“Are you sure? I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz.” I’m rambling, but I can’t seem to stop. “Because if you’re okay, then I’m going to…” I glance at the row of stalls, unable to utter the wordpeein front of this woman.
“By all means, don’t let me stop you,” she says, totally unfazed.
Talk about cool, calm, and collected.
It’s probably a necessity when you’re married to a US senator.
Or, you know, when you’re responsible for raising a hellion like Cooper.
I walk stiffly to the first stall, clenching my pelvic muscles for all I’m worth, and lock myself inside.
It takes all of two seconds to pull down my tights and underwear, but when I relax my body, nothing happens.
I’ve never had a shy bladder, but apparently today is going to be a day of firsts.
First time in Philadelphia.
First time meeting a senator.
First time I couldn’t freaking pee because Cooper’s super sweet mom is still out there and I can’t bear the thought of her listening, even though I know it’s the most natural thing in the world.
FML.
My bladder is going to burst. Is that even a thing?
It’s about to be.
The sound of running water echoes through the marble bathroom, and I practically sob with relief.
I quickly take care of business and when I exit the stall, Mrs. DeLaurentis shuts off the faucet.
She dries her hands on a thick towel and drops it in a basket under the sink as I wash my hands. My gaze slides to the left and I study her reflection in the mirror.
It’s easy to see where Cooper gets his good looks. His mother has the same honey-blond hair, though hers is pulled back in a smooth chignon, and her eyes are such a startling shade of blue, it’s hard to believe she’s not wearing contacts. Even her suit is impressive, wrinkle free and tailored to her slender frame in a way that’s both feminine and professional.
The woman is everything I’m not. Polished. Patient.Perfect.
I have no idea why she’s still here, and I’m not about to ask.
Not after I just nailed her in the face with a door.
Just be cool.
“It really is so nice to meet a friend of Cooper’s,” she says, turning to me as I dry my hands. “He hasn’t had a girlfriend since he was in the sixth grade, if you can believe it. Too busy with football.”
Crap. Did she just say girlfriend?
Talk about missing the mark.
“Cooper and I are just friends.” Friends who screw like rabbits. And make lame Star Wars jokes. But we’re definitely not a couple. “I know everyone thinks men and women can’t be just friends, but Cooper and I make it work.”
For the love of all that is holy, stop talking.
“We’re like peanut butter and jelly. Milk and cookies. Tacos and cheese.”
Condoms and lube.
I bite down on the inside of my lip before any more nonsense can slip out.
