Plutarch rushes to reassure me. “Oh, no, Katniss. Not your wedding. Finnick and Annie’s. All you need to do is show up and pretend to be happy for them.”
“That’s one of the few things I won’t have to pretend, Plutarch,” I tell him.
“Finnick looks at me in disbelief. ‘I don’t, Katniss! Obviously, I don’t. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there’s no relief in waking.’ Something in my expression stops him. ‘Better not to give in to it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.’”