Okay, okay. Don't get too excited. I usually can't update this quickly, but this story has really caught hold of me and it won't let go. Haha.

Glad you're enjoying. Oh and I forgot to mention that I don't own these characters. Sad, right? I know.

Chapter 2

But the girl had other plans.

She spotted Miranda, even had the nerve to wave at her. Miranda tried to look away, clearly displaying her displeasure on her face, but this did not deter the adamant young woman Miranda remembered so fondly .

Miranda looked back at the girl and realized she was approaching. Rapidly. Fuck.

"Miranda." the girl shyly sighed; rolling the older woman's name off her tongue like it was some exotic word.

"Andrea." Miranda, attempting to sound annoyed, responded.

"What are you…"

"A lunch date, with an editor." She didn't know why she was explaining this to her ex-assistant. She could have just waved her away. She tried to look over Andrea's shoulder, inwardly begging said editor to step through the door at any moment.

"Right, well…it was good to see you. Again."

Miranda civilly looked up at Andrea and nodded, her eyes wide in clear annoyance. Her biggest foible, however, was when she met Andrea's chocolate colored eyes. She felt something buried deep down inside melting.

She knew the editor wasn't coming even before she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Andrea seemed to sense this fact as well, for she stayed rooted to the spot, appearing to be waiting for an invitation to sit. Miranda was contemplating not giving this to her, but finally she leaned her head to the side and then nodded her head as if to say, "Why the fuck aren't you sitting down?"

Andrea quickly jumped to, memories of Miranda's demanding stares jolting her body into a fit of nerves. She plopped down in to the seat across from Miranda and watched as the waitress lavished the table with attention, bringing a basket of bread and filling Andrea's water glass.

Andrea realized she was saving Miranda yet again.

Miranda leaned forward, one elbow on the table, finger resting on her bottom lip. She watched with wide, horrified eyes as Andrea actually began eating the bread. Andrea had quietly smeared that disgusting food called butter all over a huge piece and then bit in to it.

It was only when her doe eyes caught those crystal blues of Miranda's, that Andrea dropped the piece of bread on to the plate in front of her. "Right, I forgot I was supposed to be anorexic." She half-whispered to herself.

Miranda frowned and then picked up her menu.

Andrea squinted her eyes at the back of the open menu before her, glaring at the woman who now hid perfectly behind it.

"What are you doing here, Andrea?" The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and Andrea wondered if she'd heard correctly.

"She speaks." Andrea finally muttered, causing Miranda to turn down one side of the menu so that her perfectly coifed eyebrow could rise in an alarming, questioning manner. "I mean…I…um…I usually pick up my editor's lunch here. But he can wait."

Miranda's tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. "Didn't I teach you anything during your time at Runway?" Her voice held a hint of annoyance and she tilted her head to the side to add extra emphasis. Her delicate, pale finger came to rest at her chin once again.

"Oh…of course you did." Andrea found herself gaining more confidence as she spoke. This woman was no longer her boss. "No, he's nothing like you though. I actually have more than fifteen minutes to eat lunch. And I get weekends off."

Miranda raised her eyebrows in mock surprise, sucking in her cheeks at the same time. Her attention had gone back to her menu.

Andrea was beginning to hate herself for even attempting to have lunch with her former employer.

Once they had ordered, Andrea allowed herself to observe Miranda, really observe her. She sat rather distractedly, as if she were in her own world. Her fingers would clasp together and then come unclasped. It was as if Miranda were fidgety. And it also appeared that something was nagging at her.

Finally Miranda opened her mouth to speak, but then, seeming to think better of it, closed her mouth once more. Freeing one hand from the other she picked up her water and sipped it, apparently needing a distraction, a way to wash down the question that was at the tip of her tongue.

It would have been so easy to ask, just a few short words that would roll off her tongue. The only problem was she would regret saying them as soon as they left her body. She felt she would be giving up too much of her control over Andrea.

So she remained silent. Silent until Andrea decided to speak.

"How…" Andrea seemed to be at a loss for words as well. "How are your twins?"

"Fine. Caroline was cast in her first show at their new school and Cassidy decided to join the soccer team, even though I insisted she stayed in orchestra." Miranda widened her eyes and glanced down, surprised at what she had just told her former assistant. She would never have said any such thing to her before, but now…now the words just came so easily. She felt compelled to tell Andrea everything, just as she felt compelled to ask her, "why did you leave?"

"What?" Andrea's head shot up.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Had she really just said those words? Those four simple words: why-did-you-leave?

She cleared her throat, attempting to look cool and relaxed. "I just wanted to know," she easily leaned back, taking her time this time to ask the question that burned at the back of her mind, "why you left me there on the steps in Paris all by myself. In front of a crowd of photographers. And then…then you didn't even have the courage to answer the twelve or so phone calls I sent to you. I thought you were better than that Andrea."

"Well," Andrea looked down, "I guess I thought you were better than that too." She didn't have the nerve to look directly at Miranda, so instead she inverted her attention to the water glass she held between her hands. "It was really shitty what you did to Nigel." She exhaled, afraid of what Miranda might do next. Would she stand up and storm out of the restaurant and have a restraining order placed on Andrea? Would she succeed in getting her fired from her new job? Would she make sure Andrea never worked in New York City or any subsequent city ever again for as long as she lived?

But to Andrea's surprise, none of the above happened. In fact, she was taken aback when she heard a deep throaty laughter begin to surface from the woman who sat across from her at the lunch table.

"Oh, Andrea. Don't be ridiculous." Miranda could hardly contain herself. "After we got back from Paris, I looked all over for some kind of job opening Nigel would excel in. He's now currently co-working with a new designer out of Russia. Now, was that a shitty thing for me to do?"

Andrea could only stare wide-eyed with mouth agape at Miranda. "Holy fuck."

"There's no need for such language, Andrea."

"Right, sorry." Andrea still could not believe it. And just to hear Miranda say those words and have that kind of reaction it almost made her…well quite very human. Andrea knew there was a living breathing person deep down inside Miranda. It had surfaced that night at the big ball when Andrea had saved Miranda from public embarrassment due to her now ex-husband. When Miranda had mouthed those two, simple words –thank, you- Andrea had known.

Their food came, breaking the unusual air that had settled between them. As they ate, something changed. It was more comfortable. The lunch had become a good idea after all. Andrea was glad she had stayed.

Conversation came sparsely throughout the meal, and it wasn't for lack of subjects to speak on. It merely came from the fact that Miranda was not the best conversationist. She found herself lost for words and tongue-tied. A feeling she was not very used to. Most usually she was a very articulate person, capable of light chatter at soirees and balls. But having lunch with her former assistant seemed an entirely different task. It was quite hard. And she found it hard to believe that Andrea was staying just to talk to her. So why else would she be there, sitting across from her, eating lunch?

For a short moment Miranda wished she were someone else. Someone who could let down her guard and truly speak without having to jeopardize her powerful position in her day-to-day relationships. But she had worked so hard to build her hard outer shell and so she was stuck with this lack of emotions, lack of feeling, lack of outward caring when it came to employees; both currently employed and unemployed by her.

Andrea excused herself to the bathroom for a moment when the conversation had all but died down. She had left the table, not really to use the bathroom, but to escape Miranda for a moment. She had to collect her thoughts, steady her mind, and her hands, which had been trembling since she'd sat down.

She was beginning to feel things for this woman she had never felt before in her life and she had no idea why. There was no explanation. Was it even possible for one to have such unusual feelings towards their ex-boss, especially when said ex-boss was Miranda Priestly?

After splashing water on her face, she returned to the table. She had decided that she would rid herself of these strange feelings by trying to push Miranda away. Perhaps then she could forget about her.

"You know my boss is nothing like you. He's sloppy and forgetful. He pushes back deadlines. Sometimes he doesn't come in until ten. I thought I would like that, but I haven't quite gotten used to it yet."

Miranda rolled her eyes. The newspaper Andrea currently worked at was lousy. Not the best Andrea could do. Not by far.

"But the thing that I love the most is sleeping in. I think I missed that the most. Having that time to just cuddle with the person who shared my bed, and then he would make me breakfast, and we would just relax." Andrea had no idea why she was shoving this in Miranda's face. There was just something persuading her to see if she could get Miranda to feel, to react. She wanted to know if she could get a different look from Miranda, something that would perhaps give away her inner dialogue. But no such thing occurred. She just looked as stolid as ever.

But unbeknownst to Andrea, and what Miranda would never let her see, was that deep down she suddenly felt a pang of sadness. That…what Andrea had just described…was something she had never had. Ever. Her past three marriages had been devoid of just relaxing. There had been sex. Good sex. Amazing sex. But that was all she had time for. None of the in between.

Shifting her weight in her chair, head tilting in the opposite direction, she stared at Andrea over the table. "Why are you sitting here blabbering away about all of this? Am I supposed to feel remorse because you left me for a seemingly better job? I mean, really it sounds just wonderful, Andrea. I wish I could work there."

"Don't mock my job. At least I'm writing there. That's more than I can say of what I did for you. I was your slave, Miranda. I ran around the city with millions of packages and scalding hot coffee just for you. I hadn't written anything in over a year. How in the world did you expect me to benefit from that?"

"Many girls would give their right arm to work for me, Andrea." Miranda practically spat her name, tossing her unused napkin on to the table in disgust. She was clearly finished with this meal.

"Right. I'd forgotten how important you were, Mr. Priestly." Andrea retaliated and half expected Miranda to rip her head off.

"Don't mock my name, Andrea." But her voice had softened. She didn't sound angry…no anger was seemingly replaced with a hint of…sadness?

"Sorry." Andrea found herself apologizing for the umpteenth time to her former slave driver. But there was something about Miranda that just sagged. Not physically, but emotionally something was running down. Her sharpness was dissipating the longer they sat there.

"I think this meal is over." Miranda in a split second decided. She waved down a waitress, placed her credit card in the holder without even looking at the bill, and then clasped her hands together, resting her chin on top of them.

"Miranda…"Andrea began, but there were no words. She was completely stumped. There was nothing else to say. She had just insulted Miranda and now she couldn't quite formulate a way to repair the damage she had done. She sensed that Miranda had been about to exonerate her for leaving her job in such a powerful way, perhaps even praise her for her feat. But, instead it had gone downhill. She concluded that this had been a bad idea…but she couldn't help but wonder if after this lunch she would ever even see Miranda again.

The thought that she might never sit so closely or talk to her so candidly ever again did not sit well with Andrea for some unknown reason.

She tried again for a consoling sentence, but when none came she fought back the urge to cry. She had spoiled the moment.

"Don't pout Andrea. It's not very becoming." Miranda had glanced away from Andrea, but it was then that she realized the older woman had been watching her. Closely.

Andrea looked down at her neatly folded hands in her lap. "Sorry." She whispered again.

"No, no more apologizing." Miranda breathed, receiving the check from the waitress. With a quick flourish of her hands, her card was placed away in her billfold and a twenty was dropped on the table. Miranda got up and moved towards the exit, leaving Andrea seated at the table in both shock and adoration of Miranda's slender, retreating form.

TBC...I know it probably sucks right now...but I'm working on it. Hahaha. It's the awkward beginning...