There are no coincidences. Her bud says this often. Not quite as often as the president says no quid pro quo, but often enough that perhaps the idea is the same, that if he says it often enough, she will believe it too. She knows their situation is sweet. She knows that the timing worked out nicely for her. Having company, having his specific company and the kid’s specific company, is turning out to be vastly better than having only her own company. She is learning that she is a person who likes being in the company of others more than she likes not having the company of others. She works in solitude. She doesn’t go to an office, doesn’t have that kind of camaraderie (twice a year for ten days with her colleagues, major camaraderie, yes, the other 345 days of the year, no camaraderie), she liked her husband, she liked talking to him and not talking to him, she liked his particular presence. Her bud says, often, The timing is too perfect to be a coincidence. You ended up in the city, in this apartment, right when I got to the city and needed a place to stay. She points out that he can afford his own place, he points out that her point is a point toward his point. You and me and my kid are all helping each other here. It’s not about rent. This is about all of us. You’re helping her so much. I’m so grateful to you. Helping his kid is not a thing she has to try to do, it’s a thing that just is. She loves the kid. You help people you love when they need you. Her bud helps her all the time. He listens good and holds her hand when she cries, which is still a daily occurrence, and he makes her laugh, and he watches rom-coms and award shows with her and he takes her to the movies and he makes her dinner and he buys her bagels and ice cream. Every day.