Chapter Eleven
Miranda licked her lips and closed her eyes, leaning forward and capturing Andrea's soft lips in her own. Andrea reached up and tugged Miranda's hand from her cheek, pushing herself away. She kissed Miranda's palm before letting go of her hand.
"I, uh… I need to…" her voice trailed as she got out of bed and left the bedroom.
Miranda got up and wrapped her robe around her shoulders. She felt foolish for that momentary lapse of control. Andrea was her assistant, and whatever else she was, she certainly was not that. Still, she couldn't bear to face her again today. She was humiliated.
Andrea quickly showered and dressed for the day, taking some time to straighten up her room and fold some clothes. She hadn't been spending much time in there, and it was getting to be a little messy. She needed something—anything—to take her mind off of Miranda. Or rather, more specifically, Miranda's lips. She had dreamed about those lips so many times, but she couldn't take advantage of Miranda like that. She was grieving, and there were a million emotions just below the surface. She wouldn't hold it against her, but she couldn't in good faith let it continue. Not when it meant so much more to her.
"Andrea," Miranda called. She quickly stepped out of the bedroom and entered the living room, where Miranda was sitting on the couch. She had been crying again, and she was wearing her robe. "Why are you here?" she asked.
"Uh," she stammered, taken aback by the sudden question. "I'm here because I want to be. Because I thought you wanted me to be."
"Isn't it your job to be here? I don't recall giving you a choice in coming to Paris."
"Umm, I think there's always a choice," Andrea said. "You do seem to imply to all of your staff, though, that if they choose not to do what you ask, they will no longer be employed."
"So that goes back to my question—are you here because it's your job? Because if you choose not to be here, you will no longer have said job?" Miranda said. She lifted her eyes for a brief moment.
"No, I'm not. It just so happens that the choices I am making are perfectly aligned with what you ask of me as an employee," Andrea said. She didn't know quite where this was going, but she was feeling very defensive all of a sudden.
"So if I tell you to go away, that I don't want to see you until we're back in New York….?"
"If you're asking what I would do if you—hypothetically—told me to leave, I would—hypothetically—choose to disobey and stay. Miranda, I would stay."
"Do you pity me, Andrea?"
"What? No. Miranda, where are you going with all this?" she asked impatiently.
"Answer the question."
"No, I don't pity you. I've never pitied you. There are times when I empathize, you know, my heart goes out when I see what you're going through, but never pity," she said. Can't you see that I love you?
"Why not?" Miranda asked. "Am I not worthy of your pity?"
"Damnit, Miranda!" she said, running her hand through her hair. "What do you want from me? I don't pity you because 'pity' implies a sense of judging from afar in my mind. I don't see you like that. I see you up close, I see that your life isn't perfect. I see how hard you work at everything." She took a deep breath. "I just want to be something more. I want to know if we'll still see each other when I get a new job, if you'll still talk to me, even. I just want to know this is something more than a fucking job," she said.
Andrea turned and faced the door, biting her fist to keep from crying. She wasn't sure whether she was waiting to be dismissed or called back. Either way, she was not moving from that spot. After several minutes, she asked, "Is there anything else?"
"Your fucking job," Miranda said.
Quietly gasping, she made for the door and left the room.
"Nigel? Can you meet me downstairs for coffee?" she asked.
"Sure thing. Are you coming to me begging forgiveness for sleeping with the enemy?" he said.
"Uh, no. No, I just—Miranda needed me to tell you something," she said. There is no way he knows anything, right?
"Okay, okay. I just stepped out of the shower, so give me twenty," Nigel said.
Andrea found a table and ordered a cappuccino as she waited for Nigel. She needed something to distract her today.
"Hey Six," he called, "or should I say Jo Stockton? What's with the Funny Face ensemble?" he asked, joining her on the small patio.
"Oh, uh," she said, looking down at her black matchstick pants, lacy anklets, black Chanel flats, and black crew neck top. "I was just feeling kind of plain today."
"No Miranda?" he asked. "I thought you were the new teacher's pet. What's got your BFF laid up anyway?" he asked.
"She's still not feeling well, and I needed a break," she said with a smile. "You know how that is."
"Oh do I ever, darling. Years ago, Miranda would leave her assistant in New York and I was the one fetching things in a foreign city for her. I don't envy you, Six."
Andrea smiled. "I actually wanted to talk to you about the luncheon today," she said setting her mug down. She might be pissed as hell at Miranda right now, but the last thing she wanted to do was let her down when it came to her job.
Nigel beamed, "Can I tell you a secret? I'm finally getting a promotion," he said.
Andrea took a deep breath. "No, Nigel. The James Holt position is going to Jacqueline."
"Follet?! But—James said—I mean—how did you—?" he stammered.
"Nigel, I'm sorry. I thought it would be easier to hear this from me than get blindsided. Miranda explained everything last night—and actually she called James an 'asshole' which totally surprised me."
"Wow, she never uses foul language. What else did she explain?" he asked.
Your fucking job. Andrea took a deep breath. "To make a long story short, Irv was going to replace Miranda with Jacqueline, so she took it upon herself to introduce her to James. Jacqueline couldn't turn down the salary, and agreed upon the Holt position. Miranda said she blackmailed Irv, but wouldn't tell me anything more. As for you, she was hoping to speak with you last night or this morning because she said she had better plans for you—something about a new venture that was going to take shape after the holidays."
"Wow. Wait, she explained all of this…to you?"
"Yeah. She was, uh, medicated. I really don't know why she was so talkative," Andrea said, quickly taking a sip of her steaming beverage.
Nigel laughed, "Okay, that explains it. Woman never could handle her cough syrup. So Irv and Jacqueline know everything?"
"Well, I'm not sure if they both know everything, but they know what they need to. Miranda wants me to ensure that you give apologies for her not being there, and she needs you to announce Jacqueline as the new president of James Holt International, explaining how talented she is and how well she will support his vision. I'm sorry, I know that will be hard," Andrea said.
"Oh god," Nigel said, "Do I have to keep a straight face?"
"Nigel…"
"Okay, okay. I guess I can just stare at that asshole with my sexy eyes. Why can't Irv just announce it?"
Andrea giggled. She didn't want to know what Nigel meant by his "sexy eyes." "Miranda doesn't trust him. Who knows what he will try if she's not there," Andrea said.
"True," Nigel said, sipping his coffee. "And trust me, you would not want Jacqueline to be your new boss. Her incompetence and stupidity would drive you insane," he said. "Okay. So, tell me why isn't Miranda feeling well? Same thing that was bothering her in New York before we left? It isn't serious is it?"
"I don't think so," Andrea said. "But I mean, do you really think she is going to tell me all of the mundane details of her illness?"
"Good point, although if she told anyone these days, I wouldn't be surprised if it was you," he said. "So I take it you're not coming to the luncheon today?"
"Nope. I never had a seat, actually."
"So, a whole day off in Paris? Must be nice," he said.
"Not really," she said. She could never take a day off to enjoy herself while Miranda was upstairs. "I am going to find the girls some souvenirs," she said. "What do you think they would like? It seems like Miranda has access to almost everything they have here back in the states. I mean, I can't even bring back anything from LaDuree."
"Good question. In the past, Miranda has brought them back items from a designer's new collection that hasn't hit stores yet, but I don't think they really care too much about that kind of thing. Did she give you any direction?"
"Nope," she said. Miranda doesn't even know I'm doing this, she thought.
"Of course not. Maybe try something kitschy. I heard Miranda on the phone a few weeks ago explaining to Cassidy why she would not let her go shopping at a thrift store," he said with a smile.
"Really? Wow, I would have loved to hear that conversation. Okay, I have some ideas," she said.
"Are you heading out now?" Nigel asked.
"Yeah, just for a few hours. Miranda didn't sleep much last night, so I think she's resting now. Did you need anything?" she asked, suddenly remembering that sometimes she was Nigel's assistant, too.
"If you don't mind, will you grab me a cheesy postcard of the Eiffel tower and a stamp so I can send it home to my mother?"
"Aww, Nigel, that's so sweet. You never talk about your mom."
"Well, she's been in a nursing home for the past few years just outside Los Angeles. I don't get out to see her as much as I should. It's hard."
"I can imagine. I'll gladly pick one up—I'll leave it at the front desk for you if that works," Andrea said.
"Thanks. See you later tonight for drinks? I know a bunch of us are checking out that new club Vivre down the block."
"Uhh, maybe! I'll have to check with Miranda. Thanks!" she said, waving as she headed down the street.
Miranda hadn't asked her to pick up souvenirs for the girls, but she needed something to occupy herself outside of that room for a few hours. And, Miranda obviously needed some space.
Her first stop was the Louvre's souvenir shop, where she picked up two Mona Lisa cloth totes. She selected a small blue hippopotamus for Caroline who had been studying rituals in ancient civilizations; she also grabbed a book on the myth of the hippopotamus hunt in the Middle Kingdom, something she would hopefully enjoy reading. For Cassidy, she selected an authentic brass student microscope and a Leonardo da Vinci journal book. Satisfied, she left the museum and began heading back to the hotel.
Seeing a nice quiet cafe, she decided to stop for something to drink. It had been almost two hours since she walked out of Miranda's room, and the more she thought about it, the more guilty she felt. It was, after all, her fault. She pushed Miranda away in the first place. She quickly dialed Miranda's cell phone before she could talk herself out of it.
Andrea waited, holding her breath as the phone kept ringing. She wasn't surprised that Miranda didn't answer, but she still hadn't prepared a message. "Uh, hi, Miranda, it's me. Andy—err, Andrea. I feel awful after our conversation this morning. I had no right to make this about me. It's just—it's been so difficult being so close to you these past few weeks. Please forgive me."
Andrea ended the message, not knowing what else to say. What would she do if Miranda didn't forgive her? If she told her to clean out her desk once they returned? As much as she didn't want to think about it, it was a very real possibility.
She continued walking back, stopping at a small boutique near the hotel that had some postcards and keychains out front. She selected a postcard for Nigel, then saw some t-shirts on a rack. They were tourist-y shirts, but one caught her attention. It had graffiti-like writing drawn on it, along with a sketch of the Eiffel tower and a red heart. She purchased that for Cassidy and paid for Nigel's postcard. As she was walking out, she saw a scarf with a city map of Paris printed on it. It was trimmed in pale pink, and she thought it would be perfect for Caroline, so she returned to the register with her final purchase.
Her last stop was at the small market next to the hotel, where she rather impulsively selected sixteen roses for Miranda. She paid the cashier, who kindly trimmed the bouquet so she could easily slip them into a vase.
Walking into the hotel, she left the postage-paid postcard at the desk for Nigel, and headed upstairs to her room. Miranda had moved from the couch, and with her bedroom door was shut, Andrea suspected she was resting. Andrea set the roses in the large vase on the table, then neatly arranged the gifts for the girls, putting all of Cassidy's items in the pop-art Mona Lisa bag and Caroline's in the traditional one. She left those on the chair next to the table.
Andrea took a note card from the desk and wrote a brief note:
Miranda—I'm sorry about earlier. I picked up a few souvenirs for the girls and flowers for you. —Andrea xo
She set the card against the vase and headed back into her bedroom, shutting the door.
In her room, Miranda was laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. She heard Andrea return, but hesitated to greet her. She had listened to the voicemail several times. Somehow, it made her feel a little worse that Andrea was the one apologizing when she had done nothing wrong. And what was it about the difficulty of being close to her? Miranda was ashamed at how she treated the young woman earlier—the woman who had been nothing but good to her.
She got up and went to the bathroom, straightening her hair and adjusting her clothes. Not that it matters, she thought, recalling her state when Andrea returned yesterday. She opened her bedroom door and half expected Andrea to be there waiting. She wasn't.
Miranda immediately saw the flowers and smiled. She told herself she was not smiling because she was happy—she was still very sad—but the flowers gave her some sort of hope. She read Andrea's note and examined the bags. They were both perfect, and Miranda knew her girls would love them.
She reached over and grabbed a beautiful saffron-colored rose from the vase, then gently knocked on Andrea's door. "Andrea?"
Andrea opened the door and searched Miranda's eyes. "Uhm, sorry, come in," she said, stepping aside. Miranda walked into the small bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Andrea joined her.
"I'm sorry for how I treated you this morning," Miranda said, handing the rose to Andrea. "You have been nothing but good to me, and I appreciate that. Please don't apologize to me. I feel guilty enough as it is. I just—I can't help but feel like I've disappointed you."
Andrea reached over and took Miranda's hand. "First, I accept your apology. Second, you have not disappointed me. How could you think that?"
"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "You worked so hard to take care of me, make sure I saw a doctor, then with the medications and rest—and then I failed you and it was all for nothing," she said.
"That's not true," Andrea said, taking Miranda by the shoulders. "It was for you and for the life inside you. I am so sorry about what happened. I am sorry, but I am not disappointed. Okay? You are still here, and for that I am very grateful," she said.
"Do you really mean that—that you're grateful?" Miranda asked.
"Oh god, yes. I don't know what I would do if something had happened to you," she said, gently brushing her cheek.
Miranda looked up at Andrea and saw nothing but sincerity in her eyes. "So you really meant it when you said you wanted to be here with me?"
"Absolutely."
"And this morning—?"
Andrea took a deep breath. "I would be lying if I said I didn't want that. I did—I do. But you have been dealing with so much. The last thing I wanted was to be accused of preying on your vulnerability or something."
"Andrea," she said, "I think I want that too."
"Really?"
Miranda nodded. "I had some time to think this morning. Yes, I needed you these past few weeks, but now, it's become more than that. I want you here. And not just here—at home, too," she said.
"I think I'd like that," Andrea said, wiping a tear from her eye.
Miranda awkwardly stood from the bed. "I saw the gifts for the girls. That was so incredibly thoughtful of you. I really can't tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time to think about what they each might like. I know they will be thrilled to see what you've selected," she said.
"Oh, it was no problem. But you don't have to tell them it's from me—I don't mind."
"Absolutely not. They need someone like you in their life," she said, pausing as she realized she was getting too far ahead of herself. "I mean, I hope you would be willing to give it to them yourself," she said, biting her lip and looking down at the floor.
Andrea stood and wrapped her arms around Miranda. "Of course," she said, kissing the woman gently on the cheek and hugging her tight. "I would love to be a part of their lives—and yours."
Miranda rested her head on the younger woman's shoulder. For just one brief moment, she felt like she was able to escape her reality. Andrea felt Miranda start shaking and gently pulled back to see she was in tears.
"Come here," Andrea said, taking Miranda's hand and leading her back into her own bedroom.
"I don't want to lay in bed," she said, sniffling. "I've been in bed for the past two days!"
"I know, I know. Trust me?" Miranda shrugged and followed Andrea into the bathroom.
Andrea began to fill the tub with hot water. She pulled out several luxurious towels and set them next to the tub. She dimmed the lights in the room so only the soft accent lights were on, then she filled a medium-sized decorative bowl with hot water and added a few drops of lavender oil, setting it on the floor next to the tub.
"Thank you," Miranda said, reaching out and squeezing Andrea's hand. "But—I can't."
Andrea smiled. "You cannot add any salts, soaps, or oils, but you can have the water as hot as you'd like," she said. "Would you like a glass of wine or something?"
Miranda's eyes widened as if she just realized she was free to have a drink. "Yes, please," she said.
Andrea stepped out to retrieve the wine from the wine fridge in the room. Selecting the Sancerre, she opened it, then brought it back to the bathroom with two glasses.
"Can I come in?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Is the water temperature okay?" Andrea asked, carefully averting her eyes from the crystal clear bathwater.
"It's perfect," Miranda said. She pointed at the glasses in Andrea's hand. "Are you joining me?"
"Uh, well, I thought I could just sit here against the tub and keep you company. Is that okay?" she said.
"Yes, thank you."
Andrea poured the wine and handed the glass to Miranda who took a long, slow sip. "Mmm, Sancerre," she whispered. "Excellent choice." She handed the glass back to Andrea and leaned back in the tub.
This bathtub was the same size and style as hers at home, except this one had a small divot in the porcelain where she could rest her head. It was quite possibly the most comfortable tub in the world, and she smiled, thinking of how many times she had stayed in this exact same room—easily twenty or more times. In a strange way, she felt comfortable.
She softly tapped Andrea with her perfectly manicured nail, and she swiftly passed the wine glass back over her shoulder. Miranda held onto the glass for a while this time, waiting to hand it back until it was empty.
"Another?"
"Not yet," she said. She picked up the washcloth that was draped across her breasts. Gently squeezing the water out of it, Miranda ran it down her arms, across her neck and chest, and over her face. It was probably pointless, she thought, since there was no soap or cleanser, but the stinging feeling on her skin was a welcome pleasure. She supposed it was her own form of self-mutilation, though she was certain she hadn't found a household hot water heater that would allow the water to actually burn her skin by the time it reached the faucet. It was a shame. She liked to think this hotel reserved its hottest water for her and her alone. It very well could be the truth.
She continued to move her hands across her skin methodically. Every bath was the same: neck, shoulders, arms, breasts, abdomen, left leg, right leg. As she gently brushed her breasts, she realized how sensitive they were. I wonder how long this will last, she thought.
Sliding her hands down further across her abdomen, she could feel that the slight swell she felt days ago had significantly diminished, and she suddenly felt empty—an indescribable emptiness, as if she were betrayed by her body. Her body, which had seemed to forget that it had been carrying a baby a mere thirty-six hours ago.
Miranda quietly began crying and reached out for Andrea's hand. "How long is this going to last?" she said, wiping her eyes.
"What?" Andrea said, trying to sound as sincere and concerned as she could. She hoped Miranda wasn't beginning to doubt her already.
"This guilt for feeling normal," she said. "When you hugged me before, Andrea, it felt wonderful. And now, just relaxing like this. How can I justify these personal indulgences—these escapes from reality?"
"I don't have an answer, Miranda, but I don't think there is a 'right' or 'wrong' way to proceed. It's not healthy to dwell on the past, so I think at some point you're going to figure out how to accept this—not put it behind you, but find a way for it to strengthen you. I'm sorry, that probably doesn't make sense."
"No, I kind of get it. I'm just not there yet, and these swiftly changing emotions are exhausting."
"I'm sure," Andrea said.
"Maybe it would help if I got out of this room," she said.
"Sure, if you feel up to it."
"Aside from the crying, I feel absolutely fine. Would you be interested in taking a walk with me?" Miranda asked.
"Now?"
"Well, yes, once I dry off."
"Um, we probably shouldn't. Look, I would love to take a walk around Paris with you, but everyone thinks you're sick and that's why you aren't at the luncheon. If you're seen—"
Miranda gasped. "I forgot all about that. Did you speak with Nigel this morning?" she asked.
"Yes. I met him for coffee and explained everything. He is making the announcement this afternoon."
Miranda nodded. "How did he take it?"
"Um, okay, really. He was a little surprised, but once I explained about Jacqueline and Irv, I think he understood. He probably feels betrayed by James if anyone. He's interested in this venture you speak of."
"Why James?" Miranda asked.
"He didn't say too much, but he gave the impression that James told him he was getting the job while they were—uh, involved," she said.
"Oh! Really? I—wow. I had no idea," Miranda said.
Andrea chuckled at Miranda's obvious surprise. "Well I don't think that will happen again."
"No, I don't suppose so. I didn't realize you and Nigel were so close," she said.
"We're not—not really. I think he tries to tell me gossip because he thinks I will divulge something about you," Andrea said. "Which of course I don't. I never have. They all think you have sort of flu or something."
Miranda smiled. "Someday that will bite him in the ass, you know."
"Yeah. I've often thought of the tricks I could play on him since he so blindly believes anything I say regarding you," she said.
"We should probably wait until this Holt thing blows over and I can talk to him about the retail venture," Miranda said. "I do think he will really like this opportunity."
Andrea took a deep breath. "Can I turn around?" she asked.
"Mm-hmm," Miranda murmured, readjusting the washcloth.
"Another glass?" she offered, holding up the bottle of wine. Miranda nodded. "So, there's a party tonight at a new club down the street. Nigel wants me to come, and I saw you were on the invitation, too," Andrea began, handing the glass to Miranda.
"I haven't checked my email, but you should go," she said.
"Well, I was thinking it would be nice if you make an appearance, too. You said yourself that you wanted to get out of this bedroom. And it's the last event of Fashion Week. You missed quite a bit this year, and I think there are already some rumors circulating that you're snubbing some of the designers," Andrea said.
"Oh do be serious. I was in the emergency room!"
"But they don't know that. Alicia and Jackie were asking a lot of questions about why you weren't there the other day."
"We'll see," Miranda said. "Let's get something to eat, and then I will decide."
"How did you forget to remind me that I could have coffee again?" Miranda asked, savoring the taste of her center-of-the-sun hot beverage.
"I have no idea, but look, you survived without it," she said with a smile.
"Before I forget, I want this coffee tomorrow morning," Miranda said.
"Oh, about that. Our flight leaves tomorrow morning. I extended your hotel stay, but didn't have any direction on the flight or anything. And, I actually need to finish packing."
"Oh. Right."
"I didn't change your flight, so you can still come back as planned if you'd like," Andrea said. She didn't really like the thought of leaving Miranda alone in Paris either, but she did not have any vacation days left this year and couldn't afford to take an unpaid leave.
"No. I think I still need some time," she said. "When is the party this evening?"
"It's earlier because so many of us have flights the next morning. Starts in an hour, actually," Andrea said.
"Okay. I'm going to get ready and I suggest you do the same," she said.
Andrea smiled. This is not a date, she reminded herself.
They arrived at Vivre at 20:30 and the place was already packed. Even though it was literally three blocks from the hotel, Andrea insisted they let Pierre drive them. If nothing else, Miranda would at least be able to return to the car if she needed to get away.
"Remember, no one in that room knows. If you need to pretend to be happy and cheerful, no one is judging you. We all have to put on an act sometimes, okay?" Andrea said, reassuring Miranda before they stepped out.
"I know I've said it before, but thank you, Andrea," she said before opening the door and stepping out of the car.
"Miranda, you're alive!" Nigel said, running over and air kissing the editor as soon as she walked in.
"Nigel. It's been a few days hasn't it?"
"Yeah, you feeling better?"
"Much," she said. "Have the vultures started circling already?" she asked, gesturing towards Jacqueline, Karl, and Irv.
"Well, you know there was some speculation."
"I figured as much."
"By the way, you look absolutely stunning tonight," Nigel said, stepping back and taking in her appearance. "I've seen the models in that Dior cape dress, but you really bring it to life," he said.
Miranda grinned. "Maybe I should go into hiding more often," she said.
"Why didn't Stephen join you? Doesn't he usually come for the last day of Paris?"
Miranda took a deep breath. "We separated several months ago when I learned he was cheating. I've filed divorce papers."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he said.
"Don't be. I was foolish to stay with him."
"Do you remember when he hit on Jacqueline two years ago?"
"Oh god," Miranda said, rolling her eyes. "I thought everyone forgot about that. What was it he said, 'you're like my wife but spikier'—something ridiculous like that?"
Nigel started laughing, "I'm so glad you've realized you're too good for him."
Miranda and Nigel continued talking while Andrea milled about the room, saying hello to the fellow assistants and always keeping an eye on Miranda. She watched as Nigel walked Miranda through the room, stopping to chat with practically everyone. He, too, understood how important it was that she make her presence known.
They left a short while after and walked the three blocks back to the hotel. Andrea finished packing, leaving out only the clothes she would wear to the airport.
She crawled into bed beside Miranda. "I have to get up at six, do you mind?" she asked.
"Of course not. I still get eight more hours with you," Miranda said, snuggling up against the young woman.
It was clear neither of them wanted to talk about what would or wouldn't happen once they returned to New York.
"Andrea, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Several weeks ago you mentioned your boyfriend—"
"Ex-boyfriend."
"Really?"
"Yes. He moved out the day before we left for Paris. But, I told you, my heart wasn't in that relationship for some time now," she said.
"The other man you mentioned. Are—are you still in love with him?" Miranda asked. Andrea could feel her body tense up against her as she awaited the answer.
"I remember that conversation very well, and I distinctly recall saying 'person'—that I was falling in love with another person," Andrea said.
"Oh, that's just semantics. Are you still in love with this person?"
"Yes. Even more so now," Andrea said.
Miranda stiffened and pushed away. "Y—you shouldn't be in my bed."
"Miranda."
"Y—you should go."
"Miranda," Andrea said again, this time taking the woman's face in her hands. "It's you. You're the person I was falling in love with in New York. You're the one I am still in love with right now," she said.
Miranda gasped, opening her mouth to say something, but quickly shutting it when she couldn't find the words.
"Would it be alright if I kissed you?" Andrea asked.
Miranda nodded, and Andrea captured her lips in a passionate embrace. She was soft and tender, and Miranda wanted this moment to last forever. When they finally parted, Andrea pressed a kiss to Miranda's forehead. She had tears streaming down her cheeks, but Andrea was not going to pressure her to talk. Not tonight. Instead, she held her close as they drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Andrea showered and dressed, knowing she would need to be at the airport much earlier than everyone else.
"Andrea, I'm coming with."
"What?"
"I'm not staying here. I'm going home."
"Oh, okay. Good," she said. "But I have to leave right now. I only have a standby ticket, so I need to check-in and pray that someone doesn't show up," Andrea explained.
"You didn't tell me that. Can't you call the airlines now and see if there are any empty seats?"
"Yeah, I tried that. I have to be there in person. So—I'll see you there? Is there anything I can help with?" she asked.
"No—go. I will call Emily and have her pack up these clothes," she said with a smirk.
"Okay, so I'll see you," Andrea said.
"Wait—" Miranda ran to meet Andrea in front of the door. She stood on her tiptoes and gently kissed Andrea's cheek. "Thank you for everything," she said. "We will talk more in New York, okay?"
Andrea nodded, hurrying out the door to the waiting car.
TBC
Note: Thanks for the notes & hope you enjoyed the longer chapter. The m/c idea was inspired by a close friend's real life ordeal. And no, Andy will not be getting pregnant-just, no.
