At 4 o'clock the following morning, Andy woke up in a panic with a slight headache and a raging thirst. Miranda had sent her home in a cab, and while she didn't think she'd said anything too stupid, she really shouldn't drink around her again. There was however something she knew she had to remember. What was it?

Oh God, Miranda had said she'd go to the movie with her on Tuesday, and dammit, she had nothing to wear. Well, she had clothes, obviously, but she had nothing to wear for that. They may only be going to the movies after all, but jeans and an old sweatshirt really weren't going to cut it. Especially, said a voice in her head, as she was going out with the queen of fashion, and there was no way she'd live down showing her up in any way. Although she ruthlessly quashed the one that said this was also a date and she wanted to look good, since it sounded far too much like Nigel.

Unable to get back to sleep, she downed two glasses of water, then made herself some coffee and set to work on her Medicaid article, as her editor wanted the first draft by the next meeting.

At 4.30 she wondered if it was too early to call people, and decided if she ever wanted them to talk to her again, it definitely was. She went back to working on her article.

By 5.30 she'd snapped out of a trance she'd been in and decided she probably shouldn't call at all, they'd only think she was trying to dress up for Cassidy, and if Miranda found out all hell would break lose.

By 6.30 she was cursing the fact that most consignment and vintage stores didn't put their stock online. She knew this was because the turnover was so rapid, but that really wasn't helping at this point.

At 7 o'clock she thought she'd better stop drinking coffee, as her right upper eyelid was starting to twitch.

By 7.30 she'd showered, dressed and was ready to hit up every store in the city, if it meant she'd find something affordably decent to wear.

By the time she got to the street she'd nixed affordable, or at least gone with decent by Miranda's standards, which were considerably less affordable, than decent by her own.

She was half way to the subway by the time she remembered that it was only a movie. She stopped, turned back towards home and went by the bakery to get herself bagels, then walked back up to the apartment and forced herself to have breakfast, even as she realized the shops weren't actually open yet.

When she'd finished, she took a slow walk over to the East Village and doorstepped her favorite consignment store, until the owner came out to walk his dog. She bartered the walking for him looking for something fabulous in her size, and thanked God that some people still remembered her fondly from her Runway days.

When she returned the pooch, said owner handed over a pair of Balmain leather Moto pants that had come in the day before. Andy tried them on and grinned. They may not be what Miranda was expecting, and they were certainly more than anyone in their right mind would call affordable, but she knew she looked damn good in them, and Miranda would not be able to berate her for shopping from a department store clearance bin. Then she bought a black Equipment shirt to go with them and a few other pieces, so she would never have to go through her T-shirt debacle again.

She tried the outfit on again when she got home, pairing it with her Armani wool coat and Valentino boots that she'd bought when she'd been promoted, and bit her lip, trying to work out how Miranda would view the all black ensemble. It might not have been up to the minute fashion, she thought, but at least it was more rock chick than funeral chic. Then she decided that whatever Miranda's opinion, she had already taken up entirely too much of her brain power for one weekend and called Lily.

#~~~#

Ryan called on Sunday, and told her he had the photos she wanted.

"Already?"

"Your boy's not exactly discrete," he replied.

They arranged to meet, and Andy left the apartment, hailed a cab, and took the Manhattan Bridge over to Brooklyn and the gastropub where he was tending the bar.

He slipped the envelope over to her as she ordered a drink. "Thanks," she said, "what do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it," he said, "just throw me a bone when you have a story."

She looked up and he held her gaze, she nodded in agreement and he smiled and passed her the drink, "cheers," he said.

After staying an hour or so and relaxing in the congenial atmosphere, Andy went back to her apartment wondering what her next move should be. Looking at the photos she knew she had him, Ryan had definitely gotten the goods and by rights she should take them straight to the cops. The problem was, if she did that she had no leverage, and she didn't want to provoke the guy into talking out of turn about Cassidy, even if it was just his word against hers. Again she wondered what Miranda would do. She was tempted to call and ask about a hypothetical scenario, but Miranda was far too astute not to be suspicious. She put them to one side while she mulled the problem over in her mind, her thoughts inevitably turning towards Miranda again. She bit her lip as she wondered how Tuesday would go, whether Miranda would like her outfit, and why that mattered, since it wasn't a date.

#~~~#

Monday went by in a blur, so did most of Tuesday. The picture was on late, and while Andy had gotten home at a reasonable hour, that only meant she was sitting in her apartment ready and waiting to go, long before Miranda got there. Which was ridiculous, because it wasn't a date. She was just going out with her ex-boss to see a movie. They weren't even pretending to be on a date, despite the current circumstances they found themselves in.

She glanced at the bottle of vodka on her kitchen shelf, and wondered if she should have just one to settle her nerves. It was vodka, Miranda wouldn't smell it, right? Still, she thought better of it and got up to check there wasn't lipstick on her teeth, again. On the way back, she swung her arms in circles, trying to get rid of some of the excess energy that seemed to be circulating in her body. She looked at the clock again, it had hardly moved. Then she remembered she hadn't eaten since lunch, and that they weren't eating later. She looked in her fridge, it's contents looked dubious at best, potentially toxic at worst, God she missed Nate sometimes. She wondered if she had time to call for take out.

Deciding she didn't, she opened the fridge again and checked the milk was OK, before pulling out a bowl and tipping some cereal into it. Then she took off her shirt in case she spilled anything down it, because that would be just her luck. Cereal in hand, she turned on the TV to give her mind something else to do, flicking the channels, unable to settle on any one thing. Giving up, she found a trashy reality TV program that she had never seen before and that required no brain power. She watched the images flicker past on the screen, as her mind totally switched off. So switched off had she become, that she was actually startled when someone knocked on her door.

"Just a minute!" she yelled, grabbing at her shirt again, throwing it on and trying to make herself look half decent. She ran to the bathroom quickly, checked her face in the mirror, reapplied her lipstick, took a deep breath then let it out slowly, tucking her shirt in before she walked, as calmly as she could, back to the door.

Andy opened it and blinked, Miranda looked stunning. She was wearing a beautifully detailed wrapped body sheath in black silk, though the reporter didn't know the designer, and a coat she thought was Elie Saab, but could definitely be wrong about. What she did know was that she'd really better start reading Runway again, and that Miranda was more than a little overdressed for the movies, not that she was about to say so.

"Well?" Miranda said.

"You look beautiful," Andy replied. Miranda pursed her lips, which was not quite the reaction she was expecting. Then she realized she was still blocking the doorway, "oh, um, come on in," she said, and moved out of the way.

Miranda stayed where she was, "I'm running late. I think we'd better leave," she said, "if you wish to see the start of the film."

Andy glanced at the clock on her wall and hurried to get her coat, wondering exactly where the time had gone, and giving Miranda ample opportunity to admire every aspect of her outfit and the way it hugged her body. Andréa was, she admitted, exceptionally aesthetically pleasing, a fact only highlighted by good couture choices, and her short hair, which Miranda had been undecided about when she had first seen it, suited this version of the woman a great deal.

#~~~#

Miranda, who had elected to drive rather than take a cab, pulled into the parking garage and quickly found a space. Getting out of the car and locking it, she was startled to find that Andy had walked round and was offering her hand. She looked at it, then turned away and walked towards the exit stairs.

Andy sighed and went after her. Before they got to the street Andy stopped her and said, "Look, just think of it as… um… a desensitization exercise. Like I said before, if we're going to pretend we're a couple, at some stage we're going to have to make some kind of physical contact. We don't have to be excessive, since everyone knows you don't do touching but…" she trailed off as she saw the annoyed expression on Miranda's face, "what?"

"You were rambling" her companion replied, "and as I said before, I managed three husbands, I'm sure I can manage you."

"Look Miranda, you knew going into this that I'm a touch-ey kind of person. Those photos of me and Cassidy are more than adequate proof of that, and the reason we're even here," Andy pointed out. "I can't change that, or suddenly stop myself from doing it. Especially if I'm supposed to be in love with you. I mean, would you believe the story of you and me, if there was pictures of me hugging the twins, but only ones of us walking a decorous distance apart, even if you are you?" Thinking she saw the minutest shake of Miranda's head, she continued calmly, "So, as a trial run, just let me take your arm, or you take my arm. Trust me, we need to get comfortable with this, and it'll prevent me from suddenly putting it over your shoulders, or round your waist without thinking at one of your events, which I am sure you'll hate more. Especially if it's in full view of the press."

Miranda sighed, unsure exactly when Andréa had apparently turned into the human equivalent of an octopus, then took a deep breath and resolutely reached out and tucked her own arm through the reporter's.

"Great," Andy said "and if when we do this for real, you can try not looking like you think I might be contagious while you do it, this might even work," then she patted the hand resting on her bicep. Miranda visibly startled and Andy caught it as it started to withdraw again. "Breathe Miranda" she said, "remember, we're comfortable in each other's presence. We've been friends for six years. We've been dancing around this for almost as long. Cassidy and Caroline are both intelligent girls, if we can fool them, everyone else will be a piece of cake."

Andy pushed open the door to the street and as they started off towards the IFC Center, Miranda quashed the strange sensation that had gone through her hand at Andréa's touch. Wondering again, why exactly she had thought this would be a good idea.

#~~~#

"When the girls said Catherine Deneuve was in the film, I didn't realize they meant for approximately 5 minutes." Miranda said, as they walked out of the movie theater later that evening, and decided to find some coffee, before heading back to the car.

"I'm not sure they knew to be honest, I certainly didn't," Andy replied, "but it's an interesting concept don't you think? Becoming your true self by losing everything you value."

"It wasn't his true self Andréa, he was pretending to be someone else," Miranda replied. "Someone I might add, that he'd killed."

"I guess, but he did gain his own personal freedom by becoming that other person, and I just find it weird that he hadn't been himself, lived his life, until then. I just can't imagine having to pretend I'm someone that I'm not all the time."

"Then you should consider yourself extremely fortunate, most of the world is not so lucky."

Andy frowned "But do you need to pretend? The current problem aside, aren't you living the life you wanted?"

"My life is built on pretense Andréa. How many times would you say I've genuinely smiled at all those events I've attended? How often did I have to make nice with small minded men like Irv Ravitz?"

"But not now surely? I mean, you're the head of one of the country's biggest publishing houses; you've two beautiful and bright daughters at college;" without thinking she lightly hooked her own arm through Miranda's, drawing her in as she grinned and whispered in her ear, "the only pretense is the hot girlfriend."

Miranda, who had instantly stiffened at the contact, felt the warmth coming from Andréa's breath on her ear, and involuntarily pulled her closer as she shuddered. Andy felt the contact from her shoulder to her hip, sparking her nerve endings in a way she hadn't felt in a long time, which surprised her. Then there was a flash to their left. Miranda's head turned and she pulled away. She saw a man grinning lecherously at her, before he disappeared back into the crowd. "I may not wish to lose everything I value, but anonymity certainly has it's charms" she said pursing her lips, then continued, "as does the idea of murdering photographers."

"Agreed" Andy replied, then tentatively slipped her arm back through Miranda's, pleased that she only stiffened slightly this time and didn't pull away as they continued down the street, "but think of him as a puppet dancing to the tune you're playing. As you said, it's a far juicier story, and we didn't even attempt to set that up," she said quietly in Miranda's ear.

Miranda nodded, knowing that Andréa was right, "we had better tell the girls, I wasn't expecting this to happen quite so soon. I wanted to prepare them first, and who knows what spin they'll put on that."

"Yeah," Andy agreed, "and I'm still in the twins bad books for not telling them about being friends with you." Miranda glanced at her but said nothing, and by mutual consent they made their way back to Miranda's car, before their mother called the girls.

"Mum?"

"Cassidy, I…" It seemed to Andy that Miranda's jaw, while still working up and down, had suddenly lost the ability to make coherent sounds. She continued watching for several moments until the woman covered the phone with her hand and said, "what do I say?" in as calmly frantic a tone as Andy had ever heard her.

Andy opened her mouth to reply and her mind too went blank, "umm… I guess…uh," then she gestured for the phone and Miranda gladly handed it over.

"Cass?"

"Andy? Why are you — What's wrong with mum?"

"Is Caroline there too?"

"Yeah. Andy you're worrying me, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, we're both OK, we just need to tell you something."

"At…" there was rustling and then she continued, "11.30 at night?"

Andy felt like kicking herself, "Sorry it's so late. We went to see that film with Catherine Deneuve, you remember?"

"Oh, was it good?"

"I thought so, I'm not sure your mother did, but that's not the point. We, um… we were photographed leaving the movie theater, it'll probably be in tomorrow's paper and we er… we wanted to let you know before you see it."

"So? Mum's always in the paper," the voice on the other end said suspiciously,

"Yeah, um… you remember those photos with the two of us, how they misrepresented our relationship."

"You mean, whatever this photo looks like, it's not what it seems?"

"Yeah… well no… um, not exactly. I mean, look, just don't the two of you jump to any conclusions OK, we'll be over first thing in the morning to explain everything."

"I have practice at 6.30 Andy, I doubt you'll be here before then."

"Oh. Right I forgot, hang on…" she turned, "can you do lunch tomorrow?" Miranda gave a tight nod, "lunch, 1 o'clock at…".

"Jean-Georges" Miranda said and Andy repeated it back to Cassidy.

There was the sound of a hand muffling the microphone and then "OK, but make it 12, Caroline has to be back by 2 for piano practice."

"We'll see you at 12 then. Night Cassidy, we're sorry if we woke you both."

"S'okay, night Andy, say night to mum for us."

Andy ended the call and held out the phone, "they said goodnight," she said.

"Well that went well," Miranda muttered, acknowledging what Andy said with a nod and putting the cell phone back in her purse, wishing she had some aspirin with her.

Andy sighed, "you're sure you still want to go through with this?"

"It's a little late to change our minds now."

"I guess, so what are we going to tell the twins?"

"That we've kept it quiet because we don't know what it is yet," Miranda replied after a long pause, "after all the publicity surrounding my failed marriages, it's hardly to be expected that I'd want to advertise the fact I've taken up with a…a… is there such a thing as a toy-girl?"

Andy snorted, not quite being able to envision the woman sitting next to her as a sugar mama, despite all her obvious qualifications in that regard, "I um… I guess so."

"In any case, we stick to what we've already discussed. We realized a while ago that there might be something between us, and we've been spending time with each other to see where it goes. Without the pressure of other people's opinions. Now that it is, or very soon will be, out in the open so to speak, we are just going to try to weather the storm. Hopefully with their support and with the proviso that neither of them will take sides if it doesn't work out. A fact that is almost inevitable now that the press have wind of it."

"Nothing is ever inevitable Miranda."

Miranda stared out of the front windscreen. "None the less, since this charade cannot continue indefinitely, and I imagine that you do not want to lose the twins anymore than I do, I suggest we are both upfront about our desire for them not to take sides."

Andy reached out and covered Miranda's right hand, which was gripping the steering wheel tightly, with one of her own. "You'd never lose your daughters Miranda," Andy reassured her quietly, "they love you too much." Miranda looked away, the girls had hated Stephen, so it was inevitable that any perceived fault would eventually be his. With Andréa she wouldn't put so much as a dime on her own chances with the twins.

Moving her hand, Miranda turned back towards the passenger seat and changed the subject, "the annual fashion benefit at the Met is a few weeks away. I was going to tell you, since I thought it would be an excellent time to… well, now our potential outing appears to have been moved up, I will need you to be there. I have only ever been with my husbands, and for the last few years I've gone alone." Andy's lips twitched, "you find that funny?" Miranda asked sharply.

"No" Andy replied, "I've just never been ordered to go on a date before."

Miranda sighed, fighting the urge to massage away the pain in her head, "this is hardly a normal relationship, by any stretch of the imagination," she replied.

"Oh, of that I'm well aware" Andy said, "otherwise we'd be home by now laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, not wondering how we're going to justify ourselves to a couple of teenagers."

"I do not intend to justify anything" Miranda said haughtily, "I imagine that of all the relationships I have had, with the possible exception of their father, this is the one they will approve of the most, provided we can get them to believe it. They may however fear for your sanity."

Andy smiled, resisting the temptation to reach out for Miranda's hand again, "I'm currently dating the most beautiful woman in New York" she said instead, "I'd say my sanity is just fine. Trust me, we'll pull this off." She hesitated for a moment, then added, "everyone wants to be us, right?"

Miranda blinked. Ever since she had taken charge of Runway she had been the most important person in the room and no one, except Irv, had ever disputed that, but it wasn't until Andréa had become her assistant that she'd actually been made to feel special. Andréa, had always seemed to actually care. The tension in her temples eased a little and she started the car, saying nothing and refusing to think about how that knowledge made her feel. She concentrated instead on reversing them out of the space, and then on driving her companion home.