Mormor nodded, pleased. “Good. I’ll make kok korv, I think. We hear so much about his Romani dishes, we should have some good Swedish food for him to try.”

“That’d be pretty cool, eh, Sara?” Mom asked.

Except, was it? Leaf had customs about food, strict ones even, and I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to eat kok korv or really anything we prepared. “I think so, but—okay, he has rules about food. Kinda like kosher eating rules,” I said, using Devi’s parallel because my mom and grandma might understand it better that way. “I want to talk with him tonight to see if food’s an option or if it’ll be hella awkward.”

“If food’s a no-go, we’ll do kok korv another night, the three of us, and we can just hang out with him,” Mom said, heading off any of Mormor’s accidentally-racist-but-no-less-irritating commentary. “You get out of your group at two on Saturday. If he can’t do dinner, we’ll shove some food at you, then have him over during the day to talk.”

“Cool. Yes. Thanks.” I packed away the last of the potatoes and pushed myself up from the table to wash my dish in the sink. Three steps in, I stopped dead, my eyes going wide. I nearly dropped my plate on the floor because my stomach was fluttering. It was the only way to describe the sensation—like I’d swallowed butterflies and they were flapping around inside of me. My free hand went to the left side, where it seemed the most intense.

“Everything okay?” Mom asked, obviously concerned. She rose from the table and came to my side, her hand going to the small of my back. I jerked my head her way. She was concerned; lines creased her forehead, her blue eyes were narrow.

“I’m okay. I think I can feel the baby. It’s like...a twitch, maybe? Or bubbles inside?”

“Oh! Oh!” Mom’s worry evaporated and she put her hand over mine. “That’s totally normal. You felt like buzzing bees at first. It wasn’t until later that you used my bladder like a hacky sack. Which is why I sometimes pee when I sneeze.”

“There’s a shelf life on guilt, Mom. We’re pushing twenty years. Move on.” I pushed my fingers into the spot on my stomach to see if I could feel anything through the skin, but not yet. The baby was being shy. “It’s—really weird. But cool, too.”

Mormor came to my other side, her hand going over mine. There was nothing to feel, but she smiled all the same. “This is good. She’s healthy in there. She’s strong.”

Because she’s a Larssen, my brain filled in automatically.