Chapter 10: You'd Think We're Married
The weeks continue to pass unabated. And by and by, Peeta and I begin to fall into a routine. Time after time he is in my bed, time after time he stays with me in the bathroom after a bout of nausea, I begin to grow fonder of the baker's youngest son and his unselfish attentions towards me.
My sleep clock has adjusted enough so that now, when Peeta wakes with the dawn, I do too - free of nightmares, as has become the new norm. I am still awake, waiting for him after he emerges from my - our - bathroom, to kiss him on the cheek goodbye. Peeta's smile at this now daily ritual alights me with joy. I cannot help it.
God, you would think we are married! The thought sends my stomach into knots, thoughts flying into uncharted territory that I had heretofore never imagined to ponder. I know these twists of my insides are not from the nausea this time. They can't be - not when they emerge every time I instantly appear…. happy when I see Peeta walk in the door after a long day at work, or around a corner unexpectedly. Every day he arrives home, he brings me cheese buns - my favorite pastry - and sometimes even a tea mix to help with my nausea. The appreciation of these gifts also prompts the strange stomach knots. As does the memory of his kissing me in the alleyway of the bakery…..