Rum Punch Regrets by Anne Kemp Read Free Book Online Page A

sand, not really looking back to see if Abby was joining him. She felt her legs moving a little faster beneath her in an effort to keep up.
    “So,” Abby began as she was fumbling to get her legs under the picnic table without falling over in the dark, “you sound like you’re, ummm . . . British?”
    Even though it was dark, Abby felt the blank, irritated look on the other side of the table.
    “My mum is from London. So, yes. That makes me British.”
    “Ah.” Abby smiled and tried to emit warmth to relax Ben’s rigid body.
    “Abby, I get it, okay? Maria told me Leigh is selling the place and she needs your help, but having you stay with me when I need to work my hardest is just crazy. The last thing I need is distraction. I’m used to living alone.”
    “Ben, don’t you feel like you might just be acting a touch . . . overdramatic?” Abby asked as gently as she could.
    “Overdramatic? There’s a woman I don’t know sleeping in my living room and I’m being called overdramatic?”
    “Again, Ben, the over-the-top upset you seem to be feeling is really a little bit, too . . . I don’t know. Maybe diva-ish? The way I see it, me and you? We have got to find a way to get along really quickly. Please. No drama, no irritation. And . . . ”
    Abby stopped short here to hold her hand in the air and close her eyes for a minute. Oh god. The spins. No, no, no . . . She let out a small drunken hiccup and then nodded and kept on going.
    “Where was I? Oh. No drama. I don’t want to be the source of any kind of anxiety. Look. You need to finish school, and I need to help with this damn house and then go back home. Get a job and rediscover my love of air conditioning. Feel me?”
    Abby couldn’t see his face clearly, but there seemed to be a smile beginning to play on Ben’s lips as he listened to her drunken ramble. Abby’s gift for accidentally entertaining people was one that came in handy for her in moments like these; she could only hope that his apparent amusement meant she was starting to win him over.
    “So, Ben. I propose that you and I have what they call in the South a ‘come-to-Jesus meeting,’ where we sit together and lay out our needs and expectations for the other person, so we can make sure that we get what we need from this situation. Cool?”
    Ben watched Abby take a swig from her drink and sway just a little on the picnic bench.
    “Abby, you don’t drink a lot, do you?”
    Abby slammed her cup to the table and giggled at the loud bang it made. “I thought that was going to be quieter. No, I don’t drink a lot at all. Why?”
    It was at this moment Abby felt her world getting woozy, and she realized the spinning was not slowing down. Oh God . . . stop the ride. Stop it. It was like being on that damn plane, except this time . . .
    Abby had about five seconds to get off the picnic table and get to the railing so she could set her drinks free into the Caribbean, so to speak. As she struggled to get up from the bench, her legs got twisted under her and she fell backward, landing with a thud so loud that Miss C., Cutty, and Ziggy all jumped up to race over and help her. Abby grabbed her lips to hold them together with one hand, pinching them tightly in an effort to keep any vomit back, and used the other to hold herself steady as she worked her way back up to the table with Ben helping to hoist her up.
    As soon as she regained solid footing she paused, feeling that the pukey moment had passed. And she was so wrong. As she relaxed and pulled her hand off her mouth, her stomach made another flip-flop and everything inside it began to make its way out. She turned her head in just enough time to offer up her consumed beverages to the sea. Abby was not a quiet puker. As she threw up and moaned at the same time, her new island family all stood at the picnic table trying not to laugh at her misfortune.
    When she was done, Miss C. made her way over and led Abby by the arm away from the deck. She guided