Page 91 of Renegade

I pasted a smile onto my face and extended my hand up to hers, immediately backpedaling. “Lauren. Pleasure to meet you.”

She gave me a look of disgust as if I’d just offered her a live snake and kept her hand by her side. “What have you done to yourself?” She asked as she gestured toward the bloody washcloth. I didn’t miss the way her nose turned up either.

I slowly got back to my feet and immediately had to grip onto the counter as a wave of dizziness overtook me. “Ooh, it’s like the floor is wobbly right here.”

Sensing that she was about to witness me faint, Betsy sprang into action, grabbing my arm and leading me over to sit on the edge of the tub. She knelt down in front of me. “Let me see it.”

Okay, this was not how I saw tonight going. I also wasn’t expecting to meet my boyfriend’s mother and have her face all up in my ‘business’ within five minutes.

I reluctantly spread my legs and dropped the washcloth, fighting the flush that was creeping up my neck.

Betsy turned back to her purse and retrieved a small first aid kit. She calmly removed a pair of latex gloves and put them on before investigating the source of the blood.

I kept my gaze averted and focused on the ceiling while simultaneously praying for the tub to swallow me whole.

“You tore the lip with the wax. You know you’re not supposed to use it there, right? It’s just for the bikini area.” Her voice held that tone that only parents seem to be able to master.

I nodded. “I thought that was more of a guideline. How in the hell am I supposed to get all the hair off then?”

Her head popped up and she frowned. “Go to a professional.” Looking back down, she added, “I’ve got some steri-strips that I’ll put on it, but if that doesn’t work, then you’ll probably need to go in for stitches.”

I shook my head. “Absolutely not. I would rather bleed to death on his bathroom floor.”

She pulled a thin tube from the kit and handed it to me. “That’s a bit dramatic, wouldn’t you say? Apply this antibiotic cream three times a day and keep the area clean.”

I marveled at her. “Are you a doctor?”

She stripped the gloves off and tossed them into the trashcan with a laugh. “No, just a mom. All moms know these things.”

Apparently not all moms. Monica certainly never had a first aid kit in her purse. Knowing her, she probably didn’t even know where the damn thing was located.

Seeing that I was almost put back together, I began the arduous task of cleaning up the floor while she watched me. I was still naked from the waist down, but didn’t see the point to covering up at this point.

“Can we make a pact to never speak of this to Mike?” I asked once the last spot of blood was removed.

Since I wasn’t able to keep my modesty intact, the least she could do was help me keep this secret.

Betsy pursed her lips. “Well, that depends, Lana.”

I sighed, “It’s Lauren.”

She smiled. “I don’t think it really matters, does it? Anyway, I just came into town for my son’s birthday and I got us a reservation for two at his favorite steakhouse.”

Suddenly feeling completely exposed, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist before sitting back down on the edge of the tub. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you’re not going to change that to three, right?”

“No. Now, you can leave and we’ll pretend like this whole thing never happened. If you stay, he’ll know about it within five minutes of hitting that door, along with my suspicion that you might have an STD. Are we clear, Lydia?” Betsy might’ve been beautiful were it not for the pinched expression she seemed to permanently have etched on her face. It was as if she’d been sucking on lemons since birth.

She thought I was a slut. The thought made my face go numb. I took in the half empty bottle of wine on the counter and the used wax strips in the trashcan. And here I was, perched half-naked on the tub. None of it painted me in the best light.

It wasn’t worth it.

I could’ve stayed and argued my way out of it, but my ego was bruised. It didn’t matter that I’d only ever been with her son, Betsy saw me as a whore.

This was why I’d held onto my virginity.

I stalked past her and into the bedroom where I began gathering my things. She followed me in and watched with crossed arms, probably making sure I didn’t steal anything. “You know,” I turned back to her, “I’m not what you think I am. I’ve been with your son since June and I love him. I know that might be hard for you to understand, but we make each other happy.”

“And does he love you too?”

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