It had been less than 72 hours since she admitted aloud that her marriage was failing. Andrea had been kind enough to reschedule her flight so she would be leaving a few hours earlier, and more importantly, separate from the Runway crew.

By the time the rest of the team arrived, Miranda was in bed, though she was unable to sleep. She heard Andrea and Nigel milling about in the suite, and while she thought about joining them, she was too emotionally drained to actually get up. She considered taking a sleeping pill on the flight, but decided against it and ended up spending hours filling up the pages of her journal.

She turned over and switched the light on next to her bed, reaching for the journal she left on the nightstand. Flipping to the inside back cover, she reread the post-it that Andrea had affixed to her plane ticket: Know that you have my support, whatever you decide. x A.

Miranda traced her fingers over note. She couldn't stop thinking about it. About her decision. About Andrea. On one hand, she knew she deserved better than him. On the other, she worried that a divorce would make life unfairly difficult on her girls. And then there was the fact of Andrea—would she be leaving him because he was a jerk, or because she wanted Andrea?

She couldn't help but feel that she needed to see the young woman. Pulling out her phone, she sent a quick message: Can you talk for a moment when you're finished? Once Nigel and everyone else leaves? Not urgent.

Andrea responded immediately: Shooing them out as quickly as I can. :)

Miranda turned out the light and laid back against the pillow, comfortably resting in the middle of the king-sized bed. The simple exchange of text messages with the young woman helped calm her mind, and before she knew it, she was gently woken by the woman's hand on her shoulder.

"Hi," Andrea said, sitting gently on the edge of the bed.

"Oh god, what time is it?" Miranda asked.

"It's just after 11 PM, Paris time," she said. "I'm sorry to wake you—you weren't answering my texts, and I didn't want you to think I forgot."

Miranda took a deep breath and pushed herself up so she was leaning back against the pillows. "No, I couldn't sleep. I mean, before."

"Okay," Andrea said, smiling. "We have a busy day tomorrow—first meeting is out there in your suite at 6:45 AM. What was it you needed to talk about?"

Miranda shook her head. "Forget it—it's late."

Andrea frowned and kicked off her shoes, carefully climbing onto the edge of the bed and situating herself against back against the headboards.

"Andrea? What are you—?"

"I'm tired, but I want to listen," she said. "This bed is so huge there's like room for three people between us."

Miranda smiled and took a deep breath, sinking down and curling up on her left side, facing away from the young woman. "If I fall asleep, you can see yourself out," she said.

"Will do," Andrea replied. "So, did Stephen drive you to the airport?"

"Yes. I do think he genuinely feels bad, but—I just don't think that's enough for me," Miranda said. She felt the tears pooling in her eyes and was glad that the young woman couldn't see her. "Did you really mean what you wrote?"

"On the note?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Of course I did. Miranda, I can't imagine how hard this is for you, but I meant that—no matter what you decide," Andrea said, reaching over and placing her hand gently on the woman's shoulder, "I'll still be here."

"Even if I stay? When you clearly think I shouldn't?"

Andrea chuckled. "I am not privy to your relationship with him. From what I've seen, well, you know my opinion. But that does not mean it's the right decision for you."

Miranda sighed. She didn't want to admit it, but the young woman's hand on her shoulder was incredibly comforting. "I thought it would be easier to decide after some time away, but…"

"You still have time," Andrea said, gently rubbing her shoulder. "We just got here."

Miranda nodded and took a deep breath. "Is it strange to miss him?" she asked after some time.

"A little," she replied, rolling her eyes. "But you should probably think about what it is specifically that you miss. You know, do you miss him grabbing you so hard you're worried you'll have a bruise? Or do you miss reading the Sunday Times over coffee?"

"I suppose it's more just the idea of him," Miranda said. "But how will I explain—the girls," she cried, burying her face in her pillow.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you worked up," Andrea said, gently stroking her shoulder. "Let's change the subject."

Miranda nodded and sniffled. "I think you should go to bed. I'll try and get some sleep, too."

"Okay," Andrea said, carefully climbing off the bed and grabbing her shoes. "I'm sorry if I upset you."

"You didn't. I'm just tired. I'll see you in the morning, Andrea."


Three days later, Andrea caught the editor falling asleep during a dinner meeting. She quickly pulled out her phone, then reached for the editor's arm.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but there's an urgent issue back in New York and I need to steal Miranda for a little bit," Andrea said, gesturing for the woman to follow her out of the room. Thankfully they were only at the restaurant in their hotel.

Miranda excused herself and followed Andrea out of the room. "Is there really an issue?"

"Of course not. You need some sleep, though."

The editor rolled her eyes. "I'm fine. I can't believe you pulled me out of dinner for this."

"You were falling asleep. It was obvious," Andrea said, shaking her head. "We are going back to your room. I'm going to make you some hot tea, and you're going to lay down," she said. "You can't keep up this pace."

Miranda punched the button for the elevator. "Why, pray tell, am I not able to keep this pace? Are there not hundreds of others doing the exact same thing in this same city?"

Andrea rolled her eyes and led Miranda into the elevator. "There are, but they sleep at night. You, on the other hand, have been sending me emails and texts about pointless things in the middle of the night, and all night long."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "And you respond, so that keeps me up longer."

"Look. I am not giving you a choice here. You'll only be gone an hour, two max."

Miranda shrugged. "Fine. I doubt I will be able to sleep," she muttered as they entered her suite.

"I have an idea about that, too," Andrea said.

While she was initially a bit resistant, once Miranda slipped into her robe and crawled into bed, she felt a strange sense of comfort—as if the mattress and pillows were somehow softer. Without a word, Andrea also stepped out of her shoes and climbed into the other side of the bed.

"What are you—?"

"When you don't sleep, I don't sleep," Andrea said, reaching over to turn out the light. "I have an alarm set so we can make the Gucci party tonight," she explained.

When the editor didn't respond, she glanced over. "Miranda?" she whispered. Again, no response. It appeared as though the woman had already fallen asleep.

Several hours later, Miranda woke at the sound of an alarm. "Mmh, that felt so good," she sighed, her eyes still closed shut.

"Hi," Andrea said, gently brushing the woman's arm. "It's 9:45. The Gucci party downstairs is starting soon."

The editor nodded and went to push herself up when she realized her arm was draped across the woman's waist. "Oh god, I'm sorry," she said, quickly pushing away. "Really, I didn't mean—"

"No worries. Did you sleep well?"

Miranda nodded. "I will never admit that you were right, but I do feel immensely better."

"Then it's settled."

"What is?"

"I'll sleep in here from now on."

Miranda's eyes widened.

"Just until you fall asleep. Then I'll go back to my own room. It's a win-win."

She sat back and took a deep breath, clutching the covers tightly to her chest. "This is getting dangerous, Andrea," she said. "I feel like I should be putting up a boundary somewhere."

"It's fine," Andrea said, squeezing her hand and getting up. "We're good. I'm going to go change. Mind if I come over to have you help with the zipper? I'm wearing the Marchesa again."

"That's fine," Miranda said.

She quickly dressed in a short black long sleeve "bodycon" dress. She examined herself in the mirror and had to admit that she actually looked really good for a woman of her age. Tonight, she had some business to take care of with Irv that she was hoping to take care of over drinks at Gucci, but first, she wanted to call her daughters to check in.


When they returned to the hotel, it was after midnight. Andrea had a few too many glasses of champagne, but Miranda was none the wiser, as she spent the evening drinking scotch with Irv.

They walked out of the elevator, and instead of going to Miranda's suite, the editor led them across the hall and one door over, where Andrea was staying.

The young woman looked at her quizzically, but proceeded to swipe her keycard and let Miranda in.

"Your top," she said, walking in and standing behind Andrea. She slowly pulled her hair out of the way so she could work on the hook-and-eye clasps. It took her longer than she would have liked, but to per perfectly honest, she didn't mind it. Once it was unclasped, she carefully—almost reverently—slid the fabric down the woman's shoulders.

Andrea was wearing the corset again, even though the editor hadn't included it in the girl's wardrobe for the week. Andrea turned around and stood before the woman, tilting her head to the side, trying to meet her gaze. She reached her hand upwards and cupped Miranda's cheek, softly brushing her thumb over her cheekbone.

"Andrea, I can't—" she choked out, casting her eyes downward. She couldn't ever remember feeling more conflicted than she did at this moment. She yearned for the woman's touch—and to touch her in return—but she thought of her girls and how she would never be able to explain it to them.

As if she knew what Miranda was thinking, the young woman reached down and took both of Miranda's hands in hers, squeezing gently. "I won't complicate things for you," she said softly. "Please, just let me take care of you tonight."

Miranda's eyes widened. "Take care of me?"

The young woman smiled. "Not because you need it," she clarified, "but because you deserve it. I will draw you a bath, make you some tea, work the knots out of your shoulders…what do you say?" When the woman didn't respond, Andrea squeezed her hands and released them. "I'm going to go to the bathroom and change into something comfortable. Think about it." She headed to the bathroom, and stopped at the doorway. "I won't touch you if you don't want it, Miranda. I would never do that," she added, walking into the bathroom and closing the door.

Miranda reached for the dresser to steady herself and took several deep breaths. Her heart was racing, and for once she wished it was because of the anxiety around her dilemma. She knew, though, that there was only one person who could make her heart race like that. Her choice was clear—she had no choice, really.

When Andrea walked out of the bathroom and saw Miranda sitting on the edge of the bed, a smile crept across her face. She held out a room key to the woman, explaining that she could go first and get changed in private if she wanted.

At that, Miranda rolled her eyes and reached for the woman's hand. "Take care of me, Andrea," she said.

The brunette grabbed her phone and room key and led Miranda across the hall, back to her suite. "This is probably the wrong time to tell you this," she said as she held up a robe for the woman, "but you looked incredible in that dress tonight."

Miranda smiled and tossed the dress onto the chair. "There's never a wrong time for a compliment," she said, draping the robe over her shoulders.

The young woman gestured for her to have a seat on the bed while she prepared the bath. Miranda poured herself a glass of ice water, which only served to make her shiver. Andrea saw that, and quickly led her into the warm, steamy bathroom.

"There's some lavender, geranium, and sandalwood in the bath, as well as loads of bubbles. If you want to get in—and you can use this cloth if you feel more comfortable—" she said, handing her a washcloth, "and then I'll tie this scarf around your hair and gently massage your shoulders."

When the young woman turned away, Miranda slipped off the robe and climbed into the bath. "Ohhhh, this is heavenly," she gasped as she sank into the tub.

"Can I turn around?"

"Yes," Miranda said. She found she didn't need the washcloth, as the tub was deep and full of bubbles.

The young woman smiled and came around the edge of the tub, wrapping a thin scarf around her hair and tying it at the top. She proceeded to fold a towel in half and drape it across the back of the tub so the woman could lean back against it.

"I could fall asleep like this," Miranda said, sinking deeper into the bubbles and closing her eyes.

Andrea let her relax in the bath for a few minutes, and once she noticed the woman getting restless, she kneeled next to the tub and rolled up her sleeves.

Miranda watched as the woman reached for a sponge and squirted some body wash onto it.

"Lean forward a little bit?" she said.

Miranda complied with the request, bringing her knees to her chest as the young woman dipped the sponge in the water and slowly dragged it across her back and shoulders. When Andrea was finished, she did the same for her arms, and Miranda nodded, gesturing for her to bathe her legs as well.

By this point, many of the bubbles had dissipated, so Miranda draped her arm across her chest in an weak attempt at modesty. She was a bit surprised that the young woman didn't wash her chest, but that was probably for the best, she thought.

Andrea reached for a towel, stretching it out and using her chin to secure it to her chest, she reached out her hand to help Miranda up.

The editor accepted the help, especially since the bath oils made the surface of the tub extremely slippery, and allowed the woman to wrap her in the towel. She then led her to the small chair in front of the vanity, where Andrea pulled out a few cotton pads and a French micellar water so she could remove her makeup.

At the first swipe of the cotton pad across her forehead, Miranda reached out to stop the woman's hand. "I can do this. Could you get me a cup of tea?" she asked. Andrea immediately left the room and Miranda finished removing her makeup as quickly as possible, not wanting the young woman to see her makeup-free face.

A few minutes later, there was a quiet knock on the bathroom door. "I have your tea, Miranda. I also have the lights off in your bedroom. I was thinking after your tea, you could lie on the bed and I would massage your back a bit," she said.

Miranda's heart swelled. There was no question that the woman sensed her concern. She opened the door and stepped into the bedroom, where Andrea quickly took her elbow, leading her in the dark to the edge of the bed.

She handed her the teacup and saucer, then went back into the bathroom to rinse out the tub and gather a few towels and some lotion, being sure to run the bottle of lotion under hot water for a bit in order to bring up its temperature.

Miranda set her empty tea cup on the nightstand as Andrea was returning. Miranda watched as she laid one of the larger towels directly on top of the bed, and the next thing she knew, her head was resting her arms as Andrea's hands kneaded and pressed along her back.

She allowed the young woman to massage her for nearly twenty minutes, after which, she could tell that the hands had lost some of the strength they initially had. Pushing herself up to her elbows, Miranda turned to look at the young woman. "This was an unexpected but wonderful end to the night, Andrea," she said.

"I'm glad," Andrea said. She retrieved a silk nightshirt from the drawer and helped the woman into it.

Miranda used the restroom while the woman folded up the towels and tossed them in the laundry bin. When she returned, she was grateful that the lights were still out, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed that the young woman had left.

Setting the alarm clock, Miranda slipped into bed, feeling incredibly relaxed and—admittedly—still a little inebriated.

Just then, Andrea returned, quickly climbing under the covers.

"W-where did you go?" Miranda asked.

Andrea moved closer, reaching for the woman's hand beneath the sheets. "I used the other bathroom," she said.

Miranda sighed and relaxed into the pillows. She felt Andrea's hand reaching across her stomach as the woman curled up along her side. "Thank you for tonight," she whispered, turning her head to the side. She was inches from the young woman's face—so close, she could feel the woman's breath on her own lips.

Inhaling sharply, Miranda quickly turned away from Andrea.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes. I just—" she shivered and tugged the covers up to her neck.

Andrea scooted closer, wrapping her arm tightly around the older woman. "Shh, just go to sleep and get some rest," she said, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

And sleep Miranda did.


The brunette was gone by the time her alarm went off. While she initially missed the physical contact, she was grateful not to have to face the young woman in the daylight without any makeup.

The editor was dressed and ready to go relatively quickly, but as she headed out to the sitting room, her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Andrea: can you help me with this outfit? i left my key card on the table by the door, too! -a

Miranda smiled. She grabbed her coat and bag so that she and Andrea could go straight down to meet Nigel for breakfast, but when she entered Andrea's room, she certainly wasn't expecting to find the woman sitting on the bed in her bra and panties.

"Hi," Andrea said. "I was having some issues with my outfit today, so I thought you should probably just dress me. You know, so I don't look like a street urchin or anything," she said.

"I never figured you to be so coy," Miranda said. She set her coat and bag down in the chair, pretending to be annoyed at the young woman's request—when really she was delighted. "You do have an unusually high propensity towards hideous sweaters," she continued, "I must say, we are all lucky you called me when you did."

First, Miranda grabbed a pair of black stockings. Walking over to the young woman, she slipped them over one foot, then the other, then gestured for Andrea to stand so she could pull them up. Her hands lingered over the woman's curves, particularly near her perfectly shaped buttocks.

Reaching for the skirt, Miranda helped Andrea to step into it and once again slid it up her legs, smoothing over her hips. She zipped it up and fastened the button at the top, letting her fingers ghost across the young woman's toned stomach.

She held out a black silk camisole for her, and after slipping it over her head, she traced her hands up the woman's ribcage. Her own body betrayed her and she shuddered as her thumbs brushed over Andrea's breasts. She swallowed and quickly tucked the silk camisole into the skirt, reaching out for the last piece of the outfit, a scoop-neck military jacket.

Andrea reached out and grabbed Miranda's arm, causing her to drop the jacket to the floor. She tugged her closer, wrapping the editor's arms around her waist as she pressed their bodies flush against each other.

"Ohh," Miranda gasped. "What are you—?"

The young woman reached around and firmly grabbed the editor's derriere, leaning forward so that their lips were almost touching. "Stop talking," she whispered.

Miranda gazed into her eyes, and before she realized what was happening, the young woman's lips were against hers. She whimpered into the woman's mouth, delighting in the tension between the softness of her lips and the sheer strength of her tongue.

Andrea's hands made their way upwards, cupping the base of her neck as she deepened the kiss.

Suddenly, a knock at the door caused Miranda to jump back and push the young woman away.

"Six? You in there?" Nigel's voice called from the hall.

Andrea turned to look at Miranda, but she was shutting the bathroom door behind her.

"Uh, just a second, Nige. Running late!" Andrea called. She quickly picked up the jacket and tossed it on the bed, taking Miranda's coat and bag and tucking it inside her closet. She glanced in a mirror and quickly wiped her lips. Hopefully Nigel wouldn't notice the smudged lipstick.

She opened the door, and Nigel stepped inside. "My, you look good today. You are sparkling, sweetheart."

"Thanks," she said, blushing slightly. "I have to touch up my makeup, but then I'll be ready."

Nigel looked at her lips and smirked. "Busy morning?"

"Uh, no. I, uh, wasn't feeling too great so I had an apple. Did you need something?"

"No, I was actually looking for Miranda," he said.

"Oh, she went downstairs to meet you—did you not see her? You must have crossed paths on the way up."

"Ah, okay. I'll go back downstairs and apologize profusely for being so late," he said with a smile. "Want me to wait for you?"

"Nah, I have a few errands. I'll just have breakfast here and meet you at Zac Posen," she said.

He quickly said goodbye and walked out. Andrea locked the door and retrieved Miranda's items from the closet setting them back on the chair.

"Miranda?" she said, knocking on the bathroom door.

Miranda opened the door, her emotions fully overwhelming her.

"What's wrong?"

"That should never have happened. Andrea, I am married. I am trying to make things work with my husband. I—this has gone too far."

"What?! No, Miranda, please, I am sorry I took advanta—"

"Stop. You are no more to blame than I am, and I need to accept that."

"But—"

"No. It's my turn to say 'stop talking,'" she said. "The minute I walked into the bathroom to hide—that's when it went too far. Soon I'll be lying to the girls just like you lied to Nigel. I—I can't do that, Andrea."

The young woman had tears in her eyes, but she was smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

"Don't you see how wrong this is?" Miranda asked.

"We didn't do anything!"

"We kissed."

"It's just kissing! Everyone kisses. You've kissed every designer you've met this week!" Andrea said.

"But I wasn't emotionally invested in any of them! It didn't mean anything!" she shouted back.

As soon as she realized what she said, she clasped her hand over her mouth.

"Miranda, I won't argue with you. I will respect your wishes," she said calmly. "I apologize for contributing to this, and for encouraging you to do something that complicates your marriage."

Miranda nodded and walked towards the door, reaching for her coat and her bag

"I hope we can continue to work together," Andrea said.

Miranda stood in front of the door, looking down at the handle. "Andrea, I think it's best for you to switch to another department."

"What?! No! Why?"

"You know why. I shouldn't have to justify my decisions. You have a background in writing, so you belong in editorial. I will see that you are transferred once we return," Miranda said. She quickly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Waiting for the elevator was torturous. She wanted to cry and scream, but was forced to keep her outward persona up, as she was in public and could easily run into someone. She was devastated to lose the young woman after the past twelve hours, but her brain was screaming cheater! cheater! and the tension made her sick to her stomach.

"Miranda?" Nigel said, gently taking her elbow. "Are you okay?"

She shook her head and looked up. "Of course, why?"

"You were standing here in front of the elevator and you looked—er, I mean—I was concerned."

"I am fine," she said, taking a deep breath. "Let's go—we're going to be late for Zac Posen."

"What about Andy?"

"What do you think about transferring her to Claire's team?" Miranda said, stepping into the elevator. She nodded for Nigel to join her, and he pressed the button for the first floor.

"Um, that came out of nowhere. I think she'd be great, but why?"

"Her heart isn't in the job," Miranda said, knowing that was only partially true.

Andrea met them in the lobby, and as per usual, Nigel rode to the show with Jocelyn, while Miranda rode with Andrea.

Andrea was the first to break the silence. "I am truly sorry, Miranda. I don't mean this as an excuse, but I honestly didn't realize what this meant to you—the emotional investment, as you put it."

Miranda took a deep breath. "I spent years angry at James for cheating on me. I couldn't understand how—or what was going through his mind. And now, here I am, no better than the father of my children who I threw out of our home, disrupting my daughters' lives forever," she said. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. "I can't believe I let this happen."

"I'm so sorry," Andrea said.

TBC

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the longer chapter. Reviews are always much appreciated (and they really do make me want to write faster). xo