I helped Andrea to turn down the covers, and after gazing at one another across the bed for a few minutes, looked down at my blouse and asked her for something to change into. She handed me a t-shirt and lounge pants, and I went into the bathroom to change. When I returned in the t-shirt that just barely came past my underwear, Andrea smiled and squeezed my hand as she slipped away to do the same. While I sat on the edge of the bed waiting for her, a million and one thoughts raced through my mind. She cracked a small smile when she returned, and I think she sensed my anxiety—at least I hoped she did. She turned out the light and crawled under the covers, softly patting the mattress next to her without saying a word. I took a deep breath and joined her in the bed.
"Miranda, I know you're nervous, but I just want to hold you," she said.
I reminded myself that this was Andrea. She knew me, and she wasn't going to hurt me, and I needed to keep reminding myself of that. She whispered for me to turn onto my side, and I felt her body press up against my back, her arm cautiously draping over me. She asked if this was okay, if I was comfortable, and I responded with a sigh as I took her hand and laced our fingers together. "I have to leave early in the morning—I can't stay long," I reminded her. She responded by wrapping her arm tighter around me. I chuckled and squeezed her hand. This could work.
Several hours later, I woke up, minutes before 5:00 AM—a habit I apparently could not break. Her arms were still around me, but awake and with the early-morning light filling the room, I felt self-conscious. What is that saying about darkness covering all sins or something? Nonetheless, it's much easier to ignore reality in the dark.
I extricated myself from her arms and slipped into the bathroom, changing back into my clothes. I walked over to tell her goodbye, but she looked so peaceful, not waking as I brushed my fingers along her cheek. I left the room quietly and grabbed a post-it from her desk, scribbling a note: Darling - Call me when you wake up. xo M. I attached the note to her bathroom mirror, where she would be sure to see it, and then I quietly left her apartment.
My driver was still waiting across the street, which worked perfectly. I gently knocked on his window to wake him, then slid into the backseat. I wanted to be home when the girls woke up, which probably wouldn't be for another few hours, but just to be safe. I had asked Cara to stay over last night because the photo shoot was going to run late, so I knew she'd be there for them, but this was one of the few Friday nights lately that they weren't spending at a friend's house, so I wanted to have a nice Saturday breakfast with them.
While that was true, it's also that I didn't know what to say to Andrea in the morning. It wasn't quite the awkward "morning after" conversation, but I needed a little bit of time to think about things, to formulate a plan. Yes, she was my friend, and yes, I was willing to explore something more, but she was also my employee still. Compromises would need to be made, and the last thing I wanted to see on Page Six was something about me being in bed with my assistant. That would not do well for her future career in New York either.
Several hours later, I found myself in the kitchen, helping my daughters make French toast. I felt a bit guilty for the way I left Andrea's, but my girls would always come first. On that I would not compromise, but I think Andrea already knew that. When they finished making breakfast and carrying it to the table, my phone rang. Caroline handed it to me, telling me it was Andy and that I should take the call, despite our rule of no-phones-at-the-table. Because they urged me, I decided to at least had to answer and let her know everything was alright.
"Hello?" I answered. She didn't even greet me, instead asking if I was upset or if she had gone too far last night. I glanced over at the girls, then stepped into the hall, careful so they wouldn't hear. "Andrea, darling, I left the note so you wouldn't be upset. I couldn't bear to wake you, but I wanted to be home to see the girls. We actually just sat down to breakfast now," I explained. While I waited for her response, I looked down at my hand and saw it trembling. "Andrea, please say something," I whispered. I was suddenly terrified that I had ruined everything with what I thought at the time was a sweet note. She finally replied, and we both decided we needed to discuss things in person. The girls were going to see a movie with a few friends that afternoon, and everyone was coming back to the townhouse for dinner. I didn't see a problem with inviting Andrea, as many of the girls' friends know her as my assistant anyway. I took a deep breath and returned to the breakfast table.
"Girls, I'm sorry, I needed to speak with Andrea," I said. They didn't mind. I knew Cassidy liked Andrea a lot, but Caroline was a bit more shy. I took a deep breath. "What would you say if Andrea started coming around here more? Just to spend time with us as a friend, not my assistant?" I asked. Naturally, Cassidy agreed that it would be "awesome," but Caroline just shrugged. I pressed her a little more, and she spat out that Andrea would be spending time with me, not with them, so she didn't care. While that was true to some degree, it gave me insight into the twinge of jealousy fueling her thoughts.
I took another deep breath and explained. "Well, I asked Andrea to join me this afternoon while you're at the movies with your friends. I would like for her to stay for dinner as well. You will both be so busy with your friends, I thought it's only fair for me to invite one of mine." Caroline asked right away if she was staying the night, and I thought for a moment about how much I wanted her to. "Are Jessica and Megan?" I asked, knowing they were not. "Would you like them to?" Both girls looked up at me, nodding eagerly. I rarely let the girls have a sleepover, but maybe now it wouldn't be so bad, plus it was only two girls.
Cassidy thanked me and ran to call her friends so they could get their parents' permission, while Caroline just looked across the table at me and smirked. In that instant, I knew I looked guilty, and I knew Caroline was onto my intentions. Instead of apologizing, though, I took a deep breath and grinned right back at her. "It's only fair," I said. Caroline rolled her eyes as I grabbed my plate and Cassidy's plate and carried them over to the sink. Caroline joined me, handing me her plate and then just standing there for a few minutes.
After loading the dishwasher, I put my arm around her and asked if everything was okay. She nodded, then threw her arms around my waist and buried her head in my shoulder. I wasn't sure what she was so upset about, but I held her and soothed her anyway. With a little prompting, she began to open up. "Mom, what is going on with you and Andy?" she asked. When I didn't answer, she continued. "When Stephen left, I know it was hard on you, but it was hard for us, too. You weren't happy, and you hardly spent time with us. You would have never made us breakfast and then sat with us. Is this how it's going to be when Andy leaves, too?"
I hugged her and kissed her cheek and led her over to the couch in the den. I explained that first and foremost, Andrea was my friend—she was our friend. I also admitted that until last night, I thought that was all that we were, but we've both decided that there might be more to it, and we want to explore the possibilities. "Is that what you're upset about? That I might be dating her, and that she's a woman half my age?" I asked.
Caroline laughed. "No, Mom. That's what you're nervous about."
I blushed and kissed her cheek. She was absolutely right. I asked her if she was upset that she would have to share Andrea's attention, or mine, and she said it wasn't that either. She was just afraid of what would happen if and when Andrea and I broke up. As if I needed something else to be anxious about. I took a deep breath, and explained, "Of course that has crossed my mind, but I will never be happy if I go into a relationship preparing for its inevitable end. I know you're still young, but I want you to dream of forever relationships. My poor choices shouldn't leave you disillusioned. You deserve to be really, truly happy. And I deserve it, too. Because of that, I need some room to explore things with Andrea. I don't want to lose her friendship, but I can't pass up the opportunity for…for love."
Cassidy had joined us on the couch somewhere in the middle of our conversation, and she suddenly asked if that was why I didn't marry David. Shakily, I told them the truth. That I loved David in a way, but that he was not the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. How did I know? Because I would rather spend five minutes in my office with Andrea than a weekend with him. "Do you love Andy?" Cassidy asked.
"Of course I do, she's a friend who's been at my side for years. I'm not sure I love her in the way you're thinking, though, and that's part of what Andrea and I need some room to explore, okay?" Both girls nodded, then Cassidy asked who would make me happy after Andy leaves. Caroline reminded me that after Stephen and David, it was Andy who made me smile again. I sighed and hugged them tightly, telling them that they would be the ones to bring joy back into my life, now and always. I still wasn't ready to think about what life would be like without her—if she ever left.
At 3:10 PM, I was riding in the car towards Andrea's apartment, having just dropped the four girls off at the movie theater. I texted her that I was on my way, and as soon as we pulled up, she joined me in the backseat. I looked over at her, and something seemed off. She was holding back, and I suddenly felt at fault. I pressed the button to raise the privacy screen in the car, then turned to her, reaching for her hand. Our eyes met, and I tried my hardest to settle her uncertainty. "Andrea," I whispered, "Would it be alright if we kissed hello?"
Her eyes lit up, and she smiled the most brilliant smile. I pulled her close and felt my own nerves settle as the young woman's arms enveloped me in her warmth. She tilted my chin up and pressed a kiss to my lips. I sighed and settled against her chest. Once we were inside, I offered her water or tea and suggested we chat in the den. I needed to have a clear head tonight, and there were things I wanted Andrea to hear.
"First, I want to apologize for the way I left this morning," I said. I explained how I had tried to tell her last night, and how I thought the post-it was something sweet, but once I heard her voice I knew that it didn't come across that way. "Please forgive me," I said. "I enjoyed falling asleep in your arms, so much that I was wondering if you'd like to stay here tonight."
Andrea looked up at me wide-eyed. I squeezed her hand and laughed, relating to her most of my earlier conversation with the girls. Andrea was surprised at their reaction, and she seemed a bit hesitant to spend the night, so I told her we would play it by ear and see how the night goes. "Oh, there is something else I wanted to talk to you about—how has your freelancing been going?" I asked.
"You want me to quit my job as your assistant," she said.
I smiled and shook my head. She could see right through me. Of course that is what I was getting at, but I want her to be successful and happy in whatever she ends up doing. We talked a bit more about a few recent assignments she's had, and I offered her the opportunity of working in editorial for Runway. She immediately balked at that, so I asked if she would at least be willing to listen to the opportunity.
"It's no secret that the magazine is being overrun with ads. I can't add more pages without driving up the cost, and I can't shift the ad-to-editorial ratio without driving up advertising rates, which our sales team already has difficulty managing margins on. So, I want to keep the ads where they are, just somehow add more words and context to the ads themselves. All, of course, while maximizing ad revenue." Andrea's brow knitted in confusion, so I clarified. "I want to start publishing sponsored content. Instead of Prada buying a three-page spread, they'll put their spread on two pages, but on the third, there will be a narrative-style feature—about a dress, a material, a location shoot, a charity or cause, anything, really. The advertiser could use the space to prominently promote their line, or it can be subtle and make more of an emotional connection. But the point is, I need someone to manage that, and to be able to write the pieces when the advertiser doesn't supply them."
Andrea was shocked that I was offering this newly-created position to her. She pointed out that this sponsored content idea was going to be the next phase of "content marketing" for digital publications, and I couldn't agree more. I explained that this is precisely why I needed a twenty-something to lead the unit. She asked if she would be doing it by herself, and I told her initially, yes. In my mind, this position would report to Clare, our managing editor, and as the program takes off, I would imagine there would be a junior graphic designer on her team, as well as an intern or two. I wasn't able to get much of an investment for this program, but once it was up and running and bringing in money, it would be much easier to justify the headcount on the team.
"This is a lot to take in," Andrea said. It wasn't the pureform journalism that she was hoping for, but there was a lot of creative freedom, and she would be learning invaluable skills for a career in publishing. As a journalist, it's easy to be ignorant of the ads that actually fund the publication of the magazine, but editors need to know both sides, need to know what they're defending their pages against. "So, it would be okay for me to work at Runway, as long as I'm not your direct report?" she asked.
"Well, there's no problem with you being my direct report. You're an exceptional assistant. However, if we are to pursue a personal relationship—a romantic relationship—I cannot be your direct superior," I said. There was a certain flexibility with dates and timelines, I explained to her, so if she did want to pursue something serious, she could backdate her resignation letter and we would be okay.
She grabbed my hand and looked concerned. "You want to take this public already?" I reassured her that HR was not the same as "public" and that I would only make it public if and when she was ready for it. One of the wonderful things about her moving to a different role at Runway was that there would be no speculation or rumors if she was seen outside of work with other members of Runway staff. If we were going to do this, I wanted to tell Nigel, Emily, and Serena, so they could help keep us off of Page Six while we explored our relationship.
She agreed, and sat down at my computer to write a resignation letter while I pulled some extra blankets and pillows down from the attic for the girls' friends. I was straightening the bedspread on Caroline's bed when I felt Andrea's arms wrap around my waist, her lips softly brushing against my neck. I spun around in her arms and wrapped my own arms around her neck, kissing her slowly.
One of the things I learned from David was how much I enjoyed the act of kissing. There were all sorts of kisses—from light pecks to tongue-down-your-throat kisses that leave your tongue sore for days—and I enjoyed them all. This kiss with Andrea fell somewhere in the middle of the spectrum; it was much more intense than a peck, but our lips were mostly closed. Our faces were pressed together, and there was a certain stillness about her lips on mine that I rather liked. It felt as though we were sharing the same breath, being this close. I blinked my eyes open and was surprised to see her gazing back at me. Pulling away a little bit—my head only, not my body—I licked my lips and gazed into her eyes. I wasn't planning to push things farther than that, but I soon realized I had already made the decision in my mind:
I wanted to make her happy, no matter what that meant.
Andrea took advantage of my pause and pushed me backwards against the bed, where the back of my knees hit the mattress, sending us both sprawling onto the bed. She slipped her arms from my waist and gently took my hands, lifting them above my head where she held them in place. "Is this okay?" she asked, her eyes full of hope and concern. I nodded, and she bent her head down to kiss me, slowly. With her lips on mine, her body pressed against my own, I felt as though I had died and gone to heaven. Gone were the worries of the day—in fact, the only thing I could think about was how badly I wanted to touch her, but I was too weak to fight the grip she had on my wrists.
Some time later, I heard an alarm going off on my cell phone. "Wait, the girls," I said, turning my head to the side and freeing myself from the young woman's grip. The movie they went to see would be ending soon, so I needed to drive back to the theater to pick them up. Andrea stayed home and began prepping dinner, and the entire way to the theater, I couldn't help but brush my finger against my pleasantly swollen lips.
At home, after helping the girls and their friends to make their own pizzas, they went upstairs for a while to have a dance party or whatever it is that girls do at sleepovers. No one questioned Andrea's presence at my home, though I caught Caroline watching her on more than one occasion. Andrea and I spent most of the evening in the study, working independently, and once the four girls were situated for bed, we retired to the bedroom.
I was surprised at how hesitant Andrea had been since our earlier make-out session on my daughter's bed. She didn't try to kiss me or touch me or even flirt with me. I softly laid my hand on her shoulder and she jumped away. "Andrea, is everything alright?" I asked. She nodded, but kept her head down. I led her towards the sofa by the fireplace in my room and took her hands once we sat. "Talk to me," I said, gently brushing my thumb over the back of her hand. "You've been so quiet this evening." She shrugged and apologized, but I knew there was more to it.
I transferred both of her hands in to my left hand, and reached up with my other hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Darling, tell me what you're thinking about," I said. She looked up at me with fear in her eyes, and I immediately pulled her to me and held her against my chest, kissing the top of her head softly.
"I'll start. I'm thinking that so much has changed in the past twenty-four hours, and that I am happy about it. I am thinking about Caroline, who seems to be worrying too much about me right now, and I am thinking about you, my dear. You, who, twenty-four hours ago were my assistant and friend, and now are still both but so much more. I am thinking about the future—about your future, and how myself and the girls might fit in. I'm thinking about how wonderful it feels to have my arms around you, and thinking that my lips are still sore from so much kissing earlier. I'm thinking about myself and how anxious I am—or at least trying not to think about that. I'm in my fifties and don't have the perfect body. I'm near unrecognizable without my makeup. I'm old enough to be your mother. I'm worried that you've gotten so quiet," I said.
"It's a lot to take in," she said quietly. "Like you said, a lot has changed in twenty-four hours. I'm just quiet because it's kind of hard to believe. I feel like I'm in a dream, like I'll wake up soon and you'll be gone." I reassured her that that was not the case, but nonetheless let her know that she did not need to stay the night if she felt more comfortable going home. That frightened look reappeared, so I quickly added that I would feel much better with her staying here.
That night, she curled up beside me in bed wearing the green silk nightshirt I let her borrow. We both agreed to take things slowly, as it was all very new for us. She was waiting for me to turn around, like the previous night, but instead, I felt this overwhelming need to protect her, to keep her safe, and to hold her in my arms until she fell asleep. I think she was surprised when I pushed her back into the pillows and draped an arm and leg over her body, but I could feel her heart beating against mine, and after a few soft kisses, she relaxed. I laid my head on her shoulder and quickly fell asleep.
The next few weeks went by in a blur. Between on-boarding a new assistant, Andrea's promotion, and preparations for the Holiday issue and upcoming Fashion Weeks, we were both busier than ever. I didn't spend as much time with her during the day, but we did send a lot of text messages back and forth all day and all night. On the weekends when the girls were with their father, I would spend the night at her place. Her apartment seemed more private, while the townhouse, I think we both still associated it with Runway.
Over that time, we mostly kept to ourselves, giving us both time to explore the relationship and become comfortable with everything. We had agreed to take things slowly, but after those first twenty-four hours, I realized that I didn't need slow, I just needed Andrea.
Still, we explored our intimacy very slowly. Over Thanksgiving weekend—the girls were with their father at their aunt and uncle's in Connecticut—we hit a turning point in our relationship. We were in her bed, kissing and touching one another, and I could feel my arousal building. We still hadn't had sex, nor had we seen each other completely naked or touched each other that intimately.
On weeknights, it practically became a habit that I would masturbate before falling asleep, usually while texting Andrea or just after getting off the phone with her. But that night, in her bed, the way she brushed against my nipple and stroked her hand down my thigh—I could just feel my folds quivering with anticipation. The look in her eye seemed innocent enough, and I suddenly felt like this foolish old woman who's desperate to get laid. It wasn't like that between us, but at that moment, I felt that way. I kissed her softly and pulled away, excusing myself as I got up to use the bathroom.
Once inside, I shut the door and pushed my panties down, frantically reaching for my folds and plunging my fingers into the wetness. I was so close. I grunted quietly and flushed the toilet as I pressed my thumb against my clit, sending me over the edge with a gasp and chortle. I slipped my fingers out and turned on the faucet, cleaning up before returning to bed, and to Andrea.
When I crawled under the covers, Andrea curled against me and buried her head in my neck. I could feel my pulse racing against her lips. She inhaled deeply, then shuddered against me. "I wish you would let me do that for you," she whispered before kissing my neck once more.
I gasped and pulled away. Had she known—was it that obvious? Just the thought was making me so wet, so quickly. She licked the outer shell of my ear and I moaned. There was no turning back. I knew I couldn't hide it any longer.
"Miranda, I want to taste you," she whispered. "Can I taste you, please?"
My response was a cross between a moan, a cry, and a meow. I would have been embarrassed, but I was too aroused. With what little coherence I had left, I slipped my underwear down and kicked them off. All of my senses were assaulted at once when Andrea moved between my legs. It was the most incredible feeling, being fully controlled by the young woman. I recall very few details from that night aside from waking feeling sore and spent and completely content.
I'm not sure how it had gotten to that point, but we were both glad to have crossed that bridge. I think we both feared that we wouldn't be compatible, and that we'd lose what we had. That turned out to most definitely not be the case, so it was a relief for all.
A few weeks before Christmas, I scheduled a happy hour for myself, Andrea, Nigel, Emily, and Serena. Everyone had been working extraordinarily hard and I wanted to show my appreciation. More importantly, Andrea and I wanted to let them know we were seeing one another.
We had a corner table at a quiet bar. Nigel was seated on the end, to my right. Andrea was to my left, and next to her was Emily, and then Serena. We spent some time discussing work, but after a few drinks, the atmosphere changed. Serena was the first to notice, and she whispered something to Emily, who then texted Nigel because he was sitting across the table. My eyes fluttered closed as I felt Andrea's breath on my neck. She placed a soft kiss, and I dug my fingernails into her thigh where my hand had been resting.
Nigel cleared his throat, and I looked up. The three of them were staring at me wide-eyed. Andrea just laughed and leaned her head against my shoulder. I smiled and reached for her hand. "One of the other reasons I asked you here tonight," I said, "is to let you know that Andrea and I are in a relationship."
"And we don't want to make a big deal of it to the press, but also we're getting really bored with staying in my apartment every weekend," Andrea added. "Well, maybe not really bored, but, you know."
I blushed. Thankfully, it was dark in the room. "What Andrea is trying to say is that we're all friends here and we hope that we can get together outside of work more often," I said.
"You want us to be your cover story?" Nigel asked.
"Sort of, yes, but we also want to see you and have drinks like this every now and then," Andrea explained.
Nigel was hesitant, which I expected. Serena was supportive, and Emily was just shocked. I called the waiter over and paid the check, thanking them all for joining us this evening. I could sense that Andrea was uncomfortable, so I wanted to get her out of there as soon as I could. Unfortunately, being a Friday night in Manhattan, it was next to impossible to find a cab, so while Serena and Emily opted to walk home, I offered Nigel a ride back to his place. There was very little conversation in the car, except he did ask how long this had been going on. I reassured him that it wasn't until a few months ago, when Andrea resigned. I knew Nigel, and I knew he would be okay in a few days—he just needed some time.
Andrea, on the other hand, was a concern. She already felt like she had so few friends in New York besides me—and keeping our relationship under wraps wasn't helping. She couldn't make friends at work without risking outing us, and outside of work, well she spent a lot of time working, and when she wasn't, she spent it with me.
Over the next few weeks, I talked it over with my girls, my exes, and my lawyers, then finally suggested to Andrea we go out as a couple in public. She was surprised, but I think relieved, too. It just so happened that Valentine's Day was around the corner, so I made reservations for us, and stopped by David Yurman to pick out a pair of simple, elegant diamond earrings for Andrea.
I asked her to meet me at the restaurant, and I bought a dress for her and had it sent over to her apartment that morning, with the earrings. She called me right away, and I selfishly let the phone go to voicemail because I wanted her reaction recorded so I could listen to it again and again. I called her back immediately and told her how I was looking forward to seeing her later that evening.
As could be expected, by the time we left the restaurant, there was a crowd of photographers waiting for us outside. We held hands, and as Leslee suggested, we stopped and answered a few questions. Yes, we are on a date… No, we've been friends for quite some time… Where would you take your gorgeous date after a romantic dinner?
The whole time, Andrea stood next to me, smiling and holding my hand. I led her into the backseat of the town car, and just as I was about to climb in, a reporter shouted, "Does this mean New York's 'Fashion Queen' is coming out of the closet?" I could have easily slid into the car and pretended not to notice, but I thought best to address it now before it spiraled. I told Andrea I would just be a minute and shut the door, walking over to the reporter who asked the question.
"My dear, you make that sound like it's something new. I have been in and out of the closet so many times in my life, it's hardly even an afterthought. What I do know, is that I have two ex-husbands, two teenage daughters, and a beautiful, incredible woman waiting for me in that car. The only thing that matters in this world is to love and be loved, and with Andrea and my daughters, I have that. No more questions," I said, turning and heading back to the car.
Andrea was nervously chewing on her lip when I returned, but I felt like I was on top of the world. I took her hand and asked her, "Can we give them something to look at?" Her eyes lit up as she nodded. I reached over and pressed the button to lower the window and she jumped onto my lap, planting a firm kiss on my lips. I could hear my driver explaining that he couldn't pull the car out because of all the photographers, and I felt my lips curling in a grin. I laced my fingers through her hair and kissed her harder than I ever have, and after a few minutes we were both breathless. She pulled away from my lips and began assaulting my neck, suckling on that spot just beneath my ear that makes me go crazy. I threw my head back and called out her name, just as I felt a cool breeze hit my cheeks.
We were moving. The car was moving, we were away from the cameras. I reached out and pressed the button to roll the window back up, and when Andrea pulled away I asked what was wrong.
"Wasn't that all for the cameras?" she asked.
"If they're going to print a photo of us, I want them to see how good we are together. And no, that was not for the cameras," I said. She still looked at me questioningly, and instead of answering, I lunged at her, pressing her back into the seat and untying the sash of her wool coat. "I want you so badly," I said, kissing her on the lips before sinking to my knees in the spacious backseat.
When we arrived at the townhouse, of course, it seems some photographers followed us. I turned to Andrea and asked if she would rather the driver pull around back, but she shook her head and said, "We have nothing to hide."
"Andrea, I love you," I said. I wanted to make sure she knew that. I needed her to acknowledge it. She nodded and softly kissed me on the cheek. With that, we went stepped out of the car and made our way to the front door.
Inside, Andrea went to hang our jackets, while I stood frozen in front of the door. A million thoughts suddenly raced through my mind, and I vaguely felt myself moving towards the stairs. I could hear Andrea's voice, quietly guiding me to sit and asking to hold my hands. I didn't want her to see me like this, but it was too late. I felt a strong hand on my back, softly rubbing circles.
"Miranda, it's going to be okay. I love you. I'm here, and you're going to be okay. Just breathe and try to open your eyes," she said. I whimpered at the tenderness and affection in her voice. "I love you, Miranda. Take as long as you need. I'm here. I'm staying. I love you," she repeated.
After some time I felt the fog lighten. I took a deep breath, and Andrea squeezed my hand. I didn't want to talk right now—I didn't want to say anything, in fact. Andrea, being the goddess that she is, stood and held out her hand. "Come upstairs. Let's get out of these clothes and watch The Philadelphia Story," she said.
My god I loved this woman more than life. There were things about me she mysteriously understood. Like me not wanting to talk. Or me turning to Tracy Samantha whenever I couldn't find the words. Following her up the stairs, I knew she was my destiny. So close to me for years, and yet I couldn't see it.
She handed me my favorite silk nightgown, undoubtedly knowing it would make me feel safe. When we were both changed into pajamas and removed our makeup, we crawled into bed, where Andrea already had the DVD ready to go. I tried to get comfortable next to her, and finally, she rearranged the pillows and sat up a little bit, spreading her legs and gesturing for me to lay against her, my back to her front. It seemed strange at first, but when I felt her chin on my shoulder, her arms around me, and her knees against mine, I knew this was exactly what I needed.
We must have fallen asleep like that, because in the middle of the night, she had to wake me to move her leg. "Andrea, thank you for tonight. I don't know what happened. I just—I struggle with anxiety," I said.
"I know," she replied.
"You do?" Does everyone?" I asked, suddenly feeling like I needed some air.
"No," she said quickly. She explained that she and Emily surmised as much when they were assistants, but neither said a word to anyone.
I reached for my phone to check the time, and was shocked to find I had multiple missed calls, texts, and emails. Looking through them, I saw congratulatory texts from several designers, a thumbs up from Cassidy and Caroline, and even a message from David, saying he wished me all the happiness in the world. I finally got to Leslee's email, and saw the link to , where there were pictures of Andrea and I kissing in the town car, then walking up the steps of the townhouse looking thoroughly disheveled. I showed Andrea and she laughed, saying that we both looked hot and so into one another.
I could not argue with that.
Then, she tells me she has an idea. To put the speculation and rumors to bed, literally. She wants to post a photo of us in bed, reading Page Six. I'm not sure how that will go over, but she promises it will be tasteful. She imagines herself sitting up reading—using my glasses, while I am draped across her body, lazily kissing her neck. It sounds crazy, but I agree. There is little I won't do for this woman. She tells me to hold on while she runs to grab something, then returns with Cassidy's selfie stick.
She gets herself into position against the covers, her iPad propped up on her bent knees with the article on the screen. I wrapped my arm around her waist and kissed her, while she maneuvered her arm so she got the right angle on the shot and her arm was not in the picture. She snapped a few photos, then we looked through them. I couldn't believe how stunning these looked. The early morning light was perfectly shining in the window, my hair was a mess and the way the strap of my dress slid down my arm was nothing short of sultry. Andrea's smirk as she read the story, and my tongue curling against her neck made the perfect photo.
"I'm using this one," she said. I agreed, and told her she could tag me in it as well. She typed up a caption and showed it to me before posting: best valentine + best morning after. (thx, pagesix!)
Best morning after, indeed.
.
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The end.
A/N: So that one scene that inspired this whole story ended up getting cut. Weird how that works out, but I'm still considering this part of #finishwhatyoustart. Let me know what you thought!