“It’s delicious,” I say. “Especially the avocado. You can have all the chicken ones.”

“You sure? I could eat twenty of them.”

I laugh. “Definitely.”

The sun sets as we chat, turning the sky a myriad of bright oranges, reds, and pinks, and I’m captivated by the beauty and serenity of it.

“We used to eat dinner out here a lot just to enjoy the sun set.”

“I can see why. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sky look so pretty.” I suddenly have an unexpected urge to paint it. Capture all those colors, the memory of this day, on canvas forever.

“Kenzi always jokes with me that our house is blocking her view of the sunset now.”

“Have they always lived across the street?”

He takes a potato skin from the plate and spreads a thin coat of sour cream over it with a small knife. I smile at how he even eats thoughtfully and meticulously.

“No, Tor used to live a few miles away in town. Then Kenzi moved in with him when they got married. Years ago, he was going through a rough time financially after his father passed away, and he had to take over his dad’s motorcycle shop. I paid his mortgage on his house, and then he paid me every month, no interest.” He takes a bite, swallows, and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I did the same for them with the house across the street. It went up for sale earlier in the year, right before you woke up, actually. I thought it would be nice to have them close.”

“Wow. Are you that generous with all your friends?”

“Not like I am with Tor. He’s always been like a brother to me. He kinda got a raw deal in life.”

“How so?”

“He was originally part of our band when we first started out. He helped write most of the early songs. Just when we got our big break, his dad passed away suddenly. Tor had to quit the band to take over his dad’s business and help take care of his family. He basically watched us become famous and live our dream, and he was stuck here where he really didn’t want to be.”

“That’s awful. I don’t think I realized he was part of your band.”

“It’s always bothered me. He works his ass off—way too much to constantly be struggling with money. He was always there for us… and for Kenzi. He lived with us right after we graduated high school in a small apartment we had. He helped us take care of her. You used to tease us that it was like you had two husbands.”

I put my fork down and try to envision the three of us living together as eighteen year olds with a toddler. “Wasn’t that strange?”

“Not to us. We laughed about it. He was kinda like a brother to you too. But I guess other people didn’t understand how close we all were. People always wanted to assume something sketchy must be going on. Like they couldn’t accept that people could just love each other without it ever going any further to a place it shouldn’t go. It’s like they can’t comprehend the value of love and friendship.”

“I wish I could remember all these relationships and the closeness I had with people. I feel like Ember—I—was very lucky.”

“I think you’ll remember as time goes on. But, yeah, you were loved by all of us.”

The waiter makes another appearance and removes our plates, replacing them with wooden bowls of greens, veggies, and blue cheese crumbles.

“Salad too?” I say. “We’re getting the works.”

Asher smiles. “Save room for dessert. I think you’ll like it.”

I cut my salad into smaller bits. “Maybe in time I’ll feel…closer to Kenzi. I’m not ready to go to her house yet and see her so grown up.”

I still wish for the little girl in the photos. Days ago, I found a crib in the storage room of the lower level and stared at it until I felt dizzy. Sarah eventually found me, and we touched the maple wood together. It made me think of lullabies and baby powder, and I was overcome with a feeling of frustration and sorrow that the crib shouldn’t be down there.

“She understands,” he says. “We all do.”

I hope so.

“Did we go to college?”

“No. I started working full time right after we graduated, doing landscaping, and you had a part-time job at a bookstore in town.”

This information surprises me. “Why didn’t I go to college?”

“You didn’t want to. You were totally focused on the baby and the band.”

I wonder why I didn’t go to college and earn a degree. For some reason, that’s sticking in my brain. Maybe it’s something my parents wanted me to do?

“Are you sure I wanted to be in a rock band enough to forego an education and a decent future?”