A/N: So I'm not the most patient person...and I find it cruel punishment to make you all wait. You're welcome.
Chapter Four
They rode in silence most of the way to Lincoln Center. Andrea sensed Miranda was a little nervous, but she wasn't sure how to reassure her without being too obvious. As the car approached the entrance, Andrea turned to Miranda. "If you start to feel sick tonight or anything—"
"Stop. I can't think—" Miranda said.
Andrea nodded and turned to look back out the window. When Roy pulled to a stop, she jumped out of the car and made her way towards the top of the stairs, trying to avoid being photographed with the editor. Once Miranda met her at the entrance, she was in full-on assistant mode, falling in step just behind Miranda, taking a slight detour to the coat check with their wraps.
Andrea watched as Miranda casually chatted with Irv's wife, accepting a glass of champagne from the waiter when he passed, though it seemed she wasn't planning to drink it. Miranda practically floated through the room tonight. Of course, being a holiday party, she was not the only woman dressed in red, but she was certainly the most stunning. Andrea even heard others whispering about how amazing she looked.
She followed her around for at least thirty minutes. As she passed by the bar, she grabbed a glass of ice water with lemon and approached Miranda who was surprisingly standing alone against the wall, caught in a rare moment of silence.
Andrea offered the glass of water, and Miranda took a few sips before silently handing it back. A server began to approach them with a tray of some sort of salmon hors d'oeuvre and she quickly waved him off. Miranda never ate at these functions, which meant, neither could she.
Looking back over at Miranda, she quickly recognized her pressing the back of her hand against her mouth. Andrea's eyes widened as Miranda turned to face the wall. "The fish?" Andrea whispered. Miranda nodded and began to lean over as the retching continued.
She quickly took Miranda by the elbow and ran—as quickly as possible without being noticed—down a corridor where she knew a semi-private bathroom was located. Thankfully, it was unlocked, and Miranda ran inside, lunging for the sink. The bathroom was small, designed for wheelchair access. There was a sink, a large stall, and an awkward empty area with a small bench along the wall. Andrea locked the door so others would not enter.
Once Miranda's retching subsided, Andrea stepped closer. Miranda was clutching the vanity, her head hanging over the sink. Andrea turned on the faucet and ran water through the basin. Then, she dampened a paper towel and held it out.
Miranda looked up and took the offered towel, wiping her mouth and her left hand as she looked into the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her eye makeup was running from the tears that came with vomiting. She stepped away from the sink as she tossed the towel into the trash bin.
"I need to sit down," she said softly.
Andrea motioned towards the small bench in the other room. Seeing Miranda sway as she began walking, Andrea slipped her arm around the woman's waist and slowly led her to the seat.
"Try to relax," Andrea said.
Miranda nodded and closed her eyes as she slouched against the corner. She was clearly trying to control her breathing.
"I've locked the door so no one will disturb you. Whenever you're ready to leave, Roy is waiting."
"Not yet," she said, biting her upper lip and readjusting her position on the bench. Andrea could see her abdominal muscles contracting beneath the fabric of the dress.
"Will it help to lay down?"
She shrugged, turning and easing herself onto her back.
Several minutes later, it seemed as if the nausea subsided. "Can I get you anything right now?" Andrea asked.
"Our coats. I'm ready. See if there's a side exit, as I prefer not to walk through the main ballroom again."
"Not a problem. You might want to lock the door again once I step out."
"I'll take the chance. I don't want to move."
Andrea nodded and practically sprinted to the coat check. Less than five minutes later, she knocked gently before slipping inside the bathroom. Miranda was sitting up, her head hanging down between her legs.
Andrea draped Miranda's jacket around her shoulders. "Unfortunately, there is no side exit. Security cannot disarm the alarms tonight; however, they were kind enough to show me an alternate way to reach the main entrance without walking through the main ballroom. Will that be alright?"
Miranda nodded. Andrea held out her hand, and she took it, struggling to pull herself to her feet. With her other hand, Andrea took Miranda's elbow and helped her stand.
"I-I can't…dizzy," she said, blinking several times.
"Stay with me or else I'll have to call an ambulance," Andrea said, knowing that was probably the last thing Miranda wanted right now. "I've got you," she said, wrapping her arm firmly around the editor's waist.
Miranda nodded and actually leaned in towards Andrea a bit. That gave her an idea.
"There's a chance photographers will see us as we exit," Andrea said, "But, what if you just look like you're helping your assistant who's had a bit too much champagne to the car? I can act tipsy, and you can put your arm on my shoulder or whatever to make it look like you're holding me up. Will that work?"
"Fine," she said, "but if any reporters ask any questions, you will no longer be in my employ." Miranda snaked her arm around Andrea's waist.
Andrea cracked a smile. "Got it. Don't attract attention," she said.
"Let's go before I change my mind," Miranda said. Andrea smiled. Miranda was using the first person plural, too.
Andrea opened the door and led them down several hallways until they reached the main entrance. Most of the reporters and paparazzi were off to the side smoking. It was really quite miraculous that no one paid attention to Miranda's exit.
Roy was confused as he opened the door to help the women into the car, until he realized Miranda was leaning heavily on Andrea. He quickly helped them both into the car. Turning to the woman next to her, Andrea saw Miranda leaning forward, struggling to take a deep breath.
"Is the dress pulled too tight?" she asked, gesturing at the corset laces.
"I don't know," Miranda panted, pressing her hand to her lower back.
"Let me loosen it," she said, quickly untying the ribbon and plucking some of the laces. She began softly rubbing soothing circles on her back, not sure of what else she could do. "Would you like to lie down?"
Miranda shook her head and they rode to the townhouse in silence.
At the townhouse, Roy helped Miranda out of the car and up to her bedroom while Andrea carefully hung the wraps in the closet. "Hey Andy, do you want me to stick around? I can give you a ride home," he said.
"Andrea?" Miranda called.
"Uh, not tonight," she said, climbing the stairs. "Looks like I'm stuck here for a while."
"Alright then, goodnight!"
"Don't forget, Roy. She has an appointment at 7:30 A.M. tomorrow—be here by 7:15."
"Sure thing."
"Andrea?" Miranda called again.
"Coming, coming!" Andrea shouted as she picked up her dress and took the stairs two-by-two. "I'm sorry, I was making sure Roy would be here tomorrow to take you to your appointment," Andrea explained as she reached the doorway of the bedroom. "Is there something I can do?"
"Help me with my dress."
She nodded and stepped closer. Miranda was facing the mirror, her hands resting on the dresser. Andrea finished untying the ribbon, pulling the laces loose so it would be simple to step out of the dress. "All set," Andrea said, stepping away.
"My robe," Miranda said, gesturing towards the chair in the corner.
Andrea retrieved the robe while Miranda pushed the dress down her body. She unbuckled her strapless bra and let it, too, fall to the floor as she covered her breasts with her arm.
"Here," Andrea said, turning her head away and holding the robe up. Miranda secured it, then stepped out of the dress, bending over slowly to pick it up.
"Get the hanger," she instructed.
Once the dress was hanging, back in its garment bag, Miranda crawled into bed.
"Is there anything else I can do?" Andrea asked.
"No. I don't want you to feel like you're stuck here," Miranda hissed.
Good lord, even when she wasn't feeling well she was still capable of being a bitch. "Miranda, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I just… I can't go around Runway acting like I care about you, like I enjoy spending time with you. Nigel is still teasing me for defending you after the June/July planning meeting six months ago."
Miranda did not respond right away, as Andrea had just given her plenty to think about. She enjoys spending time with me? She defends me? Others tease her for it?
"I'm sorry, Miranda. I should go," Andrea said quietly, staring down at her feet.
"No," Miranda said. "I mean, you don't have to leave. You are welcome to stay in the guest room if you'd like. I know it's late."
"Thank you, but I need to get home tonight. Roy will be here at 7:15 to pick you up for your appointment. Can I bring you anything else before I go—something to eat or drink, water, perhaps?"
Miranda shook her head. "I can't eat anything right now. But please, help yourself," she said. "I'm being an awful host. I know you didn't eat lunch or dinner today. At least pour yourself a drink."
"Oh, no," Andrea said. "I couldn't." Why was she suddenly so generous?
"Humor me. There is a good Riesling in the wine cooler, or the Shiraz is excellent, too. Or if you prefer something stronger, there's the cabinet in the den."
Andrea was exhausted, and she knew a drink would only make her sleepy. Curiously she searched Miranda's eyes, only to realize the answer was simple: she wanted company.
She sighed. Her lips curled in a smile. "If you insist, I suppose a glass of wine won't hurt. Shall I bring you a ginger ale?"
Miranda smiled. "Still water with lemon is fine," she said, closing her eyes.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Andrea quickly found and opened the Riesling, letting it breathe for a few moments while she prepared Miranda's water. The fact that Miranda didn't want Andrea to leave was somehow more unsettling than she would have expected. Not only was something going on with Miranda's stomach, but now she seemed to be losing it just a little, entertaining her assistant after hours.
As Andrea walked upstairs, she gave herself a little pep talk. She would not stay the night at Miranda's, no matter what. She would keep her hands to herself until she was out of the house. She would not, under any circumstances, brush the woman's cheek or give her a hug. That would be crossing the line, and Andrea wasn't sure she would ever find her way back.
Back in Miranda's bedroom, they actually enjoyed casual conversation as Miranda revealed some gossip about one of the senators who she had seen at the party. Apparently, everyone in New York was hiding something.
"Wow, very interesting," Andrea said, sipping her wine. "I had no idea."
"Well, why would you? No one does. That's why it's interesting," Miranda said with a smile. "Tell me something about yourself, Andrea. Something I wouldn't necessarily know or be able to find out easily."
Andrea's eyes widened. That I think I'm falling in love with you? "Oh no, I don't want to bore you," she said.
"No, tell me something. I've certainly revealed enough this week. You owe me," she added, a wicked gleam in her eye.
Andrea gulped. She didn't want to think of the implications of being in debt to Miranda Priestly. "Well, uh, I grew up in Ohio."
"Nope, I knew that. Tell me something interesting—something no one else knows," Miranda said, curling onto her side and tucking the comforter under her chin. "What do you dream about? What keeps you up at night?"
You, you. Always you. "Uh, I should be going," Andrea said.
"Of course," Miranda snapped. "I've kept you—you were stuck here too long."
"Fine," Andrea said, tossing her hands up. She could not believe how immature Miranda was acting with this pouting. "Here's something for you. There's this guy, Nate. We've been dating on and off for the past five years. We've been living together since I've been in New York, but I'm not in love with him. I've known for a while that I didn't want to spend my life with him. Now, I think I'm in love with someone else who I can never have, and Nate is completely clueless," Andrea said, staring down into her empty wine glass. "Interesting enough for you?"
Miranda bit her lip. She certainly wasn't expecting such a confession, but hearing the words from Andrea's lips made her realize that her assistant was, in fact, a young woman who had a life outside of Runway. That was something she could never manage.
"Very interesting," Miranda said, choosing to use Andrea's words to cover her speechlessness. "I would say I'm sorry I kept you from him, but I guess that doesn't matter."
"No, it doesn't."
"So, this someone else," Miranda said, "are you in a relationship with him?"
"Didn't you say one thing?"
"Hmm, I don't remember specifying."
"Fine. Sort of," Andrea said with a sigh. "It's complicated."
"Yes, it always is, isn't it?" Miranda said.
Andrea nodded and stood from the chair. "I really need to go home and get some sleep tonight. As long as you're feeling okay—"
"Yes, go. I shouldn't have kept you this long. But—" Miranda paused. "Thank you, Andrea. And I promise you this conversation will not leave this room."
"Thank you," she said. "I'll come by and pick up the Holt dress tomorrow morning before work so we can have it dry cleaned. Roy will be here at 7:15 to take you to your appointment."
Miranda nodded. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Miranda," Andrea said, stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind her.
tbc
