Breaking The Fall

Anniversary 1:

It's been a year since that ungrateful enigmatic girl broke her heart.

12 months since Andrea had unceremoniously walked out. Since Miranda's world lost its brightness, since her heart withered a little.

Miranda nursed a scotch and closed her eyes. The dim lighting of her study fed her inertia.

She replayed that scene in the car over-and-over in her mind. Every word, every pause. Everything spoken and unspoken. Somehow she'd misjudged, miscalculated… and the unthinkable had happened. She'd lost Andrea.

Miranda opened her eyes and sipped her drink. She'd let herself be vulnerable - make-up free, heart bare, honest - and Andrea had left.

She tried not to think about it but her new second assistant had messed-up again today. Such a careless, unnecessary mistake and Andrea would never have… but Andrea was no longer here, was she? She'd abandoned Miranda.

And then there was Stephen. They'd met with the divorce lawyers earlier this week and he'd cited adultery – confessed he'd been having a fling with the twin's nanny. How cliché. How humiliating. Of course that had led to an unpleasant scene at home. Miranda had given the nanny her marching orders – which had made her a monster in the eyes of her children, who adored their disloyal nanny. Caroline had cried herself to sleep every night this week and Cassidy still wasn't talking to her.

"Why do you scare everyone away?! No one wants to be around you!" she'd screamed at Miranda before storming off to her room.

Maybe she was right. After all, here Miranda sat, alone and discarded.

It had been a shitty week. A shitty year. She'd lost concentration... since Andrea. She often found her mind wondering... found herself imagining endless scenarios where Andrea came back. Miranda knew why. She was astute, all it had taken was seeing Andrea's retreating form to realise her importance – to put a name to these foreign feelings that had plagued her for months.

Andrea's treachery smarted more than Stephen's, more than any previous disappointments. The vehemence of feeling surprised Miranda. When had she become so attached? So unguarded? When had Andrea crawled under her skin?

The grandfather clock in her study struck 2. She hated the early hours. There was no hiding from herself in their cruel clarity.

She picked-up her cell phone, momentarily tempted to call Andrea. She'd had her new assistant get the number, in case. She didn't know in case of what but she felt better knowing she could call, knowing Andrea was just a dial away… She put the phone down and took another swig of scotch. The amber liquid burned her throat.

It had been a tough day. All days were now. Miranda was surrounded by ineptitude. There was no respite. How she longed for someone who understood… she bit her lip. She wouldn't call. She wouldn't be so weak.

When Miranda awoke the following morning her head was wrecked and her mouth was dry. She was lying fully-clothed on her bed. A bottle of malt scotch sat on her bedside table - half empty. Her phone lying beside her on the mattress.

Miranda winced. A fragment of a memory returned – she'd called Andrea.

Miranda froze in panic, her pulse skyrocketed and she tried desperately to remember last night. Had she spoken to Andrea? She snatched up her phone and checked her call history - she had. The call had lasted 1 min and 47 seconds.

Miranda closed her eyes and covered her face in mortification. Then a sliver of a memory crashed back into her consciousness - Andrea hadn't answered so she'd left a message. Miranda's mind raced. What had she said? Probably something devastating. Bitter. Nasty.

Whatever it was, Andrea hadn't called back.

For the next few days Miranda feels sick with nerves every time her cell phone rings; but it's never Andrea.

The disappointment's almost as palpable as the unbearable hope.

Anniversary 2:

Teeming with pride, Andy bought 20 copies of The New Yorker from the local newsstand. It contained the first story she'd had published in the national press. Delight didn't cover it.

She'd worked relentlessly. Garnered attention and accolades until she caught the eye of high-profile editors. Now her hard work was paying off and she studiously tried to ignore the hollow sensation of something lacking. Feeling the person she most wanted to share this moment with was unapproachable. It saddened her, still.

Her Mom phoned first thing. "I'm so proud sweetie."

"Thanks," Andy brimmed, The New Yorker spread before her on the kitchen table. Her roommate Tori pottering about, fixing them a celebratory breakfast and coffee. Andy only drank Nespresso, she'd acquired a taste in Miranda's company and it was one of the many habits she'd inherited that she couldn't seem to shake.

"Good for you, showing-up the reality of the attitudes these poor girls are subjected to."

It was a scathing piece exposing eating disorders in the modelling world, challenging the role of fashion magazines in the reinforcement of women's unhealthy body types.

"I notice you didn't mention Runway," her mother said cautiously; Andy was always prickly whenever anyone alluded to Runway.

Andy's stomach knotted. She'd deliberately avoided mentioning Runway because Miranda was Runway. It would have been disloyal to attack her.

Andy tried not to remember that today was their anniversary. She tried even harder not to remember that a year ago Miranda had left that voice message. It had been a blow. A devastating blow. She'd responded with radio silence. She hadn't want to antagonise Miranda and she didn't see a way to offer an olive branch that would be accepted, not yet, so she'd opted for the safest route for both of them.

Andy had been at a party with her new colleagues and hadn't heard her phone ring. It wasn't until she got home, to her cluttered apartment (Tori had just moved in and moving boxes littered the place), that she realised Miranda had called. For a moment - a silly, fanciful moment - her heart beat wildly... then she listened to Miranda's blistering words and her world plummeted.

Miranda's stoically soft voice had been filled with venom and raw emotion. She'd thrown around the word 'betrayal' and it froze Andy's heart.

Andy wouldn't do that again - wouldn't give Miranda cause to doubt her.

Andy's editor hadn't understood her resistance to include her personal, invaluable first-hand experience at Runway but Andy had stood her ground. The article hadn't suffered and maybe Miranda would see it and know. Andy could hope.

A smile rose on her lips as she remembered Miranda, stood by the window of her office, overlooking a breath-taking view of New York, playing absently with her necklace, telling Andy how she lived on hope. Andy hoped it was still true.

Anniversary 3:

Miranda circulated the Halliwell fundraiser banquet on Clive's arm.

Clive was handsome and distinguished; a top criminal lawyer. New York's finest. They'd been dating for four months and he was every inch the gentleman. That's all she wanted now; patience. She'd had her heart ripped out. Now she wanted to play it safe and Clive was innocuous.

She heard a familiar voice and a shiver ran down her spine. The crowd parted and Miranda spotted Andrea. Surrounded by people and a halo of light.

Her heart pounded. Andrea had grown-up. She looked confident as she spoke animatedly to a cluster of publishing giants. They seemed entranced as Andrea weaved her spell... Miranda remembered the power of her unwavering gaze, the determination and gumption and intelligence. She'd liked it. Admired it.

Without permission a smile crept across Miranda's face. She felt proud… and envious. She doesn't know this version of Andrea but feels partly responsible for her success.

Immersed in her group, Andy stopped talking, feeling an invisible pull and glanced across the room – to find herself looking directly at Miranda.

Their eyes meet.

Andy's face filled with warmth. Miranda's lips quirked.

They hadn't seen each other since Paris. Andy had never returned her call … but there had been that article. The distinct lack of Runway in its caustic criticism of the fashion industry had been a show of respect. Miranda knew how to read Andrea's smoke signals. She understood it had been penitence, had been her only way of communicating it.

Clive stepped in front of Miranda, blocking Andrea from view. "You ready to go?" he asked.

It had only been 20 minutes but he was already bored.

Miranda smiled cordially. "Of course," she replied, squashing her desire to stay, to seek Andrea out. It wouldn't do, after all, to be seen in public fawning over her former assistant. She had standards, had a reputation, had pride.

As they turned to leave she glanced over her shoulder at Andrea but the raven haired girl was immersed in a lively discussion with the chief reporter of the New Yorker and had no time for her.

She swallowed her disappointment and let Clive lead her out of the hall. Feeling like she was leaving something important behind.

Anniversary 4:

After the Halliwell banquet, Andy fell into a melancholy. She wanted to escape her life so she spent four months at a writers retreat and scrawled out a book. Scoured her soul and poured her heart onto the page. It topped the bestseller list; lauded by critics and the public alike. She was the toast of the town. New doors opened; the world was at her feet... but the listlessness haunted her.

She missed the early days. Found herself remembering the countless hours by Miranda's side, anticipating her every whim. There was something gratifying about pleasing someone else. Now Andy had her own PA and didn't get half the thrill she thought she would - having someone hang on her every word - like she was a goddamn oracle. It was tiring.

"Have you seen this?" Lacey, her overly-enthusiastic PA, asked.

Andy's hand trembled as she took up the copy of Runway. It was a photoshoot, models dressed as New York intellectuals - and they were reading her novel. Andy grinned; she pictured Miranda at her desk, going over proofs of the shoot. A warmth spread through her chest… quickly followed by a pang of longing.

"You used to work for Miranda Priestly, didn't you?" Lacey asked; uncertain because it was the only part of Andy's life she didn't talk about; as if she were trying to protect it.

"Yes," Andy replied.

She didn't expand and Lacey took the magazine back. "I guess she liked your book."

Andy smiled. "I guess she did," and she can't believe it's been four years since she last spoke to Miranda. That this gulf still exists between them – insurmountable.

She'd caught a glimpse of her at the Halliwell banquet. Their eyes had locked for the briefest of moments but when she'd managed to extract herself from the circle of editors and gone in search of Miranda, she'd already left… with her date.

Andy had felt intensely frustrated but that had been the night she'd started her novel. Poetry poured out of her. All that unresolved tension and passion. It seemed Miranda was destined to inspire Andy; even in her absence.

Anniversary 5:

Miranda took her worn copy of Andrea's book off the shelf. She was in her study evading Clive. Pretending to work when she was really avoiding being alone with him.

Sex had always worked as a distraction, now all he wanted was to "talk" about their relationship. Shivers of horror ran through Miranda. Their relationship couldn't bear such scrutiny; it wasn't built on anything solid or lasting and he'd just begun to realise that.

Miranda leafed through Andrea's book, lyrical prose coursed through every page. Ms Sachs certainly had a way with words. Miranda tried not to feel bitter; she felt like Andrea's words failed in Paris. She was so articulate and yet she couldn't bring herself to face Miranda. Couldn't be truthful. Couldn't be brave. Couldn't spare them both this intolerable uncertainty and unbearable separation.

Usually Miranda doesn't think twice about people from her past; once they're consigned to the scrapheap, that's it. But Andrea was different. Andrea has always been different. She knew it from that first moment. Andrea filled her with hope and something deeper… an expectation. Andrea may have rejected what Miranda had to offer but she understood. She didn't like it but she understood.

She ran her fingers over the dustjacket of Andrea's novel and a smile came unbidden to her lips. She's proud of Andrea. Proud and disappointed, but then, that girl always did cause conflicting emotions.

She flicked to the first page. The first line. My life didn't start until I met her. Miranda ran her fingers across the line, caressing the words, feeling as if the ink was soaking into her pores and filling her. She sighed at her own ridiculous notions. She refused to pine, to long for something - someone - she could never have.

She snapped the book shut and pushed it roughly back onto the shelf. Determined to forget about Andrea.

Three hours later Cora opened the study door to find Miranda fast asleep, curled-up on the sofa, Andrea's book open on her chest.

Anniversary 6:

When Andy got the invite to Nigel's 60th birthday party her heart leapt. She was pretty sure Miranda would be in attendance. Just the prospect filled her with joy. She RSVP'd and set about carefully selecting her outfit. These days she had designers falling over themselves to dress her for public events.

Two weeks later she entered the Jericho Terrace and scanned the room for Miranda. She wore a daring gown from Elie Saab's latest collection with matching accessories. The dress was a thin, pale cream with a speckling of red that covered her modesty. Just. The long sleeves and chest were sheer, with a mesh effect.

Nigel greeted her with a hug and drew back to admire her gown. He held her hands tightly and grinned. "Good to see you, Six."

Andy smiled. "Good to be here."

"You look radiant!" he remarked.

"So do you," Andy exclaimed.

"It's the Botox - gives me an enthral glow!"

They laughed.

"Get a drink, mingle. There's some faces you'll know and some you won't," Nigel said.

"Is she here?" Andy asked.

Nigel crooked his head. "Yes."

Andy took a deep breath. "Good."

Nigel cupped her chin and lifted her face. "You're your own person now, Andy. Don't forget that."

Andy nodded.

She couldn't confess that sometimes she didn't want to be. That Miranda had branded her for life and no matter how hard she tried to escape, her heart was always tied to that time… wanting Miranda's approval, wanting her attention, wanting so much more.

Nigel excused himself to tend to new arrivals and Andy made her way to the refreshments table.

She procured a glass of champagne from a waiter and eyed the crab puffs with interest.

"I should have known I'd find you by the food," came that voice. Soft and clear. It sent a familiar tingle shooting down Andy's spine.

She turned gracefully to see Miranda.

They smiled at each other; genuine and long over-due.

Andy's heart stammered and she found herself at a loss for words; Miranda always wrecked her.

Miranda's eyes glimmered and she caught herself hoping for the first time in years…

They gazed at each other like no one else was in the room.

Miranda's eyes drank in Andy's dress; a hint of a smile crept across her features and her eyes flickered with amusement. "I see you retained some things from your time with me," she murmured appreciatively.

Andy felt an enthral glow. Then she took in Miranda's flawless appearance; silky blue Marchesa against that flawless porcelain skin. A strapless, laced bodice intricately detailed. Hugging and extenuating all the right places.

"Cerulean blue," Andy muttered.

Miranda remembered.

Miranda had worn this dress for her, the way Andy had written the book for her; whether she knew it or not. This was her reward, her acknowledgement, her truce.

Miranda's hair was swept away from her face, those fierce blue eyes sparkled and her dark eye make-up smouldered. Andy was rendered breathless, but then, Miranda always reduced her to a babbling mess.

"You look good – I mean great… I mean stunning." Andy complimented, immediately feeling gauche.

Miranda's grin widened. Bordering on playful.

Was the room spinning? Maybe Andy had just drunk her champagne too fast…

"Why thank you, Andrea."

And there it was – the soft, sexy, mispronunciation of her name.

"I had hoped I might see you tonight," Miranda admitted.

This is new. Fresh. A more equal footing. Anticipation blazed.

"Me too," Andy said, because she felt it was important that Miranda knew that.

There was so much she wanted to say. So much she needed to explain but as she gazed into Miranda's eyes - she realised it was unnecessary. She'd already been forgiven.

Miranda bit her bottom lip as she regarded Andrea. Her gaze was unflinching, unreadable and as halting as Andy remembered.

"It's been a while," Miranda conceded.

"Six years," Andy said decisively.

Miranda was surprised; she'd been counting but she hadn't expected Andrea to mark it. Andrea was just beginning, the world at her disposal, just discovering her potential, her talents… then Miranda scolded herself - this was Andrea, of course she knew! She was exceptional.

"I read your book," Miranda confessed.

"I hoped you would," Andy admitted.

Silence lingered. They were both nervous.

Andy licked her lips, awaiting the verdict from the only person whose opinion mattered.

"I enjoyed it very much," Miranda professed.

Andy smiled.

"A little over-descriptive in parts," Miranda couldn't resist.

Andy sighed internally; she'd even missed the back-handed compliments. Trying to figure Miranda out. The ground constantly shifting, depending on Miranda's mood. It kept her on her toes and she can't remember the last person who challenged her, who stretched her. Andy hated to admit it but her life had stalled in-between seeing Miranda.

"But not terrible, for a debut novel," La Priestly continued.

Andy tilted her head. In the 6 years since they'd been constant companions she'd learnt a few tricks of her own. The most valuable being a steely gaze that could rival Miranda's most disarming stare. She used it now. To her surprise, Miranda broke eye contact and looked away.

The Runway editor took a deep breath, fortifying herself. "I really did… enjoy it."

"Thank you," Andy replied softly. This was no time for games.

Miranda's eyes flickered back towards the brunette. "There's a lot of insight into the characters."

"Your opinion means a lot."

A blush rose on Miranda's cheeks. She seemed surprised and slightly embarrassed by this admission. "Yes… well…"

Andy felt stupid. It had been 6 years. It was a wonder Miranda even remembered her name let alone... she wouldn't – couldn't - possibly entertain the idea of... of... no. Definitely not. Still, she desperately wanted to reach out and touch Miranda. Did she feel the same? Andy wanted to anchor them both to this moment, to feel it was real.

"How are you?" Andy found herself asking.

Miranda looked uncomfortable. "Fine."

Andy wanted to retreat. Instead she pursued. "And the girls?"

Miranda's eyes immediately softened and her voice warmed. "Very well. They're at University. Their final year."

Andy's mouth dropped open in surprise.

"Quite," Miranda stated. "They seem to have grown-up without my permission."

Andy smiled, her eyes full of affection.

Just then a new and up-coming designer flounced toward Miranda and began an onslaught of shop talk. Several others leapt at the opportunity to grab Miranda's attention and circled her.

Andy stepped back and slipped into the shadows unnoticed; she'd got what she wanted from the evening. Miranda had chosen to speak to her. There was still that alchemy between them… that palpable tension that simmered and charged the air. That was enough; for now.

Andy found Nigel, said her farewells and left.

Anniversary 7:

Miranda was having lunch with Donatella when she noticed the brunette at the corner table, negotiating with a top New York agent. Discussing her second novel, no doubt. A smile consumed Miranda's face before she could reign it in. Here Miranda was trying to save her job - Runway was on the brink of collapse - and Andrea's career just kept climbing. She should be resentful but all she felt was pride.

She was trying to secure Donatella's allegiance. Many of the names on The List were forsaking her and as she wondered what happened to loyalty, Andrea caught her eye. The restaurant stilled around them and Andrea's eyes blazed with want. Miranda felt her stomach tighten and her heart begin to pound. She chided herself for reacting like a lovesick adolescent… but those soulful brown eyes bore into her and she knew she couldn't fight it anymore. Whatever this was. She couldn't resist any longer.

Andrea stood, quickly excused herself from her table and suddenly she was in front of Miranda. Just within reach.

The smile plastered across her face was dazzling. "Hello Miranda," she greeted.

Miranda tried to contain her delight. "Andrea," she returned coolly.

Donatella excused herself to go to the bathroom and Andy took the vacated seat.

They continued to gaze at each other. Open and appreciative.

"Seems we're destined to orbit each other," Andy stated.

"We make our own destiny," Miranda replied.

They fall silent. This thing between them is fragile and yet it's the most resilient thing in either of their lives.

Andy traced circles on the pristine white tablecloth with her finger tip. Trying to decide if Miranda was hinting that she should be brave enough for the both of them. Miranda reached out and placed her hand over Andy's. Stilling it.

They gazed at each other and both of them saw it; raw, unapologetic and unmistakable.

Andy wanted to kiss Miranda. Miranda wanted to be kissed.

"I'd like to see you alone. Would that be possible?" Andy asked plaintively.

Miranda nodded, it's slight but definite. She released Andrea's hand. "I'm free tomorrow evening."

Andy's voice was breathy as she said. "Eight?"

"At the townhouse."

Andy nodded, her eyes filling with expectancy.

Donatella returned and Andy stood up. "Until then," she promised.

Miranda nodded, her heart in her mouth.

Miranda paced. This wouldn't do. Andrea was late. She never waited for anyone. People waited for her, yes, but she never -

A knock at the front door interrupted her reverie. She swallowed her anger and pulled open the door. She was met by a flushed-faced and breathless Andrea.

"Sorry I'm late!" Andrea began. "There was a burst pipe on - "

Miranda smiled, her sense overruled by a visceral reaction. She leaned forward, cupped Andrea's face in her hands and kissed her. It was intense and passionate and uncompromising.

Andrea pushed Miranda back into the foyer, the door slamming shut behind her. Their lips drew apart and they gazed at each other. Andy wrapped her arms around Miranda's waist and pulled her impossibly close. Miranda inhaled sharply. Everything halted. Their eyes met, needy and ravenous. They had been waiting for this moment. Waiting until they were both ready.

Andy leaned forward, lips hungry and eager as she recaptured Miranda's mouth. Miranda moaned her consent as Andy's hands snaked into her hair. Their lips clashed in a heated frenzy, their hips bumping. Finally, Miranda thought. Finally…

Anniversary 8:

It was a rare night off for both of them.

Miranda was seated on Andrea's sofa. She swirled the scotch in her glass and thought of that dreadful night so many years ago when she'd left that hideous message. Andrea had never mentioned it and Miranda was grateful. It was an ugliness she didn't want invading the space they'd carved out for themselves, this undefined, indeterminate space.

Somehow, without effort, the girl seemed to understand her. Only she wasn't a girl anymore. It had been 8 years since Andrea was in Miranda's employ and she'd changed so much… yet the fundamentals were the same.

Since being with Andrea, Miranda didn't like to bring her work home with her. Their time together was precious... but today had been hellish. Her mood was sombre and Andrea was the only one she'd ever confided in. Trust was something she still struggled with but she wanted to try with Andrea and that's more than she's ever wanted with anyone else.

"How was your day?" Andrea asked gently.

Miranda had to resist her urge to shut-down, to shut Andrea out. Those beautiful ebony eyes peered at her. Questioning but unobtrusive.

Instead of an answer, Miranda sipped her drink.

Andy moved closer, her fingertips trailed across Miranda's shoulder. She brushed her thumb against the base of Miranda's neck. A shiver ran through the older woman and she blushed. Andy found it endearing.

They're seated in the parlour of Andy's newly acquired brownstone on 51st street. Andrea's latest book was released last month and had already sold more copies than Runway had all year.

"Are you okay?" Andy pressed.

Miranda snorted indignantly. Suddenly feeling resentful of Andrea's meteoric rise and her swift decline. It's not Andrea's fault, blaming her was unfair. She was just tired from all the hoops she'd had to jump through to keep her position, to keep the magazine afloat, to keep advertisers happy and the board content. It had been an impossible balancing act. The end was unavoidable. Online content had trumped print and she felt the wolves snapping at her heels.

"What's on your mind?" Andy asked.

"The end is nigh. Irv made it clear that Runway would be closing at the end of next quarter. It's not a surprise, I knew it was coming. Foresight is a terrible thing."

Andy gave her a half-smile. "Only if you let it be."

Miranda raised a questioning eyebrow and rattled the ice in her glass.

"You're the smartest person I know," Andy declared and looked her lover straight in the eye. "You can't stop the inevitable but you can take measures to pre-empt it."

Miranda sipped her drink, she swirled her tongue around a piece of ice and then crunched it. She watched Andrea's eyes widen with lust and smirked.

"You can get any job you want, with your credentials and reputation for excellence," Andy stated.

Miranda wasn't worried about finding employment. She had plenty of opportunities, had been head-hunted more times than she could count… but she wanted to stay at Runway. That was the crux of it; she didn't want to move on. She was happy there. She'd met Andrea there. So many things tied her to that magazine that the idea of losing it was inconceivable.

"If you're prepared then nothing can throw you," Andy continued.

"I didn't prepare for you," Miranda teased.

Andy smiled broadly. She inched closer and slipped her hand up Miranda's thigh. "Me either," she murmured, brushing her lips against Miranda's ear.

Miranda smiled shyly and it made Andy's heart flutter. Miranda was so strident in every area of her life but this. Andy liked that she affected her this way.

"Do you think we were inevitable?" Miranda asked softly.

"Yes," Andy replied, gazing into her eyes, spellbound. "It couldn't have been any other way."

She tilted her head and pressed her lips to Miranda's, that familiar thrill flooded her. She felt Miranda melt into her embrace and surrender, and wished she could keep this moment forever.

Anniversary 9:

Andy awoke in Miranda's bed. Their bed. She had to keep correcting herself. This was her home now. She wasn't sure how they'd ended-up here but she was happy.

She'd moved her things in yesterday. It was just a trial... to see how things went.

She turned and saw Miranda, wide awake, watching her uncertainly.

"Morning," the brunette whispered.

Miranda relaxed slightly. A soft smile on her lips. "Morning," she replied.

Andy reached out and stroked the snowy white forelock away from her forehead. She curled her arm around Miranda's waist and drew her close.

"Not having second thoughts, are you?" Andy pressed.

Miranda held her gaze steadfastly. "No."

Andy stroked her thumb down Miranda's cheek and traced the line of her jaw. "Good." She grinned sappily, leaned in and peppered Miranda's throat with kisses. "Because this is perfect. Waking up to you is perfect."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "My god… if you're going to be this soppy every morning you can move into the guestroom!"

It was said in jest but Andrea looked stung. Her large puppy dog eyes clouded.

"I just wanted you to know that," she said quietly. Feeling reprimanded, small.

Miranda instantly regretted her flippancy. Wanting to reassure her lover, Miranda reached out and took Andrea's hand. She kissed her palm. She doesn't have the gift of words, not like Andrea, but somehow Andrea seemed to understand exactly what she meant.

She trailed her fingertips across Andrea's lips and said. "I'm very happy you're here."

The sparkle returned to Andrea's eyes and Miranda knew, for once, she got it right. Only with Andrea does she get it right.

"Words are cheap. Show me," Andy teased and rolled Miranda onto her back, moving on top of her.

Miranda's breath came in ragged bursts as Andrea's thigh slipped between her legs, pressed firmly against her, and their lips crashed together.

Anniversary 10:

They've been together for 3 years, officially, but really they've been together since the day their eyes locked in a war of wills. All those years ago in Miranda's office.

Andy took Miranda's hand as they descended the steps of the church, their eyes locked and she was swept-up in the moment. In the incandescence of Miranda. In the joyful cheers that surround them from family and friends as she and Miranda head towards the waiting limousine, confetti billowing about them.

Miranda's alabaster skin glowed in the pale cream dress she had chosen, an elegant bouquet of flowers grasped in her hand. The golden wedding band Andy had placed on her finger just moments ago shimmered in the sunlight.

Andy had finally convinced Miranda to marry her. She'd never been happier. She had her dream career – she was a renowned author, had a regular column in The New York Times, had people clambering to get her attention, had a healthy bank account and had done it all on her own terms. Now she was worthy of Miranda. Now she had earned her place in the world and they were equals.

She raised Miranda's hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles.

Unreserved, Miranda beamed at Andrea; it's blinding and beautiful and genuine; and Andy can't wait for their next anniversary.