I turn my head to snuggle into his neck and kiss him there, reveling in his happiness. My happiness.
Our happiness. Cue the freaking choir of angels!
Eventually he leans back and I know that I look about as ridiculous as he does, but I don’t care. Peeta frames my face with his hands and kisses me fully, not really paying attention to squished noses or hurriedly bumped teeth. I melt into him and try to commit this moment to memory: his lips, his smile, how full my heart feels, how letting happiness in is a gift in of itself.
But hold the phone…
I pull back, taking in his heavily-lidded eyes and open mouth and say, “Hey! I need an answer!”