Page 18 of Pregnancy Scandal
She looked at me like she was considering the idea. “I still want more rum.”
“There’s rum at your place.” I nodded. The last time she got drunk like this, she thought it was a good idea to dance on top of some guy’s car. Then she fell off and broke her collarbone. That was back in college. She hadn’t gotten wasted like that since.
“Yes, Gilly, great idea. There’s the Spanish rum Grandpa brought back from his vacation. Let’s go have some.”
I groaned inwardly. As a rule, I didn’t have anything that man gave me. Food nor drink. It was guaranteed to be some fucked-up shit he called the good stuff straight from the source. As if the other stuff we all had was fake. If it would get her to come with me though, I’d agree.
When we got to hers, I’d just look for something else.
“Yes, let’s have that,” I agreed with a nod.
* * *
A taxi ride from hell later, and we were at her place.
If Abby wasn’t hanging her head out the window like an Irish Setter and singing her heart out along with the radio, she was sitting in my lap straddling me with her arms around my neck like we did that all the time.
By the time we pulled up in front of her house, I had to pick her out of the car and carry her in. When I found myself stumbling, I knew the drink I’d had was taking effect on me. What I needed was sleep. Sleep it off, and then I knew tomorrow would come the dreaded Sunday morning hangover.
Abby circled her arms around me and nuzzled her face against mine.
“Have I ever told you how much I love your beard, and I love your little lip ring too. You make it look cool and sexy,” she cooed in my ear.
“Abby, you hate my lip ring. You said I looked like a pirate, and not a very good one either.”
She giggled, and I set her down as we went through the door.
“I lied, Captain Gilly.” She laughed and headed to the kitchen.
I followed her and took her hand as we walked in.
“Abby, I think you should go to bed. How about we drink tomorrow? Looks like we got the place to ourselves. We could have a breakfast party.”
She smiled and ran a hand over my chest. It was a little like how Giselle had done it, but when Abby did it, I actually felt something different.
“I heard the word ‘bed’ and thought of sex again. Silly me.” She laughed. “Got to get my mind right out of the gutter. Don’t worry, come Monday, this here girl’s heading right down to Santa Monica Boulevard to the clinic. I’m going to be a sperm bank mama. I get to pick, after all. You were so right, and who cares if they do whatever they do to me? I reckon they use a turkey base and shove it right up my ass.” She started laughing uncontrollably. “Not my ass, I mean… no, not there. The other place.”
I stared at her. This was the part where I was supposed to laugh like she was, but it wasn’t funny. The wealth of sadness in her eyes was evident.
“Abby, no.”
She pouted and stepped away from me. “Yes. I’m doing it.” She continued to the cupboard, opened it, and grabbed a bottle of rum with a Spanish flag on it. There was one of those old ships on the logo, and it looked like the good stuff indeed.
I watched her wobble around to the counter to grab two glasses from the cupboard above. She poured the rum in each of them and held out a glass to me.
“I can’t have any more, babe.” No more drinks, or else that would be me gone. I’d gone past my limit already, and I had a feeling that losing my mind with her in my present state would turn out worse than me getting a tattoo.
She frowned. “You won’t sleep with me, and you won’t drink with me. What happened to us?”
She said that as simply as if she were talking about something trivial, like I disagreed with something she’d bought.
I sighed and rolled my eyes at her.
“Abby, we need to talk about that.” We should because we hadn’t and needed to. I hated leaving anything out in the open with her, and I hated that this couldn’t have been a worst time to talk.
Her drunk out of her mind, and me on the verge of falling over.
She took the bottle and drank from it, then winced like she’d tasted something terrible. I didn’t know anyone besides her grandfather to drink rum straight up like that.
