Anna's POV
I was drifting into sleep when my phone's shrill ring cut through the darkness. An unknown number flashed across the screen. Frowning, I declined the call and set the phone down. Moments later, it rang again— same number. With an irritated sigh, I answered.
"Hello, are you Mrs. Simpson? Your husband is very intoxicated, and we need someone to pick him up," a polite male voice spoke.
"Jack Simpson?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbow, a wave of annoyance washing over me.
Before the man could respond, Jack's voice boomed through the speaker:
"ANNA SHAW, YOU HEARTLESS WOMAN!"
I jerked the phone away from my ear, his drunken bellowing so loud I could picture him swaying on his feet. In the background, Calvin or Luke-I couldn't tell which-was trying to calm him down.
"Don't bother asking me to pick him up," I told the server coolly. "T'll text you the Simpson family address. Call some drivers to take all three drunk men there."
