I feel that same goofy smile spreading across my face again. Total cringe, but I dated for six years. I earned it

The house is quiet. Toby Berger leans back on the striped chaise and breathes in the silence. She isn’t used to this. This is something she experienced 40 years ago, and remembers enjoying, like a vague memory of a childhood treat she hasn’t had a chance to try ever since. Until now.

Aryeh comes through the door, whistling. He deposits his tallis bag on the piano, and places a chai latte, Avenue Cafe’s best, on the oak stand next to her.

“The house is quiet,” she says to him.

He laughs. “I know. I love it.”

She makes a brachah, takes a deep sip. “You’ve always loved it. You’ve been an old man since you were 23,” she says smiling.

It had always been Aryeh retreating to his study when things got too loud, while Toby had reveled in the class parties and GO songs and late-night dating DMCs. She’d enjoyed decorating the house for each kallah, all eight of them, and the vorts and the bridal showers and the endless shopping.

But the house had quieted down after Bayla’s wedding six months ago. Her baby was living on the other end of town now with sweet but absentminded Michoel — only Hashem could make such a shidduch — and she and Aryeh were finally alone. And to her surprise, Toby was enjoying it very, very much.

Aryeh runs a finger through his thick white hair, and his yarmulke slides forward. He may have been an old man since 23, but at 63, he still resembles the young yeshivah bochur she once knew, albeit slightly rounder and with more eye creases. Toby smiles at the thought. She places the empty cup back on the side table, makes a brachah acharonah and closes her eyes.

“What are you doing?” Aryeh asks, slightly alarmed.

“Taking a nap,” she murmurs, positioning her face to better catch the sunbeam filtering in through the French picture window. Perfect. She can’t help the smile that drifts across her face.

“The house is quiet. And why not?”