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reprieve for a little while. Instead she nagged Ryan every chance she got about finding a suitable mate.
    The waitress came. He and Cameron ordered eggs —his with turkey bacon and micro greens, his brother’s with sausage, bacon, potatoes, and toast. His mother ordered whole-wheat toast, dry. When their waitress took their orders to the kitchen, he shook his head.
    “Mom, aren’t you hungry? You could have had eggs or pancakes or French toast.”
    “Ryan, the toast is just fine with me. The food here is too rich for my blood.”
    “Cam and I always pay when we all go out. You know that.”
    “It doesn’t make me any more comfortable wasting money like this. I could make the two of you eggs for less than a couple of dollars. I’d even throw in the coffee for free,” she said. She patted him on the arm. “At least you can afford it,” she said, barely concealing a smile. Ryan knew his mother was proud of his and his brother’s accomplishments—Cameron had joined the LAPD after high school and had recently made lieutenant two in the vice unit.
    But their mother was loathe to give up the frugal way she’d learned to live as a single mother to two boys who could have eaten her out of house and home without her careful budgeting and planning. The unexpected loss of their father’s pension and death benefits had made her even more frugal.
    Ryan had a huge soft spot for his mom and wanted to please her. She’d sacrificed so much for them, he thought it was their duty to give her what she wanted. That was the only reason he could think of later—when he was kicking himself—for what he said next. “I met someone.”
    His mother stopped fiddling with the straw in her ice water, her faded blue eyes , sharp with intelligence, focused keenly on him.
    “Where did you meet her?”
    He told them the tale of rescuing the dog on the freeway and explained that was the dog he was adopting first thing the next morning. And then he mentioned Sunflower, how she bravely rescued the dog with no thought about her personal safety, how she skipped work to take the dog to the veterinarian. Her confession of her childhood pain and the kiss they shared, he kept to himself. It was something he liked to savor in the darkness of the night, in his bed, alone.
    Cameron looked up from his eggs for a moment. “What does she do?”
    “She’s a makeup artist for television,” he said.
    “Cool,” his suddenly monosyllabic brother responded.
    His mom, distracted from her normal grumbling, ate her toast and even helped herself to butter and some of his eggs without comment on the cost. “So what’s her name? What does she look like? When are you going to bring her by?”
    Cameron smirked. “It’s never too soon to give her that grandchild she’s always talking about. Marisol and I certainly failed her there.”
    Ryan ducked his head, embarrassed. “Um, well, about that… ”
    “Answer your brother’s question. I don’t want to die with no grandkids.”
    “I kind of don’t know her name… ”
    His brother put down his fork and peppered questions like the cop he was. “Her address?” Ryan shook his head. “Her number?” Ryan shook again. “So what exactly do you have?”
    He shrugged. “Her license plate.”
    His mother got up from the table. “Humph. You got me all excited over nothing. I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she said, stomping off.
    After he stopped guffawing, Cameron let loose. “No name, no number. What’s the story, man?”
    “She said something about me not being her type.”
    “Mm, and you can’t take no for an answer.”
    “She didn’t kiss me like I wasn’t her type. ” So much for keeping that a secret. Ryan cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “Do you think you can help me out here?”
    Cameron shook his head. “Sorry, dude, I use my special police powers for good, not evil.” He waved his fingers in the air like a phony psychic. “You’re on your own here. Wish you luck,