Maybe It Can Be Real

Chapter 72

Ending of last chapter:

Kissing me one last time, he replies with a shake of his head, "A damn shame. We can't do anything without being interrupted."

"Sorry, babe," I tell him. "Maybe we can do something soon, just the two of us."

He grins, making me shiver. "I can't wait."

****

When I peel my eyes open, I yawn and turn over, pulling the blankets with me. Yesterday, after I calmed down after my nightmare, we had a lovely lunch with Haymitch - prepared by Peeta, of course. He made lamb stew because he knows that it's still my favorite.

It was really nice to sit down and talk with Haymitch. I haven't seen him much ever since Willow was born; I've been so engrossed in her that I don't make time for anything else. I probably should, but I've never been one to make friends. Peeta and Willow live here, and Haymitch is next door - I don't ask for, or need, much more than that.

Standing up, I pull Peeta's shirt down from where it had ridden up during the night. Yawning, I slowly make my way downstairs, careful not to trip where I did yesterday. The smell of sweet cinnamon rolls wafts through the house, and the sound of Peeta's soft voice talking to Willow echoes around the corner. I smile, biting my lip as I round the corner and watch them from the doorway.

He's holding her with one hand to his shoulder, her head curled into the crook of his neck. His other hand is carefully pulling out a bottle of orange juice from the fridge.

"Okay, now give Daddy a minute to pour this into a glass without spilling it everywhere. Then we'll wake Mommy up to feed you," he tells her gently, knowing she won't respond. He presses a kiss to her head that is sparse with hair.

"No need for that," I announce as I walk into the room, making my presence known. The tile is cold beneath my feet, raising goosebumps on my legs.

Peeta turns around and grins at me, walking over to meet me in the middle of the kitchen. He leans down to kiss my forehead, careful to transfer Willow to me after he does so. "How did you sleep?", he asks, pretending not to be asking this because of my nightmares that woke me up yesterday. After I've calmed down, he always pretends that my episode didn't happen. It doesn't work quite as well as he thinks it does, because I always know why and what he's asking, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Sitting down at the kitchen table, I respond, "Alright, I guess. As well as one can sleep with a newborn." I've gotten pretty good at avoiding his unasked questions. Carefully, I pull the shirt up on one side and start feeding Willow. I am not a fan of breastfeeding, but I know that this is healthier for her, so I'm doing it.

Peeta brings over two glasses of juice, then the plate of cinnamon rolls. He sits next to me and puts my feet on his lap, wary of not jostling me too much.

"God, you're the best," I tell him as he hands me a roll, grinning at me as he does so.

"You're easy to please," he says, patting my knee. "I wouldn't have tried as hard all these years if I knew that."

Rolling my eyes, I murmur, "Shut up," around a mouthful of food. "Do you have any plans today? I think I might go hunting. Clear my head."

"Yeah, do it. Willow and I will spend some quality time together."

"Assuming she isn't napping," I tell him pointedly.

He nods in confirmation. "Assuming you go when she isn't napping." After he says that, we sit in silence as Willow eats. As she does, I gently fix her onesie, tickling her stomach a little as I do so. Peeta just looks at me, seeming to be lost in thought. Blush creeps up my cheeks a little, making me turn my face away from his gaze.

"You're a really good mother, Katniss," he mentions softly. "I know you were hesitant, but you're much better at it than you thought you were going to be. You jumped into the role as soon as she was born. I just want you to know that it doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated. Speaking of which," he says, moving my feet off his lap and walking into his studio.

Oh dear, I'm about to get really emotional aren't I?

He comes back out, carrying a small frame. "I know it isn't much, but you know as well as I do that we don't have as much time these days," he tells me with a slight laugh. "So, uh, I drew a small portrait of you and Willow. Not my best work or anything, but I wanted to thank you somehow. I hope it's to your liking." His voice trails off as he speaks. He hands it over to me, sitting back down.

When it's in my hands after passing Willow to him, I can finally see it. It's a picture he drew of me in Willow's rocker with her curled up to my chest. Her little face is peacefully sleeping, and I have a small but happy smile on my face, eyes cast down and watching her. He used pale colors that give off a warm and comforting vibe.

"Come here!", I exclaim, grabbing his arm and pulling him closer with a laugh. "I love it. It's beautiful, and I'm going to put it on our nightstand." I press a kiss to his lips, smiling as I do so.

He smiles back at me. "So you really like it? I was worried since it's not as good..."

"Oh, shut the hell up, Peeta. You know anything you make is gorgeous," I cut him off. Leaning forward, I kiss him again, slower this time. "It's wonderful - thank you. I love you."

He grins back at me, his eyes bright with happiness. "I love you, too. I'm glad you like it."

Standing up, I brush his hair off his forehead and place a kiss there, then I head upstairs to shower. I set the drawing on the nightstand once I get upstairs; it looks perfect there in its new home.

I should do something for him, too. He deserves it just as much because he works just as hard as I do to care for Willow. I have no clue what he should get, though. He's too good for basically anything in this world. Too bad I can't write or draw like he can. I'll figure something out. All in due time.

****

Hello, this is garbage. Oh well.

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