“She’s such a good mama,” Mom says. “We moved the box and everything into my rooms, because I couldn’t handle kneeling on that floor of his all day.” When I’d come here last night, I realized that she’s taken over watching Abby and the kittens. According to Liesel, it’s been good for her mood. “I think she likes it there. I’ve noticed her roaming out more. This morning, I found her on my settee, laid back, just as comfy as you please. Needed a break. I know the feeling.” She shoots me a fondly annoyed look, and I know she’s still smarting from both the trouble with Heston and the way I burst in here last night. Come to think of it, it’s probably a miracle that she’s in such good shape today, all things considered.
“Sorry,” I say, even though I’ve already apologized.
She turns back to Sugar. “Would you like to see them?”
“Oh, um…” Sugar sets down her full cup of tea, sliding her eyes to me. “Only if it’s not any trouble, or—”
“Don’t be silly,” Mom says, already on her feet.
Her rooms are nice and tidy, curtains open to let in the sunlight. She has the box all nested up in the corner where an end table used to be. Abby’s inside, head popping up over the edge at our approach, ears dipping low in nervousness.
Sugar coos, “It’s okay, sweet girl,” and instantly reaches into her bag for the treats. At the sound of the bag, Abby lumbers to her feet, disengaging the little army of eating kittens. “You remember, huh?” She gives one to Abby from her hand, and leaves another on the floor in front of the box. She looks surprised when Abby jumps right out to get it.
“She’s warming up,” I explain. “I think the new bougie life probably helps.”
Sugar shoots me a smile, edging forward to get a look at the grumpy pile of kittens nosing into the warm spot Abby just vacated. “Oh my god,” she gushes. “Look at them! This one looks just like her.” She reaches in to run a gentle fingertip over its weird little bean-shaped head. “They’re already so much bigger.”
“I think their eyes will start opening soon.” I poke at a little orange one. “This one is a fat little fucker.”
She swats my hand. “It’s just hardy. Doesn’t it look kind of like Lucy?”
“Yeah, Abby’s probably her mom, too.” Come to think of it, “Probably Hades’s as well.”
Sugar pauses, processing this. “Ew.”
“Yup.”
Abby returns, clearly feeling a bit sketchy about all the hands currently occupying her nest. We back off a bit to watch her aggressively clean the fat little orange one, working through a few names.
“Bub, obviously,” she says.
“Bub? That’s obvious?”
“Beelzebub.”
“Oh, right.” I point to the smallest. “What about Lilith? If it’s a girl.”
She grins. “I like it. I think the last one, should be Morningstar—”
“Since he came late on that wintery night.”
“Yep.”
We toss out a few others, Loki, Hela, but Sugar’s phone goes off. She pulls it from her pocket, thumb sliding over the screen. After a moment of reading, eyebrows furrowed, she says, “I guess everyone’s taking Georgia out for breakfast. I’m supposed to ask you if…” She buries a chuckle into a fist, quoting, “…if you got your head out of your ass far enough to come be a Devil again.”
I fight down a cringe, knowing that my mom and Sugar might have been the first stops on the Sebastian Wilcox Apology Tour, but are by no means the last. “What do you think? You down?”
Better to get it over with now.
Nodding, she shoots me a grin before putting her phone away. “Sure, I could do breakfast with my boyfriend and his weirdo secret society.”
We say goodbye to Abby, and then my mom and Liesel, walking out into the cool March air. I still get a frission of satisfaction when I see the Mustang sitting there in my driveway, all shiny and good again.
“You have to name her,” I say, nodding to the car.
She narrows her eyes. “Who says it’s a girl?”
“Come on,” I say, lifting my hands toward it. “Curves like that? She’s all woman.”