Chapter 11

The Lunch

"I got to go," I say pulling away from Peeta.

"Nooo-" He whines pulling me back onto the couch so I was again sitting on his lap.

"Peeta," I say pushing myself off his lap and onto my feet, "I have to go or I'm going to be late for my lunch with your dad."

"Be late then," he said pulling me back down onto him, "He can wait."

"Peeta-"I begin yet don't get to finish my sentence as his lips clash with mine. The kiss is passionate and fierce. It's a spark adrenaline, of life. Moving together, we are a perfect fit. Peeta and I, yin and yang. As Peeta moves his hands from around my waist up to the sides of my rib cage he deepens the kiss. The he bites on my lower lip, I let out a gasp or a moan not knowing what escapes my mouth, but that it causes Peeta to smile. Knowing if I don't stop this kiss now, I won't be able to in a couple of more minutes.

"Peeta," I say in between our kisses as he makes his away from my lips and along my jaw, "I- have- to- go-" Giving him one last kiss on the lips I pull away till I'm up and out of his reach. Then as I grab my bag I make my way to the door.

"Katnisssss." I smile, giving him a wave as I reach the door. "Love you."

Walking through the front door of the Mellark home, there is a soft jazz playing and a scent of vanilla in the air. It's exactly how one would think home to be like. I shut the door behind me and make my way through the halls, past the family portraits and pre-school finger paintings. As I entered the kitchen, as expected stood Eric behind the kitchen island facing the stove, back to me. Examining the food spread raging from onions and garlic, asparagus, elbow macaroni, shredded cheeses, and a roll of bread I find myself completely baffled about what we are going to cook. Whatever were making, I think, it's bound to be delicious though. So setting my bag on one of the islands bar stools, I walked around it to stand beside him.

"Hi Eric," I say, "Sorry I'm late."

He nods his head, placing a couple pots and pans on top of the stove. "Hey Katniss."

I nod my head, "So how are you?"

"Good," he says with a smile, "I can't complain. Marcus is back to good health, Rye is not in trouble of any sort, and you are marrying my Peeta. Life is good… Are you ready to cook?"

I nod. "What are we making?"

"Grilled asparagus and baked macaroni and cheese," he says, "It was one of the few dishes Gertrude and I could ever agree on cooking."

I smile at how Eric brings goodness out of that woman. Eric and Mrs. Mellark, Gertrude, got a divorce three years ago. Supposedly she was never really that nice of a woman. I wasn't the first person she had verbally slashed out on. She was a miserable woman. Marcus had told me is started after Peeta was born. She wanted to have a girl, but instead got Peeta. He was her last chance and she blamed him for never having a daughter. And sadly it didn't stop there. From the bits and pieces of information I have collected over the years I'm surprised Eric hadn't left her sooner. She was never that supportive of Eric taking on the family business, the bakery. She wanted to get out of Naval Cove and held it against Eric for her staying. She was "always a bitch" to Peeta as Rye put it. She had higher standards with him than the twin and never seemed to acknowledge him; it took a hit of his self-esteem. In addition, she was never… kind to most people who associated with the family. She had slashed out on not only me, but Clove, Gloss, Annie, Chaff and Seeder, Haymitch, and numerous others. Overall she wasn't a good wife, mother, or human being in general.

Yet none of this seemed to tip the iceberg for Eric. It wasn't till things got too out of hand that things changed. It was till the summer before Peeta's sophomore year of college that Eric finally broke and the marriage fell apart. Peeta decide to transfer to a university in New York where he was going to major in business and minor in art. That didn't go well with Mrs. Mellark. She ranted, only ending up hitting him with a rolling pin. She broke his collar bone. Eric saw and broke everything off. Peeta said it the first and only time he had ever seen him mad. The next day Mrs. Mellark was gone. The six months later their divorce was finalized. Mrs. Mellark took the little money she had gotten out of the divorce and moved to god-know-where. No one has heard from her since and as far as I know, no one what to hear from her.

Giving me a smile, Eric nudges me with his elbow. "It's one of Peeta's favorites too."

"Really," I say kind of surprised.

"Yeah, well at least half of the meal he enjoys," Eric said nodding his head, "He was a huge mac-and-cheese growing up. I'm pretty sure there was a year where he basically just ate mac-and-cheese with hot dogs for every mean."

Letting out a laugh, I answer Eric's previous question. "I'm ready to cook."

A little more than an hour later, Eric and I are seated around the kitchen's island eating grilled asparagus with baked macaroni and cheese. This of all the lunches Eric and I have cooked together had to be the most successful. There had only been one injury when I had sliced my finger cutting up the garlic and onions. Plus to make up for accidentally cutting myself, none of the food had been burnt or destroyed in anyway. Smiling to myself I take another bite of my asparagus.

"So," Eric says, "How are things with Peeta, the boy doesn't tell me anything?"

I let out a surprised laugh, "Really?"

He nods.

Wow, I think. Peeta tells his father everything, they're like best friends, but I suppose this was something he wanted to keep between us. This was our thing now, our life, our problems, us. Since being broken up for a little than a month followed by getting engaged, some people have been talking about how long it would be till Peeta would break up again. We were the talk of the town. The stares and soft whispers were something I have become use to. But Eric was just Eric, a concerned yet loving father.

"We're good," really I say, "We're figuring out where we go from here, but were good. Everything normal and things are just better."

Eric smiled taking another bite of his macaroni. "That's good," he says pausing as if he is thinking about what he is going to say next, "Have you guys started planning the wedding?"

What?

"Huh?"

"The wedding," he says, "Have you guys picked a date or thought of anywhere you would like to have it?"

Shit, I think, the wedding. "Um- we haven't- we haven't talked about it much," I say in broken up phrases, "It just- we haven't gotten to it- been figuring out where we stand-" God, I was engaged and haven't even thought of the wedding really. Peeta hadn't even brought it up in conversation. What kind of bride was I? Shouldn't I have bridezilla in like the twenty-four hours following the engagement? Mind reeling I feel Eric tap the top of my hand with his hand.

"Hey," he says bring me away from my thoughts, "I was just asking Katniss. You guys don't have to get married right now, you can wait a year or so, you could be one of those couples who just stay engaged and never get married. I just figured I would ask."

I nod my head. "Right."

There is a moment of awkwardness, but it quickly passes as we both return to eating out food and talking of the upcoming fishing tournament, remembering the first year I had entered with Haymitch and was awarded.

Closing the door to Peeta's apartment behind me, I turn to see him sitting on the living room floor with his laptop open, a spread of papers beside him, and the record player playing some fifty cent album we had picked up at some shifty shop in New York during one of my visits up there. "Hey," he said with a smile looking up from his work at me.

"Hey," I return the smile, "How's it going?"

He let an obnoxious groan leaning his head back. "I hate bills and paper work. And receipts! They're the worse. What is their purpose!?"

Laughing I say, "It all so you don't have the government come after you."

"Still sucks," he mutters.

"Sorry," I say with a smile on my lips, "Would some baked macaroni and cheese make it all better?"

And at that his face lit up into a broad smile. It was if he was five year olds again. "My father's baked macaroni and cheese?"

I nod my head.

"Yes!" He shouts. Laughing again, I set my bag beside the door and take the platter of baked macaroni and asparagus in hand.

"Okay," I smile, "Let me go heat it up."

And as I walk into the kitchen I hear him shout, "Yes! Macaroni!" Attempting to stifle my laughter I am unable to. So quickly placing the platter into the microwave for a minute I grab two forks from the drying rack and a bottle of water from the refrigerator before microwave beeps telling me it has completed its job.

Back in the living room, Peeta had stacked his papers and laptop into a neat pile, making room for me to sit beside him. So sitting down crossed legged beside him, I place the platter on top of my legs. Watching him go straight for the macaroni, I go for the asparagus. God, it was good.

Chewing I say, "Your dad said this was your favorite as a kid."

He nods between bites saying. "Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure from the age of six to seven that was basically lived off of macaroni."

Briefly letting out a snort, we then fall into a silence, the only sound possibly heard is the chewing of food. And then breaking the silence I say, "Peeta, we're getting married."

"Yeah," he says nodding his head, "Why?"

I gulp. "That means we have to plan a wedding."

"Yeahhh," he drags out unsure what I am saying.

"Peeta, how the hell do we plan a wedding?"

"Don't know. It'll just happen," he says intertwining his fingers with mine, "We'll make it through."

I nod believing every word he says. We can plan a wedding.

"Do you want it to be a big, white wedding or something small," he asks.

"Small," I say, "Definitely small."

He gives me a smile. "I agree, something small, close friends and family… So we'll have a small wedding then," he says, "See, we just made a decision on something dealing with planning a wedding."

Shaking my head I smile at his cleverness.

"I suppose we can plan a wedding."