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“Listen to them,” he says, reaching for the glass of orange juice and placing it closer to my hand.

“Traitor,” I mutter.

His mouth curves. “I've been informed.”

“That’s not fair,” I say, but I pick up the fork because there are three sets of eyes watching me with varying degrees of affection and threat.

Breakfast becomes less of a meal and more of a coordinated operation. Mama cuts my toast in half before I can tell her I have successfully operated knives for years. Mrs. Bennett checks the tea to make sure it is warm enough. Alexei watches every bite as if he’s personally responsible for each one reaching my stomach.

By the time I finish half of it, Mama appears slightly less anxious, though she still touches my hair every few minutes like she needs proof I’m sitting there in front of her. Mrs. Bennett gathers the empty dishes after making me promise to drink more water, then excuses herself with one final look at Alexei that clearly means he’s expected to enforce the order.

Alexei glances between Mama and me before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“I need to make a few calls,” he says quietly. “I'll be just outside if you need me.”

I know an excuse when I hear one, but gratitude swells through me anyway. Mama and I have always talked best when we're alone.

Mama waits until the door closes before turning back toward me, and the look on her face makes my stomach dip. Years of motherhood have given her almost supernatural abilities when it comes to reading me, and I know that look. It’s the same look she gave me when I was sixteen and tried to hide that I had been crying in the school bathroom. The same look she gave me the night I bought the shelter and pretended I wasn’t terrified.

“Oh no,” I murmur, reaching for my orange juice.

Mama narrows her eyes. “Don't you go hidin’ behind that orange juice.”

“I didn't even say anythin’ yet.”

“You didn't have to.” She sits on the edge of the bed beside me and reaches for my hand. “I know that look, baby. Something else is goin’ on.”

My fingers tighten around the glass. I’ve imagined this conversation a hundred times over the last week, but none of them involved nearly dying in a fire first. None of them involved sitting in Alexei’s bed with a bruised shoulder and smoke still clawing at my throat, while Mama looks at me like she can see straight through my ribs.

“Magnolia,” Mama says, her voice gentler now.

The use of my full name does me in.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt.

The words leave me in a rush, and for a few painful heartbeats, silence fills the room. Mama simply stares at me, and panic rushes in because maybe this was not the right time after all. Maybe nearly dying in a fire is not exactly the ideal moment to tell your mother she’s going to be a grandmother.

“I know the timin’ ain’t exactly ideal,” I say quickly, words tumbling over one another while my cheeks heat. “And things are complicated, and we haven’t known each other all that long, and I swear I was gonna tell you, but then the shelter and the hospital and everything happened, and I didn’t want you findin’ out while you were already scared half to death.”

Mama bursts into tears.

I stop talking, every prepared explanation disappearing right along with the rest of my thoughts. For one awful heartbeat, I think I’ve upset her. Then she laughs through her tears and pulls me into another careful hug, one hand cupping the back of my head like she did when I was little.

“Oh honey,” she whispers against my hair.

I hug her back, still trying to process the fact that she’s crying happy tears.

“You’re havin’ a baby,” she says, sounding awestruck as she pulls back enough to look at me. “My baby is havin’ a baby.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, my own eyes filling again.

Mama presses one trembling hand against her chest. “Lord have mercy. I’m gonna be a grandma.”

Mama hugs me tightly, and this time I hold on just as hard. “This little one is already loved somethin’ fierce,” she says when she finally pulls back.

I think about being a little girl in the diner after school, doing homework in a corner booth while Mama worked doubles. I think about all the ways she gave me everything she had, even when she had almost nothing. I think about her becoming a grandma and knowing, without a doubt, that this baby will never wonder whether they are wanted.

Several minutes pass before a discreet knock sounds at the door. Alexei steps inside, and one look at our faces is all it takes. Concern crosses his face, and every muscle in his body seems to go on guard.