Page 46 of Miss Belief

“No, I didn’t mean—”

He wasn’t letting it go. “Yes you did, and it’s only us. Tell me the truth.”

“Haven’t we had enough sharing for the evening?” Imelda had been quite sufficient for me.

“All right, I’ll guess. You lived in foster care in an affluent area, which meant you probably didn’t fit in.”

I should’ve expected his perception.

“Let’s just say ill-fitting, hand-me-down clothes coupled with my red hair and pale skin made me an easy target for mean girls in school.”

He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Yet look at you now. Stunning and confident.”

“Dressed in designer clothes.” Lest he forget I was still a poor girl without the proper wardrobe for the weekend.

He shook his head. “You could be wearing anything and remain the sexiest woman in the room.”

His unexpected compliment added to my perpetual emotional confusion. There was no one around. No reason for him to say these words unless he’d wanted to. As I was about to say something to change the subject, I watched him stiffen and followed his gaze.

Walking toward us was an attractive-looking, older woman dressed to impress in a gorgeous silver cocktail dress.

“Who is she?”

“My mother.”

Damn. How could two words be so utterly terrifying? Maybe it was because I had little experience dealing with parents. I’d never known my father, and my mother wasn’t the type to actually give a shit. My foster parents had only been in the picture for a few months and had been overwhelmed with other kids. And my high school boyfriend had been too ashamed of me to ever introduce me to his rich parents.

Knowing it was pointless to let old insecurities threaten my mood, I silenced them.

“You meant it when you said you’re not close with your mom, right?” I needed a quick confirmation since the first impressions I gave were normally for shit. This pending meeting warranted a big swig of my drink.

“No, I’m not. But she’s never noticed. Here she comes. Act like you’re in love with me.”

“Sex on the Beach” suddenly became “Sex Stuck in my Throat” as I started to cough uncontrollably.

“Jesus, you okay?” Reid asked, concern etched on his face as he pounded me on the back.

“Yep. God, this is embarrassing.” A few people were staring, and my eyes were watering, most likely creating a hot mess of my mascara.

But he only grinned, taking my hand and kissing the inside of the wrist in a surprisingly tender gesture. “That should teach you to take things slower. Enjoy the taste a little more before swallowing.”

I stared at him, his words having sparked an unexpected pang of lust. “Wh-what?”

He rolled his eyes, his smirk firmly in place. “Get your mind out of the gutter. And don’t go and choke to death the first night. It would be embarrassing for us both. Also, incoming.”

Shit. Yes it was. Mrs. Maxwell in the flesh.

“Darling, it’s been forever.”

She kissed her son on both cheeks in a fancy greeting I’d only ever seen in movies.

“Hello, Mother.”

Her hand held his chin. “The breakup doesn’t look good on you, my boy. But nothing a good spa day and a reconciliation can’t cure.”

He sighed, stepping out of her touch. “On the contrary, I’ve never felt better. Mother, this is my girlfriend, Teagan Larson. Teagan, this is my mother, Clarissa Maxwell.”

I was about to say it was nice to meet her too, but she pretended I didn’t exist, focusing solely on Reid. “I prefer to go by my maiden name these days, Clarissa Chandler.”