Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing. I know it. You know it. That's all.
A/N: A summery fic for a summery feeling – sunshine is a great time to write. Hope you enjoy!
Summary: Why should a balcony or poison or feuding families be required for a beautiful romance? Miranda/Andy
Buena Fortuna
Miranda squeezed Caroline's shoulder gently as they walked into Casa Di Guilietta together, Cassidy a couple of steps in front of them with her camera held securely between both hands to prevent injury to her and the rather expensive lens. Verona was a truly beautiful city with a classic sense of history and timelessness that inspired everyone who stepped within its boundaries so it had seemed a natural place to start their vacation, and Caroline had begged her to do a little of the tourist thing while there, so they were part of a general movement that filtered in and out of their current destination. Even that could not take away from the exquisite simplicity and warm connotations the house and balcony of the fictional Juliet engendered.
The younger of the twins was hoping to make a career from photography but not anywhere near fashion – she wanted to travel and see mystical places, to record a little of them so everyone could enjoy their energy and wondrous sense of vitality. Miranda was glad for her – both of her daughters, in fact. To have a dream and direction in life was a precious, rare combination and would lead to wonderful things. She could see Cassidy publishing photos in the National Geographic within five years – she knew her daughter was talented without motherly bias because despite the differing content, she did examine an awful lot of photographs. Both she and Caroline watched as the younger twin took in the courtyard with an artist's eye, slowly moving to begin her process.
"You'll be lucky to get her out of here in under half an hour." Caro teased, her arm slipping around her mother's waist and returning the slight pressure from earlier. Miranda chuckled under her breath and she knew her daughter felt it.
"Then that should give you plenty of time to write all the observations I can see forming behind your eyes." Miranda lowered her head so the redhead could see the amused sparkle in her eyes and with a nod and brief kiss to her mother's cheek, the older daughter slipped away, her hand immediately going to the notepad and pen in her bag that she always carried with her for her "scribbles" as she called them. Miranda allowed a genuine, touched smile at how wide both of her daughters' eyes were and how reverently they seemed to take in the beautiful surroundings with brilliant detail. It gave rise to a warmth in her heart that she grasped determinedly, fully aware of how precious and priceless it was. Now stood by herself, Miranda eventually dragged her eyes from her offspring to the house and the balcony, the statue almost in the corner that any number of hands had worn away in parts.
As Miranda took in the space, a woman close by caught her thoughts as she attached what was apparently a letter, written on a piece of paper from a magazine, to the wall along from Juliet's balcony. The young woman looked to be a tourist, she wasn't tall but her hair was long – as long as hers had been, Miranda realised with a start at the comparison her mind still drew, after four years – and the long locks were blonde, a very lovely shade between gold and platinum. As the mystery woman turned, Miranda took an interest in her features, her shape, and reluctantly realised the same conclusion she reached each time she began and ended this forced farce. This woman, alongside all the others before her, was not so beautiful as Miranda thought her.
With a minute shaking of her own head, the editor widened her scope, taking in the wall itself that was covered in numerous letters already. So many people asking for guidance, strength, peace, understanding, blessings – the idea of a perfect love drew a flock to this place. Involuntarily, Miranda considered her own problem in that area, the issues that would arise if circumstances ever changed in that regard and understood she would battle through them all for the possibility of the love she'd witnessed in a pair of dark, widened eyes.
Just at that moment, as if hope and thought could bring such a thing to life, Miranda heard a sharp intake of breath, the kind heard when attempting to suppress tears and instantly, she knew the source. As surely as she recognised her daughters' voices, she knew that sound and her entire body pivoted on the spot in an effort to locate the woman she had not spoken to in four years. Sharp, glacial eyes took in the area, unflinchingly examining each face as she moved, determined to find her. She had almost reached the last possible corner when she finally found the figure she sought so absolutely. Andrea Sachs. The one who walked away.
The young woman was sat on a bench against the far wall, her long hair twisted elegantly behind her head so the lengthy, luscious weight cascaded down her back, shining gorgeously in the sunlight. The dark head was bent over a notepad, her pen scrawling furiously over the pages, like the majority of others in this courtyard and from what Miranda could discern from the angle, her ex-assistant appeared to be crying a little. Instinctively, the older woman felt the need to step closer, to offer something to stop those tears and did indeed move a foot or so towards the brunette but halted herself before she could interrupt an obviously private moment.
To hold herself still, Miranda took in the visible aspects of Andrea's clothing – a simple, forest green sundress with thin straps over her shoulders that accentuated her exquisite clavicles and left enough of her legs uncovered to give the illusion they carried on for miles, only to end on a somewhat sensible but still stylish pair of two inch heels that matched the dress beautifully. The younger woman had barely aged in the interim since she had last examined her closely and still retained something irresistible that Miranda suspected she would carry with her all her life. Time couldn't touch her. The entire vision made Miranda yearn.
Carefully, the older woman moved to where the brunette would be sure to see her once she'd finished and then quickly took stock of what the twins were doing. Cassidy was in conversation with another girl around her age, apparently discussing the place if the gestures they were both giving were any indication and Miranda smiled at how easily the language appeared to come to her youngest – she'd always enjoyed Italian, along with other languages.
Caroline was "scribbling" with a beaming smile underneath a slight frown of concentration, her head flicking up occasionally to take in another aspect that she absolutely had to mention and Miranda felt a connection through the attention to detail – she and Caroline had always been more alike, and that trait led to an internal but no less complete experience of pleasures. The teenager wanted to write novels but knew she needed to do something else as well so she was thinking of going into publishing and editing others' work while she worked on her own. Miranda was looking forward to Cassidy's first novel – she was gifted with fiction.
Satisfied they were both occupied and happy, the silver-haired woman returned her attention to Andrea, who appeared to be nearing the end of her writing as her pen was slowing its journey across her page. With no little feeling of anticipation curling within her torso, Miranda regarded the last sentence being penned then what she assumed was the application of a signature and finally, the pages being torn from the notepad, folded and placed into a ready envelope with a return address on the reverse. It occurred to Miranda then to wonder about whom Andrea had written and what help was she in need of – it couldn't be for that boy she'd been living with back then, surely? Who would the young woman cry for?
Slowly, the brunette sealed the envelope and then gazed down at it, apparently hesitating, before straightening and rising from the bench, slipped her pen and paper into her shoulder bag while the letter remained, held delicately in her hand. Miranda tipped back her own head until she was gazing fully at Andrea, waiting for those memorable eyes to find her, drawing her sunglasses off her face with practiced grace. She wanted to appreciate this moment with no barriers.
The tall brunette took a step forward, towards the wall of letters and slowly raised her head to take in the space once more. Miranda felt an unmistakeable jolt go through her being as those impossibly deep, sparkling eyes finally alighted on her face. Every portion of Andrea's body stilled upon seeing her; that rosy, flushed mouth parted slightly and her eyebrows climbed a little up her forehead, drawing her eyes open to their fullest extent and a rush of something swept across the curvaceous form as the fact of what she was seeing made itself known to her entire consciousness.
Miranda simply watched, taking in the face, the figure, the presence she had needed for so long.
"Miranda." The brunette breathed and the older woman could not fight the impulse to respond to the call, so took a step toward Andrea, hearing the small hitch in younger woman's breathing as the distance between them grew smaller.
"Andrea." Miranda returned, in a much more gentle tone than she had used with the brunette before. The sound seemed to bring a smile to the beautiful face for just a moment before the chocolate eyes broke away from her former employer and darted around the courtyard, suddenly nervous.
"What are you – I mean," the 'no questions' rule apparently tripped Andrea for a moment before her resolve firmed again, "what are you doing here?" The question was a little nervous but strong, nonetheless. The implication was the brunette had quickly begun squaring up for a confrontation but Miranda was resolved to divert that intention instantaneously.
"I'm on holiday, with the girls." A brief flicker of a hand directed Andrea's attention to the two redheads and another, happier smile overcame the luscious mouth as she took in the two girls who was now most definitely teenagers. Miranda stole another chance to take in the figure before her and admire the play of sunlight over the colours and pale skin until she registered Andrea's gaze return to her. "And yourself, Andrea?" Miranda returned the enquiry, hurrying her focus back to the familiar face, ensuring that there was no hint of anything that could antagonise.
"I'm on holiday with a friend from college. She loves art and I always wanted to see Italy, so we decided to save and come together." Andrea obviously had exerted a little control over her runaway mouth during that explanation, the almost friendly exchange clearly putting her at a little more ease than she had previously laid claim to, but Miranda needed more information. It was a relief that her ex-assistant had not lost the ability to read her intentions for a conversation almost without conscious effort.
"So where is this friend of yours?" The older woman sincerely hoped that the word 'friend' was used in its true sense in this case, rather than a euphemism to avoid an awkward conversation.
"Her boss asked her to visit an artist they're hoping to showcase at the gallery in the next few months, then she's hoping to visit Palazzo Forti to swoon over the Italian modern contemporaries." Andrea appeared to relax minutely upon not being asking to explain any further and Miranda enjoyed the easy smile that filled the younger woman's expression as she talked through her friend's plans.
"You are not spending time together?" Miranda questioned because it gave her hope.
"We're having dinner together this evening but we're mostly here for different things so it doesn't make sense to drag each other to places we aren't interested in. I love art but I prefer the historical aspects of it. Lily loves everything modern." Andrea answered reasonably and Miranda could detect no special fondness for this person the younger woman mentioned so casually. "Are you enjoying Verona, Miranda? How long have you been here?" There was a little more of the Andrea she remembered and a slightly flicker of a smile was allowed purchase across her lips.
"We flew in last night and so far, it has been enchanting. The girls have wanted to come here for years, it was just finding the time." Miranda kept her voice light and even, being sure to put the brunette on a friendly level as she addressed her. Andrea smiled understandingly, her gaze once more dancing outwards to the girls. "When did you arrive Andrea?" A quick look at the lack of tan could indicate not a much earlier arrival than herself but it was not definitive.
"We arrived yesterday morning. I can never quite get used to flying through the night." Andrea shared and Miranda remembered the flight to Paris in similar conditions, the way the younger woman had been somewhat restless though attempting to conceal it.
"So this is the first place you chose to visit?" Miranda prompted, hoping for more details regarding how Andrea intended to spend her trip, unsure where exactly it would lead but somehow needing it all the same. The words, however, had a very different effect than intended, as Andrea appeared to divine some significance from the question Miranda had not meant and began to blush a little, her eyes dropping to the ground at their feet, the hand holding the letter shifting to out-of-sight, against the brunette's back.
"It seemed a logical place to start." Those rosy lips mumbled and the older woman simply could not understand the near instantaneous change. "Oh! While I'm thinking about it, if you turn left out of here and walk about two hundred feet, there's a side street on the left again that has the most amazing sorbet and ice cream shop. The girls would love it and it's brilliant for the heat." Andrea beamed rather widely at the remembrance then checked her watch and looked up at Miranda, her cheeks still bright from the previous emotion. "I have to go, if I want to see the other things I have planned for today. It was really wonderful to see you, Miranda. I hope you and the twins have a brilliant holiday."
Another dazzling smile and a tiny wave, then Andrea turned and strode to the wall, slotting her letter into a gap in the brickwork before hurrying away, through the archway and out into the city beyond. Miranda could only watch her movements until the younger woman was no longer visible, a little confused and perhaps a little irritated the brunette had so easily usurped control of the conversation and ended it so quickly, and that she let her do so. An ironclad determination began to form within that she would not allow Andrea so escape so easily from her life once more. A phone call to her assistant forming within her mind, Miranda moved toward the exit, not wanting to disturb this place with the ice her working persona required.
As she moved, she caught sight of the folded envelope the brunette had left so haphazardly in the wall to her side and paused, a notion forming within her mind that was at once very wrong and somehow necessary. Giving chase to Andrea would only be beneficial if she had not lost her heart to someone else irretrievably. Those words could reveal such a thing. For a long moment, Miranda paused, knowing that reading such a private missive would be akin to stealing and reading her daughters' diaries – a complete invasion of privacy but the less reasonable aspect of her mind demanded the action regardless.
A quick glance around the enclosed space revealed no observers, so she approached and with a little slight of hand, soon had the letter carefully hidden in her grip as she made her way sedately back to the bench Andrea had vacated. Fortunately, it was still empty and Miranda sank gracefully onto the stone surface, curling her hands protectively around the envelope in her lap as she contemplated what she was about to do. It seemed no less inevitable than it had thirty seconds before so she slid a finger under the flap, unsealing it and drawing out the lined, ordinary paper. Andrea's script, familiar even now, was revealed as the document was unfolded and Miranda steeled herself for the words that would decide so many things for their future.
I don't know what good this will do or even if you'll answer or approve of my plea, Juliet, but after four years of this, I need to try.
I left her Juliet. I walked away from the most incredible woman I have ever known. I left her on the steps of a beautiful building because the future she painted over my life would lead to one thing – one of us hurting the other. And I was so determined not to be another person she hurt, Juliet, because I thought – knew, really – there was no chance, no circumstance on this earth that could make me actively hurt her. I've made a lot of mistakes but I do know that about myself. I did not consider that my actions, my own decision, would hurt both of us.
I think most people who know her – and I use that phrase loosely because so few people actually understand enough about her to know her – would be convinced I'm being extremely big-headed by assuming I've had any impact on her life what so ever – they'd tell me I was one tiny person, that what happened was so small she'll have forgotten all about it, would have done virtually straight after it happened.
All of those people are wrong. I can't explain exactly how I know – but I do know. Maybe it was the positive words she sent afterwards – not to me, directly, but she knew I'd hear them. She could have been vicious, but she didn't even try and take her revenge – she let me go. She helped me. There are very few people she does value and even fewer of those that she'd take the time with, but I think I was one of those people, once. I think she saw something in me and that's why she helped, despite everything. I hope she did. I know I saw something in her, especially towards the end. She'd begun to encourage me, in her own way, to trust me and I had begun to prioritise everything about her much higher than perhaps I should have.
I threw all of that progress away that we made between us because I was afraid. Terrified, really, that it would all come to nothing in the end. I do not regret what has happened since then, I have a great job and a good life, but I do regret hurting her. More than anything else in my life, actually. I'm not sure whether that makes me a hypocrite or an idiot. I miss her, incredibly so, and have done for four years. Time is supposed to help but it isn't and trying to work past it hasn't helped either. What else can I try?
I love her, Juliet. How is it possible to love someone you haven't spoken to for four years? Surely it shouldn't be? Maybe it's a type of madness?
I know there is absolutely no hope for us to be together, there are too many complications – who she is, who I am, what happened, how it happened, not to mention a thousand other things – and she would never give me another look now but please, is there a way to stop this hurting? Being so close and yet, so very far away from her – it's paralysing and I cannot spend the entire rest of my life like this. It's not healthy and I know that, but it doesn't seem to change anything.
I can still recite all of her favourite restaurants, how she has her coffee and her steak, which make up shades she prefers, the perfumes she wears for different occasions, the way one particular lock of her hair sometimes drapes over her forehead, the fabrics and textures she loves to look at and which she loves on her skin, I can see her hands in my mind's eye and can describe each little detail – none of it has faded. I could write essays on the way her thought processes are formed, her conscious and subconscious habits, the persona she presents and the delicate personality she hides. I've wanted to, the thought of closure coming with putting all of it to paper is tempting, but I have never found the courage to explore just how deep the memories truly are.
I love her so much.
Please Juliet, tell me what to do.
With love and hope,
Andrea.
Miranda was aware that her mouth had parted as she read and that the tips of her fingers had begun to trace over the signature at the end of the letter, but the shock of what she had discovered was so absolute she had difficulty overcoming either of those facts. It was an amazing, beautiful, potent revelation. Andrea was in love with her, deeply so, as much as Miranda in fact cared about her. It didn't seem possible. Yet, she held the evidence in her hands, written by the younger woman herself – she had watched the last few sentences take shape.
It was incredible that so magical a creature as Andrea could be hers.
The brunette was correct, there would be problems, but Miranda had already spoken with the girls, which would have been the one and only issue the older woman could not fight. Caroline had been turning concerned eyes in her direction for weeks after Paris that year and Cassidy kept calling her for little things she didn't normally need to talk about, so she had finally sat them both down and asked how they would feel if she were at some point in the future to become involved with a younger woman. At the time, the notion of chasing the younger woman had been lingering within her thoughts with a startling degree of regularity.
Both girls had been very understanding, after the initial shock and questioning about when this change had taken place within their mother whom they thought they knew so well. Miranda was comforted that if they had not guessed then there was very little chance others had. Eventually, the twins had assured her they just wanted her to find someone that made her happy. They had acknowledged the media circus would be crazy for a while and yes, they'd hate every second of it, but if she was with someone that understood and accepted her at the end of it – that was all they cared about. Miranda had never been more proud of her daughters at that moment.
Their words had also given her hope for reconciliation with Andrea, only for it to fade once more as the length of time the brunette was absent from her life grew. Doubt had begun to find purchase within her mind, whispering that it had never really meant anything, that the younger woman was not everything she had begun to believe, that the connection was one sided. So she had hesitated, unable to convince herself either way, finally deciding to wait until Andrea was in a better position to fully cope and comprehend what exactly was being offered, should Miranda make a choice to reveal it, naturally leading to this moment just now.
Now, the older woman only wished that she had not allowed so much time to pass away from each other.
The phone call to her assistant now seemed urgently important and Miranda folded the letter once more, her head lifting to take in the courtyard and where her daughters were. Cassidy was tilting her camera, evidently looking for the right mix of light and shade as she peered through the viewfinder while Caroline was looking around at her, smiling before turning back to the writing in her hand. Miranda knew that was a non-verbal cue that they were almost ready to leave, give or take another ten minutes and she was glad they were both getting so much out of being there. Shifting so her back was completely straight, Miranda slipped Andrea's writing back into its envelope and was about to return it when a hurried movement caught her eye at the archway.
The younger woman whose letter she had taken had reappeared once more within her vision, looking as flushed as earlier and that beautiful, dark head turning this way, then that way, obviously looking for someone and when her eyes alighted on the fashionably dressed woman who had taken her seat, her body seemed to tense before her focus swivelled, looking for where she had left the paper now in Miranda's hands and clearly not finding it. Quickly, the older woman stood and walked a few steps towards the brunette, the letter clasped in her fingers.
Andrea apparently heard the movement and turned to the approaching woman, gaze darting down the lithe figure and fixing, with daunted eyes, on the envelope clearly visible in Miranda's possession. A pallor spread over the cheeks that had looked so healthy and the younger woman began to tilt on her heel, evidently about to turn and run, again.
"I think it's a little late for that, wouldn't you agree?" Miranda waylaid the brunette with a rather sharp question, her piercing eyes arresting the thought and holding Andrea in place before her. "It wasn't exactly successful the first time, was it?" The editor added quietly, drawing the younger woman's attention to her absolutely. Rosy lips opened as if to speak, possibly defensively, or to stammer out some weak explanation that would be painful in its lack of veracity, but the older woman held up a swift hand to still the sound while it remained within the elegantly pale throat. The movement withdrew a quiver that passed down from delectable shoulders to knees.
"You have no need to explain or placate, Andrea. In point of fact, at this moment, I believe an apology is owed to you. It was morally dubious to remove your letter and read it – yes, I have read it." Miranda did not miss the pronounced flash of horror that blanched the brunette's complexion even further at that revelation, despite the information having been somewhat obvious, "and I'm sorry to have invaded your privacy in such a manner. However, I in no way regret the outcome of my actions." Miranda informed the younger woman calmly, levelling her gaze directly into the orbs that resembled the jewel named Tiger's Eye. Andrea's eyebrows pulled together at the latest honesty, the question spilling from her quickly and with a hint of worry.
"Outcome, Miranda?" Gently, the older woman reached out and took a slow step toward the writer, watching for any sign the colt-like beauty would flee before shifting even closer so as to slip her fingers around Andrea's forearm, dragging the light touch down until she could loop her grip loosely around the brunette's wrist. The moment reminded her of approaching a skittish faun, the imagery striking her as beautiful. Miranda also took a little pleasure from the rapid inhale and exhale of breath that seemed wholly involuntary on the younger woman's part and a rose of the most delicious pink formed in those cheeks she so desired to caress.
Gently, Miranda used the hold she exerted over Andrea to move them both towards a wall that was far less visible than their current position. The brunette willingly allowed the guidance, her tension that may have held her in place wilting under the pull of the older woman's touch and although confusion was evident in the widened chocolate orbs, Miranda felt the visceral reaction to her touch and gentle tug. Once they were a little more sheltered from public eyes, Miranda returned her considerable focus to Andrea's face, dancing her gaze across pearlescent fluttering eyelids and naturally rouged skin, taking in the precious details she'd been denied previously by space and time. Damned by and exalting in just how beautiful the younger woman had become even in the time since their last interaction.
Andrea had been wonderful in Paris. Now, she was exquisite.
"I neglected to mention earlier that you look lovely, Andrea. Even more so now than when we parted ways." Miranda finally spoke, softness audible at the edges of her voice as her mouth gave into an impulse to share her admiration. Andrea smiled back, the observation lighting her from within, before something obviously snagged in her thoughts and brought her happiness back from a floating sunbeam to the cobbled stone they were grounded upon.
"Miranda, nothing has changed in ten minutes-" She began, clearly assuming the letter had brought about these words but Miranda corrected that thought swiftly.
"I was speaking of Paris." The older woman spoke a little curtly to coax an amount of submission from the brunette that she required for a moment or two longer. "It was the cause of many miscommunications, as I understand now." Miranda continued, lifting her other hand and despite a grip on the valuable letter, she still slid her fingers around the brunette's other arm, as the impulse to once more break free formed an intention within the expression azure eyes were assessing extremely intently.
"I had thought I comprehended your motives and intentions regarding the reasons of Paris. You care, Andrea. You extend that caring and goodness to all those around you, regardless of whether they deserve them or not. It will always be your weakness and your greatest strength, or at least I have hope it will remain so. To become jaded, for you Andrea, would be an unreasonable loss to the world. I thought you walked away to preserve that care, to not take part in a future that would cause injury to someone you cared about and wished to protect. In that, I was correct – however, I was mistaken to assume that person was Nigel and to some extent, Emily. I also misjudged how deeply that care extended."
Miranda carefully modulated her tone, keeping the timbre even as she watched a hint of embarrassment tip Andrea's head downwards at the praise ventured first then an unwavering gaze found hers as Paris was explored, attempting to challenge Miranda into a confrontation that would facilitate her leaving. The older woman could not allow that to happen. She had watched Andrea Sachs walk away from her for the last time.
"I do not raise this matter to hurt or embarrass you, Andrea. I merely wish to make a few more facts clear to you. You have said you left in order to avoid what you saw as an inevitable hurt that I would inflict but what you obviously did not consider was I can no more deliberately attack you in any serious way than you could inflict pain upon your friends or family, or apparently me. It was why I gave you the reference. The thought of you upset became unpleasant and then unbearable to me, despite no longer being a significant part of your life." At this point, Andrea frowned and shook her head abruptly.
"You may not have been within my sphere, Miranda, but you were always a part of my life, in some thought or habit or dream." Her voice was strong, truthful and Miranda let the warmth conjured by the notion curl within her, calming the remainder of her reticence regarding this rather large step in a new, inevitable direction.
"Dream?" The older voice was lowered to an amused but seductive burr, suggesting so many fascinating things with one word. "We will explore that later, I promise you." Miranda smirked, with a very different promise lingering in her expression that brought the rose she adored back to Andrea's cheeks. "My intention was to wait until your position was more secure and less likely to be affected should you choose to accept my offer of a possible connection between us. However, I am no longer content to waste time it is feasible for us to spend together. The notion of returning to my life, fully aware of your feelings and mine, and continuing the act of indifference is thoroughly unpalatable to me and I expect you also. Therefore..."
Miranda smiled gently at the surprise that currently coloured the stunning brunette's expression as she made clear that the emotions Andrea had assumed were unrequited were most definitely returned in depth and yearning. However, the reaction was not permitted to extend further as Miranda drew the younger woman a little closer and leant across the closing fissure, pressing her lips softly to an almond shaped creation of cherry red that was quite apparently made for her to kiss. Andrea was as deliciously soft as lily petals.
For a long moment, the older woman was lost to the sensation, the perfection, the sense of finally accomplishing true romance, then an arm slipped out of her hold and traced lightly up her bare arm to curl delicately around the stem of her neck. The light touch held them together as Andrea tilted her head a little further and began to glide her kiss over Miranda's lips, drawing the most electrifying fissions of need and rejoicing from deep within the woman who had spent four years longing for her.
Fingers, long elegant fingers, brushed with deliberate intent against the short, silver hairs at the nape of Miranda's scalp and something shattered, causing her to stumble, or perhaps it was Andrea, another step until they were barely separated by air and their arms naturally found a hold around each other as they continued to smoothly press and retreat from each other, the connection more than enough to consume them. There was a danger of opening, of wanting, but they were both careful to not linger on that edge for too long, at the precipice when they could still draw back.
Slowly, they drew their actions to a close, their fingers curling a little tighter into the other to combat the loss of closeness. Miranda brushed a final touch to the corner of Andrea's luxurious mouth then opened her eyes, her pulse tripping over itself at the euphoric expression she found on the magnificent features so close to her, before those tempting eyelashes lifted and allowed contact with the Tiger's Eye irises she knew she'd remember for the rest of her life.
"Be mine, Andrea. Let's end this sadness and waste, and trust each other. Please." Miranda whispered, her gaze intense enough to set a fire in the intelligence and love bearing witness behind those shining orbs.
"I am yours, Miranda. This is it, for me. I can't change it." Andrea murmured back, her hand lifting to brush a few silver hairs back into their proper place, the touch starting a shiver that swept through the older woman's entire frame. The motion was not the cause of the waver in Miranda's breathing though – that was the declaration of determination and necessity. Swiftly, Miranda began a path of absolution she bestowed from the edge of Andrea's lips to the corner of her eyelashes.
"Then don't." The older woman breathed over the satin texture she would know by heart very soon. "I need you, Andrea. I have never stopped needing you. You can never run off again. Never. Do you understand?" Miranda tightened her grip even further just to emphasise the point and felt the brunette shiver even as she nodded, her own series of blessings being feathered across sensitive surfaces that Miranda suddenly needed her to touch. It was a welcome clarity that Andrea clearly saw through her words to the vulnerability that had inspired them and had accepted the secret without a second of hesitation.
Just at that moment, a baby in a pram began to cry in that unabashed manner only new infants have and the sound punctured the cocoon of renewed familiarity and welcome touch that they had created without truly realising. Andrea's head turned, instinct pulling her attention until she was assured that the child was being taken care of and Miranda admired the openness and strength of the younger woman's heart for a few more seconds before brushing a light kiss to the rose of colour she'd admired dusting perfect cheekbones. The action was enough to entice copper-tinted orbs back to her and a bashful smile was handed to her as Miranda slipped a few inches away, one arm dropping away while the other fully encircled the slim waist that belonged to the writer, allowing the editor to turn and locate her children.
Cassidy was stood much closer to Caroline now, but her eyes were riveted upon her mother and it was apparent that shock had been in place upon the young face, which was gradually melting into happiness. Her camera was pressed to her chest with one hand, as if a photo had been taken but the sight through the viewfinder had captured the eyes behind the glass as well, enough to lower the means of capturing the image. Miranda wondered whether her precocious daughter had unwittingly caught the previous embrace on film before the subject of her art had become apparent. Cornflower blue eyes flickered from one feminine figure to the other and returned, the question almost audible – "This is her, isn't it? This is your Andrea?" – and Miranda found herself smiling, knowing that would be enough of an answer.
Before either woman could move, could attempt to explain or intervene, the younger twin had leant down and nudged her older sister, whispered something with a grin before nodding in their mother's direction. Another pair of wide, young eyes swung around to take in the sight at the side of the courtyard and Miranda caught a small movement in her peripheral vision – Andrea's lower lip being rolled lightly between her teeth. The action made her give a very small chuckle and a light touch to the hip she rested her hand upon allowed both women to cross the gap that separated her from the girls. Her lover's nerves could be negated instantly and Miranda had no intention of making her wait for that reassurance.
Caroline's expression had followed the same course as her sister's and softened into a generous, welcoming grin that did not flicker once as writing utensils were replaced in a bag and both girls moved as one, taking two steps forward to meet their parent and the new addition to their lives. Andrea took a deep breath as the four met near the middle of the courtyard, her lips curving upwards as she took in the twins, clearly processing just how much they had changed since she'd last seen them and glad to be doing so.
"Hi Andrea. We wondered how long it would take Mom to find you again." Cassidy was the first to extend the hand of acceptance, her expression turning into something that held more knowledge than the brunette obviously expected as she flashed a glance towards the older woman. Miranda merely levelled her gaze at the writer, as if there was nothing strange to be taken from the fact her children understood exactly what was happening.
"Andy. You prefer being called Andy, right? I remember that." Caroline added, hitching her bag onto her shoulder a little more firmly. Miranda watched as surprise once more coloured her Andrea's eyes before a warmth overtook them and the dark head nodded happily.
"And I seem to remember you are quite enthusiastic about pineapple ice cream. Is that still right?" The younger woman asked hopefully, before redirecting her gaze to Cassidy, "Cassidy, you prefer strawberry, or you did?" Both redheads blinked at the recall of information they had not expected to still be within Andrea's memory and Miranda swiftly averted her own somewhat smug expression at the fact it was not merely herself that the brunette was capable of surprising.
"Yeah, that's right. For both of us. You remembered that after four years?" Caroline queried, an impressed line to her eyebrows while Cassidy's sky-blue orbs flickered to their mother, the cause of such a memory being retained for such a length of time immediately being located.
"Anything connected to your Mom tends to get stuck in my memory permanently." Andrea admitted with a light shrug, though her body leant a little closer into Miranda's and the older woman was quite content to welcome that curvaceous form further into her personal space. The twins both noticed the slight shift and simultaneously nodded, accepting the words and the situation as easily as both women had hoped they would. "Speaking of ice cream though..." The writer began, inclining her head gently in Miranda's direction, a lightly teasing smile picking up the corner of lips the older woman was not nearly well-acquainted with enough yet.
"I suppose you're thinking of your recommendation from earlier?" Miranda replied, a playful weariness in her voice at the thought of her daughters consuming a, no doubt unwise, amount of frozen sugar.
"They sell iced coffee as well. And, you know, it's Italian so it's bound to be good coffee." A brilliant sparkle overtook the Tiger's Eye irises that were shining into the editor's and even if that had not been enough to persuade her into acquiescing to the offer, the two pairs of pleading eyes that she could feel fixed upon her from her offspring would have tipped the scale in her lover's favour.
"It had better be. Lead the way, Andrea." Miranda succumbed to the lure of her favourite beverage and the prospect of indulging the three most important people within her life. A blindingly pleased look from all three shook a sprinkle of sparkling perfection over the moment as the younger woman curled a hand around the slightly smaller one on her waist to keep the hold in place as she turned. Miranda easily slid into stride beside the delicious woman, as Cassidy darted across to the brunette's other side, apparently intent on striking a conversation regarding the other potential tourist points that she could make full use of her lens at.
Caroline on the other hand took Miranda's side and kept step with her mother, giving a delighted flash of her overjoyed expression to the silver-haired woman as they walked and listened to the others. The message in the gesture made Miranda reach for her eldest daughter and gather her into her side as well as they walked. It was the first of many moments when Miranda wondered at the sheer volume of feeling that could be contained within a second. In the next moment, her attention was once more where it belonged – with Andrea and her twins.