I Spilled Coffee All Over My Boss's Expensive Blouse and Lied About It

So you know how I'm a barista at this cute little coffee shop in the middle of downtown? Yeah, it’s my first job after finishing college last year. Every day is so hectic but also kind of fun, meeting new people, getting used to the rhythm of serving customers, that sort of thing. One of our regulars is this really nice lady who owns a local florist shop nearby. She comes in every morning around 9 and we always chat for a bit before she orders her coffee. Her name is Mary but everyone calls her Miss M since she’s been coming to the shop since it first opened five years ago when I was still in high school and working part-time here after school. Anyway, one day I had this major mix-up with some order numbers and got really flustered, misspelled a name on a drink cup and then accidentally spilled hot water while trying to fix it. In the chaos of that moment, I accidentally knocked over a pitcher filled with coffee right onto Miss M’s blouse as she was leaving for her day. It totally drenched her and splattered all over my countertop too. Oh my God, everyone just stared at me in shock. The first thing I did was try to help clean up, but Miss M was so embarrassed about getting coffee on herself that she rushed off without saying goodbye. And for some reason, instead of being honest about the accident right away, which is what I should have done, I ended up making a huge mistake, telling our manager it was an accident that happened in back when no one else was around to see it. Of course, Miss M came into the shop later that day with stains all over her blouse. She asked if anyone had seen me spill coffee on her earlier and my face turned beet red. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her what really happened even then because I felt so stupid already for getting flustered and lying in the first place. Instead, I just stammered an apology and tried to offer a free drink or something as compensation. It’s been two weeks since this happened and every time I see Miss M walk through the door, I feel like everyone can read my thoughts: ‘Oh no, it's happening again, she's going to ask about her blouse, ’ This is such a silly thing for me to worry so much over but I hate myself for lying. Maybe someday I’ll have the courage to just tell Miss M what really happened and say sorry properly.