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"What are you smiling at?"

I ask this, noticing my husband's mirth-filled eyes and signature smirk. With raised brows and a pointed look, he draws my attention to my midsection, where my belly pokes out from under my raised t-shirt. I'm suddenly irritated. I can't help it that I'm getting fat- it's your fault, I think, and with a huff I stretch the thin material back down over my distended abdomen.

He chuckles a little bit, gingerly grabbing my wrist as I turn away.

"Come on, Katniss. I think it's cute," he says, and wraps his arms around me from behind. Sighing, I lose my resolve and lean into him.

"Well, I don't."

"Maybe it's time to get you some new clothes..." he trails off as I visibly tense up.

"I like the clothes I have."

"I know you do, but Katniss, you can barely button your pants anymore." He traces his finger along the bare skin where my pants, indeed, fail to close in the middle. I teter on the edge of frustration with him, but I know he's right- plus, the soothing circles he's now rubbing on my belly cause me to lose my train of thought. All I can manage is a half-hearted groan.

"Let me order you some from one of those specialty shops in 6. I think you'll be more comfortable."

"Only if you promise to stop laughing at how fat I'm getting," I pout weakly.

"Katniss" he says, softly, seriously. He turns me to face him. "You're beautiful."

I never know how to respond to that.

So I just stare at him, wishing I could be the kind of person he deserves. He leans in and kisses me.

"I love you," I breathe when he pulls away, "You know that, right?"

"I do. And I love you." He leans down and presses his lips to the curve of my belly- "And you," he whispers to the bulge.