Anyway, I digress.
Eventually, Gabe gave up trying to talk me out of helping Gabrielle clean the house. Saying, if cleaning the house made me happy, then knock myself out. And, it was one day while Gabrielle and I was cleaning the second floor that I learned Gabe was bilingual.
“Oh my goodness, he speaks Spanish?” I asked Gabrielle who just casually mentioned it as if it was no big deal. She turned to look at me from where she was running the dust broom over the floor.
“Fluently, you didn't know that?”
I shook my head. “No, I had no idea.”
She got this little devious look on her face. “Watch this.” She said gesturing for me to follow her.
When we got to his office door, she knocked twice before she entered.
“Don't mind us. We just came to do a little dusting.” She said as she sailed in and began to dust his bookshelf.
Gabe sat at his desk multitasking. On the large screen in front of him was the stock market, which the man watched all the time as if it was a good movie. He was speaking on the phone while at the same time typing on his computer. After he hung up, he grunted at us without looking away from what he was typing.
I wiped invisible dust from the shelf, keeping my eye on Gabrielle who leaned down to pick up the wastebasket by Gabe's feet. She said something to him in Spanish. Still without looking up, he nodded. After she changed the little bag in the garbage, instead of putting it down, she held it out to him and said something else in Spanish.
Her constant interruption must have irritated him because he looked up and snapped at her in full Spanish. My mouth dropped. I couldn't believe it. Clapping my hands together, I celebrated like I had just found twenty dollars.
He turned around and looked at me as if I had gone lame.
“What the hell are you two up to?” He grumbled.
“You speak Spanish!” I cried running around his desk throwing myself in his lap. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him tight.
“Yas, you do know I'm Puerto Rican, right?” His whispered question caused me to laugh.
“Of course, I do silly. I just didn't know you were a Spanish speaking Puerto Rican.”
He looked up at his mother puzzled, and she just shrugged and kept on cleaning. Later that night after an extraordinary love making session, Gabriel explained to me that his dad's girlfriend, who was also Puerto Rican, and was around when he was a young boy, felt it was important for him to be in touch with that side of his heritage. So, she taught him.
One of the things I can say I definitely learned about my husband over this time was that he is a complex man with many layers. At first sight, one sees the long braids, Timberland boots, designer jeans, t-shirts, gold watch, and think— thug. Open and shut case.
You'll then see the bruises on his knuckles and the scars on his body and think, dangerous thug. Then you'll talk to him a bit and realize that he’s highly intelligent. He’d been to some of the best schools and has several degrees. So then you'd think, educated dangerous thug.
But even that doesn’t begin to sum him up; because he's also an established businessman with a Fortune 500 company that is swiftly becoming a leader in its field. You see, all of that I just mention is only the surface level of Gabriel Calhoun.
Beyond all of that, you’ll find a man that is capable of great kindness and generosity, who’s loyal to the point of death. Sure, he has anger issues, but that’s due to the disappointments and the injustices that occurred in his life.
However, it was the level underneath that which fascinated me most. The level on which we discover that Gabriel is a real life super human. A couple days later, I pulled a little prank on him, and I thought I had seen all he was capable of in his reaction.
It was one of those days I had been especially bored. Gabrielle had gone out to run errands. There was nothing else to clean, nothing else to bake. So, I had gone into his office with him to read a book quietly on his couch while he worked.
Did I mention how hard of a worker he was? The man was on both his office and cell phone while looking through files, signing documents and keeping a close eye on his TV screen.
Goodness, I think it’s safe to say he is a bit of a workaholic. He goes into his office after breakfast and didn't leave till dinner time every day.
Anyway, I was sitting there on the couch a little peeved that he was ignoring me. So, I got up and took a little tour around his office. I threw the ball in the hoop a couple of times. I tried to spark up a conversation, but all his responses were short, one word answers. I had a cup of water, and I don't know what came over me, but I just poured it in his lap.
When he looked up at me with startled amazement, I panicked and ran out his office. Seconds later, I heard his chair move. When I looked back, I squeaked because he was right behind me. I didn't make it far before he scooped me up in his arms and kept on running.
“You should’ve told me you wanted to play with water sweetheart!”
“Gabe, what are you doing?” I yelled, holding on to his shoulders for dear life.
He was moving fast, running for the open doors at the other end of the hall that let out to a small balcony that overlooked the pool area.
A scream froze in my throat. Without slowing down a
