Author's Note: I need to thank you all for the support and messages I have received saying Y'all are happy that I am finishing this story. You are all great! Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Chapter 4

"Moooooooom, I can't find my glove," Julian called from his bedroom. "Where did you put it?"

Downstairs in the kitchen, Buffy rolled her eyes. "It's wherever you put it last, Julian. I didn't put it anywhere," she called up to him.

She added meat and cheese to another taco shell and set it on a plate. Little League season was in full swing, and as usual, Julian was missing something. Last week it had been his cleats. The week before that it was his cap. This week it was his glove. Of course, if he would clean his room, he would probably find it.

She had given up trying to get him to keep his room clean. 9 year old boys, unless they were obsessive compulsive, just seemed to thrive on clutter and chaos.

"Found it," he announced as he stomped down the steps and into the kitchen. He was dressed in his uniform, the missing glove attached to his hand.

"Sit down and eat," Buffy said as she set the plate in front of his seat at the table.

Julian looked at the tacos and made a face. "Tacos?"

"Sorry, Kid, best I could do. The chicken is still frozen."

"You know that's why they have microwaves," Julian pointed out.

"Yes, but it still wouldn't be done in time for you to go to the game."

"Mom, why don't you just admit you don't like to cook?"

Buffy's eyes widened. She had no idea where Julian had come up with the idea that she didn't like to cook. It wasn't true exactly. She just didn't like to cook for two. Years earlier, when she was first married, she had envisioned a house full of children that didn't materialize. Neither did happily ever after. "I like to cook."

"But you don't cook like Grandma does."

"Julian, nobody cooks as good as Grandma does. She's been cooking more years than you and I have been alive. Now, finish up so we can leave."

As Julian raced off to meet his teammates, Buffy stayed behind in the car. She pulled out her cell phone and called her brother.

"Hey, Buff, what's happening?"

"Nothing much," she admitted. "I just dropped Julian off for his game."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Marco, I never know when you're working. You change shifts like I change my underwear. And I'll bet you're working now."

"Nope. Just got home. I'm gonna change my clothes and come watch my Godson play ball."

"Ok, so I'll see you in a few, but I need some info."

"Shoot."

"Seriously? You say shoot when you're CPD?"

"Only for you Gracia Margaret."

She pounded the steering wheel. She hated her given name. Buffy wasn't much better, but it was a hell of a lot better than Grace Margaret. "Some day I am going to pound the shit out of you," she said evenly.

Marco laughed. "That'll be the day, little sis. Anyway, what can I help you with?"

"Detective Antonio Dawson."

"'Tonio? What about him?"

"What district?"

"The 2-1. Intelligence Unit. Why?"

She sighed. Marco would find out sooner or later, so she decided to play it straight. "Because I might have a date with him on Friday night."

"Might? What do you mean might?"

"Well, I need to find a sitter, and I need to know I'm not going to go out with an ax murderer or something."

"'Tonio's good police. You don't need to worry about him being an ax murderer. Now if you need a sitter, call Mama."

"Not a good idea. She'll have us married by the end of the night."

Marco laughed. "True. But you won't have to pay her and you know he'll be safe and fed well."

"True," she agreed.

"So I'll see you in a few."

"Ok. Be careful."

"Always."

Buffy disconnected the call and slipped her phone in her pocket. She got out of the car and walked over to the bleachers. She would call the 21st Precinct later. She wanted to concentrate on Julian's baseball game.