The morning is magical.
We sleep way past our hour. When the sunbeams wake me up and the morning breeze tickles my skin, I feel strong arms moving around me and I open my eyes to see my husband, who greets me with sweet kisses and wishes of good morning.
"Did you sleep well?" he asks with a shy smile. I nod as I stretch, "How do you feel?"
"Happy. A little bit sore," I say, rubbing my fingers in his blond chest hair and hugging him.
Peeta looks concerned. He kisses my jaw and neck sheepishly, as if begging for forgiveness.
"It doesn't hurt that bad," I say, "It was worth it."
He looks really proud when I say this, but his eyes follow the course of his hands and he notices the blood stains on the sheets. He shakes his head.
"It must have hurt a lot," he says, "I need to clean you up."
He fills up the tub and gets me into the water. I ask him to come too, and he does. Peeta has fully gone into caregiver mode, rubbing me soothingly and bathing me in the same way I bathed him weeks ago. Even though we're totally undressed, it's just another way for him to take care of me and there's no hint of lust in that.
After both of us get clean and dry, he puts me back on bed and disappears for a while. When he gets back into the bedroom, he brings a box in his hands. It's a blue velvet jewelry box.
"I wanted to give this to you earlier, but the timing never seemed right," he says, sheepishly.
Peeta opens the box and I look at it. It contains two beautiful platinum wedding bands. Their look is unique, though discreet and timeless. He knows me too well. He knows I don't usually like jewelry, but these rings don't look too imposing, they look like something we could wear. His eyes study mine and he seems encouraged by my reaction.
"I was forced to get them when the Capitol wanted us to get married," he explains.
I must look disappointed all of a sudden, and he knows exactly what I'm thinking, because he quickly adds:
"That wedding was not to be real, but my feelings when I chose the rings were real," he says, "We can choose a pair of new ones if you don't want them. Or we could wear nothing at all."
He looks at me expectantly while he waits for an answer.
"I love them," I say, extending my hand to him, "And also the idea of marking you as mine."
Peeta, however, doesn't put the ring on my finger.
"Katniss, do you want to have a toast?" he proposes.
"Now?" I ask, surprising myself with the enthusiasm in my voice.
Peeta chuckles, "We would need to get dressed first," he says.
We rush to the closet. I put on a light white dress that my mother bought for me after I won the first Games. Peeta wears a light blue shirt and black trousers. He tries to comb his beautiful and untamable blond curls and I decide not to braid my hair, instead using the comb to ease out the tangles. I think it looks better for a toasting this way. We go downstairs hand in hand, giggly and excited, and Peeta cuts off two slices of bread while I light a small fire. Buttercup approaches, seemingly aware of the importance of what he's about to witness.
Peeta says lovely, sweet vows of undying love and devotion and also promises and swears everything that he doesn't need to promise and swear, simply because he's already proved his worth in every kind of situation. Tender little words seem to come out of his mouth so easily. He gets the bread closer to the fire until it toasts and then puts the first piece of bread in my mouth. While I eat it in silence, he gently inserts the band on my left ring finger, looking at me as if he's trying to freeze the moment in his memory. He grins when my eyes meet his.
"Peeta," I say, "We've done this before."
"How come?" he asks, baffled, but still beaming.
"When we were eleven. You toasted that bread for me and I ate it. That was the reason why I survived, and felt hope, and decided to start hunting. It was all because of that moment," I'm left speechless when I realize the same thing happened when he came back from the Capitol: I decided to survive, felt hope and started hunting again.
He smiles and brings me closer, kissing my forehead.
"Does that mean I've been married to you since we were eleven?" he asks, wistful.
"I think so," I chuckle, "But I'm only marrying you right now."
"Lucky me, I'm almost eight years ahead," he smiles.
I grab a slice of bread and get it close to the fire. Our eyes meet and we grin until the bread is toasted. Then, I put the first piece in Peeta's mouth and insert the band on his left ring finger while he eats it in reflection. When he's finished, he wraps his arms around me and gives me a very sweet kiss.
"Finally," he says, "It's real."
Buttercup wants to eat as well.
"You can't eat this, Buttercup, it's for our wedding," I say. But we give him a piece anyway.
I'm not a good orator and, as consequence, unlike my husband, I haven't said any vows. But I'm fluent in the language of touch and deeds, so I go closer to Peeta and touch him in a way that he understands.
"I don't know how to make vows," I say, "But you must know that you're everything to me. I've been in love with you since that day when I was eleven."
Peeta grins. He's genuinely happy to hear these words, even though they are nothing in comparison to his vows.
"But you didn't know how you felt about me after the first Games," he muses.
"I didn't say that. I said I was confused."
"Isn't it the same? Or - are you saying you liked me then?"
"Yes," I reply, "Before the Games I was just too hungry to notice it."
"And after?"
"After that I saw you as a gift from the Capitol, someone they imposed on me," I say, "A very beloved gift, but I didn't want anything that came from them."
"I couldn't be a gift from the Capitol. I'm from Twelve as much as you are. I was forced into the Games too," he replies in a really low, sad voice, patting my hair as he tries to make sense of what I'm saying.
"Yeah, but the Games and the Capitol joined us. We had to do the star-crossed lovers thing to survive and then… Then the Capitol forced us together and I didn't want to be their pawn. I tried to rebel against it. That's why I tried to make it work with Gale, even though I never had romantic feelings for him."
"What does Gale have to do with it?" he asks, puzzled.
"It would be the natural progression of my life if I hadn't been reaped. I didn't want to get married, but I needed to in order to be assigned a house. Prim and I would be homeless if my mother died. Gale was what was in store for me. A coal miner doesn't exactly marry for love, Peeta."
Loveless matches were the common occurrence in the Seam, where love usually came after long periods of regular coexistence and children. Just like the merchants married to retain property, the seam folk married to have a roof over their heads.
"Maybe it would be a loveless match on your part, but Gale loved you and maybe he still does," Peeta says, rubbing his thumb on my cheek, "You know, you wouldn't necessarily need to marry him."
"So who?" I ask.
"Me? I would have stepped in," he says, looking almost shocked that I don't even consider it.
"I don't think so," I say, "We never talked before. When I think of a life with no Games it scares me, because we would have never talked at all. We would be married to other people by now."
"No, never," he shakes his head, "I wouldn't repeat my father's mistake."
"With my mother or yours?"
"Both. He never told your mother about his feelings for her until it was too late and by then she had already fallen in love with someone else. In the end, his misery was my blessing, so I promised myself I would be different."
"But you never tried to –" I start.
"I would. Everyone knew I would. I think even Gale sensed it – even my mother feared it was inevitable. It was a regular argument back at home," he says.
I nod, trying to process this information, "So, when?"
"I thought that maybe at the festivities after the reaping... It would be a good time to start. I couldn't talk to you before because Gale was always around, looking at me like he was about to start a fight. But by then he started working at the mine," he explains, "I considered being a coal miner or getting permissions for both of us to live at the Capitol, because they were in desperate need of bakers there. Our children would never be reaped if we lived there. But ultimately it would be your choice."
He's so smart. I daydream about it: Peeta and I catching the train to the Capitol, taking Primrose with us. Life would be as perfect as possible. He could have convinced me to have children that way.
"What if I refused you?" I laugh, "Or are you too irresistible for that?"
"You don't seem willing to resist me now," he chuckles, tickling me, "You're right. I knew it was likely that you would refuse, but I never planned for that outcome."
I look outside and sigh. I feel relief knowing that we would be together in every possible scenario.
"When I tried to forget you and make it work with Gale after the Games, it - it never seemed right. I thought it couldn't be right with you either, not when the Capitol wanted us together, but there was always this strange feeling of longing for you. This would have happened anyway, wouldn't it?" I ask.
"There's no doubt. It was meant to be," he replies.
His eyes wander: he's daydreaming too. He looks peaceful and sure of himself, as if his confidence has been refueled and he has no doubts about his standing in life anymore. I've never seen him this way, not even when he was a popular teenager at school. Maybe this is the first time he has a healthy self-esteem. I feel happy for what it means for us and decide to wake him up from that daydream of his. I take him upstairs again, right into the bedroom.
"I'm creating a new rule for this bedroom," I announce as he sits on the bed.
"What is it?" he asks.
"You can't have any clothes on while you're here."
Peeta smirks.
"Even if it's cold?" he asks.
I pause to consider it.
"We'll think about that when the time comes," I reply, "Take your clothes off, now."
"Doesn't the rule apply for you too?"
"Only if you say it does," I tease, "I'm fine just appreciating the sight."
"I say the rule is the same for both," he says.
"Okay."
I undress slowly and carelessly. I know I'm not seductive, so I don't even try. When I take a glimpse of my husband's face I see him staring at me with an expression that makes me feel warm inside. It conveys adoration, awe, care. I admire him too: he's so alluring and heart-warming with his boyish features and the body of a fully developed man.
And there is a ring on his hand to establish that this man is all mine.
"I want it again," I tell him.
"Now?" he asks.
"Yes."
"But you're sore –", he says.
"Please."
Johanna is yet to show up, so he takes up on my offer.
After that, Peeta is still concerned about the sheets. Hazelle – who is now taking care of our house, as well as Haymitch's, since we decided to retire Greasy Sae - is coming to do the laundry tomorrow and he knows I don't want her to see the blood stains. It's not that he cares that people know what he does in bed with his wife, but he knows I'm embarrassed by it.
"I think we should fold the sheets and leave them exactly as they are now, so you can look at them every time you see a flashback coming. That way you'll know there's no chance any of that is real," I suggest.
Peeta agrees with me and does exactly that.
After we check on Delly – who looks much better than yesterday and is being taken care of by Thom and Dr. Hendricks - we go back home and sit at the kitchen table to have lunch as we talk about the bakery.
Now that the rubble has been cleared out, the reconstruction of the bakery has finally started and our worker's wives are still cooking lunch for us all. Although most of the workers are scared after Peeta's two unexplained attacks, no one left the service and we think that's because we feed their families. Peeta is not showing up as much these days, because he doesn't want to make them uncomfortable.
He still hasn't visited Beetee, but he has apologized to Rory – who knows about the torture, so he readily understood our explanation and seems to think it was no big deal – and to the workers too.
Johanna arrives not long after we start eating lunch, still wearing the dress she borrowed from me last night. I'll give it to her, because I don't know what she and Bligh have been doing with that dress.
She darts her eyes from me to Peeta, then back to me and she finally smirks mischievously.
"The tension is gone here. And you've got brand new rings on your fingers!" she exclaims.
"We're married, Johanna, that's why," Peeta says playfully.
"Bullshit. You had no wedding bands yesterday. Your woman must have taken good care of you, Lover Boy."
Peeta and I make no effort to respond, although he smiles.
"Were you with Bligh all this time?" I ask her, trying to change the subject.
"He offered me breakfast at the inn," she replies matter-of-factly, "We went back to his room, and later he went to shower, so I took the chance and left."
"Without telling him you were leaving?"
"What's the point? He's not my boyfriend and he has to work this afternoon anyway."
"What does he do for a living?" Peeta asks, visibly curious.
"I didn't ask. It really doesn't matter," Johanna rolls her eyes, "Then I decided to give you the time to do your funny business and went to the Abernathys' house."
I scowl, displeased at the way she keeps talking about this.
"So you met Lana. What did you think of her?" I ask.
"I like it that she doesn't take any shit. I never thought someone could tame Haymitch. She must take a damn good care of him in bed if she gets him that wrapped around her finger."
"Do you think they do it?" I question.
"It's obvious they do," Johanna says.
"They do," Peeta agrees, holding my hand as if he wants to soften the blow.
I really don't want to imagine that. I must have known it would happen eventually, but I guess I thought they would wait like we did.
"He said he wanted to get an annulment at the end of the month," says Peeta, "But I don't think he will."
"He can't, he's got it bad for her," Johanna snorts.
"Do you think she likes him too?" I ask.
"I don't know," Johanna says, "She wants to please him, but she's hard to read. He said they want us to go there this afternoon, by the way."
Peeta should be baking for the Harvest Festival this afternoon, but he'll let the other volunteers work alone today. Hazelle will be there to make sure everything is in order, anyway. He can only toast once in life.
"Brainless," Johanna whispers loudly, as if she's telling me a big secret that Peeta shouldn't hear, but she really wants him to hear it anyway, "He didn't disappoint! It was as big as he said it was."
Peeta gasps.
"What? Did he tell you that at the party?" he asks.
"Poor Bligh is innocent. Jo was the one to ask," I say with a chuckle. My husband brings the palm of his hand to his face and shakes his head, but chuckles too.
"And he was literally innocent until a few hours ago," Johanna says, "Not anymore. By the looks of it many people had their first times last night."
We don't reply, but my face heats up and Peeta's eyes get wide open.
"Is it a thing for girls to comment on that?" he asks us, almost worried.
"You know I wouldn't," I reply, although he has nothing to be worried about in any department.
"Too bad my best friend is a prude," Johanna says, "Did you know I had never been with someone with no experience?" she continues, "But he was so sweet, so concerned about me, he may have been the best so far."
"I think he really likes you, Johanna," I say, and it's true.
"Let's hope he doesn't fall in love, then," she shrugs dismissively.
After lunch, we visit the Abernathys.
There's movement inside. We knock and, a few seconds later, Lana opens the door and grins widely at us. She looks really pleased with herself, although I can't understand why. She gestures for us to get inside and Haymitch comes to meet us when she rushes to the sitting room.
"She's excited," he says.
Lana has sat on the couch, next to someone, and is gesturing to that person, who gestures back to her. Whoever the man is, his back is turned to us, so I can't see his face.
But then I glance at Johanna and see her mortified look; she's gone pale in a second. The person sitting next to Lana on the couch looks at us and blushes beet red.
It's Icarus Bligh.