AN: So sorry for the late update, I had some trouble with my account. Thank you so much to all who have commented so far, your kind words motivate me to keep going with the story. I'll be updating more frequently, because I've actually written about 15 chapters already, so the wait won't be too long! Anyways, thanks for the wonderful reviews, they make my day. Enjoy!
...
On Monday morning, Miranda strode into her office, her face firm, and a scowl gracing her mouth. She had had the weekend from hell, and she was not about to hide it. Word had already gotten out that the Dragon Lady was seething fire, and people were nearly hurling themselves out of her way. Before she reached her door, she threw her heavy coat and bag onto Andrea's desk, not even faltering in her step. She did not look at her second assistant, forcing herself to ignore her presence. At least for the time being.
Andy sighed when Miranda entered her office and left her sight. Her boss had decided to completely forget about their night at the hotel. Not only did she revert back to her cold, unapproachable self, but Miranda was also completely ignoring her.
When Andy had woken up early Saturday morning, she had quickly pulled herself together as she dressed in the clothes she had worn the day before. After patting down her hair into something akin to presentable, Andy had left her room in search of Miranda. Only to find that the woman was already gone. Andy had nocked on her door, and after receiving no answer had called reception to ask if they had seen her. To Andy's dismay, the answer to that was yes, Miranda Priestly had been down to reception about two hours before to pay for their suite, and then had promptly left. Without a word to Andy.
After that, Andy had heard absolutely nothing from her boss. She received no calls during the weekend, which was something very rare from Miranda. Andy had spent all that time with a painful knot in her stomach, and her mind was constantly troubled with thoughts of the silver-haired woman.
Andy listened as Miranda picked up her phone and started snarling to whoever the poor soul at the other end of the line was. Andy cringed. Miranda was in a terrible mood - more so than usual - and Andy had no idea how to handle the situation. Just a mere 58 hours before, Miranda had been crying on her shoulder, holding on to her, letting her in. Andy missed it. She felt the loss of the woman keenly as the editor persona rose in all her terrifying glory, making life a living hell for everyone around her.
Andy didn't know anything about what had happened to Miranda once she had gone home on Saturday. Had she confronted Stephen? Had she asked for a divorce? Had she already kicked him out? Andy hoped she had done all those things. She doubted Miranda was one to hold back, and Andy felt what seemed like deep satisfaction at the thought of Stephen finally getting what he deserves. But Andy had no way of knowing any of this for sure. She couldn't very well go up to Miranda and ask her. Hey, Miranda, did you fight with him or just kicked the asshole out without a word? Andy snorted. Yes, and then she would throw me out the window onto the street bellow.
Miranda wasn't even talking to her. As in, at all. All orders for her were passed through Emily, who got quite a satisfied smirk every time it happened, thinking Miranda was giving Andy the silent treatment for something she had done wrong. But Andy hadn't done anything wrong. Not really. She had tried to be supportive for Miranda, had tried to comfort her in any way she could, and after that heartfelt 'thank you', Miranda's walls had shut back into place, making Andy feel completely useless and empty. It's like she had seen a glimpse of something beautiful, radiant and full of light, only to then be submerged into complete darkness. Andy had several theories for why this had happened.
First theory: Miranda had only used Andy for her own benefits, not really caring that it was Andy she was leaning on as long as it was a warm body that offered comfort. Andy didn't very much like this idea, because she was desperate for Miranda to trust her, Andy Sachs, on a very personal level. Yeah, as if Miranda actually trusts anyone. Second theory: Miranda felt that Andy reminded her of a moment of weakness and just needed a little time away from that, which Andy was okay with, really. As long as it would help Miranda, Andy was sure she'd endure anything. I was there during her breakdown, I'm sure she doesn't need a reminder of it so soon afterwards. It's understandable. And third theory: Miranda was humiliated. She regretted opening up to Andy and showing herself so deeply. And somehow, this thought broke Andy's heart more than anything else she had ever experienced. More than the death of her grandparents, more than her first boyfriend cheating on her with her high school nemesis, more than Nate leaving her and almost instantly seeing another girl. The thought that Miranda wished she hadn't invited Andy into her hotel room, opened up to her, shed tears upon her shoulder, made Andy sick to her stomach.
Andy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Get your shit together, Sachs. You've got work to do. It was true. Her schedule was pretty full today, and most of the things she had been instructed to do were errands (some which were quite pointless) outside Runway. Away from Miranda. But if there was anything Andy was good at, it was being Miranda's best assistant, and there was no way Andy was going to let these feelings get in the way of her work. If she could help Miranda at all to make her life easier, she would damn well pour her very soul into it.
..._...
The week went on, and it was torture for every single person working under Miranda. Even Emily was starting to lose her cool, indifferent persona, and had resorted to using her "I love my job" mantra more and more as the week progressed. Andy, for her part, was in agony over the Miranda Problem, not to mention living on coffee. She had not slept well since Friday night, as thoughts of Miranda plagued her mind whenever she was unoccupied.
At night, Andy would close her eyes, and she would see piercing blue ones staring back. She could hear the soft, commanding voice in her ears, and could almost smell the woman's perfume drifting on her nose. If Andy tried very hard, she could still feel the woman's soft body beneath her hands from when she had held her, and the feeling was so painfully missed that Andy's fingers would tingle with the desire to touch the woman again. Andy would lie awake for a long time, tossing and turning, unable to keep the older woman from her thoughts, and when sleep came it would be filled with dreams.
In some dreams, Andy would see Miranda with Stephen while he touched her. Touched her neck, her thighs, her hips, her breasts. Meanwhile, Miranda would look straight into Andy's eyes and tell her, with a voice filled with contempt, "You could never have me. You will never have me. I'll never be yours, I will be someone else's." And then she would turn to Stephen, whose face suddenly disappeared into a blank, anonymous face, and Miranda would reach up and kiss the mystery man, gripping his clothes like she had gripped Andy's during their embrace, and she would press herself ardently into his body, giving a long, low moan as the man answered greedily to her attentions. Andy would often wake from these dreams crying, her heart feeling like it had dropped five floors down her apartment building and despair twisting her gut.
Other dreams, however, she was the figure at the receiving end of Miranda's ministrations. She was the one who grabbed Miranda's hips, the one who ran her fingers through white soft hair, the one who was kissing those wonderful lips that sent shivers down her body, the one who dragged her lips and her teeth down that creamy, perfect neck. She was the one who made Miranda moan. Andy would wake from these dreams breathing hard, almost gasping for breath, and with a deep, desperate desire gripping at the very core of her being. Sometimes she would even wake with her hands halfway down her pants. These dreams had gotten more and more frequent since the night at the hotel. No, this was not the first time Andy had these very inappropriate dreams about her boss. After dreams like these, Andy would crawl out of bed and drag herself into a cold shower, giving up on the hope of getting any more rest.
By Thursday afternoon, Andy felt she would go crazy from no contact whatsoever from Miranda. The woman didn't look at her, didn't speak to her, and no longer took her to previews or drove with her in the town car. Andy was sat at her desk, firing off emails and rearranging Miranda's schedule when she felt her heart literary skip a few beats.
"Andrea."
Andy, frozen in place, could not believe her own ears. Miranda was calling her. Oh thank God, finally. Not wanting to annoy her boss by making her wait, Andy got up on shaky legs and rounded her desk, sharing a worried glance with Emily, who answered by raising her eyebrows as if saying, "Don't ask for pity from me, you must have done something to deserve this." Taking a deep breath and gathering her courage, she entered the crystalline office.
My God, she's beautiful. Andy couldn't take her eyes off Miranda as she walked to stand before her desk, notepad and pen gripped in shaky hands as she waited for instructions. Miranda looked up at her and ran the rim of her glasses over her lower lip. Jesus Christ, why does she have to do that? Kill me, oh, please kill me. Let me die. I cannot possible live through any more of this torture. Miranda waved at her to shut the door, and Andy quickly moved to obey. When she faced the woman again, she couldn't help swallowing hard through her suddenly dry throat. Miranda kept staring at her, a thoughtful look on her face as she tilted her head in her usual manner. Finally, she straightened her back and spoke.
"Make a one night reservation for tomorrow at a hotel that isn't the Ritz. Get me a suite with two rooms."
Andy couldn't breathe. She stared at Miranda in shock, her mouth hanging open slightly and her eyes wide. She willed her heart to stop beating so hard and her stomach to loosen the suddenly tense knots she felt.
"O-Of course. I'll do it right away."
Miranda focused her gaze back to her laptop, and Andy knew it meant dismissal. She didn't know what to think: did Miranda want Andy to come along this time as well? Or maybe she wants to work out her marriage? Maybe the room was a romantic stay for Stephen and her? The thought made Andy's stomach clench, and an image of Stephen groping and manhandling Miranda's gentle frame made her feel sick. Just as she was about to open the office door and make a run for the bathroom, Miranda called her name. Turning to face the woman, Andy was sure her knees would soon give way. Oh please, she silently begged her, please let me go. I can't stand the thought of him and you-
"Bring some clothes for yourself this time."
Andy's brain froze, and she lost her breath. Had it not been for the fact that she was standing up and very much alive, she could have sworn her heart had given up after that instruction. It's me. It's me she's taking with her. She doesn't regret opening up. She needs me again. Oh God, it's me. Not him. Me. Unable to form words, Andy nodded and quickly left the office, ignoring Emily's curious and somewhat accusing stare and rushing straight to the ladies' room.
Once in the privacy of the bathroom, Andy looked at herself in the mirror as she tried to get her erratic heart to calm down before she suffered cardiac arrest, and she carefully began to control her harsh breathing into calm breaths. Once her brain was able to function again, she closed her eyes and thought tomorrow night couldn't come soon enough.
This woman will be the death of me.
...-...
Friday night found a very anxious Andy sitting in a large sofa that commanded the large living room of the suite at the St Regis Hotel. It was 10 pm, and the room was lit warmly by the soft glow of two lamps that stood on low tables on either side of the sofa. Her right leg was shaking nervously while she bit her lip, waiting for Miranda with her hands grasped tightly on her lap. Andy, as Miranda had ordered, had called room service to bring a bottle of red wine while Miranda went to her room to change into more comfortable clothes. She had been there for a while now, so Andy, desperate to have something to do, went to her own room. She pulled out her best loungewear clothes from her overnight bag and quickly changed. She didn't even remove her make up before quickly returning to her place on the couch.
Less than thirty seconds after she sat down, Miranda came out of her room, wearing much the same thing she had worn the week before, except this time the sweater was a dark grey to go with the black trousers. Like last time, she had taken her make up off, as well as her jewellery and her shoes. Andy's insides melted at the sight.
Miranda didn't notice Andy's reaction to seeing her, and instead sat down on the other end of the sofa. Andy quickly reached forward and took the wine from the coffee table, quickly filling a glass for each with the dark liquor. As she handed one glass to Miranda, their fingers brushed, and Andy felt electric shocks shoot up her arm and into her centre at the contact. Miranda looked into Andy's eyes then and quickly took her hand away, glass clutched firmly in her hand. Andy watched as the older woman took a sip, closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure. Oh God, help me. Andy's muscles clenched at the sight and sound Miranda made, and watched in awe as all the tension seemed to leave the woman's shoulders as she leaned back against the couch.
Andy took a sip of her own, and her eyelids fluttered. It tasted divine. No wonder Miranda had reacted that way, especially after the week she must have gone through. They sat in silence, relaxing into the comfortable cushions and quickly emptying the bottle of wine.
"I'm divorcing him." Miranda said after almost an hour of silence. Andy wanted to cry at the news. Yes! Take that you bastard!, Andy thought gleefully, trying very hard (and thankfully succeeding) in hiding a smile. She quickly pushed her joy aside when Miranda started speaking again. Right. Miranda. Focus. This can't be a nice experience for her, can it? "He finished moving out yesterday morning, and my lawyers think the divorced should be final in a few months."
That explains why yesterday afternoon she had asked Andy to make the reservation. She needed this. Not knowing what to say, Andy asked, "How are the girls?"
"My girls." Miranda said, almost thoughtfully, and she looked sad, broke, which, oddly enough, is something she hadn't seemed when talking about divorcing her husband. Whenever she talked about Stephen, she used a cold, distant tone, like she didn't really care about him anymore. "My girls didn't take it well. They didn't particularly like Stephen, which is something I only found out a few days ago, but they still feel betrayed. They think it's my fault."
Andy closed her eyes at the bitter tone in the other woman's voice. She could not even imagine what Miranda must have felt when her own children made her responsible for the divorce. The twins meant everything to Miranda. Andy had not truly realised this until that night in Paris, and it hurt her to think that the girls had hurt Miranda like this.
"I tried to explain it to them, but they are right, in a way. There is no point denying it. I drove Stephen away, just like I drove Greg away. And everyone else in my life, really. If I were different, it would have worked out with Stephen, and my girls wouldn't have to suffer because of me."
Miranda's little speech angered Andy for some reason. She felt angry at all the people that had deserted Miranda. She felt angry at Stephen for throwing Miranda away like he did. She felt angry at the twins for not supporting their mother, who loved them more than anything in the world. She felt angry at herself, for being unable to take her pain away, and for the fact that she would never get the chance to make her happy, and love her the way she deserved to be loved. Can't she see how beautiful she is? Before she could filter her words, she spoke.
"That's bullshit, Miranda."
The woman looked at Andy, stunned. Andy didn't know whether it was at her use of language or at her fierce, passionate tone, but Andy didn't really care at the moment.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said that's bullshit. It is not your fault Stephen is an idiot. It's not your duty to change any aspect of yourself just to satisfy him and fit into his idea of 'the perfect wife'. If Stephen couldn't accept you for who you are, couldn't love you for who you are, then it's his loss, and it's his fault. Not yours."
Miranda gaped, actually gaped at Andy. Her eyes had gone wider, and she seemed frozen in place. Andy tensed, waiting for the Dragon to unleash her fury at Andy for overstepping into things that did not concern her. But the scathing words never came. Instead, Andy watched as Miranda looked away from her, took a sip of her wine, and lost herself deep in thought.
Nothing else was said for the remainder of the night.
