“Two weeks.”

“Sure we do.”

I put two slices of bread in the toaster, because it was eight in the morning and she hadn’t eaten.

“Nobody’s friend has a baby at the exact minute you’ve been praying for one,” she said.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

The toast came up.

I buttered it and set it in front of her, and she ate half a slice standing at my counter like it was a job she had been given.