The minute the plane touches down, I turn my phone on and find a text from Peeta. Prim sent one too, but that can wait. I'm sure my smile is ridiculously huge as I swipe the screen and enter my passcode at lightning speed, but right now but I don't care who sees it. I've only been away from him for half a day, and already I can't stand it.

Hey. Will you let me know when you land?

My fingers hover over the letters as I try to think of something to say back to him, something witty and fun, and maybe a little flirty. I have to settle for quick and easy, though, because I've second-guessed every word and deleted about twelve messages already. It's almost time for my row to exit.

Hey there. Landed. Text you later?

I tag on a happy face, which I normally loathe to do, but I don't mind so much for Peeta. The crowd is pressing in, eager to disembark from the plane, so I shove my phone in my purse and grab my carry on bag. Once I've picked up my checked baggage, I pull it back out to see where Johanna is. She's my ride back to the apartment. A response from Peeta pushes the need for a ride home out of my mind quickly.

Sure thing. Be safe.

I'm about to send a reply when the phone rings, cutting off my message.

"Hey, Jo. You here?"

"Didn't I say I would be?" She's as droll as ever.

It takes a little time to reach her with all the crowds, but soon I'm in the car and we're heading down the freeway at stop and go pace during a rainstorm. After an hour, and we've only gone two and a half miles, Jo manages to get the car across three lanes of traffic and exit so we can eat dinner. It's four o'clock here, which means it's seven in Panem, and I'm already getting sleepy. I can't tell if it's jet lag or the early morning I had, or both.

"IHOP!" bursts from my mouth as I point, thinking about pancakes and coffee. Lots of coffee. Johanna rolls her eyes and tells me to simmer down, chica, then pulls into the parking lot.

"So," Johanna starts after we've ordered. "How was home?"

"Good. It was good." It's a semi-honest answer. It ended good at least.

"Meet up with any old boyfriends?" Her question startles me. I've never told my friends here about Peeta. It was part of my plan to move on, forget about him. If no one knew, then no one could ask about him. But I'm not sure I'm ready to divulge everything just yet.

"Spill it," she orders. "You took too long thinking."

My mouth drops open, then closes and I pin her with a glare. "You are-"

"Wonderful? Talented? Amazing?" she interrupts. "Go on. You were just about to tell me all about your hookup. Dish the dirty details." She leans into the table, eyes glittering with curiosity.

"There wasn't any hookup." I jump when she bangs her hand on the table.

"Oh, come on, Everdeen! Give me something. Tell me you got drunk or at least that you dry humped some poor, unsuspecting hottie."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Jo." I shrug and she rolls her eyes, sighing dramatically. "But-" I pause and her eyes and ears perk up, waiting for gossip. "I did kiss my ex."

"Alright, alright. That's… better than nothing."

I give Johanna a few details about Peeta. Why we broke up, what he does for a living, and a physical description because she practically forced one out of me. At least she approves. I leave out some of the harsher circumstances surrounding our relationship, and the fact that my dad is dead. I'm still coming to terms with that and I don't want pity or a sympathetic show of emotion. Not that Johanna would do either of those, but I've really only ever shared those feelings with Peeta.

Once I'm back at my apartment I drop my stuff in the middle of the living room and fish my phone from my purse. It's almost 6 now, which means it's close to 9 in Panem. Peeta usually goes to bed by 9:30, so at least I won't be waking him up.

Hey… still up?

I stare at my phone for what seems like ten minutes but is probably less than one. When he doesn't respond, I toss the phone onto my small loveseat and grab a drink of water before carting my stuff to the bedroom. I'm willing a text message to come through, but I know staring at the blank screen will be worse than watching water try to boil.

After a shower, I allow myself to pick the phone up and check my messages. I'm relieved when I see one from Peeta.

Yeah. I forgot what a good night's sleep felt like until the other night.

I know exactly what he means. I pull the covers back on my bed and climb in, thankful that I changed the sheets before I left. They're clean and cool and soft. The only thing missing is Peeta.

I have an urge to call him instead of returning the text, and my stomach turns when I press that little telephone icon next to his name and set the phone on speaker. A small, nagging voice reminds me that he hasn't picked up a call from me in four years, but my anxiety is short lived when I hear his voice and my face breaks into a huge grin. I stare at the phone as though I can see him through it.

"Hello?" he says, and the tension melts away.

"Hey."

"Hey." I can practically hear the dopey grin on his face, which means he can probably hear that my expression matches his. We sound like a couple of middle school kids that have no idea how to talk to each other, just smiling and being shy. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm a little tired so I was going to lay down, and... I thought maybe you'd like to fall asleep with me?" I put myself out there. It's terrifying and I half expect him to turn me down and tell me I'm being silly, so I tag on quickly, as if it were a stupid suggestion. "I figured it was better than nothing."

"Yeah, it is. It's perfect, actually," he answers, and my heart swells. I can hear the sounds of covers rustling as Peeta moves around his bed. "Hey, Katniss?" he asks through a yawn. He sounds tired enough that I'd bet his eyes are already closed. What I wouldn't give to be there, seeing it for myself.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"Hey, baby girl. Welcome back to the land of the fabulous." Cinna stands and wraps me in a tight hug when I reach the table he's saved for us. I've been back for a week but I've been so bombarded with getting back into a routine of staff meetings, paper grading and all the details that come with launching into a new semester that I feel like I've taken a year off instead of a two-week holiday.

"Thank you. It's… good to be back." My hesitation doesn't go unnoticed by him. He releases me and looks into my face curiously, searching for something.

"Alright, my girl," he says, motioning across the table at the empty seat. "Dish. Why is it that you seem ready to board another plane and rush back to the frigid Northeast?"

A deep breath isn't as calming as I thought, but when I launch into why I miss home, and relay all that happened with my mother's condition and Prim's new life, my father's death and how badly I want to be with Peeta, it's like a balm that soothes my weary soul. I never realized talking about my problems could help, instead of bottling them up and trying to throw them into the sea of forgetfulness.

Cinna's brow furrows a few times and his chocolate eyes emit a warmth that assures me he's feeling my dilemma deep in his soul. He waits patiently until I'm out of words before he responds, reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze. "I sure am gonna miss you, my girl."

He never sugarcoats things, and as we continue talking I feel like I can conquer the world, as if I can right any wrong, even buoy a sunken ship to the surface. Though I haven't made a decision, I take that gift with me as I hug him goodbye and head back to my lonely apartment.

It's the end of February, and I'm at school when I hear my cell phone buzz multiple times in my desk drawer. Sliding it open, I see Prim is calling. I'm not supposed to answer during class, but I can't help it. She knows I'm at work so it must be an emergency of some sort. Awful scenarios begin to slip through my mind, one after another, each one worse than the last. Rory lost his job... Mom's hurt... Peeta died.

Deciding now isn't the time to care about the rules, I grab the phone and slip into my supply closet. The kids are busy enough figuring out their end of the year science projects that they really don't notice my absence.

"Prim?" I whisper, trying to be quiet so I'm not overheard.

"Katniss!" she shrieks excitedly and I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

"Prim? Is everything alright?" The happy nature of her tone puts my fears at ease.

"Yes! Everything is perfect!" she gushes. I let the relief of her enthusiasm relax me.

"Well, what is it then?" I demand, laughing with her although I have no idea why.

"I'm pregnant!"

I'm speechless except for the very loud "What?!" that comes out of my mouth. "You've only been married for a few months!" Okay I guess I'm not that speechless.

"I've been married long enough, Katniss. Besides, did you hear me? You're going to be an Auntie!" There is unmistakable joy in every word and squeal, and even though a part of me thinks this is too much too soon, the bigger part of me, the part that loves my sister more than life, is elated and proud.

We talk for the rest of class about potential baby names, colors for the nursery, and themes for a baby shower - cupcakes if it's a girl. Superheroes if it's a boy. It's much easier to fall into the excitement than it was with the wedding. I'm going to be an aunt! My head in the clouds for the rest of the day. Not even Marvel and Cato's antics in last period can bring me down. I even stop at a baby boutique on my way home and pick up the softest yellow blanket.

I'm the worst teacher ever. It's barely spring break and already I can't wait for summer. I just want to put on movies from now until the end of school. In some ways, it seems like the four months have flown by. In others, it seems to be crawling along like a depressed snail. I wish I were going home, but it's not possible right now. I'll have to be patient.

I let my boss know I wouldn't be renewing my teaching contract. It's time for me to start preparing to go back to Panem. No matter what happens between Peeta and me, my family is growing and I want to be there for it.

There have been no job openings for teachers in Panem or the surrounding areas, and I'm saving every dime I don't absolutely need. I may have to work at the grocery store, or even clean the church on weekends for Reverend Abernathy to earn an income until something opens up.

Peeta and I talk on the phone almost every night until he falls asleep. I relish every breath I hear on my end before disconnecting the call and spending the next few hours dreaming of what it will be like when we're together again. We FaceTime every Saturday night, and I'm waiting for his call right now. I can practically count down the seconds, he's so punctual about it.

"Hey," I greet him when his face pops up on the screen. His eyes light up and he smiles at me. I take in every feature I can on that little screen, wishing it were the size of my television instead. Or that he were here in the flesh.

He runs a hand through his hair and I sigh inwardly.

"That's my job," I tell him, feeling jealous of his hand.

"What is?" he asks, plopping back onto his bed.

"Running my hand through your hair." Every time we talk we grow a little closer, a little bolder with our words. Telling him how I want to touch him is something I haven't done yet, but now that I've started I'm not sure I want to stop.

I watch his face morph from confusion to shock to serious. "Do you…" he hesitates.

"Do I what?" He waits, blinks. Silence stretches out and I bite my lip nervously.

"God I love when you do that," he says hurriedly, as though he's in mild pain. "Do you want your hands in my hair?"

Yes!, my mind screams. I nod. "What else do you want, Katniss?" I blink slowly, eyes heavy with desire just from the way he says my name. We spend the rest of our time telling each other what we're going to do when we finally see each other, how we're going to touch, and all the things we've missed about one another. I look forward to Saturday nights more than ever.

"There's nothing. Nothing," I rant to Peeta over the phone. I've been scouring the internet for weeks now looking for a source of income. I'm supposed to leave for Panem in four short weeks, but with no prospects for a job, I may have to reconsider moving and see if I can get my job here back. I'm so frustrated with how this piece of my life isn't falling into place like the others seemed to, and I'm finally losing my cool over it.

Peeta sighs on the other end. "Katniss, don't let it get you upset. If something doesn't come up by the time you get here…" His voice fades and I know what he wants to say. I also know why he doesn't finish his thought. I've always been on my own. Always taken care of myself.

"Peeta, I have student loans I'm still paying for. I have property taxes coming due and a mother to look after. I can't put all that on you." I can't let him spend thousands of dollars for my benefit. We had this discussion a few times before I left Panem, where Peeta offered to help me take care of my mother and the bills. He was always saving his paychecks and stashing money for a 'rainy day'. But I was always able to convince him I could do it alone. I succeeded at keeping my independence.

"Katniss, I can take care of you," he says confidently. His voice doesn't waver one bit, leaving me with no doubt of the truth of his words. "Indefinitely," he adds.

"Peeta-"

"I know you'll find something once you get here," he interrupts me without hesitation. "And I know I'm pushing you out of your comfort zone, but dammit, Katniss, I want you here and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens. But in case you continue to be the stubborn girl I fell in love with when I was twelve, there's plenty of work that can be done at the bakery."

"Peetaaaa," I whine, my shoulders slumping with the weight of his offer. I have no other option. And I'm tired. Tired of being away from him, tired of fighting the loneliness and the empty bed and the fact that my sister is making me an aunt, but I'm not there to be part of it yet. I just want to go home.

"I mean it Katniss." I hear him take a deep breath. "I love you. I never stopped."

I can feel my eyes well up with tears and I squeeze them shut, swiping at the wetness that spills over. I want so much more than to say it back to him, but the 3,000 miles between us is keeping me from showing him how I really feel. I pull the phone away from my ear for just a moment and take a deep breath so I can gather my emotions. My hand shakes as I bring it back up.

"I love you, too." I'm not even sure he can hear it, but then he breathes and there's a shuffle of some sort on the other end before he comes back on the line.

"Oh, thank God. You mean it? It's real?"

I can't help but laugh at the way he sounds like a kid in a candy store whose mother just told him he could have anything he wanted. "Yeah. It's real."

"So then you'll allow it? You'll let me take care of you?" he asks earnestly, and there's nothing else to think about. No argument I can really make. I'm going home.

"I'll allow it."

"We're gonna miss you, girl." Cinna's voice is as chocolatey-smooth as his skin, and I know I'm going to miss him, too. Johanna purses her lips and nods agreement. She may seem hard on the outside, but inside she's just as much a softy as anyone else. She just doesn't like to show it.

"Ditto," I tell them after gulping down half a bottle of water. It's June in L.A. and the early heat wave has us sweating furiously since we started packing earlier this morning for my move back to Panem. I check my phone, looking for a message from Peeta, but there hasn't been anything since yesterday afternoon. He wasn't feeling well and went to bed early.

My heart dropped into my stomach when I called earlier and got his voicemail. That hasn't happened in six months, but I remember it well enough that it spread a long-known fear through me. I hope everything is okay. With him personally, as well as with us.

"Loverboy not calling you back?" Johanna teases me. I brush it off quickly, though. I've gotten used to her brand of love over the last four years.

"He said he was sick. Just worried about him is all." I suddenly need to change the subject. "I'm starved," I lie, turning so they can't see my face. My stomach is in knots but putting food in their mouths will keep them from asking more questions. Plus, I owe them lunch for helping me pack. "Who wants pizza?" I whip out my credit card and dial the pizza place on the corner. They're slow, but they make the best thin crust pizza in a ten mile radius, with these little pepperonis that curl and burn crisp at the edges. Like biting into a slice of hog heaven.

"I'm gonna run down the block and grab some beer and napkins," I tell them, remembering I already packed up the kitchen.

"Grab me the light brew," Cinna says, patting his flat abs and giving me a wink. He likes to keep his calories low. It's the industry he's in.

"You got it." They continue packing up the trinkets I've collected in my tiny apartment. I'm not taking any of the furniture with me, but I'm surprised at how many boxes it's going to take to get all my stuff to Pennsylvania. A block down the street and already I'm thinking about Peeta. He never strays far from my mind these days. It's Saturday, and I have no idea if I'll get to see him in our weekly video chat. I just wish he would send me something. Some message that he's okay. That we're okay.

I grab what I need and get in line, becoming increasingly frustrated with the guy in front of me, who can't make up his mind which lottery ticket to buy, and then takes another five minutes deciding which cigarette brand he's going to switch to. I almost lose it when he can't grasp the very simple directions the clerk is trying to give him to the nearest hookah bar.

I was in a fine mood when I left the apartment, but now I'm stomping back down the sidewalk with a six-pack of light beer and muttering obscenities under my breath about common courtesy.

When I burst through the door I'm ready to unload on my friends about the injustice of it all, but as soon as I lay eyes on him I forget everything that's happened for the last six months.

"Peeta!" It comes out as a half-choked sob, and the beer hits the floor as I throw my arms around his neck. Miraculously it stays intact, but I wouldn't care if every bottle shattered. As soon as he squeezes me I know I'm home, even if we're still three thousand miles from Panem.

"What are you doing here?" I don't mean it to come out as an accusation, but I'm shocked that he's physically standing in front of me, and it takes a moment before I remember there were two other people in the apartment before I left. "And where are Cinna and Jo?" I pull back to look into his eyes, questioning and concerned.

"Ah, they said something about being done for the day, and they'd call you later," he says, his voice quiet, and he looks down. "It was him."

"Who was him?" I ask, cocking my head to try and catch his gaze.

"Cinna. They guy you were with the night I came... was he? Were you and he…?" It's unlike Peeta to stumble over his words. His hands gesture back and forth before he stuffs them in his pockets and takes a deep breath, waiting for me to say something.

"Cinna and me?" I snort loudly at the absurdity of it and Peeta's head snaps up. "You thought I was with Cinna?" I ask again for confirmation.

"Well, yeah." There's a sliver of irritation in his tone, and I wish I could have a little fun at his expense, but the pained look on his face brings out the truth. I can't stand to see him hurt. We've done enough of that to each other.

"Well, considering Cinna would be more into you than me, I'd say he was the safest guy I could have brought home." I can tell the moment that understanding dawns and he shakes his head, his mouth forming a sad smile. My lips twitch in a smirk. "You know," I start, walking my fingers up his chest, tapping on his chin when I reach it. "You really never had any competition."

Peeta catches my hand and pulls me closer. "Same here," he confesses. "And to answer your first question, I wanted to surprise you. I'm here to bring you home." By the way he says it, and the timid smile he gives me, I know in my gut this is how he wishes things would have happened back then, the first time he came to find me. I probably wouldn't have said yes then, but now there's nothing else I'd rather do than drive across the country with Peeta. Back to where we never have to be apart again.

I'm lost in his eyes, his perfect nose, the dimple in his chin, any of his features really. It's been so long since we've been this close. I lean in, his lips like a magnet summoning my own, when a knock comes at the door.

"Expecting someone?" he whispers. I search my brain for who could be interrupting this perfect moment. Then I remember.

"Yeah, pizza." My voice sounds distant to my own ears, and when a second impatient knock sounds it snaps me out of my daze. "I hope you're hungry," I tell him, remembering I ordered two larges.

"Starved." His voice sounds an octave lower than normal and the look he's giving me makes me want to forget all about the delivery guy who's on his third round of belligerent knocking. No tip for him.

I literally crack the door just wide enough to yank the two boxes through the opening and the shut it just as quickly. Peeta takes the boxes from me and tosses them on the small coffee table before he reaches for me, and we finish what we started at the airport all those months ago. It's not sweet, and it's not gentle. The ache I feel from being apart so long is raw and real and needy. And from the way Peeta's lips devour me, I know he feels it, too.

When he tugs at my hips I wrap my legs around his waist and he carries us to the bedroom. When he sets me down on the bed, he strips me, and then himself, completely bare. The sheets are cool on my skin. A sharp contrast to his hands, warm and searching, remembering their way around my body. Every part of me eagerly responds to his touch. I don't keep track of the time we spend tangled together. All I know is when we finally make our way back into the kitchen, the pizza has long been cold. We eat in relative silence, me in Peeta's shirt, and him in his boxers, smiling at each other like we just opened up presents on Christmas morning, and in a way we have. It's been a long wait.

I sip the coffee Peeta made before he left for the bakery on the porch swing, a blanket wrapped tightly around me. Little puffs of white breath float upwards in the crisp, fall air. The trees in Panem are gorgeous this time of year and I take every opportunity to enjoy being back. Life is good. Better. I don't even miss L.A. like I thought I would. This is where I've always belonged.

As soon as I returned, Prim and Rory moved into a small house across town, and I took over Mom's care. It's nothing more really than babysitting. She's not an invalid. Mom just needs someone around to cook and clean, keep her company in the evenings, and make sure she takes her medications. She's not a burden at all and I find that I rather enjoy being part of this life again.

Prim is only 8 weeks away from giving birth, and her nesting instincts are on high alert. The house is always tidy and spotless, diapers stocked and baby clothes neatly arranged in drawers. The mobile is hung, the walls are painted a pale purple, and the carseat is snug in the back of Prim's car. The wall plugs are covered as well, even though my niece won't be able to touch them until 9 months from now.

Peeta doesn't live here with me, but he stays over almost every night. He hasn't brought up anything more about our future, no marriage or moving in together, and I'm certain he's allowing me to set the pace. He seems content to live as we are, but I'm not. I'm ready to move forward. Today I'm going to buy some of the items I know he uses regularly, like his shampoo and soap, a new toothbrush and some other personal items. I want to clean out a few drawers and make space in my closet for his things, then slip into his apartment above the bakery and snag some of his clothing. I'm better with actions than words anyway.

When I get to the bakery I run quickly down into the basement to gather Peeta's paints. I'm hoping to spark his interest in it again, but I pull up short and lose my breath when I see the fresh canvases lining the wall. Silver eyes stare back at me, full of life and hope and happiness. Me, sitting in a chair barefoot at Prim's wedding. Me, looking over my shoulder as I walk into the airport. Me, running to something with my arms open, a duffel bag slung over my shoulder and a huge smile lighting my face. Me, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, hair fanned across a pillow. They're not all of me, some are landscapes from around town. Places we used to go together, like the lake and the woods. I can tell he's been working on these for a while, and seeing them gives me confidence that I'm doing the right thing.

It's 3 when Peeta comes by the house after closing the bakery, just like he does every day. My stomach is a knotted mess when I lead him up the stairs to see what I've done.

"What is this?" he asks carefully when he sees his clothing hanging in the closet.

"I thought you could keep some things here," I answer, walking into the bathroom and pointing out the toiletries he uses. "You know, since you practically live here anyway." He follows me and an easy smile takes over his face after he scans the room, pulling the shower curtain back and checking drawers for more of his things.

"Are you asking me to move in?" I nod at his correct assumption, not trusting my voice to communicate what he already senses. "It's a little quick don't you think?"

My mouth goes dry and I think I may vomit. Good thing we're near the toilet. The fear that I may have crossed the line seizes me, and Peeta sees it.

"I'm joking, Katniss," he says, reaching out for me, and my lungs fill with air again. I smack him in the chest and give him the dirtiest scowl I can. He laughs at me and catches my arm, pulling me flush against him. He kisses me until I can't see straight. Until I burn for him and can think of nothing else but having him.

After, when we're wrapped up in each other, he whispers to me, "There's no place else I'd rather be."

"She's perfect," I sigh, staring at Emmalyn's peaceful, 22 hours-old face. She has little wisps of blonde hair just on the top of her head, and the poutiest pink lips that keep puckering in and out while she sleeps. She's tiny in my arms and only squirms when I stop rocking back and forth.

"Thank you," Prim says from the hospital bed. Rory is perched on the edge of the mattress at her side. "I'm so glad you were here for this, Katniss." Me, too. I wouldn't have missed it anyway, but having been back in Panem for half a year allowed me to be part of Prim's pregnancy and help fix up the baby's room, and do a countless number of things I never imagined I'd get to do.

"Can I get you anything?" Rory asks Prim as I continue to cradle their little bundle of joy. A squeaky sigh leaves her lungs and if I wasn't already head over heels for this little girl, I would be now.

"Peeta said he was bringing lunch for us at noon," I tell them, barely giving them my attention.

"What a good brother-in-law," Prim says cheekily. I'm not ignoring her enough to let that slip by.

"Stop it, Prim," I scold her. "It hasn't even been six months."

"You know you want it, Katniss," Prim says with the tone of an adolescent.

"What are we, twelve? Can you speak to me like an adult, please?"

"Fine. I want a blond brother who bakes and wants to give me a house full of cousins for my kids to play with." She widens her eyes at me in a 'so there' way.

"I'm not pushing him, Prim," I warn her. "If he wants something more, he'll let me know." She and I have had this discussion several times. She's been reduced to blubbering tears about her baby never having cousins and her sister becoming a spinster, even though Peeta and I have officially been back together since the day I found him standing in my apartment. It was hard to ignore the sobbing most days, but I was pretty sure it was the hormones talking and not my Prim.

"Anyone call for a bacon, egg and avocado panini?" Peeta says breezing through the doorway holding a large paper sack.

Prim claps her hands together and lets out a squeal of delight. "My favorite!" Emmalyn stirs in my arms and I shush Prim. Honestly, sometimes I think she's still a giggly teenager instead of a new mother. She makes an 'oops' face and I can't help but roll my eyes comically at Peeta. One side of his mouth turns up in a sexy half-smile, and quickly the other side joins when he looks at Emmalyn for the first time. I can see the wonder in his eyes and it's not even his own child.

"She's beautiful," he whispers in awe, and my heart clenches as I watch him watching her. His fingers ghost over the few light hairs sprinkled over an otherwise adorably bald head. "Hey there, sweet girl." he coos. Emmalyn's fingers instinctively fist around his thumb when he grazes it across her tiny palm. His gaze flits back and forth between me and the baby a few times.

"You look good holding a baby," he tells me quietly, flashing me a nervous smile. He doesn't need to be nervous, though. Looking at my niece's tiny fingers and tiny toes, and watching how she stretches when she yawns, and the fact that she is an exact replica of Prim, makes me wonder what Peeta's and my baby would look like. Dark hair and blue eyes? Would a boy have his strong jaw and gentle demeanor? Would a girl have my olive coloring and innate stubbornness?

"I could get used to this," I reply, my eyes leaving Emmalyn's porcelain face briefly to see Peeta's reaction. It's full of hope and wonder as he tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear.

"Really?" His blue eyes search mine diligently for an answer, and his thumb swipes gently back and forth across my cheek.

"Yeah. Really." It's the middle of the day, but his smile illuminates the room. I glance back at my niece, my grin rivaling Peeta's, and I know everything I'm telling him is the absolute truth. I'm ready. Ready for all of it - the ring, the marriage, the house with the picket fence and the blond children running around it. I no longer fear turning out like my mother, or Peeta doing to me what my father did to his wife.

I trust Peeta completely. But, more importantly, I trust myself.

It's done! Thank you all for reading, reviewing and following! It meant a lot and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this last chapter. Thank you to my betas, burkygirl and xerxia for doing an amazing job with this one and catching all my mistakes. They're two in a billion. :) I'm on tumblr as peetabreadgirl.