He waited for the forthcoming, “Isn’t it?” but there was only silence on the other end of the line. Which was strange because Ma was Daddy’s biggest fan.

He tried to measure the space with his eyes. If the picture frame they’d bought the other day for their blown-up wedding photo was 24 inches wide and this window looked to be about one and a half the width of the photo….

“Maybe use a tape measure?” Estee suggested.

Yonah shook his head, mouth filled with nails. “’Ont ’eed to. Got it.”

He thought he heard her sigh but couldn’t be sure. The step ladder was rickety, left behind by a previous tenant, no doubt.

“Careful!” Estee cautioned. “Omigosh, Yonah, careful!”

He grinned at her and plucked a nail out of his mouth. He hammered in the curtain bracket and then stood back.

“Perfect.”

Estee grinned up at him. “Impressive. Between your spatial relations talent and your Pirchei record, we really wasted weeks of dating.”

He jumped off the ladder, eliciting a gasp.

“All those expensive lobby Sprites were a waste of money? Shame.”

They smiled at each other. Estee gathered up the curtains they’d chosen together, which was funny, because if you’d asked Yonah Rosen two months ago if he had strong opinions about living room curtains, he would have asked you what exactly you were vaping.

But for some reason, in the store with Estee, discussing couch colors and rug patterns, it had felt very important.

He filed away this realization for a conversation with his rebbi. Maybe he needed to review the guidelines of bittul Torah? In the meantime, though, he hung the curtains on the perfectly aligned curtain rod, and stood back to admire how the sheer cream really made the rug pop.

Later, after a delicious dinner of root vegetable salad — apparently, Estee hadn’t realized how much he hates beets — zucchini soup, chicken stir fry, French fries, and sorbet, he pulled out the ironing board.

“Est, you need anything ironed?”