Her husband rolled his eyes, but wiped his mouth with a napkin, cleared his throat, and obediently said, “Buenos tardes, mi esposa bonita.” Ana María and Isabel snorted in unison, but Gabby nodded approvingly and then gestured with her hands for him to continue. With a long-suffering sigh, he slowly enunciated, “¿Cómo estuvo su día?” “Estuvo bien, cariño,” she whispered, her voice cracking as love and affection ballooned in her breast. He always tried so hard for her. For her sisters. Because that was the kind of man he was.
