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“How do you deal with it?” Emily asked, her curiosity finally winning after she had spent a long time taming it down. She looked over to her lunch companion and rolled her eyes as she watched Andy stuff another piece of bread in her already full mouth, her cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk.
“Deal with what?” Andy asked in between her chewing, which made Emily throw a napkin in her direction.
“Her. Amari. Miranda’s first assistant,” Emily stated in exasperation.
“First off, Amari has been promoted; she’s in the art department now,” Andy corrected. “What’s the sudden interest in her? Are there some rumors about another magazine poaching Amari?”
Emily stared at her with disbelief while Andy stared back, her brows furrowing at the continued silence between them.
“God, you really can’t hide a feeling,” Emily exclaimed, then she went on a rant that had no intention of letting Andy interrupt. “Did you know why I was so surprised when we got reunited at Dior?” She paused. “I was expecting Amari to be there with Miranda and Nigel.”
Emily raised her hand, stopping Andy from interrupting her.
“Miranda’s assistants are either the ones who quit or got fired,” Emily began. “Then there’s the Emily’s.” She gestured between the two of them. “Her biggest disappointment,” she pointed at Andy, then at herself. “And her Judas.”
She rolled her eyes mid-rant as Andy guffawed at her apt descriptions of them. “And there’s Amari Mari.”
“Andy, that woman touches Miranda. No one touches Miranda, but she does. She has also prevented HR from breathing down on Miranda’s neck several times because Miranda listens to her.”
Emily continued to list out her observations, her eyes narrowing as she watched Andy closely for any telltale signs of her jealousy. While Andy nodded along, humming in agreement, but never giving her own opinion.
“She stayed at Runway. All of Miranda’s assistants, saved for you and me – you left, I got pushed out, everyone else had moved on after their tenure. Amari got promoted; she was allowed to get near.”
Emily pursed her lips at Andy. who was now playing with the food on her plate.
“She’s an exception – There!”
“What?”
“Your jaw ticked just as it did when Miranda thought the one knocking on her hotel suite was Amari, and she was wondering whether she was human trafficked,” Emily said smugly, arms crossing, confidence oozing from her as she raised an eyebrow at Andy. “Miranda was concerned, she cares about her, she–”
“Miranda values competence. Keeping Amari near is practical. She’s valuable to the magazine,” Andy explained, but her voice lacked conviction. It was as if she were reading from a script she had prepared for this kind of situation.
But before Emily could push it, Andy switched up.
“Enough about me,” Andy said, and Emily’s eyes widened at the slip. “Tell me about the weekend you and the kids spent with Serena. This is what this unscheduled lunch was about, right?” She teased.
Emily turned to a bright shade of red, and Andy exhaled a breath of relief as her friend finally let the topic rest.
“Why the long face?” Andy asked, her tone was casual, but it still rendered the recipient of her question in shock and awe.
“How did you know it was me?” Jin, her former assistant, now a junior editor in her department, asked.
“I just knew.” Andy looked up from the draft she was editing and tilted her head at Jin, gesturing for her to come in and take a seat.
“You’re like Miranda in that sense, you know?”
Andy chuckled and shook her head, stretching out her hand for the drafts Jin was holding in hers, which she surrendered to Andy, who proceeded to edit them as soon as the papers landed on her desk. Meanwhile, Jin began chatting as per usual. Both of them had built this camaraderie during Jin’s stint as her assistant, and it has continued despite the changes in their respective positions in the department.
“It still sent chills down my bones how Miranda was fully aware that I was recording the board meeting in the cafeteria.”
Andy’s hand froze. The red pen she was holding hovered over the paper, then she looked up at Jin, who was still in the middle of recounting her story, unaware of the sudden tension stewing within Andy.
“I’m sorry – what did you mean by that?”
“Oh,” Jin exclaimed. “I forgot that I hadn’t told you about this, but apparently Miranda was aware of the whole espionage that we committed.”
Andy playfully raised her eyebrows at the confident claim of them as partners in crime. She nodded her head along and hummed at times, until a particular name was brought up.
“– Amari told me about it,” Jin finished and shot her an expectant look.
“Miranda told Amari that she knew what we were up to?” Andy clarified, her left hand momentarily balled into a fist before relaxing back at the top of the scattered articles on her desk.
“Yeah, apparently Amari still handles some stuff that Charlie is still adjusting to, and while she has fully moved on to her role in the art department, she doesn’t mind doing it when Miranda specifically requested her.”
“Huh, that’s new,” Andy mumbled, filing away the information for later.
“I mean, it’s all thanks to you,” Jin said, still oblivious to the storm her simple recounting had caused. “Amari’s the perfect assistant, even before you got here, but she’s more clinical. When you got here, you asked her lots of questions about Miranda. Like, does she still take her coffee the same way, or if she still drinks the same type of tea when she gets headaches in the middle of the day, or like does she still want that pastry from the quaint shop a few blocks down to accompany her coffee when she just got off from a board meeting have changed.”
Andy bit her lip as her fingers drummed against the top of her desk in an erratic beat while Jin continued.
“Oh! I remember that day when you took one look at Miranda from a mile away, then you turned to leave. You came back here in exactly under five minutes with two coffees in hand. You placed one on your desk while you brought one up with you, but you just hovered near her office until you spotted Amari, and instead of handing her the coffee, you told her to rush down to Starbucks and get Miranda one because she’s on a call with Irv. Then you gave the coffee on your desk to me and proceeded to drink the one you had in one go. I could still see the smoke coming from the small opening on the cup, but you drank as if it didn’t bother you at all.”
“I’ve always wondered about why you didn’t just hand the one you brought when it was clearly for her.” Jin finished, her eyes were glinting with curiosity, and Andy wondered how she should respond to it without giving too much away.
“It’s not my place to do so,” Was the quiet answer she gave. Jin, finally reading the sullen mood that had settled over them, switched to talk about the things she wanted to get across in her draft. Andy appreciated it and shot Jin a small smile before diving in to explain the comments and edits she had made so far with the junior editor’s article.
“I’m going to steal you away.”
Andy pointedly ignored the threat and continued typing on her laptop, which was unceremoniously closed right in front of her, leaving her no choice but to address the culprit responsible.
“Nigel,” her voice was cordial as she greeted her longtime friend, mentor, and father figure. She knew where this was heading, and she hadn't recovered enough of her faculties yet to face it properly.
“Six,” he exclaimed gleefully. “Come join me for lunch,” He tutted at her as she was about to utter her refusal and doubled down with, “my treat.”
She sighed in defeat and let Nigel drag her to the elevator. In hindsight, she should’ve insisted that she had a deadline to finish, so he would leave her alone for another thirty minutes or so because he could see right through her whenever she attempted subterfuge and easily clock what she was hiding. She really should’ve, if only to spare her heart from the sight that greeted them when the elevator doors opened.
There, in all her glory, was Miranda; impeccable and an unstoppable force that probably left a wreck in the board meeting she had just attended.
How did she know where exactly Miranda was? Well, she received an invite in her email to join her, but Andy was out of the office at that time, and while she could’ve easily caught up with her since she was a block away from the building, she had deliberately refused and made up an excuse to avoid Miranda.
Right behind her, Amari stood dutifully; she looked like she belonged there, like that she was standing in her rightful place, and no one could ever deny it nor take it from her.
She was still quite bothered by the confrontation Emily had sprung up on her during that lunch a few weeks ago, coupled with Jin’s revelation and observations, it had certainly put her in a mood that made her drink it all away last night in the impromptu get-together Nigel arranged for her and Emily to join in.
Now, the very problem she had been running away from was staring directly at her face, and she couldn’t bring herself to move or avert her eyes, not when Miranda was holding her gaze, not when she tilted her head, not when she stepped aside in invitation.
Andy stood frozen, heart in her throat. Then the elevator doors began to slide closed, but before they could fully shut, Miranda moved to press the open button with a huff.
“Andrea,” she called, her piercing blue eyes narrowed, but they were still wide and cute because of her glasses, and Andy noted that with fondness she could never openly express, and the mere thought of it choked her up.
Andy felt a hand behind her, pushing her inside, and she gave up on fighting it. Instead of going to the back of the elevator where Amari stood, Nigel had placed her directly beside Miranda and took the place she had initially intended to claim.
“Nige–”
“Stay there,” Nigel insisted, then he turned to Amari. “How did it go?”
“It went well, they’ve agreed to most of our terms and compromised on the financial ones,” Amari answered in a matter of fact.
“Just as we had predicted then,” He murmured before facing Andy again, who was fidgeting and making sure her shoulder didn't brush against Miranda’s. “Six, stand still. I need you to block the light, it’s hurting my eyes.”
“You weren’t that drunk, Nigel,” Andy couldn’t help but retort, grateful for the distraction.
“Well, my headache actually came from the lack of alcohol because I had to babysit the Emily's who treated their drinks like it was ambrosia as they drowned their broken hearts with it.”
Andy swallowed nervously when she felt the slightest movement from Miranda.
“I don't remember that,” Andy deflected, biting her lip as images from last night vividly flashed in her mind. Desperate to keep herself out of this chaos that Nigel had created, she threw Emily out as a sacrifice, silently apologizing and promising to make it up to her when they get together for their next scheduled lunch. “Emily actually told me that she and Serena were going to see each other this evening.”
“And what about you?”
At Nigel's not-so-innocent and not-so-subtle dig at her, she felt three pairs of eyes focus on her.
“She'll probably ask me to babysit the kids later, I might bring them to Lily's; they like Grace,” Andy shrugged. She surreptitiously glanced at the floor indicator and willed it to go down faster, then she noticed that the floor to the cafeteria had never been pressed. Of course, Miranda doesn’t bother knowing where it is.
She sighed and moved to press it, holding her breath as she brushed against Miranda, but the moment she caught her scent and perfume, she breathed in, causing her movements to slow briefly before she remembered why she had moved in the first place. She pressed the button with a bit of pressure and pulled her hand back as if she had been stung by it.
“Andy, I know you broke up with the contractor that owned the building you lived in, and it was amicable at best. I'm asking about the woman you were–”
The elevator bell dinged, and Andy immediately flung herself out of the doors that were beginning to open and walked fast, with Nigel hot on her heels. She moved on autopilot and began grabbing whatever she could fit in her tray, then she ventured into the crowded space to look for a vacant table. She found one near the glass windows and sat there, staring blankly at the tray in front of her, replaying what happened in the elevator. Her heart thudded when she remembered how she had locked eyes with Miranda and how she felt lithe fingers encircle her wrist before she bolted out of the elevator.
She buried her face in her hands before letting out a muffled groan. Another tray was placed on the same table as hers, followed by the scraping of the chair at her side. She didn’t need to look up to know who exactly was occupying the space right next to her.
Andy sighed in defeat as she looked up. She knew that Nigel wouldn’t let this go. She faces him, arms crossed, readying her defenses.
“I didn’t spend eight hours on that flight from La Guardia to Milan Malpensa watching you fidget on your seat, sending one flight attendant after another to go check up on Miranda when Amari had it all handled on her end.”
Andy flinched at the mention of a certain name, but she immediately schooled her expression to a neutral one.
“Why the sudden reminiscing, Nigel?” She asked, keeping her tone light.
“Six, you can’t hide a feeling,” Nigel stated calmly. For a minute, he held Andy’s gaze, waiting for her reply. When it became apparent that he wouldn’t get one, he turned his attention to his meal.
“Emily told me the same thing. In Milan,” Andy mumbled. “I followed her to the Galleria until she got back to her suite. Stuart was there.”
Nigel hummed. “A week after she served him divorce papers, they parted amicably and even had occasional brunches. For the public, it was just another divorce, but for those who knew her, it was monumental because it was the only divorce that Miranda had initiated.”
There was a question lying somewhere in Nigel’s words, but Andy chose to ignore it. She picked up her spoon instead and scooped up a generous amount of soup into her mouth. It scalded her tongue, but it was better to feel that pain instead of the one that had her in a chokehold the entire elevator ride.
Andy pinched the bridge of her nose as the words on her screen started to blur. She was probably the only one in the office because she had opted to stay here and finish up articles for the next issue instead of doing it tomorrow.
She heard a knock on her door, and she turned towards it, eyes widening in surprise as Amari stepped inside holding two coffees in her hands. She handed one down to Andy before making herself comfortable in the seat across from her.
“Thanks, Amari,” Andy said, taking a sip of the hot coffee. She hummed with satisfaction as she felt its warmth seep through her.
“Something else?” She asked as Amari stayed silent, watching her intently.
“I never got to thank you properly,” Amari stated while Andy tilted her head in question. “There’s this manual that every assistant passed down to their replacement, and they all did their best to follow it to a T. I did so at first, but I improved it unlike them.”
Andy stomped on the queasy feeling building up in her stomach. She didn’t like where this was going, but she kept her mouth shut and let Amari continue.
“There were two distinct handwritings in the manual; the former was succinct, while the latter had everything laid out with specific details included. That was how I learned that working for Miranda was like a routine. Then you came along, being all familiar and annoying me every single day with all these questions about Miranda that shouldn’t even concern a features editor or her assistant. Your incessant inquiries actually drove me mad, but I can see that you cared, you actually cared for her even more than Nigel does, and he’s her closest confidant.”
“Amari, what are you getting at?” Andy finally asked, quite eager to end this particular conversation because she was not prepared for what she might actually say if she let her emotions bleed into her words.
“I am the perfect assistant, but you showed me that there was so much more I could do for her, and I did just that, and I got to stay.”
“You were amazing,” Andy admitted, the bitterness in her tone was only visible to her. “You’re an exception, you got close, and you stayed.” Every word felt like a stab to her heart, and when she swallowed, it felt like eating broken glass.
“Thank you, Andy,” Amari genuinely said.
Andy smiled. “I’m glad she had you on her side, Amari.” Because it was the truth, even if it did hurt to admit, Andy was thankful Miranda had someone like Amari; she had someone she could trust and lean on for assistance. Someone competent enough to ensure that she was pleased daily. It doesn’t matter if she was not that person. No, Miranda survived twenty years without her. Andy was not essential to her happiness.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
The car engine revved, momentarily drowning out the sound of her heart drumming against her ribcage. Andy opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so she closed it and bit her lower lip hard.
Miranda was silent too; she’d honestly preferred her to say something about how she resembled a fish at the moment, but she didn’t, and it unnerved Andy even more.
“These past few days, you’ve been distant,” Miranda spoke, turning her head towards Andy, her bright blue eyes narrowed as she took in the tension Andy was exuding. “Where you used to invade my spaces unannounced, you give a wide berth to me now. I see you every day and yet whenever I try to catch your gaze, you’re running out of a room, or your office is empty, and you’d only return when the day is already over, or once I’ve left, then you’ll stay until midnight.”
Miranda’s manicured fingers drummed against the console, just a few inches shy from touching the fabric of Andy’s ivory Chanel suit, a complementary contrast to Miranda’s midnight black Armani.
“What have I done to push you away, Andrea?”
Her heart broke at the question. It felt like a betrayal all over again, and yet, Andy still couldn’t find the words to say or the courage to deny Miranda’s claim without baring her heart out. For years, she had put Miranda in the farthest corner of her mind, but that never stopped her from thinking of the woman whenever she thrifted clothes in consignment shops, or how the corner of her lips would twitch into a smile whenever she laid eyes on that familiar shade of cerulean blue. She had never quite escaped Miranda's orbit, so when she accepted the job, she fell back into it seamlessly.
“Miranda,” Andy said, and somehow even without turning to look at Miranda, she knew that the editor's eyes were solely focused on her alone while she continued looking outside the window; speeding cars and building lights all fading into a blur as tears gathered in her eyes. “I'm not avoiding you, nor have you done anything that would make me push you away.”
“You say that, and yet you couldn’t even look at me,” Miranda scoffed, her voice catching at the end, making Andy look squarely back at her.
“I'm sorry if I made you feel that way, but I swear there really is nothing that you have done.”
She took Miranda's hand in hers, feeling her fingers stiffen at first, then grabbed her hand back with a tight grip.
“You are many things, Andrea Sachs, but never a liar. So don't you dare start now,” Miranda sniffed. “If you won't admit to it, then let me lay it all out for you.”
“The day you came back you were expecting a heartfelt reunion and what you get instead was contempt and a thinly veiled attempt at keeping you at arms’ length because I had long accepted it, I had come into terms that I would never see you again once your New York based articles began to dwindle and suddenly I'm reaching for the stars to grab ahold of your writing from another side of the globe.”
Miranda let out a mirthless chuckle; her bright blue eyes shone with tears as well. Andy's hand was already halfway into cupping her cheek when she realized what she had been doing. She immediately pulled her hand back to her lap, gripping the fabric of her slacks tightly so that it became wrinkled.
“You thought I had forgotten your existence when the very first thing I did after that humiliating meeting at Dior was to head straight into the townhouse and to dig up that box in my study that contained all of your work; from the ones you've submitted along with your application to Runway and to the last one that garnered you an award before you were let go by the Vanguard.”
“Miranda–”
“You walked into a room, and it recalibrated to your presence. I recalibrated to your existence coming back into my life after twenty years of pretending I was content with only hoarding your writing and watching your journey from afar. Every time I pushed you, I was looking for the girl who slammed the manuscript on my desk to get my attention, that defiant girl who walked away with a smug smile on her face because she did the impossible.”
A genuine smile found its place on Miranda's lips as her eyes shone with recognition and unmistakable fondness that knocked the breath out of her lungs. “Andrea ‘I am the fire’ Sachs,” Miranda said, shaking her head in amusement.
“How did you–”
Again, Miranda cut her off. “I have ears, Andrea, and despite my age, only my eyesight has deteriorated. Shall we talk about your poor attempt at espionage?”
“Why – Why are you bringing this up, Miranda?” For once, Miranda let her finish speaking, Andy squeezed the hand she had been holding, and she immediately felt relief course through her when Miranda squeezed back.
“Because I cannot fathom why there were instances where I have watched you shrink yourself away or even force yourself to stand on the sidelines when clearly you have every right to stand right by my side. Am I really that terrible that you'd only limit these interactions with me whenever we're alone? Why do you always leave me when Amari enters the picture?”
Andy snatched her hand away as if Miranda's words had burnt her. Well, the sudden name drop did shock her enough to pull away from the older woman, and the hurt that clouded Miranda's eyes hurt more than the bitter feelings that she had tried so hard to contain spilled out of her control.
“Andrea.”
“Miranda.”
They both called out to each other. Andy nodded, letting Miranda go first, ignoring the sense of dread consuming her as she trembled in fear, so afraid to hear what she might say.
Miranda, of course, ever straightforward, went to the crux of the matter. “Are you jealous of Amari?”
Andy sighed tiredly. Then she looked away from Miranda's scorching gaze that was searching her own for answers she might not say out loud. She refused to meet her, even as Miranda put two fingers under her chin to turn her head towards her.
It was futile to resist the pull of Miranda's orbit, so Andy let herself be swept away by the force of it. But unlike Icarus, who carelessly flew too close, she had forced herself to stay grounded in a corner where she could afford to adore her sun from afar just as Clytie, who was once struck with jealousy, had become a flower of devotion.
“I'm not,” Andy rasped. She finally looked at Miranda, accepting her defeat in more ways than one. She heard Miranda inhaling sharply, and she tried her best to smile at her, but she was sure she probably gave her a grimace instead. “I'm not jealous. How could I when I don't have the right to be?”
The car skidded to a stop. Soon, the door on her side opened, and Andy, who would later blame it on the champagne and her impulse, leaned in to press a kiss near the corner of Miranda's lips.
“Goodnight, Miranda,” She whispered sullenly. Then she quickly got out of the car and bounded up the stairs to her apartment as if she was being chased, once again running away from Miranda, just like in Paris and all the times where she could've offered herself instead, but had to watch Amari with bittersweet feelings do it in her stead.
Andy continued to pace around her living room. She had been doing so for the past two hours after giving up on sleeping, since she only kept tossing and turning in her bed. She’d been gnawing on her lower lip and thumb alternately as the conversation she had with Miranda on the ride back home relentlessly plagued her mind. She hung onto every word, every look, every catch of breath Miranda did. She only needed to close her eyes, and she would vividly picture the resigned look Miranda had when she rushed out of the door.
Andy sighed as she wiped the tear streaks on her cheeks before running both of her hands through her hair. It was one thing for Miranda to read her work; of course, she had read what Andy wrote. As the editor-in-chief, everything went through her. It was an entirely different thing for Miranda to admit that she had read all of Andy’s work. Not just read but collected them – hoarded them even. Like a dragon would. That made her pause, then laughter slipped out of her lips, which turned hysterical as she had finally connected the dots.
She ran to grab her laptop, opening a file that had been sitting on it for weeks after she spent countless nights writing, editing, and polishing it, even though she had declined the contract offered to her and had even tried returning the deposit that went through her account, even when she was in Milan. They refused to take it back, and it had been left untouched by Andy just in case, but now, she finally knew why they wouldn’t take it back.
She connected the Bluetooth of her laptop to the printer and let it do its work. In the meantime, she went to pick out some clothes, nothing fancy, just casual and proper enough for a talk that’s been a long time coming.
Once she was done printing, she checked if everything was in order before placing it all inside a cerulean blue manila folder. Anytime she’d see this shade, her heart would skip a beat, and all good kinds of fuzzy feelings would course through her, but now it was overridden by a sense of dread born from her anxiety and insecurity that couldn’t have chosen a better time to rear its head.
She took a glance at the clock mounted on her wall, noting that it was almost one in the morning. If she were lucky, she’d reach Miranda’s townhouse before the hour changes. With the manila folder securely clutched in her hand, she closed the door to her apartment and ran down the stairs.
Luck seemed to be on her side when she caught a cab just as she had gone outside the building. Traffic was light, and soon, Andy found herself right outside the townhouse with a few minutes to spare.
She laughed at the irony of how she was pacing back and forth again, just as she had done the same night she was desperate to find out if Miranda had a plan for them. It had been months ago, but despite her drunken state fueled by desperation, she had a clear recollection of the things she said to Miranda on that particular night.
Andy bounded up the stairs to the townhouse and rang the doorbell. She was quite confident that Miranda was still awake and was probably in the same predicament as her, if not worse. From her side, she heard a shuffle of footsteps. She inhaled sharply as the locks began to turn. Then the door opened, and Miranda had an annoyed expression on her face, but it immediately melted away when she realized who was outside her door. It was replaced by shock, her eyes widening beneath her glasses, and Andy almost cooed at the sight of her, but before she could get any word out, Miranda was already pulling her inside.
“You’ve been crying,” Miranda mused. She still hadn’t let go of Andy’s hand, and the pad of her thumb was rubbing soothing patterns on the back of it. Her bright blue eyes flitted from Andy’s face to the manila folder she was clutching hard.
“Miranda,” Andy’s breath was ragged as tears began to well up in her eyes again. Facing Miranda now, she had forgotten the words she had rehearsed on the way here, but she managed to get one question out at least. “Why did you offer me 350k to write the book?”
Miranda stared at her, reading her eyes and her face, deciding whether she should answer it properly or not. So Andy laced their fingers and stepped closer towards her. “Please, Miranda. I don’t want to assume things anymore, so please, just tell me.”
Miranda tilted her head, licking her lips before finally speaking. “I could never forget how you ran up the stairs, brazen and wide-eyed, clearly drunk, and yet, when you spoke of a future of us together because we have been doing such great work so far, and when fear bled into your words about Runway going down, how can I not act and provide the security you were looking for, Andrea?”
“When you came back, I convinced myself every single day that you're not here to stay, that sooner or later, when you've found something else – real journalism as you have often called it – you would leave Runway for those greener pastures once again. When they told me someone was writing a book about me, a tell-all exposé, my first instinct was to shut it down and destroy who was behind it, but when I found out it was you,” Miranda chuckled. “I couldn't do it. I had let you walk away unscathed when you left me in Paris. That should cover all that you needed to know.”
“But it wouldn't be enough,” Miranda sniffed. “You want everything, down to the minuscule details, and I can never deny you anything, Andrea.” She reached for the manila folder, which Andy relinquished to her, their fingers brushing during the exchange. “Was it selfish of me to want a keepsake from you? I knew that no matter how raw and honest that exposé turned out, you would still find a way to write me as a flawed human through it all because you are kind when you should be ruthless.”
Andy let the tears fall freely as Miranda withdrew her hand from her to stroke the manila folder like it was something precious, more important than the Book.
“I suppose this is your farewell gift to me, Andrea. I know you wouldn't continue writing this just because you have some hours to spare in your already busy day.”
“No,” her voice was shaking as she refuted Miranda's assumption. “That's not a farewell gift, Miranda. But you are right about something else.”
If Miranda could bare her heart like this to Andy, then so can she.
“You were right. I was jealous. So jealous of Amari because she had a reason to stay near you, she was free to help you in every capacity she could, she could stand beside you, and no one would question it,” Andy said, her voice slowly gaining strength as she continued to speak. “I look at you hanging your own coat, and while at first I found it incredulous, I find myself wanting you to just throw it at me so I can do it for you,” Andy laughed, a bit hysterical because who in their right mind would want a coat thrown at them. “I came to Runway to write, and yet all I want is to be in your vicinity every single day.”
“You didn't come to Runway to write, baby, you accepted the job to save me,” Miranda said. There was an unmistakable fondness and softness in her eyes that Andy had only seen directed at her. While her heart stuttered at the endearment, Miranda suddenly dropped in the middle of their conversation, her mind was busy supplying her with proofs that she had indeed returned solely for Miranda's sake.
Twenty years ago, she asked, is there anything else I can do for you?
A few months ago, she admitted her participation in a betrayal. I did it to protect Runway and you.
“It's late,” Miranda muttered, stepping away and turning her back against Andy, who was silently drowning in her thoughts and affections for Miranda, begging to be let out. “Go home, Andrea.”
Andy had snapped out of her reverie at the finality in her tone. No, Miranda must've misunderstood her silence. She should've told her that she had loved being called baby as much as the way Miranda had always uttered her name, and that both instances had her heart doing somersaults in her chest.
"I love you," Andy finally confessed, her voice trembling. It was uttered in a way that could be easily missed, but Miranda wasn't everyone, so she heard her. She watched Miranda stop in her steps, turning around slowly to meet her. Blue eyes, bluer and deeper than the sea, shone with unshed tears, met molten brown ones, filled with love, adoration, and warmth. Then she repeated it, louder and steadier. "I love you, Miranda Priestly, and what you're holding right now is not a keepsake nor a farewell gift, but a physical manifestation of a love that had spun for over twenty years and would continue to do so because you're it for me."
Andy closed the distance between them in quick strides, cupping Miranda's face in her hands. She had never been more sure than she was now. But she still asked, “May I kiss you, Miranda?”
“Oh, baby, my Andrea, “Miranda breathed. “I just told you that I could never deny you anything.” She tilted her head, brushing her nose against Andy's, eyes fluttering close as she waited for Andy, always waiting for her.
Finally, Andy thought. Then she pressed their lips together, and despite the flurry of emotions coursing through them, the kiss was slow and unhurried, like they had all the time in the world; it would be the first of many kisses, too, since they had twenty years to make up for. Andy smiled at the thought and into their kiss, which was soon followed by laughter, forcing them apart. She rested her forehead against Miranda's. “I've kept you waiting, but I'm here now, Miranda.”
The manila folder fell to the floor with a thud as Miranda lunged at her, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss, which she immediately deepened the moment Andy parted her lips for her. She pressed their bodies closer, arms wrapping around her, desperately embracing her with no intention of letting go. Andy pulled slightly back away to catch her breath, and while Miranda allowed it, her lips were busily trailing kisses down her jaw and to the column of her neck. Andy moaned when she began to nip at her skin, teeth grazing with her tongue laving.
“Stay,” Miranda mumbled against her skin before nipping her at the base of her throat.
“For the night? Of course, baby,” Andy answered, the endearment slipping easily out of her mouth, and it just felt right.
“No, forever,” Miranda corrected, then she lifted her head, looking up at Andy. “Stay forever, and love me as I have always loved you. I have wanted to kiss you so much that I had to do it, but I should have told you first, so I'm rectifying it now. I love you. I am hopelessly in love with you, Andrea Sachs.
Andy kissed Miranda again; her heart was soaring with happiness at finally being free to love her properly. There were several things they needed to discuss, but it could wait; for now, there was only the need to be near each other and to countlessly affirm the love they shared. So when Miranda pulled back with a knowing look, Andy only giggled as she let the older woman lace their fingers together and lead her up to the stairs she had only climbed twice in fear and desperation. Now, she was climbing up the same staircase, with Miranda leading her, and it felt like the first steps leading to the relationship that would last a lifetime.