“You won’t find an EIS officer who isn’t,” she said unapologetically. “One time I was bragging to him about a class prize I had won in the fourth grade. He gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Then he sat me down and looked me square in the eye.” She effected a huskier voice and a thick Hispanic accent. “‘Cat, no one is prouder of you than me. But promise me you won’t ever look for happiness in a diploma on the wall or your name in bright lights. You will never find it there, ángel. Comprende?’”

Kilburn chuckled. “Sounds pretty sharp, your dad.”

She nodded and reached for her menu, suddenly feeling shy about her disclosure.

Kilburn’s cell phone rang. He listened for a few moments. “We’ll pick you up on the way.” He disconnected and said to Lopez: “Seth is running late. Literally. Said he got lost out on his run and went further than expected.”

As soon as the waitress came by, they ordered breakfast. Cohen’s jogging misadventure reminded Lopez that she had missed the gym four days in a row, so she reluctantly opted for the cereal and yogurt breakfast. Kilburn ordered the same.

Over their meals they discussed their career choices and directions. Then the conversation veered toward more personal territory. “Lina, do you have kids?” Kilburn asked.

She shook her head, willing herself not to flush. “Closest I’ve come is in the form of a wheaten terrier named Rosa.” She looked away. “I was engaged once, but things didn’t work out.” She looked back to him and cocked her head. “And you?”

“I’ve got a niece and nephew—eight and ten—who I’m close to.” Kilburn cleared his throat. “My sister is a single mom. I help her out with the kids where I can. Truth is, they’re great kids. I love having them.” He shrugged. “But on the home front, my girlfriend—ex-girlfriend, I guess—moved out a few months ago.”

“Oh,” Lina said. Graham’s tone suggested, as she had suspected, that he was still emotionally invested. “Were you together long?”

“Almost four years,” Kilburn said. “We lived together for three.”

Lopez nodded understandingly.

“Michelle’s an architect, a junior partner in her firm. My practice is pretty well established.” His gaze fell to the table. “I thought we’d both reached that settling-down stage. We talked about marriage. And I’d just assumed … hoped, I guess … that we’d have kids of our own.” His voice trailed off, and he suddenly reddened.

Lopez smiled, sympathetic to his hurt and vulnerability. “Well, aren’t we just a perfect pair of losers?” she said.

He glanced at his watch. “Wow! Losers who are late too.”