Perhaps I should have made him sleep on the couch, or maybe I should have slept on the couch…

I can't bring myself to do it, though. I'm pissed. No, wait, I'm livid. Everyone knows that name tattoos are bad news for relationships. I spend the entire night next to my stupid, drunk fiancé and his bad luck tattoo while he snores peacefully. Sure, I'm furious, but I can't bring myself to leave his side. I don't want to spend a night away from his warmth or his scent, even if it is masked under the smell of liquor. We spend so much time apart that despite my anger, I don't want to miss a moment of our time together, even if it's dancing along the fine line between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Peeta's still drunk when he wakes up. Another day, another hangover, only I have to drive him to his morning skate.

"So… umm…" I start. I don't want to yell at him. It's no use; tattoos are permanent, and hopefully our marriage is just as permanent. He's brushing his teeth, or attempting to. The fucker got out of bed before me, in the dark, and immediately put a shirt on.

He has to know that I know. "Peeta, why would you get a tattoo? I know you told me you were planning on it, but still… It's bad luck."

I'm angry, he knows I'm angry, but he's still not completely in his right mind, so he finishes brushing his teeth.

Instead of engaging me though, he walks past me, like he's avoiding the conversation. "Peeta?" I ask gently once more as he strips out of his boxers and into workout clothes for practice, UnderArmour leggings and gym shorts. My name is still staring at me whenever he turns slightly in my direction.

"Peeta Mellark! It's six thirty in the morning! Your friends had to drag your drunken ass home last night, waking me up in the process, and you show up with my name on your chest!" I snap. "Don't ignore me!"

"Katniss!" he practically growls when he finally acknowledges me. "It's only bad luck if you make it bad luck. You wear your ring every second of every day. Some nights it's on your finger, even when you're in the shower."

"Then we should have gotten you a ring. This is permanent!"

The air in the room gets noticeably colder. "And our marriage won't be?" He grabs his sneakers and a pair of socks, still forgetting his shirt, and leaves the room.

In my own frustration I practically jump down the hallway after him, waking up the dog and maybe even the people below us. "That's real nice, Katniss!" he calls.

"Peeta! Where are you going? You can't drive!"

"For a run!" he yells back, still frustrated. God dammit, he's drunk, and he's in a part of the city he's unfamiliar with… and the sidewalks are extra shitty here.

"Put a fucking shirt on!" I hiss, following him through the apartment. He'll be the death of himself, and me as well. "And some gloves."

At this point, any arguing is going to be mindless, but neither of us quit. "I don't need a shirt or gloves!" It's almost the end of March, but it still hit 29 last night. "Your March is my August!"

The dog is my savior, as he bends over to tie his black and orange sneakers. They basically give him a new wardrobe every season and why wouldn't something the Flyers give their players not be orange and black? She weaves through his legs, sending him to the floor with a loud thud.

He rolls onto his back, even though he's now fair game for face kisses from the dog. I stand over his chest, putting my foot on his sternum. "There, now that I have you in one place…" I sigh and sink down so I'm sitting on him. "I know our marriage is permanent, but do you really want to look at my name for the rest of your life? Or do you think I want to look at my name?"

He looks surprisingly sober as I continue. "Also, you aren't supposed to work out without covering that with something… I saw a frat guy with these Alice in Chains lyrics on his ribs," I lean forward and his hands immediately go up to catch me. I wanted to kiss him, not scare him. I pull back and link hands with him. "Well, he went to the gym and his tattoo got infected and looked kind of like the Black Death or someone carving the words out of his ribcage." I start to support my weight on his arms and wobble a little. "Hockey pads are disgusting and you know it." I lean down and kiss his nose, "I don't like my name on your chest. I can't change it, but at least take care of it."

Neither of us yells after that. Instead I get some food in Peeta's stomach and drive him to Wells Fargo because apparently there's 'housekeeping.' He won't tell me what, but his breath smells like a gin and tonic, so I'm pretty sure he has no idea what's going on.

As soon as he's inside, I turn the car back on and head to the Wawa just off Delaware Avenue. Their practice today is private, which means only family are allowed inside, no fans, no press, and cellphone use is highly discouraged.

When I get there, more cars are in the parking lot. I sigh and go inside. Maybe I can get the women to kill their men for me.

Peeta

"Fuck, are you still drunk?" Gale asks loud enough to make my head spin.

"A little, no? Maybe… I think I'm hungover at this point. But what the fuck, you guys were supposed to watch me."

I hear Finnick suck in air through his teeth. "Is she mad?" he asks.

Thresh snorts. "Dude started drinking, went to a tattoo shop with you, and came back with his fiancée's name on his chest two hours later."

Finnick stands up from his seat at the conference table. The suits left us all to our own devices. Finnick lifts his shirt up to show us the anchor he had tattooed precariously close to his ginger bush. "Finnick Odair, if you don't put your shirt down, I will healthy scratch you."

Finnick sits down immediately. "But Coach, I came to breakfast!"

"Katniss is livid," I tell him quietly. "But she doesn't want to pick the fight."

Haymitch starts going over the teams who are more than likely to clinch the remaining playoff spots. We sit in the conference room and watch what feels like an eternity of other teams' highlights.

"Alright, get changed, but pads and jerseys only for now. Upstairs ordered a new entrance for you guys for the playoffs. Everyone but Odair needs everything but pants and socks.

"What do I need?" Finnick asks.

Haymitch looks at him for a moment, "Everything."

As we walk out, Finnick decides it's time to act sassy. "I'm not even going to lift my bucket! They can't make me."

Just before Haymitch leaves the room, his eyes are on me. "You, boy, my office," he points.

I wobble as I get up. My head is spinning, but I follow Haymitch like an obedient little puppy. I don't suspect that anything is wrong until after the door is shut. Haymitch's office is windowless, with thick walls and a heavy door. It's meant to be quiet if someone needs to be chewed out or when secret dealings need to be done with suits.

"You are one of the most talented players in the goddamn league; no, scratch that. Scratch that, Mellark, the fucking world. You are captain of one of the most talented hockey clubs in this god damned league and what are you doing? Pissing it away on fucking booze and late nights less than a month away from playoffs?"

Haymitch shakes his head. Our latest team picture is on his desktop, with me dead center in the front row. They ripped on me for being late to the photo because I was getting my hair perfect. They were kind of right.

On his wall are other captains, other teams, now retired, traded, or just out of the league. Hell, there's even an entire wall of captains and their years as captain. I don't want my name to have 2010-2011 next to it just because I lost sight of my priorities.

"If you don't clean up your act, you're going to find yourself on some Russian team where the sun shines two days out of the year. Grow the fuck up and get ready. I'll be out in 5 minutes."

I've never gotten dressed faster in my life.

The day is long; unnecessarily, brutally long and we don't even really get on the ice for actual practice. Plus, my hangover sets in just as they want to shove a camera on my face, which adds to my overall shitty mood after Haymitch had his little talk with me. Apparently the death stares I've been giving the camera are appropriate.

I can see Katniss on the bench talking on her cell phone a few seats away from the other women. After about ten minutes of them trying to get a shot of me in my helmet looking up after looking down at the ice, I skate over to her just as she ends the call.

"Who was that?" I ask curiously.

"Oh, no one…" she waves a little in the air. "I just booked the venue for our wedding."

My heart sinks. "Katniss, you didn't talk to me about this or anything?" I try not to get angry with her, but instantly I am. This is our wedding; I want to be a part of the planning. I don't want to be told what we're having.

She narrows her eyes. "No, I didn't. I have four months to plan a 'big wedding'. Four months to get everything just right. I don't have a dress, and you don't have a tux. We need a band, a caterer, and someone to make the cake. We haven't sent out save the dates, nor do we have a guest list. Peeta, everything I'm going to be doing from this point forward until seven o'clock on August 4th is plan the wedding. At seven o'clock, I will be marrying you at sunset with the Museum of Art in our field of vision, and the Philadelphia skyline on the other."

"So you didn't pick some shitty place for revenge?" I ask. I'm still pretty pissed that she went and did that, considering that I would be paying the deposit. Then I see her face, the distant look in her eyes as she lists off what she still needs to do. I see that look in the mirror every time I think about playoffs, all the preparation I'll need to do to get myself in top physical condition. Sure, I'm good now, but I'll need to be even better.

Suddenly, Katniss booking a venue suddenly doesn't seem like an issue. It's a gift.

Katniss rolls her eyes. "Peeta, it's my wedding, too. I'm going to love every minute of it. The lead-up… that's another thing. Plus, I figured most of your energy from this point on will be playoff related."

I hear skates behind me, and Katniss' face lights up. "Hi, I'm looking for my fiancé's friends. They're on their way to the morgue."

"And going away now," Thom says before I can even look over my shoulder.

"Yeah, you're right, she's pissed…" Thom sighs, unlacing his skates.

"And now she's going crazy over this wedding bullshit…"

Gale punches me. "You're kidding, right? You gave her six months to plan a wedding, but two months of that is shot because of your move. Speaking of which, the kids are still mad at you. They say Johanna and I are hard asses. Johanna is pissed that they like you better."

"Of course they like me better! I play X-Box with them until buttfuck o'clock! But look, Thom and Delly are getting married in June, right? He proposed in December and-"

"That woman and this wedding have made me cry on several occasions. I'm not proud of it, but when you spend four hours stuffing envelopes and accidentally start stuffing envelopes inside of envelopes and she comes at you, you crack."

"Delly is five foot nothing."

"And Katniss is like five foot three and a twig, and sooner or later she will break you with this wedding stuff. It may be floral arrangements or trying to figure out how to have your first dance with a foot and a half height difference, although…"

"Shuddup…"

"What I'm getting at is sooner or later, one of you is going to snap, and then the other will. Weddings fucking blow."

"Then why do we have them? Why don't we just go to the courthouse?" I ask.

"That's what Johanna and I are doing. I told her I could give her a big fancy wedding when my divorce was finalized, which it should be tonight if Madge shows up with her lawyer. Johanna said that where she's from, weddings consist of, 'Oops, someone got pregnant, let's get the shotgun.' I got off easy this time."

"Oops, someone got pregnant!" Finnick laughs, still in full gear. He really is refusing to lift his bucket. "Annie told me last night that I better not propose because it's starting to look like the thing to do. I think that's code for, 'you'd better ask me to marry you.' Guys, do I have to propose to Annie?"

Finnick looks like an idiot, sitting on the bench trying to cross his legs while the rest of us are just in shorts. Naturally, we all take out our phones and take pictures of him.

"Finnick Odair, dressed for the playoffs before the season even ends."

"Guys, I'm serious, is Annie going to-"

"No!" Gale snaps. "But most women want that big fairy tale wedding. They're like programmed from birth by TV and some shit with society. You propose, you promise Katniss the world, the big fairy tale. Then you have the means to give everything to her. And I know you have it, because I know your take home," Gale tells me.

"Everyone with Google knows my take home. And she wanted something small; I'm pretty sure she would have gone to the courthouse if I had asked. Now we have a venue and-"

"You should totally just whisk her off to Vegas, get married at one of those drive-thru chapels and come back for the playoffs. Use the venue to host a huge party at the end of the summer, and get one of those nude sushi ladies so Delly and I can have a three way with her when we all get shitty on sake!" Thom notices how we're all looking at him. "What? It's one of those things that's on both of our bucket lists!"

Haymitch comes in when we're all just waiting for the go-ahead to go home. When he comes in, he looks around the room. "Why the fuck are you all not dressed? Odair, I like your style." It's a mess of begrudgingly getting off the benches to take off our shorts and get ready for practice.

"Alright, tomorrow we host the Habs. No morning skate, but be back here by two. We have the Lightning on Monday, then up to Toronto." Haymitch flips his paper over, "Why do they have us come back here to host Ottawa?" he asks himself. "Alright, you guys are done for the day, see you tomorrow."

My jaw drops. I have one leg in my compression pants.

"He just trolled the shit out of us…" someone grumbles as shirts and pants start hitting the floor.

"No, I'm telling you, I have this covered. Don't worry about it." Katniss has been on the phone for over an hour, "No, because if you call, you're just going to bite someone's head off!" Katniss pauses, "Yes, I know you're pregnant. The whole world can tell you're pregnant," Katniss sighs, "I'll walk to Delly and Thom's once I get off the phone. In fact, I'll walk there now." It's really distracting to watch her walk around our kitchen in nothing but my t-shirt.

Katniss is pacing with the dog sitting on her hip like a toddler. "Oh, I don't give a fuck if Annie's already there. She lives in goddamn Yardley! I'd be in Philadelphia every fucking day if I lived with all those yuppies. Also, Peeta and I had to christen the kitchen counter."

Katniss hangs up and groans loudly before taking a deep breath, ready to catch me up. "Fucking… pregnant brides. Madge signed the divorce papers. Gale and Johanna are getting married on Wednesday as long as their license goes through. I need a dress, and Johanna says if you wear anything that isn't a black suit and a nice tie to her wedding, she's going to have you for dinner."

Katniss sets the dog down, who just sits at her feet looking confused. I've never met an animal that likes being held more. "But I have to go and-"

I put my hands up. "Oh, no. Not yet. We have to talk," I say and her face falls.

I walk up to her and wrap my arms around her waist. "Come here…" I start to pick her up off the ground. She wraps her legs around me and I carry her into the room where we spent our first night in this apartment. "Now, I saw something when you made me clean up the mess I made in here."

"You still didn't make the guest room bed," she reminds me.

I groan, "I know!" I sigh, "But that's not important." I look at the two gigantic frames on the wall. It was no small task organizing this or getting them in here.

I hug my future wife. "Thank you…"

"Don't mention it," she tells me from where her face is buried in my bare shoulder. "And I really don't mind your tattoo… I just think it's bad luck."

I pat her ass instead of pushing her back up, and she's sliding down me. "We're going to make our own luck, Mrs. Mellark."

"We're not married yet; it's still Miss Everdeen, and who says I'm taking your name?" she asks.

I kiss whatever part of her head I can get to. I'm not starting this conversation right now so I just put her down.

As she walks to our room, she tosses my shirt back at me, hitting me in the face. In just under fifteen minutes, she comes out looking more put together than I could manage in the same amount of time. I've never seen this outfit on her, especially the impossibly tall black heels and skinny jeans that cling to the curve of her ass.

"Where are you going dressed like that?" I ask curiously while she slides one of the ten thousand bobby-pins around our apartment into her bun before putting on her glasses.

"King of Prussia. Johanna doesn't have anything to wear when she gets married."

"Are you getting something?" I ask curiously.

Katniss shrugs as she zips up her fleece jacket, I have no idea how this woman gets so cold so easily. "But I don't think I'll be home for dinner."

I shrug, "I'll get something with Thom. Do you need me to do anything for you, or the wedding?"

Katniss freezes and her face goes blank for a good ten seconds. "Really?"

I nod, "Whatever you need."

"I need you to write down the names of anyone you want to come. Parents, brothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, someone you played hockey with ten years ago, anyone. But I also need their addresses. Once we have that, we need to narrow down the guest list because I'm sure you don't want to pay for dinner and drinks for over five hundred."

"No problem. Anything else?"

She chews on her lower lip. "If you're feeling adventurous, the dog needs food and we're almost out of milk."

Katniss gives me a quick kiss goodbye and is out the door, leaving me with the large task of deciding who I want to be there when we get married.

I don't really know what to do in the apartment when Katniss isn't here. In the first hour, I get the dog to twirl on her hind legs until she stumbles around for a few minutes, and my immediate family's names and addresses on my list. During the second hour, my mom calls and says she'll bring the addresses of my aunts, uncles, and any other blood relatives I barely remember meeting.

"So our plane lands at ten in the morning next Tuesday. Do you want us to bring anything from your house?"

I lay down on the couch, which immediately brings the dog out of her hiding place and onto my chest. I pat my hand right above my sternum, the noise making her ears perk up and causing her tail to thump against the back of the couch. She covers my hand with her paw, trying to get me to stop.

"Peeta?" I completely forgot I was on the phone with my mother. "Anything you need?"

"Not that I can think of…" I tell her as the dog covers my thumping hand with her body and nuzzles her face in my neck.

"Anything you and Katniss need help with?"

Then it hits me, "I don't think I told Katniss that you guys were coming…"

My mother snorts, "Well, you'd better get on that. I have to go before I burn dinner. Enjoy the couch!"

Forgetting to tell Katniss that my parents are staying with us can't be that bad…

Katniss

"Alright, so what do you have?" I ask from my perch on the couch. Peeta's sprawled out on the floor with a huge list of names. Well, huge for me, seeing as a good chunk of his list is also on mine. I'm a little jealous of Johanna and Gale's quick wedding on Tuesday. Only Peeta, myself and the kids will be there to witness, followed by a huge reception-like party at Haymitch's house. I called Effie and she loved the idea. The best part was when she said she'd cover everything so I can plan my wedding instead of someone else's.

Peeta starts counting out loud in his native tongue so when he's done, he doesn't understand my confused stare. I slide off the couch and crawl across the fuzzy white rug so I'm on top of my fiancé.

"In English, please," I say, kissing his nose.

"Well, between family, friends, teammates, coaches, trainers, and what not… I have about one thirty, counting spouses and plus one's…"

I grab his list from his hand and rest my cheek on his bare chest. "Jesus, fuck, how do you know this many people?"

He palms my bare ass cheek before swatting it. "Excuse me, Miss 'I have to invite all the women from my pledge year.'"

I groan. "Speaking of which, I still need to figure out the bridesmaid situation. Have you picked your best man?"

Peeta's laughter echoes through his chest. "I have two brothers, and a teammate who is like my brother. I think I might see who can skate two miles the fastest and whoever wins gets to be my best man. It's not like the guy's going to have a huge job. Not like the maid of honor…"

I feel myself smile. "I didn't even have to ask Prim. I think it's a sister thing… She's even trying to take me dress shopping…"

Peeta's hand leaves my ass and a second later, I feel the tips of his fingers running up and down my spine. "I can't believe you haven't gone yet. Isn't that the first thing women do when they get engaged?"

"I'm afraid to go… It's one of those things…" My tongue gets dry; I've been trying not to think about this. "One of those things people do with their moms…" I roll off of him and stare up at the ceiling.

"What about my mom?" Peeta asks a moment after taking my hand.

I snort, "Like she's going to fly all the way from Ottawa to go wedding dress shopping with me."

"Yeah… About that…" he trails off.

I sit upright. "Peeta, your parents aren't about to knock on our door, are they? We're naked, the fridge is empty, and there aren't even sheets on the guest room beds. Still, because you tried to wash two beds worth of sheets in one load."

He shakes his head no and I lay back down. "But they are coming next Tuesday."

"What!?" I hear myself shriek, which makes the dog come bounding from wherever she was hiding.

Peeta

"I still can't believe we lost last night…" I grumble as I straighten out my tie. "Do you even have your dress on yet?"

"Nope!" Katniss calls from the bathroom. "I figured I should run around in my underwear before my future in-laws come."

"Babe, I've told you six times, what you're wearing isn't underwear. It's wrapping paper!" Black, lacy, complicated wrapping paper. When she comes out of the bathroom she's in her tight black dress, picking at part of the metallic pattern. "Ready?"

"To attend my first shotgun wedding? Naturally!" Katniss starts picking up her things – cellphone, keys, and wallet – and immediately hands most of them to me.

"What am I going to do with this?" I ask, opening up her wallet. In the see-through slot where her license goes is her ID that gets her into the 'VIP' areas of Wells Fargo Center.

Katniss links her arm with mine. "You're the man, you have the pockets…"

We're quiet in the elevator until Katniss starts shifting uncomfortably. "I have a weggie," she complains. "Don't look at me!" I can't help but look down as she shifts from one foot to the other. "Peeta! Look the other way!"

"No one told you to wear a lace thong!" I remind her just as the elevator door opens and an older couple gets in. I grab her arm and guide her into the parking garage, my cheeks hot from embarrassment and the image of her in nothing but the aforementioned thong.

About halfway over the Ben Franklin Bridge, she has her dress all the way up and removes her stockings and underwear. "There… I'll just have to remember to keep my legs crossed!"

Gale practically rips me away from Johanna, Katniss and the kids the second we get to the courthouse.

"I'm freaking out, man…" he tells me halfway down a drab grey hall, "What if it happens again? What if in ten years she gets sick of me and is gone? I can't do it to the kids again and-"

I grip his shoulder and shake him until he shuts up. "Gale, for the love of God, shut up. You're just getting cold feet!" He nods before rubbing his face with his hands. "Would you really be here if you had any doubts? Not even about to marry her, but if you didn't think Johanna was going to be in it for the long haul, would you have brought her around your kids, let them get that close to her, or let her live with us?"

"Us?" he asks with a smirk. "You realize we're not actually married."

"We are a little bit married. You still pack a toothbrush for me on road trips."

Their ceremony is simple, a few vows, some paperwork and that's it. The boys latch onto their stepmother's legs the second they're done and Celeste is out of my arms and into her father's.

"This is the first time since she's gotten pregnant that I've seen Johanna cry at something that isn't ice cream…" I whisper to Katniss.

We couldn't stay long at the party being thrown for Johanna and Gale. After them being an hour late because Ethan spilled something on himself, Katniss reminded me for the hundredth time today that we have the kids so Gale and Johanna can have a proper wedding night. Haymitch informed us that there was no need; clearly, they already had their wedding night.

"Celeste and I are taking the dog for a walk." I look up from the TV. After Parker soundly kicked my ass in Halo, he earned the right to face the previous champ of our little grudge matches.

Katniss is just trying to burn off some of the kid's energy and the dog's so we can get some sleep tonight. We don't think the boys will be an issue, but Celeste has proven on more than one occasion that she has no problem poking her nose in our room.

"Are you nervous about the playoffs?" Ethan asks after the front door closes.

I scratch at my beard. I'm going to have to shave it in a week or so, that way I can start fresh. "Yeah," I tell the kids honestly. This is my first playoff run as a captain in the NHL. I don't know how to explain it to two almost eleven-year-olds that the increased media attention on you, a hoard of rookies asking you questions, and the stress of wanting to lead a team to their first Stanley Cup win in decades makes a man just a little stressed.

Katniss has definitely noticed it. I think that may be why we've been having sex with me on bottom for the last few days. I think she's under the impression that me being on top might cause an unfortunate injury.

"Dad says all you have to worry about is knocking Shittsburgh out of the playoffs or else you guys should be ashamed of yourselves."

"Parker, don't curse."

"Why? Mom curses. Both of them, actually - the one who had us, and the one we picked." I try to tell them that their Dad chose Johanna, but they're right. No matter how much Gale loved her, if any of the three of them didn't like Johanna, she wouldn't be around.

"Just don't tell your parents you heard it from me."

"We make good fake parents…" Katniss yawns as we toss throw pillows off our bed. I don't understand the point. At Gale's I had two pillows, one for me, and one for me to prop myself up with, but later for Katniss. Katniss is actually wearing pants to bed instead of a t-shirt, so I don't get to watch the t-shirt ride up and expose her pussy as she climbs into bed. I guess I'll have to deal.

"Yeah, and someday we're going to make amazing real parents…" I tell her as I settle in for the night. The door is cracked so the dog can come in if she chooses, but at three in the morning Celeste wanders in without the dog and becomes a familiar, impenetrable wall between my fiancée and me.

Katniss

Peeta and I have cameras in the apartment starting at 5:30am. The fruits of our exhaustive labor are premiering on 6 ABC's 5 o'clock news. A few years ago when they found out that Peeta and Gale were rooming together, they did a story. Now they're doing one because we moved out.

Gale's comes after Peeta's because he wants to get the family settled, even though the only thing that's different in the Hawthorne's house is a piece of paper.

It's 5:15 and Peeta and I are both about to snooze on the couch when we hear his name.

"You saw it on Twitter, folks - Flyers Captain Peeta Mellark and his fiancé, Katniss Everdeen, have left the Hawthorne nest. For the last few years, we've watched Mellark and Hawthorne play like they have some kind of psychic connection and skeptic hockey fans worried that the mid-season move was tempting fate. Fortunately, we've still seen the duo performing like the well-oiled machine Philly knows and loves. 6 ABC spent the day with the young Captain to see just what it takes to get him ready for a game."

We're no longer looking at an anchor, but our bedroom door. "Even when the first puck drops after 7, Peeta Mellark is up with the sun."

"Before it was easier, you know? Getting up at 5am because you know you have to get your run in before the house is taken over by the kids. Now Katniss and I have about thirty pounds of dog expecting breakfast earlier and earlier," Peeta tells them.

"His day starts like everyone else's. Hit the snooze button until the last minute, followed by a cup of coffee and some breakfast." I've joined him at this point, feeding the dog while trying to hide my face and unshowered hair, which is piled on top of my head. "Then he's off to work. Two miles every morning to warm up before driving to whichever training facility they're using that day. There's no game today, so he's off to Voorhees a full three hours before practice starts."

The bit goes on to talk about Peeta's hours of early practice and late practice, and ends with him and I having a quiet, early dinner so we can start over tomorrow.

It's quiet, painfully so in our apartment after the TV is turned off. I spent my day on the phone trying to set up a meeting with a wedding planner Delly and Prim recommended, which doesn't sound like a lot until it's paired with running errands. Since we only have one car, I also had to figure out how to not lose Peeta's favorite suit on the El.

The only noise in the apartment is the heat and the dog's snores from who knows where. I wake up the next morning on the couch with Peeta in some strangely comfortable mess of limbs and dog.

Peeta has the morning off today. "Babe, come on, you gotta go to bed."

Prim and I are meeting for breakfast, and I want Peeta to get a few hours of the best sleep possible before he has to go back to being a hockey player. He stumbles back into the bedroom, lies face down on our decorative pillows and is snoring before I can re-kiss him goodnight.

"This is my wedding gift to you and Peeta…" Prim tells me as she digs through her purse. "He's the best wedding planner in town, and books up months in advance."

"And how did you get not only an appointment, but the ability for him to be flexible during the day today?" We're a few blocks away. Prim told me to wear my good shoes, and I thought she meant expensive heels. "And I'm taking the bus home."

The wedding planner meets us at Sabrina's Café, a cute little place with an ever-changing brunch menu and the best Challah French Toast I've ever had the privilege to eat.

I don't know what I was expecting, but Cinna certainly doesn't fit the vague idea in my head. He's tall, absolutely ripped, and in a well-pressed grey suit and lavender tie.

"You must be Miss Everdeen," he greets as he joins us at the table while setting down a paper bag. In less than five seconds, he has ordered a pitcher of orange juice and a bucket of ice for the bottle of champagne he brought.

"Forgive me – I just wanted to get some bubbly in my stomach so we can get down to business."

The meeting is simple. We have a venue, I don't have a dress. We have the guest list, but need to mail out save the dates once we figure out what we want them to look like.

I tell Cinna that even though orange is a big summer wedding color, we want to avoid it as much as possible. But if it's the difference between something looking bland and amazing, it's okay though.

Cinna takes notes the entire time. "How do you feel about flowers?"

"I'm not a huge fan of roses. I like the more… homey ones? Yeah… the kind you think you'd see in a country kitchen."

"She means wildflowers," Prim tells Cinna to help clarify things.

He nods and takes more notes. So far I like Cinna; he's thorough. "Any major religious requirements? You're using the same space for your ceremony and reception. I need to know if I should start planning an arch or a Chuppah."

"You can make an arch out of my fiancé's broken hockey sticks…" I joke. Cinna starts jotting something down. "I'm kidding! Please don't do that, I'm begging you."

Cinna grins; he's already taken a huge amount of stress off my back. "Okay, so I'm going to start booking dress fittings for you, dear. Just tell me what you want and I'll work my magic."

Much to my surprise, I already kind of know what I want. "Something simple, not huge and heavy. I'd like lace, with as few rhinestones and sequins as possible… My budget is pretty much unlimited, but I don't want to spend tens of thousands of dollars on a dress I'm only wearing once."

Leaving Sabrina's, I feel better about the whole thing. Even though I just met him, I feel like Cinna is going to work some kind of magic, though my relaxed state of mind might be coming more from the half a bottle of champagne worth of mimosas I drank before my French toast even hit the table.