The way she said it made me wonder if she was being sarcastic. There was a moment of silence between us, and it felt unexpectedly intimate. Although we were in a restaurant with plenty of other people around, it suddenly felt as if we were alone. Her eyes were brown with flecks of green in them.

I took a breath. “Mel told me you used to be in a band?”

“Yeah.”

“What made you decide to . . . go solo?”

Steph glanced over at the bar, where Lisa and Mel were still waiting for their drinks. “It just wasn’t working out. The other band members were in San Francisco, and I was up here, and there was just too much driving involved. I couldn’t fit it around my job and stuff. I’m trying the solo thing to see if it works better.”

Her answer sounded mechanical, like a story she was telling herself rather than the truth. “How do you think it’s going so far?” I asked.

She fidgeted with her napkin-wrapped flatware. “I don’t know. I’ve only done a couple open mics.”

“I’d love to hear more of your stuff.”

“Yeah?” Steph didn’t seem to believe me.

“Absolutely. You’re really talented.”

She smiled almost shyly, and a buzz went through me.

“Thanks,” she said. “It’s just hard to find the time to focus on my music.”

“You have to make the music your priority, or you won’t make it.” I spoke before I knew what I was saying, and as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I froze. My mom had said that to me. I was visiting her in New York, and we’d had a fight. I was suddenly back in my mom’s concrete-and-stainless-steel kitchen with the crushing realization that I was not her priority.

“Priorities can be complicated,” Steph was saying.

I blinked. She was picking at the edge of the menu, a slight furrow developing on her forehead.

And then the server plunked down two glasses of ice water on the table between us. “Sorry about the wait,” she said. “Is it just the two of you?”

The sounds of the restaurant seemed to swell in my ears. I had almost forgotten what we were here for.

“There’s four of us,” Steph was saying. “They’re at the bar, but I know what they want.” Steph gave her Lisa’s and Mel’s orders, then asked for a Marin burger and Diet Coke for herself.

When it was my turn, I realized I hadn’t decided what to get, so I said, “I’ll have the same.”

After the server left, I looked at the bar, where Mel and Lisa were partially hidden behind a group of guys in Giants shirts. “How did you and Lisa meet?” I asked.