I'll wait, Katniss. I'll wait forever if that's what you need me to do." There's a slight tremor in his voice, I've never seen him this unsure.
"I know." I try to remain as steady as possible, taking both his hands into mine to give him an anchor to hold on to.
He takes a deep breath and a long look into my eyes, maybe trying to find any doubt I could be trying to hide. "I love you. I've loved you since we were five. You're the strongest, most beautiful person I've ever met. I would be the luckiest man alive if you were my wife. Katniss, will you marry me?"
I do not let his words linger for even a moment before I answer, "Yes". All the worry lines fade from his face, as they are replaced with the most delighted smile. He lifts me off the ground and spins me with my feet kicking into the air. The laughter dies on my lips as he runs a trail of kisses down my neck and lowers me into the bed of grass below.
His mouth finds its way back up to my jaw and his forearms press into the dirt as he hovers over me. I grip the front of his shirt. His kisses finally meet my open lips. He's soft but strong, warm and safe. The reality that he's promised himself to me, and I to him slowly spreads through every fiber of my being, and I only feel happiness.
When we break apart, he rolls up onto his side next to me. Studying every inch of my face as he takes out my braid to run his fingers through my hair. The sun is painting the sky with every shade of his favorite color. The words feel so easy right now, "I love you too, Peeta."
Author's note- Song inspiration, Fields of Gold