A/N 1: I know, I hardly write and when I do it's ANGST. This falls in the category of super angst and that's it. Hurt and NO comfort. Not gonna get better. It's a one shot that came to me after I had been listening to 'All I Ask' by Adele about 23 times a day and someone told me 'Miranda is a bloody drug that leads to your downfall.'
A/N 2: You'll probably hate this Miranda but it's only Andy's side of the story, so don't judge Miranda too harshly!
A/N 3: Un-betaed, so all mistakes are mine.
Pairing: Miranda/Andy, Miranda/OMC (implied)
"It matters how this ends
Cause what if I never love again?"
5:42 a.m.
Townhouse
Master Bedroom
You lie staring at the older woman next to you. You haven't slept a wink. She sleeps peacefully.
Against the first rays of morning light you can see the fine wrinkles around her eyes forming waves, the silky silver forelock that rests over one eye, that little freckle under her eye, her cheekbones which look more defined than ever, her mouth which is just slightly open as she breathes evenly. She looks resplendent, even like this, without a stitch of makeup. No wonder you fell in love, no wonder you're still in love. No wonder others fall in love.
She isn't in love with you. Not anymore.
You know this. You've known this for a while. Every hint, every subtle reaction was leading you towards this. Except you had ignored it all this time. Until last night.
Miranda shuts the bathroom lights and exits the bathroom as Andy hollers "I'm home!" walking into their bedroom.
"Really Andrea, is it necessary for you to behave like a hooligan? My daughters emulate you for this?" Miranda says as she walks towards Andy and gives her a quick peck on the lips before starting to move away.
Andy catches her midway and pulls her closer for another proper kiss before she wriggles out of her grasp, panting almost.
"My, one kiss and you're already shivering! Oh, no, you're actually sweating instead!"
"You're early!" Miranda mentions nonchalantly.
"I am, why were you planning a surprise for me?" Andy jokes to lighten the mood, their relationship has not been going through the best of times. Both of them are incredibly busy and all the promises of making it always work seem to be falling apart.
Miranda looks uncharacteristically flabbergasted for a moment and shakes her head.
"Relax! You didn't forget an anniversary!" Andy knows she shouldn't be saying all these things, it'll just make it worse and yet she does. Shut you big mouth Andy
"I know." Miranda replies curtly, "I'm going down to get dinner ready."
"Yeah, I'll join you." Andy manages to say to Miranda's receding figure as she makes her way out of the room.
As Andy enters the en-suite bathroom her mind is preoccupied with too many things—work commitments, PTA meetings, her mom's health et cetera et cetera but what plagues her primarily is Miranda. Everything that is going-or more precisely not going on between them these days. Andy cleans her face with cotton and rosewater—and along with the day's exhaustion on the soiled cotton she decides to throw everything that is not working in order to try and make things with Miranda as they were before. Chucking the cotton into the waste-bin she turns to switch off the lights when something flashes in her mind's eye, something odd lying in the waste paper basket.
She presses the paddle on the waste-bin and as soon as the lid opens her eyes zero in on the foreign object—the white stick, upturned, lying at the bottom of it, below the used cotton. She knows what it is and for a moment she freezes but it's now or never. She grabs a tissue and picks up the stick to turn it over.
Two blue lines.
She knows what that means. That's what Miranda had thrown into the bin when she'd walked in, early. She was early, Miranda hadn't anticipated that. Andy hadn't anticipated this. And yet she was expecting something, not this, but just for the other shoe to drop. She had seen hints of Miranda's infidelity for months now. Since that business trip to Milan. Every time she wrote it off as her mind's eye playing tricks on her.
Not this time. Not when there is evidence now. Suddenly the firm ground she seemed to have planted her feet on has pulled from underneath her and she wants to falls to her knees and cry but the tears don't come.
She doesn't feel emotional, she feels hollow. Drained of all emotions. Her mind screams again and again and again 'You fool.'
You fool.
And yet, she throws the stick in the bin again, washes her hands, closes the bathroom door on the darkness and makes her way downstairs.
She needs one more night. One last night before she is ready to give Miranda up. She's a fool, God does she not know but she still loves Miranda too much.
So she'll have one last night after all.
You turn towards her and study her features once again, drink them up, memorize every line, every freckle. You touch her tentatively, her skin soft and warm beneath you and then you run your thumb over the side of her lips. She stirs and settles again but blinks blearily.
She's cheated on you, is cheating on you and still all you feel for her is love and reverence. Your heart is breaking into a million tiny pieces, she is hurting you and yet you pull her towards you and kiss her on the lips. She smiles into it and seems content being kissed.
You need more, because you know, like she doesn't, that this is the last time after all.
So you kiss her everywhere-the mouth, jaws, eyelids, forehead. Your passion revives her and she looks at you confused and disoriented. You are focused though, you know exactly what you need. You have to worship Miranda's body one last time. My God have you got it bad.
You hope he worships it too. Michael Clarke, 27, heir of Elias-Clarke holdings. You are almost sure it's him. You remember not liking him the first time you met.
Andy sulks as Miranda and her get into the silver Mercedes wearing evening couture.
"I thought we could have a movie night. Couldn't you not go tonight? You've only been back from Milan for three days. Wasn't that a "fund-raising" conference too?"
"Andrea, do you have any idea about the kind of investments fashion needs?" Miranda says coolly as they settle into the back of their car to make their way to some godforsaken gala.
"Umm, yeah! Remember I worked for you! Can't Irv do it? We can still turn back? Get into our pj's, be with the girls, watch a movie and eat popcorn. Please."
"Don't be ridiculous! I regret asking you to come. We can drop you back home, is that what you want?" Miranda says pursing her lips.
"Oh, that's grand! No, that's not what I want! I want you to be there too. The girls, you and I." Andy says getting frustrated.
"Well, I told you we can do that tomorrow, I need to be there. Michael specifically called me up to confirm."
"Who?"
"Michael. Michael Clarke. I told you about him."
"Oh, the elusive heir of theirs who showed up in Milan at last. Well, as if you care."
"Well, it's my job. We have tomorrow, now please get over your snit."
Andy chuckles sarcastically, "Your tomorrow never comes."
Miranda glares at her and Andy goes one step ahead and adds, "Well now you'll probably compare me to whining Stephen."
And that's that. Miranda turns her face away from Andy and looks outside the window for the rest of the journey.
At the gala Miranda completely ignores Andy, every time Andy puts her arm around her waist she slips out of her grasp, every time she tries to whisper something to her she turns her face away.
And then Andy sees him. Tall, fair and handsome, making their way towards them.
"Who's that?" Andy asks Miranda. She doesn't answer her directly but goes in to greet the man with an air kiss
"Michael."
"Miranda."
"Michael this is my partner Andrea. Andrea, this is Michael Clarke." The two greet each other cordially.
"Andrea, I have to steal Miranda away from you." Michael says with a glint in his emerald eyes.
Andy looks stupefied. Then Michael adds, "For a while I mean. Miranda does a mighty job of charming people's socks off."
Andy and Miranda both laugh.
"Well you're right there Michael. Sure, go ahead. She's all yours." With that Miranda and Michael walk away arm in arm leaving Andy behind.
Miranda spends all of her stay in Michael's arms while Andy's chats up with Nigel, Serena and Emily.
Andy notices Michael's hands going places where it shouldn't, Miranda doesn't seem to mind it. Andy regrets pissing Miranda off earlier and thinks she's probably allowing this on purpose, just to make Andy jealous. A wave of possessiveness consumes her and she decides to take her revenge later that night.
You realize she wasn't trying to make you jealous, that was the first hint. That and the fact that she didn't have sex with you that night, unlike other times when you'd fight and make up.
You put those thoughts of betrayal out of your mind and concentrate on Miranda's body—her magnificent, glorious body under the covers. She doesn't stop you from whatever you're doing to her body, even in the early morning haze she reaches for you to love you back, but you stop her.
No, you shall not give her the pleasure of deceiving you another time, you'll love her, truly. Like you actually do. So you stall her hands and work on getting rid of her silver silk robe. She anyway is never able to do much once you've taken over. Your kisses still seem to have the same effect on her—the breathless moans, the little noises she makes-you take everything in for one last time.
Once she's naked you lose control. You want to memorize each detail of these moments so you want to do everything meticulously, but seeing her like this, her body reacting so wonderfully to your kisses, her legs already spread wide in anticipation, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glazed over- you start loving her and her body responds exactly the way it does every time. Right from the first time you made love.
You wonder how her body reacts to him. You wonder why she chose his love over yours. You wonder if she'd ever have your child.
As you move your hands inside her, she writhes, moans, bites her lips and grabs the sheets. She looks ethereal even in the throes of passion and you wonder what's missing in your love and whether something has always been missing.
You then work your mouth against her womanhood and she comes. Comes undone completely and thoroughly and if it were some other time you would've been smug to see her this way, but now you know you're not enough.
You move to place light kisses on her inner thighs and then move up to her abdomen. You almost place a kiss there when you remember about that stick and you suddenly can't. Not anymore. Instead you kiss her breasts and then move to kiss her face.
That's when you're surprised. In all your haze, you haven't looked at Miranda yet and now when you look you see that her eyes are closed and she is crying. The tears are wetting the spotless white pillow and you wonder why.
Ironic you think. You should be the one crying. Breaking down in some corner of hell and grieving your failure. Your failure to be enough for Miranda. And yet she is crying silently into the pillow and all you can do is wipe her tears, because after all you can never see her cry.
She grabs your hand that is wiping her tears and kisses it. You want to move it away, because again that thought of her insincere love strikes you.
"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry." she says repeatedly as she opens her eyes and then the sincerity of her apology is really apparent. She probably wants to explain her apologies but can't get herself to do it. You don't need it anyway.
You move your hand away from her grasp. No, the sorrys won't do anymore.
You've had your memory, this, tonight with her. This, one last time. You must give her up now.
You move your hand to tuck her silver forelock behind her ears and whisper, "Congratulations."
Her stormy eyes widen and she looks utterly confused. Then you smile and realization sinks into her.
Before she can say anything more, you get up and leave the room to wake up Caroline and Cassidy.
You'll have breakfast with them, leave for work and never come back again.
You will have the last word.
Not your cuppa? Figured.
But if it is yours then leave me a comment. TeeHee.
I promise to write something sunny some day!