Chapter 38 What’s His Name?
Anne glanced at the clock on the wall; it was already 2:30 AM.
Her parents were probably fast asleep by now, and she didn’t want to worry them by making a late-night trip to the police station. After wrestling with her thoughts for a moment, she decided to call her husband, Dante.
The phone rang a few times before he picked up. The background noise was chaotic, filled with the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses, as if he were at a poker game. Anne could even hear a woman’s voice in the mix.
“What’s up?” Dante’s tone was flat, lacking any warmth.
Anne skipped the pleasantries, her voice icy. “Come pick me up at the police station.”
There was a brief pause, and then Dante’s voice, laced with sarcasm, cut through the noise. “In trouble, huh? You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Anne.”
She bit her lip, sensing his impatience.
What am I doing, calling him? she thought, frustration bubbling up inside her.
Anne was about to hang up when Dante’s voice broke through again. “Alright, I’ll come get you. But first, you owe me a favor.”
Anne tightened her grip on the phone, her heart racing. “What favor?”
“Give me a kid.”
Anne was momentarily speechless.
“What? We’re about to get a divorce! Why would I have a kid now? Are you out of your mind?”
She could tell he was just trying to mess with her.
Their marriage had always been a business arrangement, a union forged under family pressure, and he had never truly been hers. For two long years, Anne had waited in vain for a spark that never came, only to face the harsh reality that Dante would never love her. When she finally suggested divorce, he had agreed, and they were in the process of figuring out the details.
And now he wants me to have a child? It’s absurd, she thought.
It was clear that Dante was unwilling to come to the police station to bail her out.
“Seriously, Anne? If we’re getting divorced, why should I bail you out?”
Before Anne could respond, a series of beeping sounds filled the air. He had hung up on her.
Staring at her phone in disbelief, she felt a wave of frustration wash over her.
Tears pricked at her eyes as Anne turned to Meryl, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace.
“Well, you saw that. Dante’s not coming.”
Meryl wrapped her arm around Anne’s shoulders, her heart aching for her friend.
“I’m sorry, Meryl. But it looks like we’ll have to rely on your husband for this bail situation.”
Meryl bit her lip, contemplating. “I wonder if Chandler is even awake at this hour. It’s our wedding night, and I’m asking him to come to the police station to bail us out… How melodramatic. What would he think of me?”
After a moment’s hesitation, she dialed Chandler’s number. The phone connected almost instantly, catching her off guard. His deep, resonant voice came through the receiver, tinged with urgency. “What’s going on? You’ve been gone too long.”
Meryl quickly filled him in on the incident at the bar, omitting Dalton’s identity but mentioning that she had run into her ex-fiancé and things had escalated. Now, she needed bail.
“Just hang tight, I’m on my way.”
As she hung up, the sound of a revving engine reached her ears.
Waiting felt pointless, so Anne and Meryl began to chat to pass the time.
Anne said with a wry smile, “Well, this is quite the way to spend your wedding night. I can’t believe your husband isn’t even mad. He sounds so calm on the phone.”
Meryl nodded. Her husband did seem unusually composed.
Anne continued, “By the way, what’s his name? I should at least say hello when I meet him.”
Meryl replied, “Chandler Aniston.”
Anne raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute, another ‘Aniston’? Did you dig up the Aniston family’s ancestral grave in your past life or something? Why do you keep running into people with the same last name?”
After a brief pause, Anne’s eyes widened as she realized. “Hold on a second—did you just say your husband’s name is Chandler Aniston?”