Page 180 of Revv

And there, between the blinds in the front window, is a tiny black head.

I gasp.

“My baby.”

Guacamole is sitting on the windowsill staring directly at the driveway like an angry little landlord waiting for rent.

The second the Honda pulls in, he disappears.

I already have my seat belt off.

Revel laughs. “You’re gonna break your neck.”

“I haven’t seen my child in days.”

“He’s a cat.”

I look at him.

“Never say that again.”

“Right. Sorry. Your son.”

“Thank you.”

The second the car stops, I’m out.

By the time I unlock the front door, Guac is already yelling from somewhere down the hallway.

“MY BABY!”

He comes flying around the corner, paws sliding slightly across the floor before he launches himself toward me.

I scoop him up against my chest while he screams directly into my face like I abandoned him for a decade.

“I know. Mami is terrible. You suffered so much while Grandma came over every day and fed you treats.”

He shoves his wrinkly little face beneath my chin and starts purring hard enough that I feel it through his entire body.

God, I missed him.

I’m still kissing the top of his head when Revel walks in behind me carrying my suitcase in one hand and my equipment case in the other.

Guac’s head lifts.

He sees Revel and flattens his ears, then he hisses.

I burst out laughing.

Revel stops in the doorway. “Seriously?”

“He remembers you.”

“Clearly.”

“Aw. My baby missed his enemy.”

“I thought we bonded over the catnip taco.”