Chapter 29: Three Years Later

I stride with purpose deeper into Town after making my trades at the Hob. My game bag is still full of squirrel that I need to get rid of, and I know the most reliable place I can do that.

My heart twinges as I turn into the alley and approach the back loading dock, but it is weaker, duller than it used to be. It took me over a year after my last Reaping to find the courage to return here. To begin trading again. Most of the time, I have dealt with the Baker, the man who likely still would be my father-in-law – out of everyone in the Mellark family, he is the second-most agreeable.

The most agreeable being the man who now opens the back door when I knock.

His smile could still light up the sun, and I feel my heart purr in delight upon sight of him. Somehow, it is still a struggle to be all business-like as I begin to make my trade.

"For your father." Peeta holds up the squirrel by the tail, making a show of inspecting it. When we were younger, it never failed to make me laugh, and a smile crosses my face unbidden, even now.

"Right in the eye," he nods. His teeth are dazzling. "Be right back." After a few moments, he returns with two loaves of bread, the steam still wafting off the top. I try to beg off.

"It's too much…."

"Poppycock," Peeta chuckles, pressing them into my arms. I feel my heart twinge at the first syllable of that phrase. Poppy….. "There are more in the ovens that will be on display soon enough."

I cock an eyebrow. "Your mother won't mind?"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

I snort at this, my smile quickly fading as our eyes meet. We gaze at each other, then just as quickly look away. I tug at my braid self-consciously.

"So…. h-how's work?" I manage.

"Booming."

"Your brothers are well? I heard Leven and Annabeth's Toasting was wonderful." Of course, I hadn't been invited, not that I thought I would be.

"Oh, it was. They're fine. Leven loves working at the apothecary; maybe you've seen him. And Rye and Delly are expecting a baby."

"That's great!"Another awkward pause.

"Your sister?" Peeta floats.

"Fine," I state. "She and Rory are engaged."

"I knew it," Peeta chortles. "He finally got off his butt, the little rascal."

I let out a gawking laugh. "It was a lovely proposal, right after the Reaping. Rory had been saving up for months to buy a ring!"

"He gone into the mines yet?"

"No, once school starts, he'll get his first shift. He and Primrose are hoping to be married by then. They're writing invitations as we speak."

Peeta nods. Suddenly inspired, I ask:

"If it's not too much trouble…. would you be willing to bake a cake for them?" I bite my lip, wringing my hands.

His entire face illuminates. "I'd be delighted!"

"If you're not too busy…"

"Nonsense. We only get a handful of big cake orders this time of year! Dad and Rye will be pleased to have something challenging to do! So will I, for that matter." He whips out a pencil and pad. "Does Prim like any particular flavor?"

My eyes gleam. "Strawberry."

"Done. And any specific design patterns?"

I smirk as I pretend to think about it. "Surprise us."

Peeta chuckles. "OK." He finishes writing the order down. "What date are Prim and Rory thinking? So I can have it ready?"

"July 31st."

"A wedding cake, and a whole month to bake it! I think you just made my day!" I blush at Peeta's praise.

Another pause, and now it is Peeta's turn to float a question awkwardly.

"How's…. how's your little one?"

You mean our daughter? I think, but I don't say the words allowed. As far as I know, Peeta still believes the lie I told him in anger that winter's day at Lucy Gray Baird train station, about the baby growing inside me being the result of a rape at the hands of a Peacekeeper. "She's fine, thank you. She just turned three. Very inquisitive."

"How lovely," Peeta smiles at me brilliantly. "Why don't you bring her by the bakery some time to look at the cakes? I remember how you and Primrose used to do that all the time." My heart begins to hammer in my chest when he gazes down at me. "It is good to see you again."

I nod. "You too…. Thank you, Peeta."

"You're welcome."

Another beat, and then, almost without another thought, we both lean in and share a light, chaste kiss.

It is natural as breathing, still, and as though no time and heartache has ever passed at all. When we break apart, we both manage to be shocked with ourselves, even as Peeta has a sort of resigned grin on his face.

"Nope. Still not over it," he mumbles, just enough so I can hear.

And I find, as I flee from the alley, licking at my kissed lips with a smile, that neither am I.

I hang my hunting boots on the hook by the door as I enter my childhood Seam home.

"Mama!"

I beam lovingly down at my daughter, who runs to me on chubby legs. Poppy smiles brilliantly at me, and I have to fight down a sob, for I just saw that same smile not twenty minutes ago, out back of the Bakery.

Turning to corner into the foyer, my mother reaches for her grandbaby.

"I can take her, Katty, dear; you unload all of that…" She gestures to my hunting jacket, bow and boots. I pass Poppy to her, grunting a little as I do so. Snow's Roses, she's getting so big!

"Primrose? Rory? I'm back!"

"In the kitchen, Katniss!"

I grin at my sister's sweet voice. When Rory had first moved in a couple of weeks ago, only days after the Reaping for the 80th Hunger Games, I hadn't known what to expect. But he had been a gentleman, and so far, had resisted the temptation to start sleeping with my sister, his bride-to-be.

I can't believe it….. only 18, and she's going to be a wife.

As I enter the kitchen, Rory stands from the table and hugs me. Glancing over his shoulder, I blink when I see….

"Haymitch? What are you doing here?"

The drunk, Victor of the Second Quarter Quell, and my boss (I still clean his place every now and again for extra coin… and, I'll admit, to perhaps catch a glimpse of Peeta in his mansion across the way) doesn't answer me as Prim is in the midst of throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oh, thank you, Haymitch! You won't be sorry!"

"I'm sorry already," Haymitch mutters. In her ecstasy, Primrose doesn't appear to hear him, but I do, and I frown hard. Turning out of the embrace, Prim flits over to me in excitement.

"Katty! Katty…. Haymitch just agreed to walk me down the aisle."

I put on my best grin, even though I'm dying inside. "That's….. awesome!" I cry, hugging her. Over her shoulder, Haymitch leans in close to me to whisper, "She promised there would be a drink cart."

"And you're not getting a drop from it until the reception," I hiss back. "Deal?"

"Fine." The entire negotiation is hashed out in the time it takes my sister to hug me.

"Welp, I'd best be off. Thank you, little one." And to his credit, Haymitch appears genuinely moved to have been given such an honor as he takes his leave, nodding to Mother and ruffling Poppy's hair as he does so.

Taking my hand, Prim guides me to the table, and begins to discuss floral arrangements with me. The Seam florist will be able to get some decent bouquets, all naturally picked from the Meadow.

"And then, there's the matter of the cake…."

"I took care of it," I blurt out. Prim glances to me, blinking. I can't help but turn red, picking at the hem of my dress. "I…. saw Peeta today, while trading squirrel. And…. I may have put in an order for a wedding cake."

I don't know what I expected Prim to be – mad, that I made such a big decision without her input. Instead, she just shrugs. "I would have ordered from Mellark's anyway." Next second, though, she turns back to study me, cobalt eyes gleaming and a matchmaking grin on her face. "Does Peeta look OK?"

"Dear Snow, yes!" I groan. Prim half-giggles, half-squeals.

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened," I frown harder still. My baby sister only has to arch one eyebrow and I spill my guts like a tribute at the Cornucopia bloodbath. "We…. we kissed." Prim squeals again, and I silence her with a look. "It just happened, I wasn't looking for it. I… I couldn't….."

"Help yourself?" Prim says, so gently that I nod my head dumbly. Again, she shrugs. "You've stayed strong for almost four years; I'm surprised it took this long before you cracked."

"No one 'cracked'!" I protest.

"Whatever you say," she manages flippantly.

I fold my arms, scowling. "We didn't crack," I repeat, though why do I feel like I'm trying to convince myself more than her?

"Did you at least invite him to the wedding?"

I huff. "No, Prim."

She spins to me, gaping in horror. "Katty! He's going to go to all this trouble baking a cake; the least you could have done is…." She trails off, shaking her head, before rising and crossing into the foyer. I trail after her.

"Where are you going?"

"If you won't invite him, then I will."

I can almost see the matchmaking gears turning in her head. "Oh no – I don't need a date…."

"Bullcrap. You're my Maid of Honor…"

"… and Vick's the Best Man. He and I will be paired off anyway…."

"There's no rule that says the Maid of Honor and Best Man have to attend on each other's arm. And we have to compensate Peeta some way for this trouble!"

"Prim," I growl warningly. "Don't you dare…."

The front door slams in my face.

There is just no stopping my sister, is there? When she wants something, boy, she gets it. Thankfully, Rory understands this just as well as I do, so at least he knows who he's marrying.

I feel oddly conspicuous, standing at the front of the altar in my old, blue Reaping dress, my sister by my side. Clad in one of Mother's old frocks, Prim looks resplendent, eyes only for her groom as they exchange rings and vows.

The preacher man glances between the two of them and smiles. "I now pronounce this couple man and wife. You may kiss."

Beaming, Rory and Prim lean in and kiss lightly, to great applause. Vick lets out an annoying, country whoop, and I almost want to swat him. Blushing, my sister tosses her Meadow bouquet into the crowd of bridesmaids, hands reaching up to pluck it out of the air….

I wasn't even trying that hard to catch it, but somehow, I do anyway. This causes Vick to chortle uproariously, and all the heartier once I flip him off. Scanning the crowd of faces, my eyes find Haymitch, who gives me a pleading, hangdog look. Sighing, I point in the direction of Ripper's drink cart. He's done his part. The drunk gratefully dives for the table of spirits.

Mingling through the gathered congregation, my orbs fall on the truly immaculate wedding cake standing tall and proud in one corner. I hadn't seen it or Peeta come in; the bridesmaids and I must have been upstairs getting ready. I actually haven't seen Peeta at all yet; the sheer number of people in here is making the newlywed Hawthorne's new living room (they were assigned a house upon signing the papers at the Justice Building) quite stuffy.

As I finally stop to stand beside the strawberry-icing cake, admiring the craftsmanship of it, I feel a presence draw up to my side.

"You look wonderful."

I spin, tucking my braid back behind my ear, and my heart stutters to a stop: Peeta is dashing in pressed slacks and a dress shirt, his blonde hair slicked back with some kind of gel. From my peripheral vision, I can see a few of Prim's bridesmaids giggling and ogling him.

"You don't look so bad yourself."

An incredibly awkward silence, until….

"Would you like to dance?" Peeta floats inartfully.

"I'd love to," I express sincerely. I don't even have to think about it.

Taking me in his arms, we begin to waltz slowly onto the dance floor that just moments ago doubled as the ceremony hall. Somehow, with the crunch of people, we mange to maneuver without bumping into too many other guests. I can't help but gaze up into Peeta's eyes…. eyes as blue as a summer sky…. My daughter's eyes…. Thinking of Poppy, I hope she is doing all right; I had left her with Madge Undersee for the evening, and just hope those two girls won't get into too much trouble.

Before long, I am resting my head on his chest, feeling blissfully content and not caring that eventually, it will have to end.

"Do you remember the last time we danced like this?" Peeta's voice rumbles through his chest and against my ear.

"Hmm…" I have to think back for a moment. "Harvest Festival. We were twelve."

"Snow, that was a decade ago!" Peeta whistles. "And Prim was still wearing pigtails. Where has the time gone?"

I let myself burrow in closer. "No idea," I mumble, a smile gracing my face. I truly don't know where the time has gone but as long as it slows to a stop in this moment, I'll be satisfied for the rest of my life. Through my closed, fluttering lashes, I can see Primrose watching Peeta and I like a hawk, chittering and gossiping excitedly to her new husband. Rory is also following her gaze and smirking in knowing amusement. Over by the drinks cart, I spy Vick Hawthorne, the Best Man, watching me closely and curiously… and another feeling that I should normally be able to discern, but that the headiness, punch-drunk quality of my thoughts won't let me.

"People are staring," I murmur to the man in my arms.

"People are stupid, Katty," Peeta quips back. "Let 'em stare."

I giggle. "Fine by me."

Peeta and I don't dance with anyone else all evening.